#trying to decide which text post to put with it

[germesthegenie]

Villains!: The Campaign That Got Me Into Worm (Part 1)

Featuring some post-reading all of Worm + some of Ward commentary, indicated by yellow text

The Party:

Gamantha Sparkson | House (she/her) (my character) - Tinker/Thinker. Can create tech specialized towards surveillance, usually in the form of camera drones. Also has a minor power to assess potential risks in certain actions. Ex-Boston Ward after an incident killed her teammate and close friend.

Robert Storis | Tremor (he/him) - Brute/Mover. Self-vibrakinesis, which at full output lets him effectively drill through walls and shrug off most physical attacks. Lower outputs also allow him to effectively “slide” on the ground at a higher speed than running. Triggered after falling into a cave while on a hike.

Jackie Will | SoloS (they/them) - Master/Stranger. Creates an “evil” clone of themselves (more chaotic, reckless, Swiftie, etc) that acts independently but follows the original’s orders. Other people who see both of them perceive the original as the clone and vice versa. Homeless after they were framed for an arson incident at Immaculata High.

Carol (lmao) | Charybdis - Striker/Mover (she/her). Rapidly “dashes” 5 meters in any direction, erasing any matter between her originating point and where she ends up, including living matter. Goes fishing with her dad, triggered when she fell overboard and got swallowed by a whale (I later learned from the GM that Carol had undergone a Taylor-style double trigger, hence the Manton limit breaking power)

Session 1

The team met at a warehouse in Brockton Bay, similar to the scene above. Notably, however, it wasn’t exactly the same. They met 2 NPCs, Riley and Hattie (who claimed to be Riley’s babysitter. Riley didn’t say anything weird and Hattie had a normal dark skin color. They said Riley had also received a letter to meet there, though after waiting for a while, no one seemed to show up. After looking around for a couple hours, the team decided to head home. House discretely left some camera drones behind, and SoloS decided to sleep at the warehouse.

That was until on their way home, each of them discovered another letter in their pocket, detailing a heist planned a couple days later at the Nightlark Casino, which was also a front for the ABB. What’s curious is that parts of the plan seemed to have had some input from the team themselves, but they had no recollection of it. With the promise of a cut of the stolen cash, the team spent some time preparing. House, however, also made a small tracking device she later planned to try and sneak onto the mysterious boss at the next meeting.

The plan involved 2 teams. The first was the distraction team, which was made up of SoloS… and just SoloS. They would go into the casino and, when given the signal, create a distraction. Meanwhile, the rest of the team would sneak in through an entrance they’d be directed to by the boss’ mole, and break into the vault. Riley and her babysitter were notably absent from the plan.

During that time, House checked back on the cameras she left to see the empty warehouse suddenly full of furniture and equipment that wasn’t there before. SoloS woke up in that same warehouse, finding Riley and Hattie there as well.

The plan was put into action, SoloS going in with their “twin sister” and participating in some gambling, dropping a few cameras House designed to blend in. House, Charybdis, and Tremor were directed to the entrance by the mole, and made their way to the vault. There was a console that could potentially be hacked into, but House’s thinker power detected some risk in that action. Instead, the team decided to brute force it, having Charybdis burst into the vault. At the same time, SoloS caused a commotion outside by throwing their winnings into the air around the casino before pretending to get into a fight with each other, distracting the guards as they were brought out of the building. Both teams made their way out with duffel bags totaling up to $80,000, getting away just before a certain demon-masked cape arrived on the scene.

Arriving back at the warehouse, they met their boss face to face, who turned out to be none other than Hattie, who was a Case 53 cape who went by the name Delusion. They explained their power, and that they were here to “piss certain people in high places off”. They also introduced Riley, cape name Remedy, as their teammate who could help patch up the team should future jobs go less smoothly. Everyone decides to properly start working for Delusion, and got a 15% cut each, with 40% going to the hideout and a Tinker fund.

Hattie | Delusion (they/them) - Stranger. Can “undo” actions they performed within 24 hours, changing everyone’s perception of the events that actually transpired. Case 53, visible mutation is pale lavender skin, which they usually disguise using one of Remedy’s vials.

Riley Grace Davis | Remedy (she/her) - Tinker. Biotinker that specializes in surgery and creating vials with various biological effects. Hey wait a minute-

Interlude 1

Our GM did a pretty cool thing of actually writing interludes between sessions. Here are some highlights from the first one (a PHO interlude)

Session 2

A couple of days pass between the first heist and the next, ending up on April 11. House (admittedly due to me being a bit cheeky) had been doing a routine monitoring of her drones placed in different parts of the city, and noticed the ABB making some moves. Once a building in the docks suddenly exploded in flames, she sent a drone to get a closer view. Unfortunately, the drone got caught by none other than Armsmaster, who asked to meet with the drone’s Tinker to confront them on illegal surveillance. With no other option that late at night, House went to meet him, playing it off as her trying to stay in the know while she’s still figuring things out (like if she would go into the Protectorate).

Armsmaster, wanting to follow protocol, brought House to the PRT headquarters for questioning. This was actually resolved later on in a 1 on 1 session, but basically House’s strategy for avoiding suspicion was… trauma dumping. She spun the conversation towards the lingering trauma from her teammates death and made the poor man uncomfortable enough to let her leave after offering some very Armsmaster advice (“Just push through it”).

The next day, the team woke up to a news report of Lumg being arrested and Dauntless being the cape credited for the takedown. Seizing the opportunity, Delusion planned out a new heist that would hit the both the ABB and the E88. They also gave a quick rundown of most of the heroes and villains in the city for the team’s benefit, including some less public information like weaknesses of some of the heroes (wonder where Delusion got that from?)

The plan involved hitting 2 locations consecutively, taking a van as well as some additional assistance from the independent villain Circus. The first of these was an arcade that was another front for the ABB. However, what the team didn’t expect when entering was for the arcade to be filled with dozens of tied up hostages. Approaching one of the hostages, Delusion removed their gag only for the hostage to scream “Bakuda!” before being liquified. Right as Delusion shouted for the team to get back, Oni Lee appeared with a grenade in hand.

The team quickly made it back into the van, Delusion losing an arm in the explosion Oni Lee set off but survived thanks to Remedy’s enhancements. As they tried to get away, the getaway driver was quickly beheaded by Oni Lee, forcing Delusion to take over driving while the team fought off the assassin. Using SoloS’ clone to confirm his position at the top of the van, Charybdis did a burst upward, taking one of Oni Lee’s arms as he dodged out of the way. He tried to catch up to the van again, but seemed to give up after likely losing a dangerous amount of blood.

While they weren’t able to grab the target at the first location, the team decided to try and hit the second location, one of Hookwolf’s dogfighting rings. Delusion stayed behind after Remedy gave them something to help heal while they rested, and House stayed behind as well to guard the van and scout with her drones.

They spotted someone causing a commotion in the ring, fighting off both Hookwolf and Stormtiger. Rachel. The team debated exposing themselves by helping Rachel, who would most likely die if she fought those two alone. In the end, SoloS, Charybdis, and Circus went in to distract Hookwolf, while Tremor and Remedy fought Stormtiger. They managed to temporarily restrain Hookwolf and temporarily blind Stormtiger, before a sniper House noticed setting up on the roof incapacitates Stormtiger with a shot to the side (Coil’s Sniper remains the goat as always). Circus located the target, a safe hidden in the building, and the team headed back out.

Meanwhile, outside in the van, House spotted something in the shadows moving towards them. Before she could react, she was knocked to the ground by the figure, a crossbow pointed towards her. Shadow Stalker. But the Ward was suddenly hit from behind with an electric shock by Delusion, who’d briefly regained consciousness in time.

Rather than getting a thanks from Rachel, SoloS got a punch instead since they’d used one of her dogs to distract Hookwolf (the dog’s fine but yknow how Rachel is about others using her dogs). The team made their way back into the van and back towards the warehouse, after dropping off the unconscious Shadow Stalker somewhere near the PRT building. While it could’ve gone better, at least half of the plan was done.

Interlude 2 - Shadow Stalker / Kaiser / Oni Lee / Delusion

(Just a quick aside the pettiness of the Sophia Vista interaction here is really funny)

To summarize the Kaiser and Oni Lee sections (since I’ve apparently hit the image cap lol), Kaiser had Hookwolf say that they were attacked by Oni Lee rather than a team of unknowns, in order to spark the E88 into hitting the ABB hard in ‘revenge’. Oni Lee, meanwhile, is meeting with Bakuda while tending to his wounds, and she is a bit panicky with the E88 and probably most other gangs getting ready to descend upon them with Lung arrested and Oni Lee weakened. This effectively accelerates her plans to go straight into bombing the city and rapidly building up numbers with her bomb implants.

Meanwhile, Delusion gets in contact with an informant in the PRT, who informed them that the team has been designated with the name ‘Friday Black’ by the PRT.

Got one last image I can put in this post so I’m putting the really cool ending of the interlude:

Session 3

The team arrived back at the warehouse, where Remedy immediately brought Delusion in for surgery. She asked what should be done about the getaway driver’s dead body still in the back of the van. After some debate (partially ooc) about the ethics of telling the 12 year old surgeon what to do with dead bodies, the team decided to let her use the body for parts. She used the body, along with some supplies the others helped her get, she was able to patch up Delusion and even replace their arm. Once they were back on their feet, they wasted no time getting back to work, heading out to meet with ‘the client’ to work things out regarding the missing safe, leaving their phone behind to avoid surveillance. Shortly after, the phone rang, which the rest of Friday Black answered. It was Tattletale, who told them that they needed to get the safe from the ABB arcade, and that it could not end up in the PRT’s hands, before muttering something about a bank heist later that day (a bit of an accelerated timeline for canon ik).

Friday Black ended up planning an independent heist, this time without any non-player help (Circus was only hired for that previous job, and Riley had Delusion-mandated naptime after pulling an all nighter for the surgery.) Using SoloS’ clone to scout the area, they found that the PRT were already investigating the building, which had collapsed after Oni Lee’s explosion. They’d also brought Vista to help move the rubble. The team would need to move fast, as the PRT could effectively move that safe back to HQ in an instant with the Ward there.

They figured out a plan: Use the sewers. They’d wait for the PRT to find the safe and put it in one of their vans, cause a distraction, and steal the safe using a burst from underneath. House monitored the situation as the team got into position. One of the PRT officers had set off a trap in the building, trapping their leg in what appeared to be a grey bubble and needing it amputated. They did manage to retrieve the safe, however, and loaded it in their van. Right on cue, SoloS’ clone drove around in a stolen car, swerving and nearly hitting some of the officers if not for Vista warping space to direct it away. At the same time, Charybdis did a burst below the van, just barely clipping the safe as it fell down to them. Tremor picked it up and the two made a break for it, as House and the main SoloS did the same from a safe position nearby. It went smoothly. Almost too smoothly.

Arriving back at the warehouse, the team decided to investigate the contents of the safe, as there was already a hole in it. Inside was an unsigned PRT document detailing one Dinah Alcott, who claimed to have visions of the future and that she would apparently be kidnapped by… every gang in the city? Including Friday Black, despite the document supposedly being made before the group had gotten the name? The team didn’t know what to make of it, and decided to leave it for Delusion to handle when they got back.

Checking the news, they overheard that the Undersiders had hit the Brockton Bay Central Bank, taking down both the Wards and an accompanying Miss Militia (considering the accelerated timeline, I’m actually not even sure if Amy and thus Victoria would be there)

Later that night, as Friday Black was settling in while waiting, House saw explosions go off across the city. Bakuda’s attack had started. At the same time, another call from Delusion’s phone. Tattletale again, asking for Remedy’s help. Some of her teammates got hurt, with someone named Skitter being in particularly bad shape.

Friday Black decided to once again use the sewers, rather than being exposed to more bombing runs by the ABB. It was maze down there, making it difficult to navigate their way to the location Tattletale had given them. House noted to make an X-ray upgrade to her goggles after this. But for now, they just had to try and roughly make their way there from underneath.

At one point, they came across a manhole cover. SoloS had their clone poke their head out to scout the area above. However, when they did so, soldiers shot them and climbed down to chase after the intruders. House, Charybdis, and SoloS made a break for it, with Tremor and Remedy covering the team by attacking some of the soldiers. Remedy threw a scalpel that got caught in one soldier’s armor. While bullets proved ineffective against Tremor, one of the soldiers mounted a special attachment to their weapon. It fired a laser, piercing through Tremor’s leg and knocking him down.

Charybdis turned back, and determined to help Tremor, did another burst backwards. Bursting through the soldiers. Without a second thought, she reduced 3 of them to nothing more than some limbs and smears of blood that escaped the matter-erasing dash. The last of the soldiers, in a panic, surrendered, offering to tell Friday Black anything they want to know about someone named Coil. In that instant, however, a bomb was activated on the mercenary’s chest, consuming the tunnel in a fiery explosion.

When the smoke cleared, things were in a terrible state. SoloS had been caught in the blast and was badly burnt. Tremor and Remedy were a bit injured. And Charybdis, who was closest to the soldier, was dead-

■

At one point, they came across a manhole cover. SoloS attempted to open it, but it was blocked. The team continued making their way to the location, and made it without any issues. No one died, it had gone smoothly. Almost too smoothly.

As the GM informed us after the session that this was our one and only do over. From my understanding, exactly one time, an action that resulted in one of our deaths just happened to end up on a timeline Coil collapsed. Which was lucky, since this would’ve been a pretty bad way to lose people. But also, with how things end up going later, it would’ve been nice to have had this in our back pocket longer.

The location Tattletale had marked was a veterinarian’s clinic. She met Friday Black there, leading them inside through a cloud of pitch black smoke. Inside was a man in a biker outfit they identified as Grue from Delusion’s rundown. And on one of the beds, seemingly physically fine but near motionless, bugs crawling towards her, was girl in bug-themed armor. Skitter.

Interlude 3 - Skitter

No images left so quick summary. The bank heist had gone about as smoothly as it did in canon. What changed, however, was that the events of Arc 4 essentially happened in the same day (again, really accelerated timeline ik) likely due to Bakuda being pushed to attack sooner. Things go the same up until Skitter gets hit with one of Bakuda’s bombs. But instead of a pain bomb, the GM rolled. And she got a bomb based on Victor. A bomb that targets a person’s basic functions, and over a short period of time erases them. Their ability to speak, walk, breathe. A bomb that by all means should result in death.

But by some miracle, the GM rolled for Skitter, and she effectively rolled the max possible value. She survived.

Not a controlled swarm. Just a command. An emotion. A rage.

Bugs. Bugs. Bugs. Bugs. Bugs. Bugs. Bugs. Bugs.

Bugs. Bugs. Bugs. Bugs. Bugs.

Running. Running away. Tattletale awake. Knife, blood, in hand. Stabbed Bakuda?

Good.

Relief.

Falling away.

Slipping.

Haze.

Hold onto.

Slips from hand.

Falling.

Falling.

Into a chasm.

Deeper.

Far deeper.

End of Part 1

That’s all I’ve got for this post! Wraps up the introduction sessions to the campaign pretty nicely I think. Been writing this post on and off since April, so will likely be a while before the next (unless I start locking in on these). Hope y’all like reading about this, and I’ll add a link to the next part once I’ve typed it out!

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

An absolutely devastating expose of rape culture among older American adults - even if the author doesn’t choose to admit to herself or her readers that that is what she’s writing about

“My mother’s most recent encounter with “the blue pill” was grueling. After a taxing day (stalled car, heavy traffic), my mother told the man she was seeing that he should not take it that night. She was exhausted; all she wanted was a good night’s sleep. He took the pill anyway and got into her bed with an erection. Too tired for an argument, she acquiesced. “You’re ministering to him,” she said of the experience, “trying every trick in the book, and it’s not working. But he’s like, I have an erection, I’m going to make this work, I’ve got this usable part, I’m just going to do it … I felt like I was the blow-up doll, as if I’d disappeared. I was so conscious of being utilized and totally objectified.”

Ultimately, the man did not ejaculate. But penetration didn’t end until my mother, who says she’d begun to disassociate from the moment, dug her fingers so deeply into his shoulders that he finally stopped to ask what was wrong. The next day, there was “no pain. No physical irritation. Tedium. Annoyance. Anger at self for putting up with it. Lots of the latter.””

Full text under the cut:

The Little-Blue-Pill Problem

For some women of a certain age, erectile-dysfunction prescriptions are redefining sex — and not always for the best.

My mother and I talk a lot about sex on a near-daily basis, which hasn’t always been the case. Growing up, the only “sex talk” I can remember came the summer before I left for boarding school, when I was packing up, and my mother suddenly asked about the sex-education classes I’d endured as an eighth-grader.

“Did they teach abstinence or safe sex?”

Because I didn’t know what abstinence was, I chose the latter.

“Well then,” she said, “you know about sex.”

I didn’t know about sex, but she sounded relieved, which in turn relieved me.

We first started talking openly about sex after our respective divorces, which happened within a year of one another. I was 39 and in Kentucky, in a freestanding house, living alone for the first time in my adult life. She decided to leave Virginia and buy a too-large house just down the street. Within just a few months of her relocation, I’d sold my house and moved in with her.

It was in between episodes of Prime Suspect — in which Helen Mirren must not only hunt violent criminals but also combat rampant sexism — that we began exchanging stories about our sex lives. I was surprised to learn that my then-68-year-old mother considered herself sexually enthusiastic and that she thought sex had become more rewarding with age. I was also surprised to learn that she, an intrepid internet dater, had hopes and intentions of remaining sexually active for the foreseeable future.

Now, though, just eight years later, our talks have gone from casual and funny to negative and remorseful, as she’s become increasingly weary of attempting intimacy with men her age.

My mother negotiated sex through three marriages with three very different men, for a cumulative 43 years, but never once reckoned with erectile dysfunction. “Maybe I was lucky,” she said. “Maybe not.” When ED “dropped its head” during her first post-divorce sexual encounter a couple of years ago, she was flummoxed. “My partner and I were both in our mid-60s, healthy, and fit. A flaccid penis was not part of my intimacy vocabulary.”

Neither was “the blue pill,” which could actually be any number of phosphodiesterase type 5 (PDE5) inhibitors in any number of colors — Viagra (sildenafil), Cialis (tadalafil), or Levitra (vardenafil), prescribed medications that improve dilation of the arteries in a penis, helping a man get and maintain an erection.

To the uninitiated, including myself and almost all of the friends I polled, 30- and 40- and even 50-somethings who haven’t yet had personal experience with it, sex on the blue pill is assumed to be just the same as sex without it. Maybe there would be a few extra lengthy erections, some discomfort on the guy’s end, but that would be it.

Large swaths of men and women describe Viagra as a game changer, a marriage-maker, a life saver. But there also exists a mostly unheard-from subset of heterosexual women who would disagree. In fact, my mother unequivocally views Viagra as the cause for her newfound aversion to sex.

The problem is that while a urologist can improve circulation pharmacologically and add testosterone, actual ejaculation isn’t guaranteed. But some men, perhaps out of a desire for the familiar satisfaction of completion, keep going, keep engaging in sex, regardless of whether or not their partner wants to or is still getting any pleasure from it.

One doctor I spoke with, Claiborne Whitworth, explains it this way: A functional erection does not equal the ability to achieve orgasm or, as my mother points out, even an erection capable of penetration. “Older male patients commonly report difficulty achieving orgasm,” Whitworth told me, “some failing to achieve it at all, with sexual encounters ending due to exhaustion and/or discomfort for the receiving partner.” The average time for a male to ejaculate (once the penis is in the vagina) is three-to-seven minutes. An older man with delayed ejaculation can take 25 to 30 minutes or even longer.

Now consider this: Vaginal lubrication is produced during arousal, and most water-based lubricants, which mimic natural lubrication, come with a suggested reapplication time of five to 15 minutes. According to a survey conducted by the Study of Women’s Health Across the Nation, which lasted over 17 years and included more than 2,400 participants, the “prevalence of vaginal dryness increased from 19.4% among all women at baseline (ages 42 to 53 years) to 34% at ages 57 to 69 years.” Menopause, anxiety, and being married were all linked to the development of vaginal dryness.

My mother’s most recent encounter with “the blue pill” was grueling. After a taxing day (stalled car, heavy traffic), my mother told the man she was seeing that he should not take it that night. She was exhausted; all she wanted was a good night’s sleep. He took the pill anyway and got into her bed with an erection. Too tired for an argument, she acquiesced. “You’re ministering to him,” she said of the experience, “trying every trick in the book, and it’s not working. But he’s like, I have an erection, I’m going to make this work, I’ve got this usable part, I’m just going to do it … I felt like I was the blow-up doll, as if I’d disappeared. I was so conscious of being utilized and totally objectified.”

Ultimately, the man did not ejaculate. But penetration didn’t end until my mother, who says she’d begun to disassociate from the moment, dug her fingers so deeply into his shoulders that he finally stopped to ask what was wrong. The next day, there was “no pain. No physical irritation. Tedium. Annoyance. Anger at self for putting up with it. Lots of the latter.”

In a 2003 study published in Sociology of Health, the sociologists Annie Potts, Nicola Gavey, Victoria Grace, and Tiina Vares discuss the dearth of documented experiences from the female sexual partners of men who use sexuopharmaceuticals. Talking to 27 women whose male partners used Viagra, the writers suggested that “while the publicity surrounding Viagra may potentially facilitate more positive attitudes to sexuality in older age, it may also produce a societal expectation that ‘healthy’ and ‘normal’ life for older people requires the continuation of ‘youthful’ (energetic) sex lives focused on penetrative intercourse.”

Of course erectile-dysfunction medications can create positive change for both the prescription holder and their partner. Peter, an 80-year-old in Ashville, North Carolina, can’t remember when he first started using Viagra, but he does remember it was when his ability to orgasm went from twice a day to once a day. “One day, there was less penis in my pants,” he told me. Somewhere in his late 60s, early 70s, however, the pill stopped working as effectively. He returned to his doctor. His problems were four-fold: “It won’t get up; it won’t stay up; it won’t stay up long enough for me to complete; it won’t stay up long enough to give her satisfaction.”

Peter’s doctor put him on a low daily dose of Viagra, instructing him to increase the dose to 100 milligrams before sexual activity. “It’s not as rigid as when I was a younger man, and it still presents some issues with penetration — I am working through those issues with the incredibly generous cooperation of my partner.” Today, he says, he’s having “the most satisfying sex I’ve ever had, albeit with challenges. I’m much more thankful and appreciative of what’s possible.”

Still, my mother was eager for me to write about her experiences with the blue pill, in part because she’s convinced, given her exploits, that the drug is quietly affecting the well-being and happiness of an untold number of women all over the world. Telling me about her recent and past encounters, she sometimes waxed quite funny (“I mean, their faces still look good, but their little wanker is not wanking”), but mostly she was mad: “The whole business of entitlement, sex, aggression, erections, and pills makes me angry. On the one hand, I felt that I was complicit in allowing him to continue,” she said, “but the reason I didn’t stop him is because of that stupid toe in the door of patriarchy: that a man’s penis is such a fragile subject that I didn’t want to humiliate him. It felt incumbent on me to make the problem go away. Which is just stupid. But I was, in a way, taking care of his bad behavior.”

In the case of many erectile-dysfunction advertisements, the perspective of female partners is either portrayed as entirely healthy and participatory (those bathtub commercials, for example) or entirely excluded. That 1998 ad featuring Bob Dole equated medicated sex with bravery, leaving out any consideration for the partner altogether with the tagline, “It may take a little courage to ask your doctor about erectile dysfunction. But everything worthwhile usually does.” An entire Pfizer campaign featured solo well-dressed men in confident, contemplative poses. One series of slogans highlighted by Weill Cornell Medicine’s History of Medical Advertisements collection — “You may be a man of few words, but you know how to make them count”; “Men don’t look for excuses. They get things done”; “This is the age of knowing what you’re made of” — reinforce that the drug is all about the man, all about his desires, all about helping him recapture what he’s previously been, and no one, nothing, else.

“Everybody was going on about how wonderful this thing was,” said one 60-year-old woman participating in the 2003 study, “and … [when I read about some other women’s experiences] I thought oh, thank God, I’m normal! — not everybody sees it as being … the most wonderful thing that ever happened this side of sliced bread!”

I asked a general practitioner if she ever had complaints from female patients about partners misusing or overusing Viagra prescriptions. She said, “Viagra can probably uncover deeper relationship struggles. We think that sex is going to fix things, it doesn’t necessarily …” Plus, aging affects women’s sexual health, too, she points out. “Female genital atrophy, for instance, is a common phenomenon among menopausal women that can reduce libido, reduce arousal, and increase difficulty in achieving orgasm,” she added. She told me about a couple in their 70s who she sees and treats together. The husband wanted the pill. The wife did not. The husband wanted their doctor to explain why his wife was wrong. She wouldn’t. “It was very aggressive,” she told me. “Very much But I’m the man sort of thing.”

I talked to Dan, a mid-50s CrossFit instructor who gave up Viagra about a year ago. Dan first started using the pill after going through a bad breakup in his late 40s. He didn’t need it, he says, but the fallout from the breakup was stressful. When he started dating someone he connected with, he got worried that his stress would be a distraction and that he wouldn’t be able to perform when the time came. He went to his doctor.

“Knowing what I know now,” he said, “if I was my doctor, I would have said, ‘Look, bro. I could prescribe this shit for you, and it will cause you to much more easily get an erection and keep said erection. It’ll spring to life and stay there for a while, no matter what’s on your mind. But in the medium to long term, you’d actually be better off, if you don’t actually have a physiological problem’ — which I didn’t and don’t have — ‘figuring out your fucking mind so that you don’t introduce this sort of dependency into the mix.’ Because that was the thing that happened.”

Other drawbacks for Dan included headaches, low blood pressure, and the issue of timing. He’d gauge the possibility of sex, take the drug so that he hoped the timing was about right, and then sometimes, if intercourse didn’t happen, he’d be stuck. “It just was not ideal.” A few times while using the pill, he tells me, he felt like he might actually “drop over dead” during some especially strenuous CrossFit classes. Ultimately, he weaned himself off what he referred to as his chemical dependency because the drug had begun to affect how he thought about sex. “Once you take it, you’re then stuck facing a headache and with this particular window where it does its thing. It inclines you to think, Okay, I just took this. I should probably use my penis.”

After talking with my mother, I started wondering about other women. I am guilty of acquiescing to sexual encounters with men when I wasn’t totally in the mood. I’m guilty of faking orgasms in the hopes of rushing a partner’s climax. I’m guilty of letting a partner continue his penetration long after it’s stopped being comfortable or pleasurable for me, a choice that left me feeling sore and achy well into the next day. Exactly how pervasive is women’s deference to men’s pleasure?

I texted a few friends, asking about their experiences. Mallory, who is in her early 50s, wrote back immediately: “My own experience with the blue pill was great,” she said, but she also told me about a woman who’s “a widow now but used to joke about the only foreplay was serving her husband a glass of water to take the blue pill.”

Lynne, a friend of a friend, is a 65-year-old retired medical interpreter who specialized in obstetrics and gynecology. Five years after her divorce — what Lynne refers to as “a length of time without intimacy” — she was thrilled to reconnect with her first love, who’d recently become single himself. “He was as opposite to my ex-husband as a man could be, in mostly wonderful ways, but also the not so great,” she said. “He was the prototypical sedentary American with terrible dietary habits on top of the smoking, and he needed Viagra to perform at all. But the sex was fantastic, and we had a blast making up for lost time.”

For Lynne, the drug, initially, was a revelation. But when she eventually asked him not to automatically take the pills when she noticed what she thought were side effects, as he would if there was even a possibility of intimacy, “it took a long time for him to control the habit of doing so, as if it were an obsession. And it is!” Eventually, her partner accepted Lynne’s feedback and now, eight years later, they’re still together.

On an intellectual level, Lynne understands that natural aging diminishes both the desire and abilities she took for granted in more youthful days; she told me that an active and fulfilling sex life has been an extremely positive part of her life. “That being said, the obsession with virility is creepy,” she says, “the assumption that it is what women want all the time is a turnoff.”

I found Ann, 53, through Instagram. She explained her marriage’s sex life as having its share of highs and lows before she and her husband turned to sildenafil. “We are very attracted to each other, have been from the very beginning in our 20s,” she told me. “It went up and down while raising kids. It got really good after the kids went to college.”

Ann described her experience with sildenafil as good, “for the most part.” She added, “It’s in his head now that he always needs it. I don’t like to always have to say, ‘Tonight, let’s do it.’ There’s something a little rote about sex now.”

Ann’s diminished craving doesn’t stop her from being grateful for the sexuopharmaceutical help her husband has received. She told me that the very best thing (for her) isn’t the sex; it’s the psychological side effect: “I couldn’t believe how down he could be if an erection did not happen.”

A woman in her late 60s named Pearl heard that I was working on this piece and offered to share her thoughts. “I’ve had to play along with my husband’s needs and wants for a while now,” Pearl told me. Before the blue pill, but since middle age, Pearl described sex as infrequent, quite casual, not unpleasant but also not earth shattering. “We both had to be quite ‘turned on’ for it to happen. And, yes, I often felt the need to hide my lack of interest and play along.” They hadn’t discussed Viagra until her husband brought a prescription home one day.

Pearl had lots of questions, including whether or not her husband had acquired a similar pill for her. He hadn’t. “How am I supposed to get in the mood, lube up, wait the half-hour, and act like this is great?” she said. “I do get asked sometimes ‘Should I take a pill?’ Hmmm … Am I in the mood? Will I be in a bit? Do I want to be in the mood? Or I get the ‘I took my pill awhile ago.’ Well, great, I’m about to fall asleep …”

When I told Dr. Bat Sheva Marcus, a sex therapist, over Zoom about my mother’s experiences that have inspired this story, she almost instantly teared up. “The fact that you’re talking to your mother about this is so powerful to me,” she said. But she was also quick to point out that she wasn’t crying for the reason I might think.

“It sounds to me to a certain degree that the thesis of this article is that the little blue pill has been really helpful for men but is putting a lot of pressure on women in a way it shouldn’t,” she said. “That’s probably true about a subset and I want to talk about what that subset is, but I also want you to know that phos-5 inhibitors in general have been a godsend to many, many people.”

Marcus then delivered a surprising statistic that she would go on to deliver a few more times over the next couple days: by 40, 40 percent of men need will need a PED5I to achieve an erection; by 50, 50 percent; by 60, 60 percent; by 70, 70 percent; and by 80, “well, you’re probably not gonna be able to have intercourse without Viagra.”

When I started this piece, I was filled with rage on my mother’s behalf. My working hypothesis was something along the lines of Fuck the blue pill, fuck the patriarchy, fuck masculine fragility. But after talking to Marcus, I understood that my initial stance conveniently eschewed nuance. “I think what you’re hitting on,” Marcus said, “is less the problem with the medication and more the problem with the communication and the expectations about sex in our society. If you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

Dan, the CrossFit instructor, told me, “My new relationship is so much deeper. We’ve gotten more comfortable. We’re pretty direct communicators now. Sex isn’t always going to lead to one or both of us having an orgasm. Sometimes it’s like the movies and awesome, and sometimes it’s nothing like that and still awesome. I just wish my doctor hadn’t been so ready to say, ‘Sure. Here. Try it.’ It’s much more complicated than that.”

My friend Anita, who is in her early 50s and lives in New York, met her husband, 15 years older, when she was 20. For several decades, they had a healthy and active sex life. When Anita was 45, her husband, after a year of debilitating symptoms, was diagnosed with a near-fatal heart infection.

“Our sex life had totally dried up,” she said, “because he was dying, and they didn’t know why.” Ultimately, he had two heart valves replaced, was in the hospital for a month, and put on IV antibiotics for six months after that. During that time, they had no sex. When they were ready to try again, they discovered he had erectile dysfunction, a common side effect for men after open-heart surgery.

His doctor suggested Viagra. “And, oh my God, it felt like I was being hammered by somebody who was never going to have an orgasm. It’s fine now, but it was terrible at first. Because his whole body — his whole body image — was fucked up from the surgery and almost dying.” Anita realized a conversation was in order. “But that was after I got to the point where I could be like, ‘It’s working, that’s great, but, you know, it’s not working in a way that is deeply satisfying for me.’ It took a long time — like four years — for me not to feel like I was just a receptacle.”

My boyfriend is nine years older than I am. Long before my mother and I started talking about erectile dysfunction, he and I had agreed that, if and when it was necessary, he’d get a prescription for Viagra, and that would be that. But he’s been privy to much of my research for this piece and, recently, our conversations around the topic have become more detailed and specific.

“Everything I knew about Viagra came from commercials I saw during football games,” he said. “You know: Talk to your doctor. Have better, more satisfying sex … I hadn’t thought much beyond the pleasurable smiles on the aging beautiful couples’ faces.”

“What if I don’t want to have sex into your 70s?” I asked.

“Ideally, we’ll find other forms of being intimate that work for us both,” he said. “The idea of hurting you is a total turnoff.”

“There are lots of ways to have sex,” I said.

“And if you don’t want to and I do, I’ll use my hand. But maybe it’ll be me who doesn’t want to have sex,” he said. We both laughed.

These new conversations aren’t sexy. Sometimes they’re playful, and sometimes they’re uncomfortable. But one thing that seems glaringly essential to any healthy and functioning sex life is communication. I’m grateful that my mother has provided me a reason to start thinking about and talking about what sex might look like as I move into my 50s and 60s.

Talking about sex is hard. It took my mother and me many decades, several divorces, a shared roof, a decent amount of wine, and Helen Mirren before we were able to start doing so honestly and without embarrassment. Now it feels as natural as pouring a cup of coffee first thing in the morning and as easy as tying a shoelace.

“Maturity and confidence contributed to my embrace of ‘geriatric’ sex and enthusiasm for it,” my mother told me. “We geriatrics passionately don’t want to grow old, and sex — good viable sex — offers the suggestion that we aren’t really old after all. But I now believe I’ve given up on that element in my life, which makes me sad. Joyous, frisky, passionate sex is just that: joyous, frisky, and passionate. I would happily forgo erections, penetration, and orgasms for the pleasure of being with a man who knows he’s still desirable in spite of impotence.”

My mother has scolded herself for sometimes still “having her toe in the door of the patriarchy.” But I see something admirable, even subversive in her new self-possession. I know a lot of women who fear the second half of their lives. But I’m beginning to think it’s the very act of becoming “women of a certain age” that inclines us toward autonomous and radical thinking — and demanding our pleasure be taken seriously.

[synthaphone]

viarnne's petpet is really cute but idk if it makes sense for him to have it like. in the story im writing. maybe i can just say that he gets it later

[lesbianlenas]

u may remember i was just working on my comment which was the 80 pg paper i wrote that made me lose the will to live so now for one semester i have to edit the citations of other ppl’s comments so i was like let me do it during the summer so i dont have to do it when i have classes so ok i get assigned for the summer right and then they’re like everyone gets 2 papers they have to edit throughout the process but we need someone to do three and they were let me know or i will randomly select i’m sure u can see where this is going. so i guess nobody volunteered bc now i have to do 3 papers on goddddd i truly am cursed since the day i was born WHATEVER!!!!! adhd should have made me exempt from doing the third one i’m being completely serious. let’s give the person w the can’t focus disease more work to do than everyone else okkkkk 😑 AND instead of having a week to do the edits like last yr they’re only giving us 5 days to do the edits. so now i’m going to have to edit 3 papers of horrendous citations in 5 days and every time there is going to be more citations to go over btw. and yes i KNOW they will be horrendous bc bluebooking is diabolical and u don’t truly learn how to do it until it is hammered into ur brain thru writing ur comment. AND the ppl writing their comments now have not done any spading which helps u practice doing citations bc u have to edit them in papers like how i have to do for this. so it’s going to be so bad. and i have to do THREE 😭 at least the job i got is only 10-15 hrs a week so i dont have a full time job on top of that but also as i said i have adhd this is so harsh and cruel. whatever curse was placed on my ancestors needs to give it up now i’m so over it……..free me 😭🙏

[ragnars-tooth]

HII HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

As promised, here are seven wips from the last uhh 3 years I've been writing dragons book fanfic on my silly gay computer. They're a mix of unfinished/abandoned/in-progress-but-not-that-important-rn

There are summaries in square brackets between each separate fic with a quick description of what the fuck is going on, when it's going on (e.g. book number, where appropriate) and main players/relationships. (plus a fun little word-count and look at the last time i touched the file… yeah, fun… whoops). These have been bolded to hopefully make them a bit easier to see while scrolling at high velocity.

All under the cut because it's too long for me to do that to your dashboards 🫡

[Lucy & David, chatting about author photos post-book 4. 475 words. (Oct 2022 💀)]

“Hang on…”

David paused, finger still wedging the spine of the book open. He was staring at the flap of the dust cover, frowning slightly to himself.

“Did you use my student ID for my author photo?”

Lucy leant in closer. College David was a little younger than David Rain – same dark blue eyes, but with a rounder face and hair that hadn’t been bleached white by his time elsewhere. The dusty brown still crept in at the ends of his hair, where it was now stuck to the inside of his collar.

Lucy couldn’t remember how many times she had taken down her copy of The Nutbeast and stared at the little card. It was odd to compare the man who’d lived only in her head for so many years to the one sitting on the edge of her bed.

He looked tired now. In-her-head-David had never been tired.

“It was the only one mum had.” She said.

It was the truth; Liz had run through his entire film collection and hadn’t found a single photo of David’s face. He’d been more of a landscape photographer – lots of buses and bridges that hadn’t consoled her as a child. Well, a younger child.

David cocked his head to one side, looking decidedly distraught. “But it’s awful – that’s not an excuse!”

She glanced back down, as though the image might have twisted into something else in the time she’d released her focus from it.

Nope. Still David, if a little pixelly.

“It looks fine.”

His hair was staticky and spidering out in a mess of flyaways, and David had a slight manic glint to his eyes, grinning in an angular, uncomfortable way. There might have been a stain on his shirt – it was hard to tell.

“It does not.”

Lucy cocked an eyebrow. “And where did you want us to get another? Your return address isn’t even real.”

He flailed the book wildly, “I don’t even have parents! That makes it double your fault for not having a photo of me.” The cover was still propped open an inch or so, the paper caught on his ring. “There has got to be a better one in this house.”

“Can’t fix your face, David. They’re all going to look like that.”

“This is inhumane!” he sputtered.

Despite it all, Lucy found herself smiling.

“We used it at your… not-funeral too.”

“I’m sorry.” David scoffed, eyes very wide. “You used my student identification photo at my funeral?”

“And where were we meant to get another one? You were gone remember? Can’t exactly call ghostbusters and ask them to snap a photo of you.”

David frowned, nose wrinkling at the bridge.

“I don’t think they do that – they bust the ghosts, remember?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “You’re a very annoying ghost. Maybe I should give them a ring regardless.”

-----

[Lucy & David, the audacity that some people have to move on and remodel the kitchen while you’re gone, really. 535 words. (March 2023)]

Irrevocably and stupidly, the only words he can get out of his mouth are:

“You moved the fridge.”

It’s not incorrect – it used to push up against the backdoor, and no amount of goodwill could stop you from nearly decapitating Bonny when he pattered through the cat-flap on short notice.

Now, it’s on the opposite wall – plastered in the same old stickers and fridge magnets reminiscent of days gone by. It’s the same fridge where he used to drink straight from the milk carton and look out over the rockery and crooked garden fence, but it doesn’t face the window anymore. David would have to turn fully around, which rather defeats the purpose.

It’s nothing intelligent, nothing profound – so much, so fucking much, has happened in five years and the only thing he can think about is the fridge, Lucy filling her water in the moonlight, barely tall enough to reach the faucet, and the rattling of the entire house in the winter months, post it notes and postcards and crayon drawings of a clan of squirrels.

There are new drawings now – Alexa’s, he thinks vaguely – but it’s not the same. She holds her markers much tighter.

It shouldn’t be a shock. It’s been so, so long since he was last here, but in the same breath it’s as though David had only closed his eyes for a second to rest, and the house has grown and shifted around him.

He knows that this is how things work, he hadn’t expected or wanted them to dig in their heels and sink into the snow with him. It’s a good thing, he tells himself, that things have changed, but he chokes on the inhale anyway.

He’s been left behind.

Lucy leans into the counter, dragging the cuff of her jumper between her thumb and forefinger. She bites the inside of her cheek the same way she did five years ago, but that’s wrong too.

It’s something in her eyes, something heavy and dark that’s never going away – she’s tired, much more tired than a child has any right being, and it seizes something in his chest.

He did this.

She sighs, moving to play with the collar of the jumper instead.

“Bonny likes to be big now and household fridges aren’t really made to withstand the force of a hundred-pound tiger… it got old real quick.”

David wants to say something, to lapse back into the way things used to be, but his mouth betrays him. He nods instead, and Lucy keeps tugging at the green fabric at her neck. It’s his old geography society jumper, he notices absently. It looks older than he feels, silver lettering faded black and brown, eroded away entirely in places. He hadn’t been to many of the meetings, not after truly being inducted into the Pennykettle’s nonsense, but the dusty smell of the common room and their pilfered coffee machine fills his nose.

It makes him want to gag. Where exactly are those members now? The idea of what will become of them if he fails has the prickle of ice rising just under his skin.

How can things be so much the same and so different all at once?

-----

[Henry & David: excerpt from the wider ‘wouldn’t you be mad as hell if you were a normal guy and found out your birth dad is your landlady’s new boyfriend?’ au, post family dinner explosion/revelation. 703 words. (September 2023)]

“Exiled from my own house.” He muttered darkly.

Henry arched a massive eyebrow. “You don’t pay the rent, boy.”

“I do – that is literally the one thing I do.”

“That’s rough, man.” Tam mumbled, hands weighed down by the tall coffee mug he had pilfered. It tipped dangerously as he raised it to his mouth, threatening to douse them all in yet more sludge. Henry frowned and steadied it with one hand. Tam blinked slowly and reset his angle.

“There’re camping beds under the stairs. You can set yourself up in the living room.” Henry narrowed his eyes at the two of them, “You will not be rumpling my upholstery by sleeping on my sofa.”

Tam hummed, setting his mug down owlishly before slogging out of the kitchen. He looked much more jelly than human, and David had half a mind to go and help him before he gave up on assembling the bed and curled up in a heap on the floor. He wasn’t sure if that had been on Henry Bacon’s extensive list of house rules or not.

“Did you know for long?” Henry asked quietly.

The tone took David off guard, breaking him out of his considerations of how comfortable Henry’s plush carpet was and how likely it was Tam was going to get a good night’s sleep in the inevitability that he collapsed from exhaustion.

“Know what?”

“Don’t be stupid boy.” Henry huffed, his eyes softening more than David had ever seen. It was an odd expression for the hard lines of his face. “How long did you know Arthur was your father?”

He laughed.

Turning his wrist to check the face of his watch he answered,

“Oh, about seven hours.”

“Mm, so ruining dinner was a crime of passion then.”

“Or you could say Arthur ruined dinner twenty-three years ago. Ultra-pre-meditated.”

Henry sighed.

“Don’t start writing crime novels, boy. You’re dreadful.” “It must have been a shock to the system then, you’re not one to get angry.”

David shrugged. It sounded almost like a compliment. Two years ago he would have told you with full certainty that dragons were a fantasy. Now they warmed his tea in the mornings. A lot of things had changed in his life since then.

He shifted his mug between his hands and took another sip. The dregs were starting to cool.

“It would have been better if it had been literally anyone else. Arthur’s been so… kind to me since we met and all this… it’s just-” his nose scrunched, “highly contradictory to everything I thought I knew.”

David’s family had come up in conversation before – once Henry Bacon had hold of a thread he yanked and yanked until it came loose, no matter how many loose teeth he took with it. Perhaps that was why he and Tam got along so well.

It was no secret how David felt about the concept of his father. Henry Bacon had shared enough choice words about the man himself that David had to wonder what calculations were running in the back of his mind. Was he unravelling all of his interactions with Arthur, sliding the threads under a microscope? Was he a good man? Honourable?

David didn’t have the answers to that himself.

He shook his head to clear it.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s barely a father – he wasn’t there to raise me and he certainly wasn’t there when I needed him.” He rolled his mug around to observe the escaped leaves. “I think you did a better job at that.” 

“Arthur’s… a complicated man. I’m sure you two will be able to have a civil conversation once this is all said and done.”

When exactly does this get to be done? He wasn’t sure anyone could tell him that. Not for all Arthur’s understanding of the universe and all its components therein was there an equation he could use to fix this. Replace x and y and find how he had missed this. To be so impossibly close and so far away at the same time. No doubt, he would have invented time travel before he would have noticed what sat right in front of him.   

David hummed into his empty mug.

“Sure.”

-----

[Tam/David, General Pennykettle Clan. David is weird after being resurrected, and everyone has questions about Co:pern:ica. There is another family dinner because those are all I write apparently. Tam and David go for a smoke break. 3067 words. (November 2022)]

“’Not like it can kill me anyway.” He says. “I didn’t eat for four years, it’s not like a bit of smoke will do me in now.”

The silence is suddenly oppressive, and when David looks up the entire damn table is staring at him, slack-jawed. He has missed something.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Four years?” Liz is still holding the plate of roasters, stuck in the motion of sliding more onto her plate with the flat of her knife. There is something akin to real horror in her eyes. 

“I was dead for one, yes.”

She extends the plate to him jerkily. “Then you’d better make up for it now.”

Ah! Yes, the human concept of starvation, he’d forgotten that one. Generally pretty upsetting to the average person – makes sense.

David pushes the plate back her way, gentle not to disturb the roasters as he laughs. They’re the herb covered kind and it would be a dire shame to spill them all over the floor, no matter if Bonny might thank him.

“No, really. I’m fine. Had other things to worry about – slipped my mind if anything.”

Other things, yes… let’s say that, shall we?

Arthur has inclined his head towards him in the way that means he’s grabbed the string of an intriguing theory and intends to tug it until the entire tapestry unravels. He gets that look about him a lot.

David shivers despite the British cold always being abrasively hot to him these days. What an odd image to set him on edge.

“Would you call that typical for the Fain? Not needing to sustain a physical body?”

He rolls the unlit cigarette around between his fingers.

“No,” David hums, “I don’t think it’s a Fain thing, I think it’s a dead thing.”

“But you’re not dead now, are you?” There’s a tension in Zanna’s words that he wasn’t expecting. If he were sentimental he might have called it concern. But he’s not sentimental, he’s Fain – he doesn’t do that anymore.

David shrugs. “Not entirely sure if I count as alive either.”

“You do.” She’s quick – always has been to cut off the things she doesn’t want to hear. Zanna has made it clear enough that she doesn’t like the thought that David Rain was never real, that he was some construct given life. He can’t blame her.  

“Can we not talk about how you’re dead or not dead.” Lucy snaps, her plate clinking a dangerous tone when she slams down her fork. David flinches at the sound. Tam has his eyes on him again. “You’re finally back and I don’t want to think about -” she glares at the fireplace, “-all that. I just want to have dinner again.”

He feels a twinge of the heaviness and lightness of space winking back at him. The same sensation of holding Bergstrom’s pocket watch in his open hand and staring into its face, and all that that entails.

Good, it seems to say to him, you’re not here to be liked.

“’Course. Sorry, Luce.”

She shakes her head, and seems to think better of whatever was on the tip of her tongue. She picks up her fork again and returns her gaze to the plate,

“Whatever, answer Arthur’s physics questions.”

David slides his Yorkshire pudding onto her plate in some semblance of a peace offering. Lucy douses it in gravy and almost smiles at him.

“It’s probably an… Illumination thing, rather than a Fain thing.” He tucks the cigarette into the pocket of his shirt. With the way Arthur has crossed his hands on the tablecloth there is no way David is going to get a smoke break any time soon. “I was in limbo for a long time, but I remember that my parents used to cook.”

Those eyes are all on him again. Even Bonny has plodded back into the living room to stare at him, though he’s probably waiting for one of their entourage to drop a piece of chicken.

The cat glides under the table, and from the sound of pattering paws David can hear him settle in Arthur’s lap. The professor removes a hand from the table to rest in Bonny’s fur. Then his eyes move from the patch of wall over David’s shoulders to his face.

Right. Being stared at. That’s what’s happening.

“Not my parents,” he corrects. “One of me’s parents.” That’s worse.

“The me that does not have this specific earth body, but existed in Co:pern:ica.” Better? “The me that had parents.” Nope, that’s even worse.

No one looks like they know what to say. He can’t blame them. This whole family thing is a mess.

“We do eat.” He settles on, then shoves a piece of parsnip in his mouth for good measure. He is safe for the next five to twelve seconds, if he really pushes it.

They’re curious, but no one wants to touch that mess, so Arthur breaks the quiet of everyone glancing off awkwardly at various décor, grimacing slightly. “You had mentioned that the Fain don’t do many menial tasks unless they’re unavoidable – if you remember it that way, then you’re likely right.”

“Well, I don’t remember it, but based on Co:pern:ica David, I’d say so.“ Good Godith, what was in that fucking wine? “His parents cooked, so they had to eat. Probably...”

The looks return, so he moves on quickly, waving his hands vaguely.

“Multiple timelines,” he says, “There’s several me’s, doing about the same thing now. Several you’s too. I’m just aware of them because of the d- Illumimation thing.”

Why did you say that?? Now they’re going to want to know-

“There’s multiple of us?” Tam looks at him over the rim of his glasses, half-smirking, “What, am I still a journalist?”

“Uhhh…” Well. “Of a sort. It’s hazy, but I think you worked for the media.”

Don’t say he got arrested, don’t say he got arrested, don’t say he got arrested for treason and left for dead, don’t say he used to look at you with admiration in his eyes, and that stupid overgrown haircut, don’t say you were jealous of the way he looked at Rosa, for God’s sake David you can keep your thoughts to yourself you stupid bastard.

“You guys have a media?”

Oh great, you’ve just made him more interested. Good job, jackass!

David tries to make a non-comital sound in the back of his throat. It comes out strangled. Zanna frowns at him as she sips her wine.

“Very… State-operated, if you get my drift.”

Tam, ever the journalist, has just opened his mouth to probe for more answers when Liz cuts him off. She has piled up the empty plates in her quadrant of the table. David hopes it isn’t obvious that he’s floundering, but from the fact that she’s diffusing the situation he has to accept that it probably is.

“Well, don’t leave us hanging – who were the rest of us,” she laughs, “who was I?”

You used to read me to sleep. You painted the walls of my bedroom green when I said the grey made me sad. You were the only person we knew who made things with her hands instead of Imagineering them. You went to the Dead Lands and made life. You were my –

 “You were a potter.”

Tam rolls his eyes,

“God, are we all boring?”

It makes him oddly defensive for some reason.

“Zanna worked at the librarium.”

You know the reason. You knew all of these people in a way they can never know. You’ve loved them every universe you’ve been alive in. You always will. They cannot know that. It would be too hard. It would make you cry, and the Fain don’t cry.

“Librarium?” Arthur asks, Bonny’s round face pouting over the edge of his plate, eyes focused on the sliver of ham across a moat of gravy. It’s safe for now, it’ll take at least another ten minutes for Bonnington to figure out that he can step up onto the table.

“It’s… basically a library, but the books are alive and it’s run by Henry Bacon.”

“Mr Bacon?” Lucy looks frankly appalled at the idea.

“A weird Fain Mr Bacon, yes. I think I – I think the other me was living there.”

“Like when Gwiliana kicked you out.”

David snorts. “Yeah, like the week from hell.”

He shakes his head, re-adjusts course, then looks back to Arthur. “We haven’t had physical books in over a hundred years – the librarium was where they all went, Henry-” he nods to the woman on his right, “-and Zanna kept them in order.”

He sips from his glass.

Probably a bad idea, you’ve been running your mouth all night. Shut up.

“They were bloody tricky bastards.”

Zanna looks at him oddly. Her brows are pinched but she doesn’t seem overtly disgusted with the idea. It’s possibly the first time she has been at least neutral on the discussion of the Fain.

On the discussion of who you are.

“You couldn’t have lived at a library. You would’ve made a pig’s ear of it.” Her voice is not cold – it’s a joke, probably. She thinks it’s funny.

“Oh, I did.” He pauses, tries to recall the details. The librarium is hazy for some reason.

He recalls Rosa and her kicker boots, lying in the grass by the well, firebirds overhead. He remembers being eleven, reading about pianists… then being… twenty? He decides not to poke around too hard in that gap, though its vastness is mildly concerning.

He worries that there is something there that is worse than not knowing.

You felt that way before. When you were first living at the Crescent. You had huge gaps in your childhood. Scattered dates and one or two fixed points. You don’t even know if that was real. You don’t know if you want it to be.

David swallows thickly, “I don’t… actually remember what happened while I was there – while he was there. But he must have been there about ten years – that’s what the memories tell me anyway.”

You wanted me to leave the librarium so I would stop distracting you. You made me daisy chain bracelets and we used to curl up in the hammocks together to read. There wasn’t enough room but I would race you to see who could finish their volume faster. You almost always won, but I paid more attention to the details. I never did understand what was meant to be more or less important – it was in the book, so it had to be relevant, right? Mr Henry said we complimented each other nicely.

David is vaguely aware that he has slipped into a long silence. He watches Tam glance across the table at Zanna. His fingers itch for that cigarette.

“There are two of us left wise guy.” Lucy says, finally pushing her plate away. She hasn’t touched the sprouts. She never does. “What did Arthur and I get up to?”

He pretends to think for a moment, leaning back in his seat. His plate still has a mound of mash and peas. It’ll get cold and start going soggy soon. He hasn’t felt hungry since he died. He’ll still eat it.

David rolls his shoulders.

“Arthur was a physicist – it goes over my head but I think it was something to do with time.” Arthur tips his head not unlike a dog. He would love more details but David isn’t lying when he says he doesn’t get it.

You were my dad. You worked a lot. You did a good enough job when I did see you.

“I think… you had a cool name. It’s on the tip of my tongue”

Lucy snorts. “Boring. Just me left!” She arches a curious eyebrow – the one with the carefully placed slit. “And I better be more interesting.”

This is vague too. She’s young – no, really young – and then she’s… less young? But still a little kid. There’s the same chasm in his memory.

How can I know she’s my sister and have no idea when she was born? How do I have no clue what happened after I left – is it just too close? Do I need to write it down?

At the thought of writing a familiar green snout noses its way into his head. Zookie sits on his desk, looking up at him expectantly. The little dragon taps his pencil on the edge of his pad in a way that betrays some irritation. I can’t believe you’re making me fish through your memories, he’s saying.

Nonetheless, Gadzooks scribbles down his answer, then flips the wire-bound book so David can decipher it.

Angel.

It makes his mouth go dry. What the hell did Lucy have to do with an angel, and why does it make him so uneasy? Zookie shrugs and, as he dissipates like smoke, David takes a long drink.

When he finally has enough sense about him not to melt into the carpet or storm off into the night and never return, he smiles at Lucy.

“You were the most boring child I’d ever met in my life. You liked maths.”

“I still like maths!” Lucy snaps, rolling her eyes. “I’m an engineering student!”

David shrugs, “You literally can’t get more boring, Luce.”

She lobs a pea at him and Liz starts gesturing at the two of them with her ladle. There’s the usual lecture about acting like adults, and how Lucy really should know better by now, but David isn’t listening. His eyes keep drifting to the window, out into the garden. He feels odd, though he can’t place it.

He shakes it off – talking about the Fain, delving into the memories of people who are him but not quite always has him disoriented afterwards – that’s all.

And whatever Gadzooks is on about will either happen or it won’t. He can dwell on it later. For right now, Tam is staring at him over the head of his beer – half empty. That seems a little more pressing than Zookie’s one-word puzzles.

-

“I’m gonna go take that smoke.” David says, already out of his seat by the time Zanna can send him a wayward glance. She still seems uneasy – she sees something in his face that she doesn’t like, her brows furrow further and she returns to her wine.

Liz sighs, but makes no move to stop him. “Just don’t throw the butt in the bushes,” she says, “I don’t want you setting all of Scrubbley on fire.”

“Will do.”

He sends her a mock salute, then dips around the door into the hallway.

Tam is three feet behind him when his hand is on the front door. “Figured you might need a lighter.”

David looks back to him before pushing the door open. “You are a shock Mr Farrell! A poet and a smoker – Liz will never approve.”

He gets a wry smile in response. “You started it – you’re the favourite ‘round here anyway. We can call you a bad influence on me.” He pats his jacket pocket – it’s the one with the tartan print lining that comes through at the hood and the cuffs. “Do you need that light or not?”

David pushes the door the rest of the way open, then stops it open with his weight.

“I think between us we should be able to manage.”

They sit on the brick wall that lines the entire front side of the Crescent. It’s perhaps a little too low even for David, but it beats standing around in the cold air, shifting your weight from foot to foot until the cigarette is biting your fingers.

Tam extracts a beaten-up silver lighter from his pocket, then fiddles with the latch for a moment. The cigarette resting on his lip wobbles as he swears, failing the ignition several times.

“No juice?”

He sighs.

“Not even a spark.”

David shrugs, “’s alright, I do have a back-up for when handsome journalists don’t have a lighter.”

He leans closer into Tam’s space, cupping his hands in a small bowl.

He had done this before – maybe not in this life, but the echoes of the action were strong enough that he could feel the order of operations like a phantom pain.

He felt vaguely that he was cupping his hands more to protect it from the wind than as a necessary motion. It would appear when he closed his eyes and thought it – dreamt it.

He conjured up the image of a small candle flame, the orange hue and white core, flickering slightly but solid enough in shape and colour.

Someone was talking over his shoulder – several someones, whispery and faint on the wind. The main voice was familiar enough – Liz, but not quite. He chooses to ignore the difference.

He feels the bright heat and the wobbling shape, forces it to become real, then David Rain opens his eyes.

It isn’t that impressive for a little light that has completely shattered several laws of physics. It looks more like David is hiding a birthday candle in his palms. A very small, very shit birthday candle. Been there, he thinks.

Tam, however, had clearly not been there. His eyes have gone wide, and the cigarette looks in serious danger of tumbling straight out of his mouth.

“Fuck me.” He mumbles.

“Not right now.” David says, raising his hands to his mouth.

The flame is real enough to catch, and David is soon offering his palms to Tam. He bends his head to accommodate the spark.  

Once the second cigarette is lit, David pulls his hands away from one another, extinguishing the light. Tam takes a drag, still staring wide-eyed over the rims of his glasses.

“Jesus fuck. Have you always been able to do that?”

David laughs. Have I, indeed.

“First time.”

“Christ.”

He takes a drag of the cigarette. Two men puffing smoke on the front door-step of the dragon-potter’s house – it was no wonder that rumours of real, scaly dragons have popped up in the neighbourhood. David imagines there might be more rumours of that calibre soon, but pushes it to the back of his mind.

“You had something to ask me.”

He considers denying it for a moment, then lets it go.

“I did.” Tam says, chewing over the next syllables in his head before he finally lets them loose, “Are you alright?”

-----

[David/Zanna. I hit early series David with the transgenderism beam. Zanna does David’s makeup, she has feelings about it. 1038 words. (31 December 2022… omg happy birthday ‘transes ur gender.docx’)]

It’s a joke.

It’s a joke.

Zanna has joked approximately a thousand times that he has the right face for makeup. That David has nice lashes and deep eyes and a just slightly soft jaw. He is indulging in the joke.

It means absolutely nothing, other than that he has a sense of humour.

In fact, it’s so funny that David is sat stock-still. Committing to the bit and allowing his partner to work her magic is going to make the outcome objectively so much funnier.

It’s a little bit secondary school sleepover – not the type that he’d ever been to, of course, there were a few more dicks and a bit less lip-gloss at those, but the thought remains – David perched on the edge of the bed, Zanna leaning tantalisingly into his space, a look of wicked concentration on her face.

He continues to avoid Zanna’s eyes. If he catches them then he’ll just start laughing, and then Zanna will start laughing, and then they’ll be a mess and the joke won’t get finished. Given the time she’s spent on his eye-shadow, it would be a shame at this point.

Lucy had never really been into makeup, or at least none of the fancy stuff. But she had found the idea of doing him up absolutely hysterical. She’d offered a hundred times but the thought had always struck something deep inside him – annoyance, was it? That she felt like he was a doll to practice on, maybe?

That she would absolutely fuck it up on purpose?

And considering the whole joke is that Zanna’s going to make him look like a girl, what would’ve been the point in fucking it up? They’ve already established that being overly serious is hilarious.

That looking convincingly like a girl when he’s not one is the peak of comedy. 

On the desk over Zanna’s shoulder, Zookie huffs. He twiddles the pencil between his paws, scaley eyebrows drawn together.

He flips the page and looks up at David. Whatever he was hoping to see, he does not, and the dragon shakes his head, tapping the book with some impatience.

Hmph, David thinks, if only you had some way to tell me things that we’ve used a dozen times. Or a language we both speak. What a crying shame.

“Alright?”

“Fine.” His voice is a little rough from disuse and nothing else. They have been sat in silence for quite some time.

“Sure?” a brush flicks around the corners of his eyes, “It’s not getting in your eyes, is it?”

“No.”

She snorts to herself, dropping the brush back into a basket of the bastards.

“You’re being very talkative, darling.”

“Sorry, I forgot I was meant to.”

“Relaxing when other people do your makeup, isn’t it?”

David hummed.

“Becca always falls asleep when I do hers. Nightmare when you’re meant to be going out somewhere.”

“Becca?” He tried to conjure an image of Zanna’s older sister in his mind. The result was a woman who was very much normal. Or at least, not someone who dresses remotely like her sister. “Isn’t your style a little… much for her?”

“Oi! She’s not boring, you know. And anyway, I can tone it down, and I am right now. I wasn’t aware you wanted me to make you a gothic princess, David.”

Oh, that might have been ni- funny, it would have been very funny.

It would have been nice to see himself in so much makeup because it would have enhanced how funny the entire situation was.

Which it is right now – funny.

When he doesn’t answer, Zanna knocks him gently with her elbow.

“I’m joking, you clod. You’ve got a perfectly normal face going on. The old ladies in Sainsbury’s will live.”

The idea of leaving the house like this – whatever this looks like – sends a jolt of ice down his spine. It’s an electric feeling that he doesn’t know how to place. It sits deep in his chest in a way that almost hurts. Somehow he’s not sure that it’s a bad hurt.

He forces himself to laugh, though it comes out a little mechanical. If Zanna notices, she is too busy trying to drag the eyeliner across his face in a straight line to comment.

“What’s the point then? Go big or go home, eh?”

-

“Et, voila! What d’you think?”

He looks himself in the eyes and a jolt of panic runs the entire way through his body.

Oh God.

It’s a thin pane of glass in the Pennykettle’s bathroom, but David is half convinced that if he reaches out, his hand will pass straight through the frame.

That’s not him. It can’t be.  

He watches himself crumple before he feels it happen, and once he cracks, the entire thing goes.

Zanna’s arm wraps around his middle, and she starts to pull him gently away from the mirror. David’s feet are cemented to the tile, they continue to stare over her shoulder at the reflection. They’re not convinced they could look away if they tried, as if some ancient magic has bound them to the spot, encased them in ice.

Their reflection is crying. Zanna brushes a hand through their hair carefully.  

“Hey.” She says softly. “We can take this off, if you want.”

She’s already leaning for the makeup wipes when David’s head shakes.

“It’s not that…” Their voice catches, much smaller than it ever has been before. “It’s not bad.”

Then what is it?

The eyeliner has tracked all the way down to David’s chin now, and Zanna wipes away the offending drop before it can stain their jumper. Only when she blocks the mirror fully from view does David look back to her.

“No?” she asks. She’s whispering, like this moment is something that could be broken by a raised voice. David’s not so sure that’s wrong. They find themself leaning minutely towards Zanna. “Then what is it?”

“That’s me.”

The waves finally crash to shore.

It washes over Zanna quickly, and David watches as the words hit them both full force. Her eyebrows arch, and the whites of her eyes widen around her dark irises. But just as quickly, any surprise is gone.

“Oh.” She whispers. “Oh, love.”

-----

[Tam vs Lucy. After winning at the battle of Isenfier, everyone bickers. Tam suffers. (yoinked from larger wip about the fallout of Isenfier) 576 words (June 2024)]

Tam blinked to clear his head. Right…

“The… cat.”

Lucy frowned in that vicious way that all teen girls seemed inherently skilled at.

“She’s a girl now: keep up, Tam!”

He raised his hands in mock-defence, “Right, sorry. And this girl is… our problem why, exactly?”

Lucy huffed again, as though she thought Tam was being particularly dense. Perhaps he was, but he rather thought he was owed a little more leniency on account of only recently having been un-buried-alive. God forbid he be a little behind on his dragon apocalypse lore.

“She’s one of us. She stays.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and jutted her chin in Tam’s direction indignantly. “There’s room in the car, anyway.” She added, as though that was that.

Tam chose to ignore that this was his car, and that it was rapidly going to become a tight squeeze if they continued to adopt every miscreant they encountered in the West Country. Surely ‘Bella’ had family, somewhere? She hadn’t always been a cat - right? - and therefore didn’t really have to become their problem. Though, undeniably, it was difficult to argue with the rapidly deflating look on her face; if she started to cry Tam wasn’t sure he’d be able to argue. Perhaps someone could lay in the boot if it got too cramped. Maybe Zanna would do him a favour and knock him out before he had to do the tetris-ing himself.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr Tam.” Bella said, as if Tam had anything to do with the offer. Lucy gestured wildly and with finality to indicate that everything had, obviously, been sorted.

Zanna and David were exchanging looks to the side. “We’ll discuss this in the morning,” Zanna eventually settled on, “No one’s going back to Scrubbley tonight anyway.”

Lucy started.

“Why not? We have to tell mum that everything’s okay – she needs to know it worked and that the ix are gone and-”

David clapped her on the shoulder, having to look up a little to counteract Lucy’s lankiness.

“It’s fine, squirrel. We’re all going to have a chill evening to cool down from saving the world, and let Liz know over the phone not to expect us back yet-” He pat his chest, where the inner pocket of his jacket sat, and blanched. “With the phone I don’t have anymore… where the hell has that gone?”

David let go of Lucy’s shoulder and began to check the rest of his numerous pockets. It was a bizarre interpretation of the dance Tam’s father had done every few feet when he walked through an airport. After smacking enough of his clothing and finding them bereft of his beaten up mobile, David eventually gave up, slicking a hand through his hair and sending dust and soil through it in dark streaks.

“Well, that’s somewhere. Never mind, I’ll call her at the lodge.”

Tam patted at his own jeans and was, for a moment, fooled by a particularly hard wad of dirt. He was forced to admit that he too had lost his phone. It was going to be a damn pain to replace.

“There’s not going to be any electricity at the BnB. This entire place is shredded.” Tam said, as he certainly didn’t have a phone of his own to offer.

“I’m sure I can figure something out.” David said.

Zanna rolled her eyes.

“Why do I hate the sound of that?”

-----

[Sophie & Zanna, end/post book 2, reflecting on the whole ‘wait is this cheating??’ situation (no it’s not, it’s Zanna having a big gay crush on Sophie that she will never completely recover from/come to terms with). They should’ve made out 😔. 277 words (November 2024)]

“Sorry, I – I didn’t know. About you and David.” Once she’d said it, Zanna wasn’t strictly sure it was true. She’d known David had a girlfriend; she just hadn’t cared. It didn’t seem that David had either. She felt herself flushing at the thought, well aware that she’d been caught in the act.

“No harm no foul.” Sophie said, an easy smile on her cherry pink lips. Her eyes crinkled at the corners – the irises very blue, like syrup dripped through ice. She didn’t seem to care in the slightest that Zanna had been enabling her boyfriend to cheat on her. “I was on my way to break up with him officially and we were pretty much over in October. You’re not on my territory, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sophie’s territory truly hadn’t concerned her at all – clearly – but Zanna still felt offbeat, an uncomfortable sweat building at her forehead. Sophie was far too calm about the entire affair, her straw blonde hair tied back in a ponytail low at the base of her neck, strands tickling her face. She brushed one away with her knuckles and brought her hand back to rest in her coat pocket. There was a security in the way she stood – relaxed, unbeaten by the breeze.

Zanna tucked a loose braid behind her ear, the beads and charms clinking in uneven tones.

“It wasn’t his idea.” She found herself saying regardless, feeling like a child at confession. “I kissed him first.”

Sophie’s eyebrows quirked curiously. Her smile widened, top lip curling away from her teeth. She inclined her head gently. “I would imagine so. He’s dreadfully slow with anything romantic.”

[toastingpencils37]

Bruh, the ninja's aim with the cannon is fucking ass.

Every damn time.

Lowkey also going to vent in the tags for a minute

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[theogonize]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)

[sleepyjuice]

toxic!rafe will blow your phone up the second you post something on instagram that he’s ‘iffy’ about.

you posted a photo dump which consisted of some random photos of the beach, some of your friends, one of you and rafe of course, but the one that had rafe seeing red was the last slide, which was you in a bikini. he texted you several times at first, and while you were literally typing your response, he called you. your fingers were typing so fast to respond to him that you accidentally declined the call, and he did not like that. you immediately went to call him back, but another text from rafe rolled in, saying ‘fuck you don’t talk to me we’re done’ you sighed loudly, knowing damn well he was talking out of his ass right now, so you sat back and waited for the inevitable next string of texts to roll in. which they did, only seconds later.

rafe <3: do you get off on making me mad or something

rafe <3: like i’m racking my brain trying to understand why you do the things you do and that’s all i can come up with

rafe <3: and i see at least 4 guys have already liked your post like that’s crazy to me?? thought i told you to block all the guys that followed you?? of course you didn’t

rafe <3: also who even took that pic of you??? bc i know damn well it wasn’t me so who the fuck you posing for with your fucking ass and tits out? WHAT THE FUCK

rafe <3: DO NOT PUT YOUR SHIT ON DO NOT DISTURB answer me rn.

rafe <3: nah it’s cool actually i’m gonna go hit up my other gfs so you have a good night.

you rolled your eyes at that last text, deciding to fully turn your phone off. you knew he would likely try to text or call you again very soon but you didn’t want to deal with it right now. this wasn’t your first rodeo, you knew nothing you could say to him right now would calm him down, so letting him freak out on his own was the best method to his madness.

three hours had passed since you turned your phone off. you had caught up on some reading and turned on your current favorite show, but found yourself interrupted by a knock at your front door. you expected it to be rafe, but instead it was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a gift bag. you glanced around to see if rafe was lurking around, but saw nothing. when he freaked out over text and was able to reread his actions, he usually waited a bit longer to show his face as opposed to a verbal argument.

you brought the flowers inside and set them on the counter before grabbing the card attached to the side of the bouquet.

sorry we argued. you are so beautiful and i love you so much. got you a little gift and sent you some money for food and i set your appointment with your nail girl for tomorrow at 10. love you forever baby -rafe

you couldn’t help but smile just a little. the flowers were beautiful and the note was pretty sweet, so you chose to ignore the part where he said ‘we argued.’ you didn’t get a word in, but you let it slide. especially after you opened the gift bag to see the new dior bag you had been wanting.

you hurried to turn on your phone, immediately seeing a $500 apple payment from rafe as well as a new text from a few minutes ago.

rafe <3: hope you like the flowers and bag baby. love you! :)

you: i love them. thanks rafe, love you too

rafe <3: good to hear. lmk what you end up getting for dinner and i’ll pick you up tomorrow to take you to your nail apt. can’t wait to see you baby

you would order yourself dinner that was obviously way less than $500, but you would send rafe a picture and thank him again. you’d facetime him before bed and conversation flowed like nothing had even happened just hours before. he’d ask you what color nails you were getting, tell you funny stories about the old men at the country club and excitedly plan what you two were going to do the next day. the cycle seemed like it would never end, but you often forgot about the bad when he was talking so sweetly to you and all you could think about was how excited you were to see him tomorrow.

[scented-morker]

Wearing Enhypen’s clothes

Enha x implied fem reader, established relationship, 945 words (AGAIN), fluffff, jungwons is longer than everyone else’s😬

Heeseung

He is the perpetrator.

Like as soon as you walk in the door he shoves his hoodie onto you

It’s not cute either— your arms get stuck and your hair is messed up and staticky everywhere

But as soon as it’s on he pulls the hood down and looks at you with such a lovesick look even though you look like a gremlin

Every time you stay over he makes you wear his clothes because he just thinks you look so cute

And since his shirts/hoodies are too big on you it makes it easier to sneak his hands up them to hold your bare waist which is his favorite way to cuddle 😔

Jay

At first you were just so impressed with his style that you wanted to be like him 🥺

He though it was so cute when you walked out in one of the outfits he had posted a picture in one day and been like “how do you manage to make this look good 😭”

“Well for starters, the clothes actually fit me” he laughs and ruffles your hair

He likes to get matching outfits so you don’t always have to steal much of his stuff since you probably have a match

But you always end up stealing his accessories

The amount of times he’s complimented your necklace only to realize it was his 😐

You’re lucky he loves you

Likes when you slide his rings onto your fingers while you’re playing with his hands 🥰

Jake

THE KING OF SHARING CLOTHES

He will give you anything that you want from his closet, no questions asked

He loves trying to sneakily add articles of his clothing to your outfits

Like “hey what if you added- I don’t know- a flannel around your waist? Actually look, I’ve already go one right here. Let me put it on you.”

He loves coming home and seeing you in his hoodies or flannels (especially when they’re so long it looks like you aren’t wearing pants 😭)

Refers to his new purchases as “our new jacket” or will text you and ask “do you like this?”

And when you tell him it’s a mens shirt so you wouldn’t wear it he goes “actually, it’s a jake shirt, which means it’s a yn shirt.”

Sunghoon

He’s one to act like he doesn’t like it

But one time when you told him you were cold and he said “sounds like a you problem” you threatened to go get one of the other boys’ hoodie and he got so pouty and mad 😭

Now he always brings an extra one of HIS hoodies whenever you hang out because he doesn’t want you to get it from someone else

Also the type to show up at your house, see your collection of his clothes and tease you about it but then not take them back

And if you EVER tell him you need another one bc the ones you have don’t smell like him anymore—

He’s gonna need three to four business days to recover from that

Sunoo

Another one to refer to his closet as “our closet”

He always asks you to wear his stuff

Like you text him to ask what you should wear for your date and he tells you to just wear anything over and he’d give you something of his to wear

Sharing sweaters 🥺

Like little grandpa sweaters that you thrift somewhere and you guys share them like it’s the sisterhood of the traveling pants or something and send each other little pictures of where you were wearing it

“Today I wore our sweater to the ice cream shop! The guy in front of me in line ordered mint choco and it made me think of you” 🫶

Jungwon

Listen, he’s seen the romcoms— you’ve made him watch enough of them during movie nights to know that people like wearing their boyfriends clothes

He just had no idea how to offer it

Does he just walk up to you one day and say “here, wear this”? Does he take you to the cold section of the grocery store until you shiver and then give it to you?

HE DOESNT KNOW!!!

But one day you two come home from one of your dates and decide to just chill in his bed

Which is cool, except you had dressed a little nicer for the date and your outfit wasn’t exactly made for comfort

“Hey won, do you think I could borrow something to change into? My outfit isn’t very comfy.”

He scolds you at first for not wearing something you’re comfortable in because he’s gonna think you look beautiful no matter what you wear, but eventually gives you a tshirt and pair of shorts to change into

Laughs because you look like Adam Sandler

“I thought this was going to be cute but you look really funny”

Riki

Listen, he loves napping

And napping on you is one of his favorite places

So when your stupid pretty shirt was scratching against his face, Riki was very upset

He lets out a big dramatic groan, grabbing one of his hoodies from the floor next to his bed and shoving it onto you so that he can sleep in peace

You’re still wearing it when he wakes up, and earlier he was too tired to be embarassed but now he realizes what he did and gets a little red

“Thanks for the hoodie ki,” you tease him, but still refuse to give it back when he asks

“Well if you hate it that much you can take it off.”

“Never!! This is mine now!”

Cue him chasing you around to try and get it back

[allisonrw96]

Saw 8x17 and my hand slipped. Obviously there are spoilers here for Don't Drink the Water. Once I sleep and reread it, I'll decide if it should go on AO3 or not and add a link if needed.

Refined and posted to AO3! You can read the rough version below or click the title link to see it as it should be.

Heartbreak Like an Earthquake

The four of them play cards together after the dishes are done. It's a game that Buck only half knows how to play and the other three rib him about it before they play a face up hand so he can learn the rules and how to win. He doesn't win. But he knows how now. For next time.

He never bought a bed for Christopher's room because taking ownership of that part of the house felt different than taking ownership of the rest of it, but he still has the air mattress he hauled from house to house and the duct tape patch he put on the side seems like it's holding strong. Christopher puts himself to bed, reminding Eddie and Buck that he knows where it is still, but he doesn't snark at Eddie when he finds him waiting in the hallway to give him a hug after he brushes his teeth and he goes unprompted to the living room to give Buck one last hug too.

After that it's just Buck and Eddie, sitting at opposite ends of the couch that squeaks under their weight and that they slide on every time they try to lean back.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" Buck asks, handing Eddie the mug that Eddie doesn't need to know he stole on Eddie's moving day.

Eddie sips the tea to test it and exhales a too hot breath before answering, "Not really."

"Good," Buck replies.

They share a sidelong glance and then they both laugh, fussing with the strings of their tea bags and trying to get comfortable.

It feels like that's all Buck's been doing for a month now. Trying to get comfortable. Or at least, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt, doesn't take his breath away, doesn't make him want to sit down and never get up again. He doesn't quite manage it now either, but he feels... He's not hiding it. His grief is a beanbag chair that he's nestled into with no intention of getting up any time soon and there's relief in the surrender.

"I'm sorry that I didn't call you that night," Buck says to his mug but not missing the way that Eddie stiffens beside him. "And I'm sorry that I didn't call you any of the days after. Or answer when you did."

"You texted. I know you were busy."

Giving interviews to government officials. Endless interviews and statements that ranged from accusatory to perfunctory and that Buck can't remember at all now. He thinks he cried in at least one. He knows he cried with Hen at her hospital bed and with Maddie outside Chimney's. He knows that Ravi came over with a pizza and that Buck threw it all up later and the days passed, the days passed, the days passed. And then someone told him it was time to get back to work.

"I didn't- I couldn't say it. And I couldn't talk about anything else either. Those first couple days. I couldn't say anything. But I should have tried."

When Eddie answers, his voice is tight. "I should have been there. On the call, at the hospital, here with- I should have been here."

"Why weren't you?"

All their texts. One drunken voicemail that was just Buck's name and then a ragged, wet breath before the call ended. For weeks, Buck expected the next message to include flight details. None of them did. After Athena announced the date, Buck researched the flights himself, sending the cheapest and the fastest options to Eddie, half angry and half afraid that if he didn't do it, Eddie might not.

"I was going to be here for the funeral. Christopher agreed to stay with my parents and they agreed to take him and I packed a bag and waited for the call. As soon as I knew which days everything was happening I was going to head to the airport.

"And I kept waiting. Radio silence from you. Radio silence from Chimney and Ravi. I started thinking you were gonna have the funeral without me. Started thinking I deserved it. It was my fault I wasn't there anyway. By the time I starting getting pissed enough to realize I didn't need an invitation to get on the plane, you sent me the flights."

"You're here now."

For now. Buck thinks but stops himself from saying. It would be mean for the sake of seeing Eddie flinch and once he reaches past all the parts of himself that do mean it, he can get to the core that doesn't. It was never Eddie's fault that he had to leave. And he has every reason to already be gone now. But Buck sent him a list of one way flights and Eddie booked one and he stayed. He still hasn't booked another even though he has his offer and he knows what day he's expected to report. It's a hope that he's so angry to feel because it's going to hurt so much worse when it gets ripped away, but it's one that Buck can't help but cling to.

"For all the good it's done," Eddie says, sipping his tea like he wishes it was something stronger.

"Hey. You being here is doing us good. It's doing me good."

"Getting screamed at by a raging asshole in your own kitchen over who's the most sad is part of your grieving process?"

"No." Turning to face Eddie, Buck takes in the shadow cast over his body, the way the bitterness of his last words is still lingering in his expression. He looks and he remembers other shadows that he had to help Eddie fight back and he waits for Eddie to look over at him. It takes a while.

Slowly, Buck says, "'Getting to be there for my best friend when he finally tells me how he's really feeling after having to watching him walk around for weeks like he didn't just have his heart ripped out' is what's part of the process. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

"I don't remember getting to that part."

"Well I had to get through the "Wanting to punch you in the face for spitting in mine" part out of the way first. I was going to try the talking part again this morning, but..."

Eddie winces and Buck finds he doesn't feel as guilty about that as he would have thought.

"But the asshole had to get one more shot in. Buck, I'm-"

"I know you are," Buck says. He doesn't know where Eddie got the money for another plane ticket and he doesn't know how he knew how badly Buck needed to feel something other than the feeling of bobbing in an open ocean beside a sinking ship, trying desperately to reach people who keep floating further and further away. But he supposes that Eddie's always been his anchor and maybe he shouldn't be surprised at all. "I forgive you."

In the dark, Buck can't see Eddie's jaw twitch like he wants to refuse the forgiveness like he usually does, but he knows it's there by the sound of the strong exhale that takes the place of whatever he wants to say and the way he looks back down at the tea.

"Did I really spit on you?" he asks, looking back at Buck with his eyebrows knitted together.

A laugh pops from Buck's mouth like double bubble bursting and he says, "Uh, you shouted like six inches from my face so yeah. I was in the splash zone. I kind of regret encouraging you to drink more water."

"Jesus," Eddie says, rubbing his hand over his face.

Still laughing, Buck plucks his teabag out of his mug and Eddie slides over a coaster to catch it, leaving his own to steep just a little bit longer. It's not everything that there is to say, but Buck can feel a part of himself snapping back into place. They're going to be okay. They're always going to be okay.

A memory bubbles up, one that he's surprised to even remember. He and Eddie had gotten into it on a shift one day. Buck can't even remember what the problem was but he knows he prayed they would catch a fire just so he could turn the hose on Eddie and blow him down the block. It had made Ravi nervous--he was still so green back then--enough that he worked up the courage to ask Bobby if he was going to do anything about it.

"If it interferes with the job, I'll separate them," Bobby promised. "But I won't have to. They'll be back in each other's pockets before we leave tomorrow morning."

"Before dinner," Hen had countered, holding up a ten for Bobby to call or raise, and Buck had been so furious that the stairs rattled under his feet as he stormed off. This wasn't like that. This was serious.

And he still thought maybe it had been. He and Eddie still went out to breakfast the next morning anyway, unspoken apologies passing between them like the keys between their hands as they walked out the door.

It's not a bad memory, but it hurts all the same. Bobby knew all of them so well. Sometimes it seemed like he knew everything. But he can't have seen this coming. He can't have known what his death would do to all of them or he never would have trusted Buck to-

He draws in a shaky breath that gets Eddie's concerned attention immediately. He sets his cup down before he shifts closer to Buck, making sure both of his hands are free when he asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Buck answers, the same way he's been answering for weeks. But this time Eddie doesn't look away from him and Buck lets the second half of the sentence finally escape. "I'm just thinking about Bobby. I can't seem to stop."

"You don't have to stop. I think about him too."

In his eyes, Buck can see the part that Eddie isn't saying. He thinks about him the same way that Buck just did, the same way they all do, but he also thinks about what he would have done if he was there. What he might have said. What Bobby would have said. Worrying and worrying and worrying over the void that will always exist in place of a goodbye. Now that Buck knows, a little, what Eddie's gone through, he can't imagine how he's bearing up under it.

If Buck was the one with an empty place where a memory should be, he thinks it might kill him. They'd given him oxygen that night. A sedative. But having to hear it later, he thinks... Yeah. He might not have made it. It might be worse than the burden he's carrying now: a promise that's too heavy for his shoulders and one that he's closer and closer to dropping every day.

"He told me-" Buck starts and then stops. Is he making this moment about him? Should he be asking Eddie more questions instead? But he is who he is and Buck can feel the words slipping out of his mouth without any hope of stopping them. "I wasn't being a martyr by picking up paper towels and eggs," he says with more of an edge to the words than he intends.

"Buck-" Eddie sighs. "I know you weren't."

"I forgot," he shrugs. "I forgot you said you'd pick up the groceries and so I went and did it because that's what I always do when I have a Thursday off and because if I don't have something to do every second of every day I think I might go out of my mind. I stand in the middle of a room and I don't know how to move or where to go if I did. And I don't want to have to figure out what to do. I don't want to do anything at all. I want to lay down on the floor and stay there and I can't.

"So I did your laundry. And I could tell you were mad about it, but I swear I didn't give a shit about your socks on the table and I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty for making me clean up after you; I just had to do something or I..."

"Hey. Hey. Look at me." Buck hadn't realized he'd stopped, but when he raises his gaze he finds Eddie's warm brown eyes and more worry than he knows what to do with. "I never should have said that. I was mad and I-"

"I know. It's okay."

"No, it's not." Eddie lets out another sharp breath and moves closer still until their knees are touching and his hand slides off the back of the couch and onto Buck's shoulder.

"We've been worried about you. All of us. You think you're hiding how you're feeling but you are shit at it. Everyone can see that you are two steps away from exploding only you won't talk about it. You're too busy making the rest of us talk, giving out grief assessments like you're the department trauma counselor and we're not making it through the stages of grieving fast enough for you.

"So we've all been tiptoeing around you because no one wants to be the one to set you off and, yeah, I got pissed. Because you were the first person I wanted to tell about the gig in El Paso." Eddie gestures between the two of them with his free hand and Buck's face flushes hot with shame. "You and me, we're supposed to be able to talk about things, but since Bobby died, we haven't talked about anything. I know what it's like to be the one stuck in the middle of that room and I know you'd never leave me there alone. So why are you locking us out and pretending that's what we're doing to you?"

He's close again, breathing heavy again, one hand hot on Buck's shoulder and other finger burning where it taps against his chest with the last words of Eddie's sentence. This time instead of the urge to hit back, Buck only wants to crumple.

"I was there with him. When he died. Did someone tell you that?" Eddie nods and Buck says, "He made me leave. But before he did he told me- He said that I would be okay. And he said that the team would need me."

Tears prick at his eyes again and Eddie's grip gets tighter and before he can say something, Buck plows ahead and says, "But he was wrong. I don't know if he- he thought I was stronger or smarter than I am or if he was just lying so I'd have a reason to..." His throat catches and Buck ducks his head to cough, clearing the river of snot that will be unleashed as soon as he actually starts crying.

"I've been trying to be there for everyone, trying to make sure everyone is okay, but no one is and I don't know how to fix it. There was an earthquake and I thought Bobby would give me an answer but he's still just gone and I'm trying to hold everyone together, but they keep moving away or pushing me away and if I-I-I can't-" his voices hitches and Buck's shoulders shake with stuttered breath- "It's the only thing he asked me to do, but he didn't tell me how and I'm letting him down. I'm letting everyone-"

"No, you're not. You're not."

Buck's head his still bowed to his chest when Eddie takes the mug from his hand and then drags him into the fiercest hug he's ever received. It's too tight to be comforting and the angle is wrong and their chins and elbows and hands are all too rough and too sharp. The hug hurts and Buck twists his fingers in Eddie's shirt to keep him from pulling away.

"You're not letting anyone down," he says to the side of Buck's head. "Not Bobby, not any one of us. We all need you. Okay? Christopher needs you. I need you. I'm always going to need you."

Eddie's hands are fists at Buck's back and his knuckles slide over Buck's shoulders, a steady, soothing, grounding pressure that keeps Buck from drifting away as he lets himself cry for the first time since the funeral.

The whole time, he's aware of a gentle murmuring nearby. It never evolves into more reassurances or even any words at all, but the sound is one of safety. It's the kind of noise you'd make at an infant--the kind Buck sang to Jee-Yun when she was too small for words and the world beyond her parents was nothing more than a wide, often-terrifying confusion. Eddie hums like that to him now, rocking him back and forth, and Buck feels the comfort in the part of him that's still too small and terrified for words.

Once he makes it back to himself, Buck sniffs without pulling away and says, "I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay."

"No, I was supposed to be there for you and I wasn't. I quizzed you, Eddie. Who does that?"

Laughter rumbles against his cheek and Buck sits up again, surprised to find Eddie's eyes wet and ringed with red.

"Did you ever think that maybe when Cap said we were going to need you that he meant the real you? Not superhero you, not expert you, not captain you, but just you?"

Buck doesn't answer. He doesn't think Eddie needs him to.

"You know when I saw your Jeep at the airport I think it was the first time in weeks I felt like I could actually breathe?"

Eddie's smile when he'd seen him had the same effect on Buck. A relief so sweet that it almost ached. When he'd gotten out of the car to help Eddie with the bags he definitely did not need help with, Eddie had pulled him into a hug and Buck had finally felt something other than numb. It was where he'd found the strength to start being the Buck he thought Bobby would want.

"And then after the funeral I saw you slip Athena a bottle of water. Heard you ask Ravi to keep any eye on Tommy. Watched you take the kids outside to give them a break from everything."

"None of that was a big deal," Buck says, squirming. "I was just-"

"Being you?" Eddie replies raising his eyebrows in that softly challenging way that wins Buck to his side every time. "I know. And I bet that's what Bobby was counting on."

Eddie holds Buck's gaze for a beat longer before pulling them slightly apart and reaching for Buck's mug on the table. Buck accepts it, but doesn't drink, curling his hand around the still warm cup and thinking that he never told anyone about the worst parts of his coma. There was a moment then where he thought Bobby's death might kill him too, but it hadn't. And it had been Bobby, even the Bobby who was a hurt, broken stranger, who had helped Buck look inside himself and find what he needed to live.

"Is that enough?"

Buck still isn't sure. But he figures he owes it to Bobby to keep trying until he is.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, Buck."

"Bobby asked about you all the time. He kept calling Ravi "Eddie" for like the first month that you were gone. It was an accident at first, but after that I think he just wanted to rile Ravi up. He wanted me to convince you those caffeine drinks were going to kill you. He sent me articles." As he speaks, Buck watches Eddie go still, then watches grief fill his eyes even as he manages a wet laugh at Bobby's hatred of energy drinks.

"He tried to tell me it counted as driving under the influence."

"Yeah, I think that was one of the articles," Buck laughs. Licking his lips before speaking again, he says, "He loved you, Eddie. And he was so proud of you. Not- not just for going to get Christopher, but for everything. And I think. If you had been there. He would have wished you weren't. He would have wanted you to be safe. He would have wanted you to keep living.

"There wasn't anything you could have done."

Sitting back, Eddie sniffs back his emotion and wipes harshly at his eyes before turning to Buck and saying, "I know."

"I know you weren't there and I can't imagine what it would be like not knowing, but I promise-"

"I do know," Eddie croaks, his eyes wide and heartbroken and as honest as Buck has seen them since he's been home. "If there was anything that anyone could do, you guys would have done it. And so would he."

This time when they embrace, they fall into it together. Eddie's arms are tight around Buck and Buck's face is buried in the crook of Eddie's neck. Feeling Eddie exhale and his body soften and relax under Buck's touch, Buck feels something in himself unwinding too. And there, just for a moment, it feels like Bobby is in the room with him, looking in from the doorway, and smiling.

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[autistichalsin]

Masterpost of cut content, changes, and etc for early game builds of Halsin

I have found a lot of cut things relating to Halsin, some from developer interviews, a lot from the datamine, and some from other sources. I decided to compile those here.

Some disclaimers and clarifications first:

I use the term "early build(s)" to distinguish it from both release and from the Early Access test period. If you don't remember something here, it's because it was removed without ever being implemented in Early Access.

I do not have the energy to link or upload the datamined files, etc, so instead I will state where I found them and you are free to look if you want to.

This list is not exhaustive. There are likely even more things that we will never know about.

The game underwent many, many rewrites; some characters existed in ways you would not recognize today, before being rewritten.

I am not including things that were changed after release, IE the unfinished Halsin vs Minthara ultimatum that started to be worked on from patches 4-6 but was never implemented.

With that said, let's jump in! I will try to organize these roughly in order of how early the game build was, but it's not always possible to know how far back a given change was, so it won't be precise.

If I missed any, please feel free to let me know!

Halsin wasn't always the only Archdruid at the Emerald Grove; there was once a second Archdruid, Denor, who worshipped Eldath. She and Halsin had a fight because she was worried about the Shadow-Cursed Lands, and she went off to investigate a lead and got captured, presumably leading Halsin to try and go save her. Likely to simplify that plot, they instead made the Grove solely consist of Druids of Silvanus, and Halsin and Denor's plots were combined into just Halsin. (This was recovered from datamined files.)

Halsin used to be an elderly man; this has been confirmed by both Kevin (writer of Lae'zel and Wyll) and John (Halsin's writer). Halsin's pipe is an artifact from this time, which they never removed. This caused a lot of confusion for the writers when Halsin got de-aged to what we know today, causing a lot of fans in Early Access to thirst for him, as the last the writers had seen, he was, well, an old man. There were streams at this time with writers explaining they had been baffled at first until they saw Halsin's then-new model.

Listening to old voice files from back when each Tav narrated their own story, Halsin originally had two bear companions, a male and a female, who were mates. It was possible to cause both Halsin and one of the bears to die at the goblin camp, leaving the other bear heartbroken at losing both their mate and their master.

Halsin had a friend, the cut Origin character Helia, and they would have been imprisoned together. (This was recovered from datamined files.) Helia had two recruitment locations, one in the forest and one in the worg pens, and in fact there is still text in the post-release file for the worg pen scene mentioning it could be her or Halsin there. Her recruitment dialogue mentioned that goblins had taken Halsin away (more on that below) and it seems (though not confirmed, but just putting pieces together) that which location Helia was recruited from would influence where you found Halsin; if you found her in the forest, he'd be in the goblin cage, but if you missed Helia there and found her in the pens, he'd be taken to Moonrise. Leading to...

It was possible for Halsin to be imprisoned in Moonrise. There was an audio file recovered where Minthara would mention the Druid the player was looking for was there and she could get them an audience with him, and there are multiple tags referring to Halsin being imprisoned in a pod (such as a dialogue option to leave him in his pod), as well as an eventflag suggesting Halsin could have been tadpoled. More specifically, there was a flag set for saving Halsin before he was tadpoled, which by implication also strongly hints he could have been tadpoled there. There was also a cut dialogue line from an unknown character (possibly, but not certainly, Helia or a Druid) saying, "Halsin! What did they do to you???" which also hints at this. Another line said, "easy, Halsin. We're all friends here," and was removed at the same time that all references to this outcome were, suggesting it was part of that same path. (Possibly tadpoled Halsin would have been disoriented and aggressive, causing the player to need to reassure him they're friendly, though that is sheer speculation on my part.)

As shown in the concept art book, Halsin's scar used to, in fact, be from a battle, instead of being attacked for rejecting a she-bear's advances.

As is very well-known by now, Halsin was responsible for Isobel's death. Rather than being promoted to Archdruid after the battle, he was always in charge, and represented the Druids and Harpers in a negotiation attempt with Ketheric. Instead, some unknown force (believed to be Shar) caused Isobel and other combatants to go temporarily insane and attack each other. She attacked Halsin, and he immediately reacted in self-defense, stabbing her with the glaive Sorrow. He believed it became cursed as a result, because holding it filled him with such sadness, and anyone who used it would take psychic damage as well. Essentially, his trauma and regret from killing her was so great that it gained a physical form in the blade. Further, that was the main reason for his guilt regarding the Shadow-Cursed Lands, leading to...

Halsin's friendship with Thaniel was a later addition. Before, Halsin only mentioned having seen him briefly in his meditations; he wanted to save Thaniel because it would break the curse over the land, not because it was Thaniel himself.

Halsin's mission in act 2 was much bigger, and was trimmed significantly as a result- being far too big for an optional sidequest for a non-Origin character. Instead of waking Art Cullagh to get information on the Shadowfell, you fought the three Thorms to get a bone from each of them, which you would then bring to Isobel, who would grind them up for use in a ritual. Then you would defend Halsin while he tried to open the portal (more on the portal below), instead of defending him while he was inside it. You were then instructed to go to the Shar temple to wait for him, after which the quest would presumably end with Halsin, overjoyed and grateful beyond words for your help, bringing Thaniel to recover in Last Light and promising light would return to the lands soon.

During this quest, Halsin would also give you a dagger called Promise, which would help him find you from the Shadowfell. He also mentioned that a sign of his spirit would manifest itself in the Shar temple when the player had found the right place. That's where the "you are the beacon that will guide me home" line likely originated from.

The portal quest was different, as noted above. Most notably, there are still files in-game for a scenario where, despite being warned repeatedly not to touch the portal, you could wait for him to open it and then attempt to enter, causing it to collapse. Horrified and heartbroken, Halsin would yell at you, and you could give an explanation ranging from "sorry I panicked" to "I worship Shar and didn't want you to succeed, hahaha dumbass." Halsin, heartbroken, would leave to be alone to grieve, and then would leave you forever.

Oliver was likely not a part of this quest originally; he, along with Art's story, were added when the quest got trimmed down from what it had been, but still needed some little quest progressions, so they tweaked the story to give it some meat back without making it such a daunting quest as it was before.

There was once going to be a scene of Halsin and Jaheira having a very heated argument during act 2. What it was about, and how it would have ended, has never been discovered; the only thing we know is the title of the file from an early datamine. It is possible it could have been about Jaheira learning about Halsin's responsibility for Isobel's death, as she is shown in canon to be protective of Isobel, or it could be about their different priorities over whether the cult or the curse should be a priority.

Worth noting here are various changes to characterization (rather than noting every single one individually). Halsin was more openly emotional (particularly after you saved Thaniel), often sassier, and his abilities as a healer were emphasized more strongly back then. He teased you about if the tadpole would share your hangover the day after the party, he would dryly say he can't cut your tadpole out or he'd be removing it from a corpse, etc. It is also possible, though has never been confirmed, that we might have been intended to learn his last name of Silverbough at some point, as John has mentioned an earlier character outline having said that as his last name, in reference to Celtic mythology.

Halsin had voice lines referencing Orpheus; you could mention him to Halsin, and he would mention he wanted to meet anyone who knew about these tadpoles.

Halsin's sex scene with him wildshaping into a bear seems to have once been intended for a different scene where the wildshaping occurred offscreen and was also played for laughs; this was pitched by Baudelaire Welch, and then John Corcoran turned it into a part of the main romance. What that original pitch was, what the context would have been, etc, are not known. Just that the wildshaping was originally an offscreen gag in another scene. (Possibly Sharess' Caress?)

There were going to be scenes, near the end of the game, where the elder brain would torment the group with hallucinations of themselves that would pick at their weaknesses, fears and insecurities; these files still exist in rough draft form in the game. Halsin's particular hallucination would have hinted at his struggles with feelings of meaningless, and his wondering whether he should just give up, etc.

There is also a voice line that still exists for characters who were in your party, but left either due to plot events or their approval dropping, being captured by the Absolute and showing up to fight against you in the courtyard battle. Halsin was included here as well, being an enemy who would yell "For the Absolute!" at the start of his turns.

It is possible, though not certain, that the writers intended for you to be able to bring Halsin back to act 1; he and Minthara both have voice lines for the creche. However, it is possible that this was just added to cover the exploit where casting silence on either of them would leave them unable to initiate their scene where they refuse to return with you.

I hesitate to include this one, as I have yet to find anything even remotely concrete (the closest things being an ambiguous tag and the circumstantial evidence of there being many hanging plot threads), but it is widely believed that there was supposed to be a continuation of the Shadow Druids plot which would center around Halsin, based on Halsin's uncertainty in act 3 of whether they might actually be right, a tag referencing Kagha's act 1 turn from the Shadow Druids if this happened, a line from the Shadow Druids mentioning they were going to Baldur's Gate, and the reveal that Ketheric had the Shadow Druids sent to the Grove to weaken the Drudis there as he knew from experience what a threat they could be.

Hope you enjoyed that deep dive! I don't THINK I forgot anything, but on the off chance I did, do feel free to let me know and I will update this post!

[reidrum]

all yours if you want me | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: i think i really like this but if i proofread it one more time im gonna hate it so im just putting it out now lol. this is the full version of the sneak peak i posted last week woohoo ! also this is my first time writing smut so im sorry if it sucks but i hope y'all like it <3

summary: bau's got their first day off in weeks, and you're heading straight to the club to have some fun, you just didn't expect your coworker/crush to also be there while you're trying to forget him.

cw: 18+ minors pls dni, smut, p in v (dont be silly wrap ur willy), munch!spence, lowkey softdom!spence, suggestive dancing in public spaces, minor insecure reader, reader is afab and wears a dress and heels

wc: 4.6k

pls let me know if i forgot anything and let me know your thoughts pleaseee xx

it was the first friday night off you and any of the team members of the bau had in a long time, and you all were determined to spend it well. jj and hotch immediately went home to their families, penelope and emily decided they were going home to get some well needed rest, rossi went to a cigar club, not really sure what derek and spencer ended up doing, but you knew what you were doing tonight.

you’d had a long standing invitation from one of your college friends for a club night, and at first you’d decline because you’d get swept away on a case, and because you were hopelessly pining after your hot nerdy coworker dr. spencer reid.

spencer was smart in many ways, three PhDs, countless published papers, not to mention that eidetic memory of his. there was one thing that spencer was just fucking dumb at, and it was your shameless flirting at him.

like it annoyed you how clueless he was. you’d bring him coffee in the mornings with hearts drawn on it, fall asleep on his shoulder on the jet rides back, even complimenting his outfit or looks which made him flustered, but still nothing. your harbored crush seemed to stay just that, a crush. and while you’d hope he would get the hint he just hasn’t.

so you pull out your phone to text your friend. 

“barry’s at 9?”

“oh my god FINALLY. i’m there i'll pick you up at 8:30.”

you grin to yourself, this was good. you needed to get out and unwind for once.

you drive home quickly to hop in the shower before your friend comes to get you. throwing on a silk slip dress as your outfit of choice, you slipped your heels on and met your friend in the car.

walking into the club, you’re met with the thumping bass of the music playing and the staunch smell of alcohol, sweat, and sex.

it made you think about the last time you got laid, which was a really long time ago. and honestly you wanted to sleep with spencer so bad you hadn’t been making advances elsewhere. but that was going to change tonight, you were determined to have good slutty fun, and hopefully get laid.

your friend grabbed your hand and beelined to the bar, ordering two tequila shots each. once you downed them you moved to the dance floor and started preying for a target. as you’re scanning the room, you notice a familiar looking mop of brown hair standing next to bald headed man. a combo you knew all too well.

-

derek morgan was a player. and before he’s a player, he’s a damn good friend. which was his reasoning for dragging spencer out of his apartment to come out to the club and have fun.

“but i can have fun at home by myself morgan.”

“kid, you need to let loose once in a while. you are young, i’m just helping you take advantage of it.”

-

so now spencer’s at the club (a sentence he still struggles to believe) wearing trousers and navy button down shirt to which morgan had popped the top buttons open because ‘it gives the ladies a sneak peek’. he just rolled his eyes and went with it. he’s nursing a shirley temple at the bar, perusing the environment when he comes across a pair of eyes he knows like the back of his hand.

when you recognize the amber eyes you couldn’t believe your luck. of course, on the one night you’d decided to explore other options he shows up in the least expected place for him to be. so much for getting over him, you think. shyly raising your hand to wave, spencer returns the gesture. morgan takes note, “who are you waving t- oh, pretty girl is here huh pretty boy?” he nudges him.

a blush raises on his face. spencer thought you were attractive, like really attractive. you were a great addition to the bau and he admired your work ethic a lot, the day you walked into the bullpen wearing a fitted pantsuit had his own pants growing real tight. he still remembers when you introduced yourself and he couldn’t even get up without exposing himself. you thankfully didn’t think it was weird, and spencer was relieved when it was finally time to go home. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have nights where he wished you were the one finishing him off and not his rough hands. he didn’t think you’d like someone like him, and took all of your ‘advances’ as morgan calls them, as acts of kindness.

morgan laughs as he watches spencer’s iq deteriorate to below 50 staring at you, “do you what you gotta do man. but you better be going home with someone tonight okay?”

spencer nods and nurses his drink a bit and looks back to morgan to realize he’s already off dancing with some girls in the corner. damn.

after your distanced encounter with spencer, you decide it’s time to move on and have some fun on your own. you couldn’t be hung up on him anymore, at least not tonight. tonight was for bad decisions.

good thing bad decision walked up to you asking to dance, whatshisname leads you to the dance floor and puts his hands on your hips, swaying to the beats of t-pain and pitbull.

you didn’t know, but spencer was watching every move you made. he watched you get led to the dance floor, the way he placed his hands right on your ass and squeezed, and how he turned you around so you were dancing on his front with your back. he gripped his glass so tight the bartender had to tell him he’d have to pay if it breaks.

he gets it, you’re attractive. this is the kind of thing that happens to people who look like you. who wouldn’t want you? but then he watched it happen a second time. and a third. and a fourth and fifth, till he just stopped counting at nine for his sanity.

spencer was not used to the green monster taking over him, but oh god was he fucking seething with jealousy.

you realized spencer was watching you by whatshisname number five. he hadn’t moved from his spot and he was constantly staring in your direction. deciding to do a little experiment, you played up your dancing a lot more, acting more flirtatious, dragging the guy’s hands further down, and letting out open mouthed moans that you knew spencer couldn’t hear but could definitely see. you watched as his jaw shifted and his knuckles turned white as you danced with each guy, realizing the growing effect that you now had on him.

by whatshisname number nine, you casted your hook. making sure to face spencer and meet his eyes, you watched as they darkened when he realized you were looking right at him. spencer might’ve brushed it off as a coincidence, but then you winked at him. and he realized what you were doing—you were taunting him, and fuck was it working for him. the bulge in his pants grew uncomfortable that he had to stand up to not draw so much attention to it under the bar lights. 

you watched him stand up and adjust himself and you threw your line. when he looked back up at you, you made a come here motion with your index finger and a bite of your lip. spencer’s eyes darkened impossibly more, he paid for his tab and strode over to you.

sinker.

he pulled you from the man behind you, who muttered a ‘what the fuck’ and moved away. spencer pulled you flush to his chest and with a low voice in the crest of your ear he whispered, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“i don’t think i know what you’re talking about dr. reid, could you explain it to me?”

spencer tightens his hold on you and ghosts over your ear once more, “this is a dangerous game you’re playing, sweetheart.”

“a game you joined the second you walked over here.”

he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and matched the small smirk on your lips. game on.

the song changed to something with a more sultry beat, and you used the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck and let his hands guide your hips to the music. while he wasn’t much of a dancer, he could definitely keep a beat. it didn’t prove to be so difficult when your chest was pushing up on his own that he was just waiting for them to spill out. he realized he could feel your hardened nipples through your slip, the nubs rubbing friction through the fabric of their clothes. he moaned internally while he gripped your hips to pull you even closer. it was clear spencer seemed to be getting comfortable with moving your body and holding you close, but you couldn’t let that happen.

before the second chorus you turn around in his arms so your back is pressed up against his front, and you start dancing on him.

spencer’s taken by surprise, something you felt when his hands faltered the confident rhythm it kept up, and while he watched you dance just like this with all those guys it’s like his mind is blank now.

you recognize the song playing, collide by justine skye & tyga, and use the sultry beat to your advantage. you move your ass hard on his front, feeling his length pressed between your cheeks. you gesture for him to lean his head down and he lets out a low groan as you whisper in his ear, “all that for me?”.

a primal instinct starts to take over spencer’s being, and he grips your hips to meet his rutting from behind. spencer was desperate for any friction that could soothe the growing ache in his pants. you grinned as you felt take what he needed from you. it was quickly wiped off your face when you felt his hands inching dangerously close to where you really wanted him.  you place your hands on his with surprise and look at him, “what are you doing?”

“i don’t think i know what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he threw back at you, “but if there’s something you’d like me to do, i’m all ears.” spencer grazes his fingers under the hem of your dress, toying with the lace band of your panties and slipping his fingers below it to stroke your inner thighs.

fuck. he turned it on you so fast it almost gave you whiplash. the provocative dancing was something you could handle, hell everyone on that dance floor was doing the same thing as you both. what you weren’t sure you could handle was him about to touch you in a public space. but, your body betrayed you as it turned you on to another plane. you look up at him with lust filled eyes and let out a breathy moan of his name. spencer collapses internally and stands his ground, “if you want something, beg me.”

spencer thinks he’s won the upper hand, and he’s feeling so smug behind you. he still thinks he has the upper hand until you reach down and place his middle and index finger in your mouth, circling your tongue around the digits.

“touch me.” you moan out, releasing his fingers.

spencer is dumbfounded how he’s the one about to burst out his pants when he made you beg for him. it should make him feel embarrassed at how close he was, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. not when you in his arms pleading him to do something. you sounded so pretty, and who was he to deny a pretty thing like you?

his fingers continue their journey down, outlining the lace trim resting on your thighs. he hooks his fingers on the fabric to pull it aside and slips into you, going at an aching pace to gather the wetness and groaning out, “jesus, you’re so wet, was this all for me? you needed my attention that bad, baby?”

you whimper and grip his hand even tighter because you’re not sure if your legs are holding out any longer. it’s all so overwhelming—having his hands down your panties in the middle of the dance floor, the lewdity of the noises in your ear, the hard length pressing desperately on your ass. this is all you’ve ever wanted from him, to want you. and now it’s happening, and your brain can’t fire the neurons fast enough to process the moment. instead your body responded with your skin heating up with anticipation, heart beating out as much adrenaline to keep up. the daze is getting foggier by the second as he trails his fingers up and down your slit, spreading the wetness and circling your clit on the way up. and you think you’re about to get accustomed to the pace he’s set, when he delves between your folds and you moan out loud so abruptly that the nearby patrons looked around wondering where it came from.

you can feel spencer’s shit eating grin behind you as he moves his head down to leave love bites on your neck. if he can feel your bluff dissipating, he’s not saying anything. his fingers set a painfully slow rhythm, and you grind down trying to get any more friction to reach your peak. he’s hitting you in all the right spots that make you see the stars and beyond, leaning your head back on his chest as you barrel towards your climax. you feel yourself mere seconds away from reaching, and spencer suddenly pulls his fingers out, making you whine out in protest, “wh- what are you doing?”

spencer grabs your wrist and starts dragging you through the sweaty bodies surrounding you, tightening his grip with a small smirk as he passes a few of the guys you were dancing with earlier. suckers.

he pushes the doors open with a force and while the cool air is attempting to return your body to homeostasis, the anticipation of where he’s going overtakes you, “spence, where are we going wh-“ you cut off your sentence with a gasp as he handles you flush to the door of his car. then it’s just silence for a few moments. no loud bass or weird dudes, just the two of you. the only sound that can be heard are your breaths competing for prominence. you look up at him and focus on the details of his face illuminated by the moonlight, trying to read his expression. his honeyed eyes have fully darkened to a lustful hickory, and suddenly you felt like a gazelle being preyed on by a lion.

he reaches into his pocket and unlocks the car with a soft beep. it’s the focused eyes on you that drive you to open the door, but it’s the subtle silent nod of his head towards the car that makes you move inside waiting for him to join you. he climbs in after you, shutting the door and locking it.

spencer moves to the middle seat and allows his legs to spread open, he taps his thighs and faintly says, “come here.”

you shuffle closer and swing your legs over him, your dress rising up a little as you fully sit on his clothed crotch. and now you realize the corporeality of the moment. it’s like, really real now. all this time pining after the boy genius with no luck and now he’s got you in the backseat of his car and your panties crooked, waiting for you to move. the bravado you wore and so tightly held onto for a majority of the night comes crashing down like a shattered vase, and you’re not sure if you have any more in you to salvage the pieces. you may be a profiler, but try as you might you are not a mind reader, yet you so desperately want to know what he’s thinking. is it too much to ask what this means? will it overwhelm him to say you’ve dreamt about this moment for many nights, and how those dreams went on till the early morning when he’d stay and brush your hair back with a temple kiss. the whispers of sweet nothings sticking to you like honey as you got ready for the day. are these questions you even want to know the answer to?

you may not be a mind reader, but he is dr. spencer reid, who noticed your demeanor change after too long of a silence.

“hey,” he holds your chin delicately to your eyes, “it’s okay if you want to stop, i’m sorry for tak-“

it’s your turn to cut him off, “no! no i, i still want this, i just,” you falter.

“just what, baby?” he coos softly.

it makes tears well up in your eyes, you hope he can’t see them, “i’ve just wanted this for so long, and it’s probably embarrassing that i’m admitting this now of all times, but i don’t know if i can handle this meaning more to me than it does to you.” you confess quietly.

spencer listens to your admission and gingerly resecures his arm behind you, a position he thinks is starting to become second nature. he rubs soft shapes into the small of your back, “what makes you think that?”

“because i basically threw myself at you tonight, and it seems to be the first time you noticed me.” you say halfheartedly. 

“you think i don’t notice you?” he whispers, leaning in to leave soft kisses in the crook of your neck. spencer is dumbfounded, confused at how you reached such a conclusion. but as a man of science, he feels there’s only one way to prove himself. he breathes your name out, “can i show you how much i notice you? please?”

you nod, at least you could commit this moment to memory if it was all you’d have left of him. he presses his lips to yours for the first time that night, your breath faltering as he becomes more feverous with his attacks. slotting his tongue with yours, your hands move up to his silky hair to take purchase in. he lets out a groan as he pulls back from you, “i need to taste you.”

he guides your body to lean back on the center console, the only way his tall figure would be able to accommodate this position. your legs are still split on either side of his legs, using your hands to prop yourself up to watch his movements. he hooks his fingers on the sides of your panties and slowly slides them down, moaning at the way your slick causes resistance as he pulls them off your legs. wrapping his arms under your thighs to lift you up to face level, he places small kisses on your inner thighs as he makes his way to your core. he places a final kiss on your center before licking a long stripe up to your clit. moaning out wantonly, he continues his ministrations and kitten licks all over you, circling back up to your clit after each round.

“spence..” you whine out. he moves his focus to your clit, circling and sucking till you’re squirming in his arms so much has to grip your thighs. your hands are fussing through his hair, gripping and pulling to find something to ground you. spencer then slips his fingers into your core for the second time tonight, and you lose it.

he’s pumping his fingers in and out, that all you can hear is the squelching noises of your cunt. adding another one, you’re unable to stay still anymore, as if you were before.

“oh my fuck, spencer. i’m gonna cu-, cum. please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” you moan out filthy.

spencer unlatches his mouth for a moment, “come for me, baby.”

your orgasm crashes down on you like a wave breaking on the shore. it’s all consuming, leaving you shaking and breathless and he lifts his head from between your legs and you see his chin glistening with you in the moonlight. the sight itself is so pornographic, you can’t help but shuffle back onto his lap to crash your lips back to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. he tangles his hands in your hair as you move yours between you both, unzipping his trousers to palm him through his boxers.

he breakily moans in your ear as you slowly pull back the band to take him out. the sight takes you by surprise, you knew he was big, you felt it on your ass while you were dancing. but seeing how it compared to your hand had you bulging your eyes.

“you’re so big,” you whisper. how the hell was that fitting inside of you?

spencer the mind reader places his hand on top of yours as you lazily stroke him, “we’ll go slow, don’t worry.” he can’t help but feel his ego inflate to the skies, he can’t remember the last time he had someone look intimidated by him.

nodding faintly, you gather the spit in your mouth and let it fall between you both to land on the flushed pink tip. you spread it up and down his length, setting a slow pace that had him moaning expletives in your ear.

“oh-, ohhh, fuck baby. you’re so good at that holy shit,” he says trying to hold himself together. you give him a few more pumps before lifting your hips up to guide him inside you. you move his tip to your entrance, rubbing it teasingly before spencer places his hands on your sides to stabilize you, and slowly sink you down onto him.

the second his tip pushes past your folds, you both moan out in harmony. placing your hands on his shoulders you leverage yourself to sink down further inch by inch, until your core is flush with the base of his thighs.

spencer is a man of many words, maybe too many. but right now the only word he can remember is your name as he watched you take his length whole inch by inch slowly losing any restraint he had left. the pressure his cock had inside of you was heavenly. you’d never felt so full, and you could tell he was trying so hard to stay still as you adjusted above him.

when you bottom out spencer throws his head back against the seat, “oh that’s it, good girl,” you clenched around him. “you okay?”

you nod in response, ignoring the way the term of endearment sent flutters to your heart, and attempt an experimental rock of your hips, causing spencer’s head to whip up and meet your lust blown eyes with his own. he adjusts his hands on the sides of your thighs and starts helping you move up and down on his length, setting a brutally slow pace.

you rest your head and moan into the crook of his neck as he continues his movements, “spencer, please, more, i can take it.”

he still can’t believe what’s happening right now, all those days he spent thinking about you in the bullpen, at home, everywhere really, and here you were begging on top of him to fuck you good.

“you still think i don’t notice you?” he says into your ear, “i have dreamt about what you’d look like bouncing on my cock, and you are blowing any idea i had out of the water.”

you whimper as he continues, “and when i’m not thinking about ruining you, i am in awe at how you walk through life. you bring so much joy everywhere you go, it’s a blessing to be able to experience you.” he says through shaky breaths.

the praise goes straight to core, with some traveling to your heart again, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold on before you unravel physically and emotionally.

his hands are guiding you up and down at a harder pace now, “so,” thrust. “you still think,” thrust, “i don’t notice you?” he thrusts into you once more and holds you down, making sure you’re looking directly at him, “it was never an option to brush past you, you are everything to me. i didn’t know how to show that without overwhelming you. i’m sorry.”

tears well up in your eyes again, spencer notices this time and presses a small kiss on your forehead. all your senses feel like they’re in overdrive, unable to comprehend anything right now. your skin feels like it’s on fire as he rolls your hips faster to meet his ruts.

“spence, i- i’m so close.” you whine desperately. 

he slips his hand between you both to rub your clit, “i know baby, i’ve got you. let go for me.”

his words were enough to break the dam, your second climax of the night hurling towards you. the white hot feeling overtook your whole body, shaking and clenching above him. your grip on him was threateningly vicious, probably leaving deep crescent marks in the nape of his shoulders. you wish the euphoria would last forever if it meant having spencer like this. as you came down from your high, the two of you were still moving together, slowly rocking your hips to meet each other. once you were grounded again, you pushed through the sensitivity in your core to rise up on his length, just barely leaving the tip in before you slid back down fast and hard, now focusing on spencer reaching his peak.

“oh jesus, fuck.” spencer moaned out brokenly.

“come on spence you can do it,” you taunted as you clenched down, “come inside me, make a mess of me please.” a rush of confidence flowed through as you whispered into his ear, and spencer held your hips to help you bounce faster on him.

spencer let out a loud groan as you felt the hot spurts coat your insides, he was leaving matching crescent marks on the sides of your hips as the ones on his shoulders, making sure all of him was left in you. feeling him soften inside, you remained on his lap with him sheathed in you. you both are breathing heavily, leaning back to hopefully give you both some relief from the sex filled air. looking around the car you realize that all the windows are fogged up and let out a tiny giggle.

“what’s so funny?” he looks up at you slightly amused and very out of breath.

“no it’s just, the windows are such a dead giveaway for what we just did in here.” 

“eh, i don’t really care what people think.”

“gasp, dr. reid wants to let the world know he has car sex with random girls?”

he leans in to bite your neck playfully, “random? did nothing i said during all that register for you?”

you yelp and attempt to play dumb, “actually i don’t remember a word, you might have to jog my memory. maybe even recreate the circumstances to help with cementing it. i read about situational memorization where certain scenarios are easily remembered when there’s a big event to anchor it to.”

he swears he could’ve melted on the spot at you explaining a concept you’d read about to him, “careful sweetheart, calling it a big event might inflate my ego a little too high.”

“i mean, i can tell it worked,” you tease as you feel him harden inside of you again, “so tell me genius, how many times does a scenario have to happen for me to remember the information?”

“i guess we’ll have to find out, don’t we?”

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. once upon a kitchen . diasomnia

you have been invited by your beloved husband, lilia, to visit their school for the holidays. yet when you arrive, you finally know what his true intentions are.

featuring : lilia vanrouge, malleus draconia, sebek zigvolt, silver vanrouge

cw : f!reader, the reader is fae and married to lilia, being served poison by the diasomnia cast, bad grammars, may be ooc or inaccurate (word count: 2k)

a/n : i suddenly thought of this LMAOOO i hope everyone will like it:3 this is my way of coping from book 7 〒▽〒 i also got way too into it and ended up writing a really long fic ... (posting 2 fics in a row cuz my internet is about to dieeee)

yesterday, you received a message from your beloved and his boys. they invited you over for a little dinner and chat over at their dorm, diasomnia, in night raven college. the message reads;

name, my dear! would you be so kind as to visit our dorm for the holiday? since it is not a really long holiday, the headmage didn't allow us to leave school ... and i'd be dead if i don't see you at all this month! so, come over, and we'll have dinner together! - sincerely, your beloved, lilia vanrouge.

you smile to yourself as you read the message all over again on your way to night raven college. as compensation for not being able to leave for the holiday, crowley had also allowed family members to visit for a short period of time anytime they wanted.

and so you arrived.

upon your arrival, there were quite a long line full of people—presumably family members—that would like to visit their child. you sighed to yourself, a little annoyed that you'll have to confirm with the teachers at the gate before entering. you then messaged lilia, notifying him of your arrival.

he then replied with a short, "ok," which irked you a little. you came all the way here only for him to not even be excited? at least act like he is! you pout, aggressively putting your phone back in your pocket. you decided to spend your time checking all of your things instead of getting annoyed at lilia.

clothes, toothbrushes, snacks, clothes again, little trinkets for everyone, and clothes ... again.

after crouching and opening your suitcase in the middle of the road, for some reason, the line hasn't moved at all. so, you stood up, ready to see whatever drama had conspired between an angered mother and the teacher.

yet, all you see in your peripheral vision is a pair of wide crimson eyes staring at you ... upside down.

"woah!" you jerked back in surprise, making the upside down man in front of you chuckle. that man is, of course, none other than lilia vanrouge. "lilia! you scared me!" you narrowed your eyes at him, earning a toothy grin.

"well, sorry about that, dearie. your reaction is always amusing to watch, khehehe~" he snickered, finally setting down on the ground to talk to you properly. from his disheveled hair, you can tell he was in a hurry to get to you.

but you're confused. why would he even go as far as to come to the gate just to see you?

"why would you come here? i'll walk inside there myself anyways, you know ..." you replied indifferently, still a little annoyed at his dry reply to your text earlier. he hums at your question, seemingly deep in thought. suddenly, he took your suitcase in his hand and used his other hand to hold onto yours.

"apparently, there is a limit on how many family members could visit us ... that crowley, always announcing something without giving us the details." he pouts, shooting a glare to the headmage who's currently trying to calm down the angry parents at the gate.

it was like that for a few minutes before he coughed and replaced the pout off of his face with a smile. "but, anyways, because you can't enter anymore ... i shall personally escort you, my love!" you raised an eyebrow, curious on how he would 'personally' escort you.

"is that not illegal? you're practically breaking the rule, you know ..."

"well, no one besides us knows! so, just hold onto my hand tightly, okay?" he grins, taking your hand in his.

sigh, well, at least you have someone to personally escort you. you squeezed his hand, and he muttered an incantation under his breath. your surroundings began to distort, and you feel a familiar sense of discomfort. you closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you've arrived at diasomnia's gate.

"welcome back, lilia-sama! and welcome, mrs. vanrouge!"

"oh, my ... you've grown to be such a fine young man!"

sebek's eyes light up at your compliment. really, it feels as if it was just yesterday when he started to learn how to swing a wooden sword. "sebek, are the ingredients ready?" lilia chimed in, his face looking a little too amused the moment the word 'ingredients' left his mouth.

"yes! silver and i have already finished lining them up in the kitchen!" sebek replied, smiling eagerly as if waiting for a compliment. wait, ingredients? "very well. could you help her carry her luggage? i'm gonna take her to the lounge."

"yes, sir!" sebek took all of your luggage from your hands, walking steadily towards the dorm as if it's not heavy at all. sigh, maybe you should try to lift heavier stuff so you can get used to it. "so, shall we enter together, dearie?" lilia extended his hand to you, bowing slightly like prince charming.

"but of course. oh, before we enter, though, what ingredients did sebek and silver bought?" you took lilia's hand in yours, walking together side by side like a newly wed couple.

"you need not know! it's a surprise the children and i have prepared for you!"

now you're curious(and concerned for your well-being) at his reply. lilia did say that the five of you would be having dinner together in diasomnia. but you thought that it would be a pre-cooked dinner by a chef from briar valley, or just straight-up food delivery.

"you're ... not gonna cook, right?"

he grins at your question.

"... right?"

you don't know how you got yourself in this situation, but the moment you entered their dorm, you were greeted by students of diasomnia lining up infront of the doors all the way to the dining room. there, you saw silver and sebek standing besides an empty chair—you assumed that it's for you.

"mrs. vanrouge, you may sit here!"

"moth—um, mrs vanrouge ... please sit here."

sebek and silver greeted you with a smile, although the latter's expression shows that he feels concerned for you. "well, my love, you may sit on that chair over there!" lilia pointed at the empty chair, smiling widely at your shocked expression. while the table is well decorated with a few candles and flowers, the plates are all empty.

"i'm dead today, aren't i?"

you walked over to the empty chair and sat on it hesitantly. then, someone else walked up to you. it's malleus. "oh, name. it seems as if you've finally arrived. i hope you don't mind the heavily decorated table. lilia was the one who insisted we add a little ... 'pizzazz', as he called it, to the dining room."

"i don't mind at all! i appreciate the thought," you smile at him. "the three of you have grown up to be quite the fine young man, it seems. i am very proud!" you continued, ruffling malleus' hair when he leaned down. silver smiles at the interaction, also leaning down to your height.

"oh, silver, what's this? you want me to ruffle your hair, too?"

"... mother, since there is still time, please make a run for it."

you paused, trembling in your seat as he reminded you once more of the disaster awaiting you. "don't say it like that ..." you sigh, praying that you won't end up in the hospital on your first day here.

"well, let's start cooking our gourmet for name!" lilia interrupts the interaction, gesturing at the three to go to the kitchen with him. while malleus and sebek look concerned, they thought that if there were three people who could cook in the kitchen, they're sure they could avoid any disaster.

silver is not sure. at all.

he has seen the way his beloved father cooks in the kitchen, and even if there is professional chefs instructing him, he'll always find ways to sneak in god knows what in his cooking and make it taste bad.

sigh, old men are so unreliable.

"sir, what are we cooking today? i shall assist you and the young master in every single step!" sebek asks(by yelling), taking the knife in his hand. he's very confident in his cutting skill, and he's sure that there won't be food that comes out in chunky bits if he doesn't let lilia hold onto it. er, it's not like he doesn't trust lilia at all, of course.

"sebek, your voice is too loud ..." silver complains, to which sebek took offense. "silver! this is how professional chefs communicate in the kitchen! if you want me to speak soothingly, you can go ahead and listen to nursery rhymes!"

"now, now, boys. we're not here to argue! today, we are going to cook a simple curry!" lilia puts his hands on his hips, grinning to himself.

"curry? hmm, that does sound like a delightful meal. but how about you sit back and let us cook instead, lilia?" malleus chimes in, looking at lilia with doubtful eyes.

"what are you talking about, malleus? i'm not gonna make you guys do the labor while i sit back like a boss. i shall help, too!"

.

.

.

you sit in the ridiculously long dining table of diasomnia—very patiently waiting for the four to finish cooking. so patient, in fact, you wish they come out with empty hands.

while waiting for them to finish their cooking, you've heard many ominous things from inside the kitchen. sebek yelling in concern at lilia adding for too many spices, malleus using a little too much magic to turn on the stove(it almost burns down the whole kitchen), and lilia occasionally checking on you to make sure you're still there.

you sigh to yourself, pulling out your phone to text your friend back in your hometown to prepare a funeral for you.

after a few more minutes, the four of them finally come out with a suspiciously good-looking curry. "mrs. vanrouge, we have finished cooking dinner!" sebek announced, putting the pot full of hot curry on the table. quickly, he pours some of the curry on your plate for you to taste.

"have a taste, dearie! we put our heart and soul into this!" lilia smiles at you, making you raise an eyebrow. the food looks surprisingly tasty. the colors are normal, it smells great, the vegetables look as if they're cut by a professional, and the rice is cooked this time.

you look up to the four of them. silver is subtly telling you not to eat the curry for some reason, sebek and lilia's eyes are sparkling in anticipation, and malleus is smiling as if waiting for your reaction.

well, it won't hurt to take a bite, right?

"thank you for the meal." you used your spoon to take some of the rice and curry into your mouth slowly. and when you swallow it ... "how is it, name?" malleus asks, staring at you in curiosity.

it's ... so spicy! "lilia, what did you add in here to make it so spicy?!" you looked at the grinning man in front of you, glaring daggers at him. "whatever do you mean, love? i simply added a few chilis into the curry for you!"

"you .. what?!"

"i tried to stop him from doing that, but he somehow sneaks it in when we weren't looking ... i'm sorry, i have failed you, mother." silver looks down in shame, making lilia cackle.

"khehehe, don't be like that! it was tasty even if i added too much chilis! you liked it, right?"

"vanrouge, i'm gonna get you back someday!" you gripped your spoon tightly, trying to swallow the ridiculously spicy curry. lilia laughs harder at your declaration of war.

but, instead of fuming at him, you smile.

looking at the four of them, malleus sighing in devastation that his cooking was destroyed by lilia yet again, sebek yelling at silver for not supervising lilia for his pranks, silver arguing that 'it's not really my fault.', and lilia teasing you for how red your face had become from all the spices.

you wish for this moment to never end.

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[w2soneshots]

Two becomes three -George clarkey

words: 2.4k+

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, sickness, worrying, birth.

summary: you and your husband George’s journey to unexpectedly becoming parents along with your social media posts during your pregnancy.

notes: hello my loves! Here’s the request. I love writing fluffy fics like this🥹. I hope you all enjoy this extra long one shot!!🧸🎀🤍 (please lmk what you think!)

Liked by wroetoshaw, mollymae and 934,125 others

y/username: baby has entered the chat @georgeclarkeey

-comments-

chrismd10: congratulations guys❤️

faithloisak: how cute!! So happy for you two🥹✨

max_balegdae: ahhhhhhhhh

y/nfanpage21: there's no fucking way!!🙊

user27549810: the random George jump-scare at the end lol

user60286430: didn't they just get married like five seconds ago?😅

I met my now husband George four years ago. He followed me on instagram, I followed him back and not long after that we were dating. Last year he proposed and just under a month ago we had our wedding, which was beautiful and only had our closet friends and family.

An hour ago I took a pregnancy test. I was only a day late on my period but I took it just in case. I could hardly believe it when I saw two lines and it was so faint that I convinced myself I was seeing things so I decided to sleep on it and then tell George when I knew for sure.

But I just couldn't keep it a secret. I blurted out, "George, I think pregnant." As soon as he walked through the front door after his shoot with Arthur tv. He was baffled. "You- woah- you think?" I nodded. He took a moment to process what I just said. "And you took a test?" He finally asked. "Yeah, the lines were really faint though. I was gonna wait until tomorrow to tell you but- it just came out."

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I let out a soft sigh of relief. "If you are then I'll be so happy," he whispered into my hair. I smiled, though he couldn't see me. "I'm so overwhelmed," I mumbled. His hand made its way up to my hair and he gently ran it over my scalp, silently reassuring me.

That night everything felt so strange. You're supposed to take the tests in the morning anyway for the most accurate results so we were just waiting and trying not to get our hopes up in case it wasn't positive.

The next morning I woke to an empty bed. I reached for my phone and then read the text George had sent me just ten minutes ago; "gone to buy more tests, hopefully I'll be back before you're awake x" I sighed softly then got up.

As I was brushing my teeth the front door clicked open and soon George was walking into the ensuite. He smiled softly as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, looking at me through the mirror. "Ready, love?"

"You look. I can't." I quickly passed the upside down test to George as we sat on the end of our bed. Just seconds before, the alarm on my phone rung but I couldn't bring myself to look at the test.

He took it and flipped it over. A wide smile spread across his face as an excited chuckle escaped his mouth. "Seriously?" I asked, shocked. "Y- yeah, you're pregnant!" He shot up of the bed. I giggled. "I'm gonna be a dad!" He pulled me up and into a bone crushing hug.

The next two months weren't very fun. At the beginning we were both so ecstatic. Then the morning sickness hit. I could barely eat, sleep and it was becoming impossible to make up excuses for why I couldn't go out.

George was like my rock through the entire ordeal. He was by my side every time I had to run to the bathroom, he held me and gently stroked my back as I tried to get some sleep, he pleaded with the doctor when we went for my first appointment hoping there was something, anything they could do and he let me ramble on about how I just wanted to feel normal again.

Slowly our friends figured it out and offered their help. The girls put together a basket and Faith made sure to include everything that helped her through her first trimester, Chris came round to keep me company while George had to go and film something for a brand deal and George's sister sat with me as we online shopped since I couldn't really go out.

When the sickness slowly started to ease off everyone was so relieved, George especially because he hated seeing me constantly upset. I was finally able to enjoy pregnancy, announce it on instagram and suddenly the last few months were erased from my mind.

Liked by faithloisak, arthurtv and 513,290 others

y/username: love, hate relationship with the heat

-comments-

taliamar: you're glowing babe!!💞

-> y/username: 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

georgeclarkeey: 🐊

y/nfanpage21: the puppy🥹

user85299106: this is adorable

At twenty two weeks we went on our little baby moon. I spent twelve days relaxing in the sun while George fussed about suncream and making sure I was in the shade. Since becoming pregnant he's been much more protective, which I don't mind since it's never overbearing. He's just trying to help in anyway possible.

"Good morning sleepy head." George greeted me quietly, sitting on the side of the bed next to my sleepy form and gently pushing the messy hair from my face. "Mornin'" I mumbled, shuffling slightly. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead before asking if I wanted some breakfast, to which I immediately nodded.

We left our little apartment after getting ready and walked hand in hand down the street towards the cute little outdoor café we'd spent quite a few mornings in the past week and a half.

"Thank you." I smiled at the young girl handing me my pancakes. "Will that be all?" She asked politely after placing George's breakfast in front of him. I nodded and she walked away.

"Mmm, I'm so glad I can actually enjoy food again," I said after swallowing a mouthful of food. George just stared at me. "What?" "I just love watching you." I chuckled. "That sounds a bit creepy babe."

When the day came that our baby moon was over I was sad to be leaving such a beautiful place that I'd made life long memories in but I was secretly very excited to be going home and getting back into normal life.

Liked by chrismd10, taliamar and 623,309 others

y/username: clearing out my camera roll✨

-comments-

arthurtv: fifth slide?😭

-> georgeclarkeey:🫃🏼🤰

faithloisak: stunning!!!

y/nfanpage21: you, the bump, the flowers, all so cute💝

user10479624: you're both going to be the best parents

The next few months were spent relaxing and preparing for the arrival of our baby, who we found out the sex of just after our baby moon. We had a little gender reveal at our apartment with our families and a few special friends. We decided on a cake, classic, cute and delicious.

"I can't tell!" George announced. I stood next to him, my hand holding the knife that was cutting through the cake. Both of us were trying to peek at the sponge but it wasn't until I pulled the slice out that we spotted the pink.

Immediately the room erupted into cheers. I placed it down on a plate along with the knife and I turned to my husband. Tears welled in my eyes and when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body off of the ground the commotion around us seemed to disappear and all I could focus on was us.

"We're having a girl," I whispered, as though I was trying to convince myself that this was actually real. He gently placed me down, his hands landing on my hips. "I knew it. Dad intuition goes crazy." I giggled before pushing onto my tip toes and placing a loving kiss to his lips.

After that day I was suddenly obsessed with buying baby clothes, what the nursery was going to look like and the realisation hit me that I was actually going to have to push a human being out of my body, though George was quick to reassure me about that.

"Baby's the size of a small pineapple this week," I informed George as we sat on the couch, my feet resting on his lap as he slowly massaged them through my socks. I turned my phone around so he could see the app that keeps track of the baby.

"That's huge." He muttered, eyes widening slightly. I chuckled. "When she's done cooking she'll be the size of a pumpkin." "Oh god, I'm sorry." My brows furrowed, an amused look on my face. "What are you apologising for?"

"You're gonna have to lug around a pumpkin sized baby," he replied, deadly serious. I just laughed, though I wasn't particularly looking forward to that.

The months flew by and suddenly I was actually carrying a pumpkin sized baby in my stomach. At thirty seven weeks my back constantly ached, I needed to pee every five minutes, I wasn't sleeping properly since I had a future gymnast kicking around in my stomach and all in all I was just uncomfortable.

Since I could now go into labour at any second George was watching me like a hawk. Every grimace when I felt an extra strong kick, every sigh and every time my hand touched my stomach he would sit upright and just wait for me to say something.

"I'm fine, George," I'd say. "Just checking," he'd reply and that interaction would repeat itself another one hundred times before the day ended.

"I won't go if you don't want me to, Chris can find someone else last minute," George whispered as we lay in bed, my back pressed against his chest as he gently drew circles on the side of my bump. "No, I'll be okay. It's only a few hours," I mumbled back, half asleep. "Okay, just promise you'll call me if anything happens?" "Promise."

He left early the next morning to film the football video for Chris' channel, meaning I woke up alone. I went about my routine like normal though it felt like it was taking me longer to do my usual things, like I was moving at snail pace, which was slightly strange but I brushed it off.

An hour later I lay on the couch scrolling through instagram when I felt a twinge in my lower stomach. My brows furrowed slightly. "That was weird," I thought but I continued to scroll.

Until I felt it again. This time I decided to keep my promise to George and phone him. It ring a few times before he picked up. "Everything okay? Is it the baby?" He said immediately in a rushed tone. "I'm not sure, I just feel... weird."

He took in a shaky breath. "I knew I shouldn't have come today! I'm coming home." "It's fine, I'm- we're fine. Calm down-" "no no, I'll be there in twenty minutes, love you." And with that he ended the call. I sighed, feeling slightly bad that he'd had to leave the shoot but also a little relieved.

Just under twenty minutes later he burst through our apartment door. I stood in the kitchen, hands on the countertop as I took a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut. I heard his bags drop then the sound of his feet racing towards me.

"You said you just felt weird!" He placed his hand on the small of my back. I looked up at him as the pain subsided. "I did! It started getting worse after I called you."

George collected himself. "Okay okay, you're having contractions?" "Mhm, think so," I responded quietly. "How far apart?" "Like five minutes." He thought back to the birthing class we'd gone to last month. "I think we've got some time and the woman said the first kid always takes a while so let's not stress," he tried to reassure me and himself.

"I'll go get the bag, you just- uh... breathe." I chuckled softly, already calmer now that he was here. He emerged from our bedroom minutes later with the small suitcase in hand.

It took half a hour to get out of the door, drive to the hospital and get checked into a room. After that we could both relax.

The contractions weren't unbearable but I wanted the epidural as soon as possible. "Hmf-" I squeezed George's hand. "Another one?" He asked softly. All I could do was nod. "You're doing amazing sweetheart, so so good. I'm so proud of you."

Once I got the injection I felt like a million bucks. I couldn't feel the contractions, just a little bit of pressure. I sat in the bed happily as I ate my ice chips. Before I knew it, it was time to push.

Liked by sidemen, prettylittlething and 1,004,586 others

y/username: we've been in our little baby bubble this week but I wanted to officially introduce you to Maddie Clarke🤍👼🏼💫

-comments-

georgeclarkeey: my girls❤️

max_balegdae: yasss mother

taliamar: congratulations🥺💓

y/nfanpage21: I'M CRYING

user02781643: they're literally living the dream life omg!!

"She looks just like you," I said as I watched George's eyes fill with tears, his arms secured around his daughter, just ten minutes after she'd entered the world. He glanced down at me. "I love you so much, this is officially the best day of my life," he whispered. I smiled fondly and somehow I fell in love with George all over again, in a completely different way.

We spent a day and a half in the hospital before being discharged. It had been just me, George and the baby in a little room so it felt amazing to go home. I waddled after my husband as I watched him carry our newborn -who slept soundly in her car seat- out and toward the car. He strapped her in then helped me into the backseat.

"I get what people were taking about now," I said as he stared the engine. "Huh?" "I saw a video about the 'hot dad walk' out of the hospital and I totally get them." He chuckled, though he was cautious of the sleeping baby.

After a few days and once we were in somewhat of a routine his family came over to visit. His slightly younger sister was so excited and could barely keep quiet. "She's adorable. Oh my goodness, look at her little feet!" "Okay everyone, no touching until you've washed your hands!" He announced, pointing towards the kitchen sink.

I watched with a smile on my face as he fussed over whether Maddie's head was supported, it was extremely sweet how much he cared for and loved our daughter. I couldn't wait to watch as he became the best dad ever.