#we had the radio news on and i commented that it was lucky neither of us used the bird site and thus wouldn't be affected by the sale

[gravitasmalfunction]

The arguing with male relatives post is unfortunately Too Real. For the brief period both me and my partner were getting therapy (separately) we did try to get intentional about communicating better with each other but every single time without fail, chat time devolved into an argument. I had to pull the plug on it, it was so stressful and having the opposite effect to what both of us intended. But why can I blame him for the argument, you ask? Because my toxic trait is avoidance. If we are arguing then the fault with me is that I was present to argue with!

As a tactic, instant disagreement is not exclusively used by men, and one of my very good friends defaults to it as well, but it's possibly not a coincidence that she's spent her entire career in male-dominated industries and being subject to that tactic that it's probably just her default conversational style now. But wow does she get judged for it, in a way I rarely see men getting criticised. Also it does not make her the funnest person to have a conversation with at times. However she would not later blame me for not being chill. Argue with a man who treats every conversation as an opportunity to assert their intellectual dominance and suddenly you're no fun and have a bad attitude.

[talaok]

I NEED some protective pedro. Oh God how about them being in a relationship, had a fight and not talking to each other at that moment, attend a friend's party and pedro taking care of her and making sure she is alright while being mad at her and maybe some cute sexy ending...

Pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

Warnings: the most allusion you can allusion to smut

It wasn't one of those huge important fights that break up couples, it was just a stupid little fight.

You wanted to spend Christmas with your family, and him with his, and neither of you was gonna budge.

Silly, right?

Now the only problem was that this "little" argument, had happened right as you were getting ready to go to a party, which you were now driving to in complete silence.

Not even the radio was on, only him, you, and countless passive-aggressive comments on the tip of your tongue.

The tension in the confined space was more than palpable, and when you finally got out of the car it felt as if you'd been underwater the whole time, and for the first time in twenty minutes, you could finally get a breath of fresh air.

Which, now that you realized, it really was fresh... maybe even a little too much for the dress you chose.

"You're cold" Pedro stated, a clear tint of annoyance in his tone.

The fact that all he needed to do was look at you for a second to understand what you were thinking would have been sweet at any other moment, now it was just irritating.

"take my jacket" he urged, handing it to you without so much as a second glance.

"I don't need it, I'm not cold"

And just as you, he would have found your stubbornness cute if it had been any other time.

"The party is in the garden y/n, you're gonna freeze all night just to prove a point?"

God but did he always sound so condescending?

"fine" you grumbled, begrudgingly putting it on as he started walking to the front door, not even bothering waiting for you.

__ __ __

You spent the rest of the night purposely ignoring each other except for exactly three times (yes you had counted them), the first one was when Margareth, whom you very much despised since the only way she seemed to be able to talk to people was by judging them straight to their faces, had cornered you and forced you to listen to how much better she was then you until Pedro had appeared out of nowhere, and pretended he needed to talk to you just to get you away from her.

You didn't even have time to decide whether you wanted to thank him or not that he'd already gone his way.

The second time was when he saw you trip over a patch of grass out of the corner of his eye and as much as he wanted to ignore it, he just couldn't, so he had to excuse himself from the conversation he was having and reach you to make sure you were alright.

"I'm fine Pedro" you'd rolled your eyes

"Have you drank any water?" 

"Oh my god, I'm not drunk I just tripped" 

And that's exactly why the third time you had talked to each other he had approached with a glass of water.

"I told you I'm not drunk"

"You should still drink this"

"Who are you, my mom?" you'd exhaled dramatically "Oh no that's right, My mom is in New York and I won't get to see her this Christmas because apparently we just have to spend it with your family"

You were lucky nobody was ever around anytime you talked because... sheesh, that would have been embarrassing.

"Just drink this please" he'd insisted with a sigh, and finally, partially because you wanted him to go away and partially because you were actually kind of thirsty, you had accepted with a heavy "fine"

And now you were back at home and back at not talking... except that this damn zipper was stuck and as much as you forced it it just wouldn't go down.

"You need help with that?"

He would have been lying if he said he hadn't been enjoying the show for a while now.

"it's stuck" 

Without another word, he was up from the bed and walked behind you as you stood in front of the mirror.

He put one hand on your waist while the other undid your dress with care.

And now yes you were in the middle of an argument, but you weren't responsible for the warmth that spread inside your body at his touch.

 A soft thud reverberated through the room as your dress fell to the floor and a low "fuck" fled his mouth as he took you in from the mirror.

A long beat passed, and then, as if he'd read your mind he asked "Truce?"

And all you could do was nod

"truce"

[13thdoctorposts]

I hate that RTD and Tennant and crew can't leave the show alone, that not only does RTD act like his formula is the only/best and not only is Tennant incapable of fucking stepping back from the role even after a grossly egotistical first run in the 00s, but a generation of fans only recognise/like Who when its in that image. And that hurts the show massively, it hurts other actors both in the sense that they aren't allowed from out of his fucking shadow and in that literal workplace abuse and media smear campaigns are excused when it happens around them.

Yeah, considering the most questionable things seem to happen under RTDs watch but the media never has anything to say negative about him compared to the level of shit levered at Moff but then even more so at Chibs, especially when Chibs seems like the most humble of the 3 is crazy.

I've read a lot of comments that Chibs wasnt good enough to Showrun as big a show as Doctor Who he didnt have the skills for it, but lucky RTD is back because he has the skills to do it, the cope from people is crazy!

Especially considering the shit show that seems to exist now, leaks, upon leaks, upon leaks, Ncuti's announcement almost instantly being over shadowed by Tennant's announcement, and the fact that Ncuti's happened on a red carpet... they would have known it was about to be leaked and couldn't have come up with something a bit better even if it was on a short deadline? Didn't really matter I guess Tennent coming back and being announced the following week seemed more important to them. The Bi-regeneration, which within the show lore I don't care about, do canon braking things, but of course that left the 14th Doctor out there doing his own thing with his own TARDIS completely overshadowing Ncuti, the number of comments I've seen about 15th not being the 'real' Doctor or being a clone Doctor etc. and for what to keep Tennent around off camera? So that people would question 15th legitimacy? To make sure Ncuti couldn't have his time alone to shine? Then we have the recent articles saying Millie was dropped/axed... with no evidence spread across the internet and front pages of papers across the UK saying she was dropped/axe for inappropriate behaviour with no elaboration, just trying to ruin a 19 year olds career with nothing to corroborate or evidence given and neither Bad Wolf or The BBC bothered to come out and clarify anything even though these stories also unofficially announced a new companion... one that even Mandip Gill said she has kindly messaged and Radio Times has spoken about, but Bad Wolf and The BBC haven't even announced her and given her that moment. And a side note to that is the new white companion got introduced with the TARDIS by the New Doctor as an official announcement the woman of colour companion got announced in a bunch of papers bad mouthing the former companion, guess like Ncuti not everyone gets to have the same treatment. So Chibs wasnt good enough to Showrun?! No one knew Jodies casting announcement that didnt get leaked, even Dan got his own video announcement as a new companion, nothing to do with his writing but Showrunning the show with the limited BBC budget he had even though he was able to keep his house in order for over 5 years while RTD, with his big BBC/Disney budget doesnt seem to keep anything in order, and Chibs is the one who supposedly doesnt have the skills to Showrun.

I think we really did need a brand new show runner and Tennent should have only returned for the 60th if it was a multi Doctor story, Multi, not as in just with 15 in the last ep but with previous Docs. All the 60th did was give the 10th Doctor a happy ending that was seriously weird for all the Doctors who came after him, so narratively was just a WTF, like you just told a companion you had feelings for them and couldn't settle down and 3 days later settle down with a friend from 1000 years ago (in the doctors time) talk about jarring to watch, the episodes were not celebratory in anyway, wasn't written any better then 13 era despite what we were told we would get and left 14 there so people could make countless videos and write countless blog posts about how 15 isnt legitimate. what a celebration!

I think we needed a brand new show runner, no having 10 and 14 to make Tennent even more special by putting him in every Doctor line up from now on twice and had Ncuti come in. I understand He couldn't film for the 60th, but they managed to put a Christmas Ep out with him 3 weeks later maybe instead of the 60th and Christmas ep it could have been a movie length ep with Ncuti so filming could have started later.

Thats a pretty long rant sorry. But in conclusion we should have just moved forwards instead of bothering to look back, and given the new actors the lime light in the way they deserved.

[moonlit-nights-club]

“How the hell did one of you fuck up that badly?” Juyeon’s voice rang through the otherwise silence of the night. He was perched in the hood of a black car with the keys dangling between his fingers while he watched a group of his colleagues stumble toward him in what looked like a hurry. He didn’t seem to be in much of one himself though, he didn’t even budge from the car to offer help.

Romin and Jisung were the ones stumbling forward. Neither of them were exactly trained for this mission, Jisung especially since he was just an organized. “You could help instead of running your mouth.” Jisung snapped at Juyeon as he adjusted the body he was helping to carry. It was hardly just a body though, the person was still very much alive.

Juyeon rolled his eyes and hopped off the car with a scoff. “Always cleaning up a mess.” He swiftly walked past the three, lighter in his hands, and walked toward the building. He was parked rather far, not close enough to directly set the building off, but the garden would do. He flicked the lighter on and tossed it into one of the hedges before turning on his heel to help the other two. “Hope everyone else made it out.”

“They should have returned by now.” San was pacing around his office with his head in his hands. The mission was supposed to be simple: they travel to the targets vacation home, grab him, and get out. Now he was watching the news as said vacation home was up in flames and he’s had zero communication with his team. Some boss he is.

“The radios we use aren’t exactly reliable. They are fine.” Sunwoo was the other one that stayed behind with the boss. He was carefree as always. If his team made it out, good, if not, it wasn’t his problem. He wasn’t the best to leave behind, but only one group needed a driver. He was to stay with San in case the boss needed a quick exit.

San continued to pace, the last he heard on one end was glass breaking and a cut off sentence from Jisung on the other end. He always thought of the worst when it came to situations like this, especially after what happened with his father. “We should-“ a crackling noise from the radio cut San’s likely poor idea short.

“We- prob- back-“ the radio was full of static and cut the speakers voice into small, unreadable comments. It was vaguely recognized as Asta’s, but her words were unrecognizable. “Sta- twent- shi-“ the last word was definitely a swear, but that voice was different anyways, Yeonjun’s. There was yelling in the background this time.

San continued to pace.

“He just tried to kill me and we are bringing him with us? You’re fucking crazy!” Hanbin exclaimed, his own hand was resting on top of Yeonjun’s who was currently trying to keep the bartender from bleeding out.

They had the harder part of the mission, keeping the targets own little body guard busy. It didn’t go over as planned and Hanbin, who had little to no training, ended up in the crossfire and had a bullet in his side now. Well, it wasn’t there, it went straight through, but it still hurt like hell. Yeonjun was supposed to get a clear shot on the guy and take him out, but the guard had found Asta and Hanbin first and danced around Yeonjun’s line of sight like he knew the sniper was there and ready. It made things difficult and by the time Asta was able to detain the guy, Hanbin was already on the ground.

“You’re making your wound worse.” Asta glared in Hanbin’s direction after she tried to reach San on the radio. Dumb thing hardly worked. “Take this.” She shoved the radio into Yeonjun’s bloody hands. “And you. Stop bitching.” She pointed to where Hanbin was now sat up with someone’s, likely his own, discarded jacket pressed against his wound.

The fourth in the room sat in silence. His hands were tied behind his back and around a post on the wall, he just looked annoyed.

“You’re lucky I found you first.”

The drama plot arrives, I’ll be around later today to be active! There will be a second part to this to build up to the two new characters, feel free to make guesses until then~~

@badbf-cb @clubwnderland @mirage-ocs @darkloversxcb @silcntxnight @lostwoods-cb @welcome-to-maniac @welcometosector1 @jinju-oc @multi-joong @lucky-charmsanhwa @livealittleoc-cb @demigods-ateez @obsession-cb @evicted-oc @hwangsiblings-oc @raiden-oc @hearthstone-apothecary @thesugaredalchemists @k-half-blood @dragonrider-cb @wxlfchris @songsoftheocean-oc @hybrid-babies @secretscb @redlight-cb

[666prophet]

Fallout S1:E3 - The Head

I think this one was solid. Moved the plot along some, but mainly a character development episode. This again I feel is geared to not fans of the games (no offense). It does a good job of showing you how things are and why certain characters react the way they do. Also a good juxtaposition of the differences between the Wasteland and Vaults. Did raise a lot of nit picky things though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Spoilers and Deep Dive ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok so The Ghoul was an actor before the bombs, got it cool I can dig it. What is interesting to see is if the go further into how he became so cold. Granted yes being alive for 200 years and becoming and irradiated time bomb will do that to you. I'm interested to see what chem he keeps using, it doesn't look like anything that has been in any game yet. Also just as a thought, maybe wrap up the severed head. Walking around with a head is just gonna make you seem like a Fiend or a Raider. Just food for thought. Its amazing the upgrades that Vault dwellers made to the Pip-Boy seeing as neither the 3000 or Mark IV had any kind of tracker feature.

Sir....in your boot....that would be the most uncomfortable way to carry around caps ever. Its pretty lucky this random person is skilled and knowledgeable enough to fix a component off a suit of power armor. Ok, at this point its safe to say that Maximus can't fight for shit. He also seems to have an odd obsession with toilet seats. They sent over a new squire amazingly quick, but also how are you surprised he is there? You just talked on the radio and they said they would send a new Squire. Oh its the asshole bully, how convenient. So how far are we gonna take the bully my bully trope.

Its funny that they have a prominent Sunset Sarsaparilla logo on the truck. Considering that Todd Howard has had this weird relationship with Fallout: New Vegas. He doesn't dislike it or speak badly about it, just more tries to avoid talking about it. I would say New Vegas is probably my number one in the series. It feels like a good successor to Fallouts 1 and 2, seeing as Fallout 3, 4, & 76 ditched the west in favor of the east. If any of the older games deserve a redo/remaster it's New Vegas. I see Lucy took my advice. So wait the first sign(not actually the first but still) of wildlife we see in an UNMUTATED FAWN?!?!?! Where is the mother? Did deer on the West Coast just not suffer from mutations due to the fallout? Also weird choice to have a Fallow fawn and not go with something a but more common and widespread in California like Blacktail or Mule. Alright a gulper, I mean you could have also gone with a mirelurk or lakelurk but sure I'll take it.

I think this gives a good incite into how some Vault dwellers are. They are very we are better and nicer. Very naive and very cheery, which gives a good contrast to Norm. The fact that they keep hammering the ghoul hate feels like ham fisted foreshadowing.

Leaches were never in the games. Its interesting to see The Ghoul panic when the winch locks up. Almost like he cares about Lucy for some reason, or he isn't as sadistic as we are lead to believe. Ummmm why does that gulper look like an axolotl? Yes they are also salamanders but not a common species in the US. Ok...gross....it has mouth fingers. I feel like there is some shenanigans going on with this gulper. The white lab coat kind of shenanigans. So either The Ghoul is SUPER addicted to chems or there is something special about these vials. Also that line about getting sidetracked might as well be the new tagline for all the games.

Well here is the "he was just misunderstood, not a bully" trope. More showing the difference between Vault 33 vs Norm as character. I like it. Also showing the cracks with the Overseer comment. The classic waterchip is broken mechanic, a Fallout staple.

Oh were being spoiled in this episode, a whole five seconds of a what looks like a bloatfly. So wouldn't the geiger counter just spike because of the fact that most all water is irradiated? It dies by puking its guts out? That's it? That's underwhelming. Oh look the head, that's plot armor if I've ever seen it.

So is The Ghoul trying to do a tough love mentor thing? I'm confused. Ok so he sold out because of his wife and she is tied to Vault-Tec somehow. Its interesting to see that she seems to know what kind of company Vault-Tec is.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Its good. Lots of little things but we can chalk it up to me being fussy about detail. Shows more behind the curtain on the characters. We are starting to see more of the world, but I feel like I'm being breadcrumbed on that front. Hope we can start to more widen the scope because part of the story of Fallout is the world. Not just the "main quest".

Final Score - 8/10

[a-froger-epic]

Get out your glitter leotards and pour some champagne in your cat mugs! 🥂 🍾 It’s time to celebrate Freddie! 🎉😸

🎊 Freddie Mercury Weekend 2021 🎊

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

ABOUT THE EVENT

This weekend is a content creation event in honour of the man himself, the legend we all love, Freddie Mercury! Once more, everyone who is inspired by Freddie is invited to share their creativity with the fandom. You can write, draw, edit, record, even cross-stitch 😉 content for absolutely anything related to Freddie, any ship, any genre, any way you like. This is an indiscriminately inclusive, positive event. Everyone is welcome, there is no wrong way to be a fan of Freddie! (Except convincing yourself you're dating his ghost maybe. That's pretty wrong. And weird. Don't do that.)

WHEN? On the 21st, 22nd and 23rd of May.

HOW? On the above dates (or after!), post your contributions to the AO3 collection or alternatively on Tumblr, tagged ‘#fmw2021’ or/and ‘#freddie mercury weekend 2021’. If you post on Tumblr, please also tag @a-froger-epic to make sure you get a reblog from me!

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

THE PROMPTS

You can be as free with the prompts as you like. They are here to inspire, there is no wrong way to write them! Change them around, mix them up, make them fem!Freddie, A/B/O, add your favourite ship. Anything goes! 😊

21st of May - 500-1000 word challenge!

We’re kicking off the event with ficlets and drabbles. First time writer just testing the waters? No need for an epic, just write a scene! No time to write but you want to participate? Surely you’ll find time for 500 words! 😉 Interpret these mini-prompts however you like (every one is a separate prompt, but you can combine them!):

Make-Up 💄   |   Pain/Pleasure 👀

Strip 👕   |   Ring 💍

Forbidden 🤫   |   Delilah 🐈

Piano 🎹   |   Dormitory 🛏 

Outrageous 🎉   |   Contentment 😌

Come Together 🎇   |   Ballet 🩰

Piece of Art 🎨   |   Leather 🧥

Cockring 🐔   |   Kimono 👘

Petals 🌸   |   Leotard 🕺🏻

Mustache 🧔   |   Last Time 😔

22nd of May - Is This The Real Life? 

A list of real event/canon timeline prompts from Freddie’s life. How real you want to keep them, however, is entirely up to you!

Down in flames

Freddie is 16 years old when he leaves boarding school. Does it have something to do with the school gardener, Sanjay? Did he flunk his exams or did he not even sit them? Is one thing connected to the other? Does he really find a boyfriend when he goes to stay with his aunt in Mumbai (then Bombay)? Either way, there’s the small matter of his parents finding out about all of it... (Sources: x x )

When Freddie met Kenny

Freddie is a guest on Kenny Everett's radio show in spring 1974. Freddie is living with Mary, Kenny is married. Two gay men, deep in the closet. To no one's surprise, they hit it off immediately. (Source: x )

But when did he? 

At some point during his relationship with Mary, prior to his relationship with David, Freddie had already begun sleeping with men. But how and when did that first happen? Cottaging in London? On tour somewhere in the world? Your guess is as good as ours… 

Flying High

Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll. Like all rock bands of their time, Queen doesn’t escape the copious amounts of cocaine in the entertainment industry for long. Somewhere on tour in America, perhaps, Freddie is first introduced to it. Where? How? 

Hide your tears

Jim said that he tried to be strong for Freddie and only cried in private, so as not to burden Freddie with his feelings. But this time, he is found. 

One-liners:

In 1969, Freddie doesn’t know how to cook an egg and neither does Roger (Source: x )

In 1977, Freddie meets Joe while on tour in Boston and starts dating him behind David's back

In 1990, Brian and Freddie work on 'The Show Must Go On' (Source: x )

In a year of your choice, Jim reminisces about his fondest moment(s) with Freddie

In 1976, Freddie and Mary end their relationship 

In 1984, Winnie gives Freddie a wedding ring (middle of the post: x )

In the late 60s, Freddie agrees to model for an Ealing Art School fashion show, but panics and flees the runway (Source: x )

In 1974, Freddie is strip-searched upon arrival in Australia (Source: x )

In 1982, Freddie and Roger go shopping in Amsterdam (Source: x )

In 1978, Freddie swings from a chandelier - naked (Source: x )

23rd of May - Is It Just Fantasy?

A list of AU prompts to spark your imagination. Take them and run with them or change them up, just have fun!

Make your dreams come true

Freddie hasn't been very fortunate in his life, until he finds a very special oil lamp, and rubs it just the right way. 

Beautiful stranger

Freddie meets an alluring stranger at a masquerade ball, who has more secrets than he can hide behind a mask. But Freddie has some of his own. 

Thicker than water 

Freddie agrees to a dreadful fate in order to save his little sister from the very same. Fortunately, he has friends who are more than willing to help him, but can they? Or are they, too, in danger?

Diamonds are a boy's best friend

Freddie is the prized jewel of the court, a skilled belly-dancer and entertainer, but he may also be plotting murder and getting away with it. 

Almost Real

In a distant future, humans have all but done away with face to face interaction. Humanity largely lives online. Children grow up isolated and live with only their families well into young adulthood. Cybersex is the new normal, although some families take a puritanical approach for fear of addiction. One day, impossibly, a real life young man falls through the containment field in Freddie’s back garden. 

One-liners:

This plane is going to crash (Freddie knew there was a reason he hated flying) 

Shipwrecked on an island (Freddie could never bear to be alone, but luckily/unfortunately for him��) 

Hunger Games AU (Freddie is so dead) 

A terrible road accident (Everyone is so dead, or are they?) 

Blind Date AU (Freddie's best friend is so dead for setting him up with this person… or are they…) 

Bank robbery (but who are the robbers and who are the hostages?) 

Magic AU ("Yer a wizard, Freddie!")

Film Noir AU (Secrets and cigarette holders) 

Interior Design AU (Does the carpet match the drapes?)

The Bodyguard AU (“And I will always love yooouuuu…”)

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

RULES & FAQ

⛔ Strictly No Hate ⛔

This is the NUMBER ONE RULE of the event, to ensure that everybody feels safe. No rudeness, provocations or hate aimed at creators or other commenters will be permitted, not on AO3 nor Tumblr.

Follow these steps if you receive a comment or ask that distresses you:

Do not engage. (You can take a screenshot as proof.)

Delete it. No ifs, no buts. Just delete it. (Don’t hesitate to block anon hate on Tumblr.)

Alert me ( @a-froger-epic ) or @aboutnothingness, who is lending me a hand to make sure all needs are attended, all questions are answered and everything runs smoothly. We are here to actively support you. We’ve got your back, and we will gladly talk to you and help you feel better.

If you choose to ignore this rule, your work may be removed from the event. We would hate to resort to that.

But what if one of the works has upset me?

Can the thing that upset you be tagged, but it wasn’t? Then please inform @a-froger-epic or @aboutnothingness, and we will bring it to the creator’s attention. (Remember to use the appropriate tags, everybody!)

Was the thing that upset you already tagged? Or is it perhaps simply the characterisation you find disagreeable? Then we suggest you click on the ‘back’ button, take a deep breath and remind yourself it's just fanfic.

Who can participate?

Anyone who is inspired by Freddie Mercury in any way shape or form. This event is open to all.

Can I combine prompts from different days?

By all means! We look forward to your futuristic Freddie-gets-kicked-out-of-boarding-school Maycury Film Noir AU. With leotards. Go crazy.

I'm not sure where my creation fits in, what day do I post it? 

The days, like the prompts, are only suggestions. We don't mind when you post it, as long as you post it! Even if it's two weeks late! 

Help, I've never posted fic before! 

Don't worry, we've got you! (And more importantly, we've got AO3 invites!) @aboutnothingness is more than happy to walk you through the process of setting up an account and is also offering her services as a beta.

I’m still too nervous to participate!

You can post anonymously to the collection. You can disable anon comments on your work. You can disable comments entirely and just collect the kudos. You can close anon asks on Tumblr temporarily. But most importantly, we are here for you and we want you here!

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

“I love the fact that I make people happy, in any form. Even if it’s just half an hour of their lives, in any way that I can make them feel lucky or make them feel good, or bring a smile to a sour face, that to me is worthwhile.”

- Freddie Mercury

[race-week]

Race-Week's Mid Season Review

I mean what a start to the season we have had. I have to admit at the start of the year I was expecting Mercedes and Lewis to walk away with both titles easily and I've been pleasantly surprised to get to see the wheel to wheel battles that we have had this year.

I have to admit I have terrible memory, so I've gone back and watched all the race highlights to help me out.

Its a long post and as such it'll be under the cut, feel free to share your opinions - I'd love to hear what you think.

Top 3 Best Moments

Esteban Ocon's win in Hungary, what can I say, I'm a sucker for a first time winner and I have been following Esteban's career since GP3 and he's always massively impressed me. How he was able to stay calm with Sebastian hunting him down I'll never know, but I definitely think this will stay in my highlights of the season. He never made a mistake and that was insane.

Fernando's defensive driving in Hungary - this literally was incredible to watch, my dad and I were literally screaming at the screen and it was definitely a moment that showed that Fernando has still got it.

Sebastian Vettel's P5 at Monaco; this is way more spectacular than either of his podium drives, because he and the team absolutely nailed the strategy. This was the first race I would say since possibly even Hockenheim 2018 where we saw the old Seb back and he looked comfortable in the car and it looked like things were turning around.

Top 3 Worst Moments

The Silverstone crash, well not the crash itself but the reaction from fans and the teams afterwards. Especially the drama over the radios and the comments and blatant racism on social media. I've said it before that did not make the sport look good at all and also as fans we were robbed from what would have been an incredible battle, that likely would have lasted race long. But my main comment on this and the reason why it is top of my worst moments is the fact that the outcry afterwards was despicable and not a good look for the sport

The tyres at Baku, that just made the sport look really bad. If the tyre manufacturer can't produce a tyre or chose the right set of tyres for Baku, how could you expect them to produce suitable tyres for the rest of the season. Then with the aftermath of Pirelli refusing to take blame and instead implying that the teams weren't complying with the rules but still bringing more robust tyres later down the line. It was all a mess and we are very lucky that neither Max or Lance were seriously hurt, with such high speed failures in such dangerous places.

Daniel Ricciardo lapped by Lando Norris at Monaco, out of all the drivers that changed teams Daniel seems to be the one that has struggled the most and especially with all the media and the fans before this season saying that Daniel was going to annihilate Lando and then that happened at Monaco no less, it was definitely a rough moment.

So who has improved on points 11 races in compared to last year and who has lost out?

3 Biggest Surprises

Fernando Alonso - I think everyone was kind of expecting Fernando to not quite be his old self, I was kind of expecting to see a repeat of Michael Schumacher at Ferrari, still a really good driver but not his prime, but Nando has come in and knocked it out of the park. Bahrain (until the wrapper killed him) was so impressive, the last 2 laps at Baku was insane, the Silverstone sprint race, Hungary in general. I don't think that Fernando has a prime, the man could probably keep racing into his 50s, hes finished 8/11 races in the points and 6 of them are in a row.

Lando Norris - he has been massively over delivering this year, the McLaren package is strong but Lando has almost taken on the role that Checo used to have, where he was the midfield driver that was there if anything was to happen usually lucking out with a P4/5 or even a podium. He has massively impressed me this year, especially in Imola, Austria and Silverstone where he just got on with his race and for him to still hold 3rd in the drivers midway through the season is ridiculously impressive.

Carlos Sainz - I would say that Carlos has always been a driver that consistently delivers but in an under the radar way. I was expecting him to do well at Ferrari but he has massively exceeded my expectations, hes currently 3 points ahead of Charles and was probably the quickest to adapt to a new team (the extra testing paid off).

Top 3 Let Downs

Daniel Ricciardo - this one hurts me to write but unfortunately it's true, whenever the McLaren video on Sky Sports comes on with Daniel saying he expects podiums and wins from himself this year it hurts me. He's only been in Q3 5 times out of 11 races and in Portugal he was out in Q1. The McLaren should be easily in Q3 every week. I think Daniel may just be a slightly less adaptable driver than some of the others, he had similar issues with his first year in Renault, but I have to admit that I expected more from him this year and hopefully its just an adjustment thing and he'll be stronger in the latter half of the year.

Yuki Tsunoda; there was a lot of energy around Yuki preseason and at the start of the year, especially with him scoring points on debut, but since then there hasn't been an awful lot to back this up. He's often getting kicked out in Q1 which when the Alpha Tauri is often the 5th best car, that shouldn't happen. Tyres seem to be a big issue with him and that's a major component of F1 and as a driver who in F2 was proclaimed to have great tyre management there's a discrepancy. I don't know if Red Bull are going to be patient enough to help him develop.

Valtteri Bottas; it does pain me to say it but Valtteri has had a rough start to the season, he's currently on his greatest points deficit to Lewis, 11 races in than he has been their whole time as teammates. 5 P3 finishes and 1 P2 so far. Realistically he should be easily 3rd in the drivers and yes he's had his fair share of bad luck this season, but there's been cases where he just doesn't trust the car.

[ohsnapcracklepopfriends]

Here it is friends. Part one of my Taylor-Swift-nostalgia induced carraville fic. I will be writing a short part two but I figured I’d get this up now and it could be read on its own at this point. I haven’t proof read it so please excuse any mistakes but I hope you enjoy!

Jamie undid his tie. It was a plaid tie, blue instead of red to suggest his neutrality. It was a good day or at least it should’ve been. Liverpool beat Everton two to one, he’d had a good show (no one was harassing him on Twitter yet and Gary had made a few mistakes, Jamie thought that qualified a pretty good show), and he had a date at eleven. He should be fucking buzzing but Jamie just feels the idle hum of numbness. Even the five-goal thriller that was their first game of the night hadn’t got his heart pumping like it used to. 

Gary walked in silently, startling Jamie who quickly pulled on a jumper. Not that his state of dress mattered, Gary’s eyes stayed glued to the floor. He walked to the far corner of the dressing room to change out of his suit, as far away from Jamie as possible.  He hadn’t said a word to Jamie all night when the cameras weren’t rolling. It hurt. Especially when Gary was so good at acting like everything was fine when the commercial break ended. He even fooled Jamie a few times.

Kelly knocked on the door, making sure they were both decent, before walking in to say goodnight. Jamie watched as Gary smiled at Kelly, as he laughed with her about something. Jamie used to do that: make Gary laugh. Kelly turns her attentions to Jamie. She compliments him on his interview tonight and asks him where he and Tom are going for their date. 

“It’s quite late,” she comments, “you can’t really be going to dinner.” Jamie give her a fake laugh. 

“I’ve got a reservation and everything Kells. We’re going to that new vegan place. He’s picking me up.” You heard that right: vegan. Because on top of everything, Tom fucking cared about animals and the environment. Jamie wasn’t complaining too much, though. He could suffer through some tofu if it meant not having to go to Gary and his old haunts. 

“Ooh!” Kelly said, “do I get to meet him? Redknapp keeps talking about how lovely he is, I figure I could judge for myself.” Ah, yes, Redders. Running into Redders had been an accident. They managed to bump into him at the golf course the week before. Tom was good at golf, unlike Redders, as much as he tried to be. Tom gave him a few pointers, helping Redders fix his posture for his swings. They ended up playing a whole round together while Jamie played ping-pong with an eight-year-old girl in the clubhouse. Redders hadn’t shut up about how Tom’s wonderfulness and his perfect swing since. Jamie nodded at Kelly. He figured he couldn’t do any more damage. 

The three of them stood in the parking lot waiting for Tom’s car to pull in. He wasn’t late of course, he never is, they just got out earlier than anticipated. Gary had tried to skitter off to his car but Kelly practically dragged him back up on the curb. Gary, despite trying to put on an agreeable face, looked about as miserable as Jamie felt. Jamie thought he was slightly better at hiding it though. 

At 10:59 Tom’s blue Volkswagen pulled in. One minute early. He wore a nice checked shirt with the first few buttons undone. His hair and shirt were miraculously crisp and clean after a full day of work. He looked like a fucking god with his symmetrical face, sharp bone structure, and straight nose. Kelly certainly took note of that. “Our Carra is a lucky man!” She whispered before going over to Tom to introduce herself. Tom shook her hand and complimented her dress which, to be fair, was a very nice floral pattern. 

Tom stuck his hand out for Gary to shake. “Hello Gary, my name’s Tom. It’s nice to meet you.” Gary takes a minute to collect himself and takes Tom’s outstretched hand giving it a firm shake. 

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” It sounds remarkably fake, of course it does, but Tom doesn’t seem to notice. He just turns towards Jamie with a perfect smile. 

“You have such lovely friends, Jamie. It was nice to meet you both.” Jamie wasn’t so sure about that but played along and let Tom walk him to the car. Tom opened Jamie’s door for him before walking around to get in himself. He saw Kelly sling an arm around Gary’s shoulders as they drove away. Jamie took a deep breath and remembered it was all for the best. He reminded himself that this was what he wanted: stability. He didn’t want to fight anymore. The words Gary had said that night still rung in his ears. He was sure his own snarls were not forgotten either. 

It started to rain as they parked but Tom had an umbrella. Gary never had an umbrella. You’d think that living in Manchester he’d learn to at least keep one in his car. Instead, he resorted to sprinting away from the rain as fast as he could trying to avoid the rain, he wasn’t as fast as he used to be. But Tom was prepared, he always was. He held the umbrella for the both of them as they walked around to the front of the restaurant. 

“James, try the torte it’s quite delicious.” Jamie hated being called James. Absolutely hated it. Not when Gary said it though. His stupid manc accent stretched the vowels into velvet. When Gary said it he felt special. Tom’s polished London accent made him feel posh, pretentious, and twatty. James. Ugh. It was like the word torte. It’s a fucking cake, just call it what it is. Jamie took a bite of the torte. It was good if you ignored the aftertaste of soya in the frosting, a little dry, but Jamie nodded his head like it was an orange mcflurry. He let Tom finish the dessert. 

They’re in the car. Tom’s dropping Jamie off at his apartment. Tom must have noticed that Jamie had been quiet and switched the topic to something a little more in his wheelhouse: football. They were talking about England and possible squads for the upcoming international break. Tom started talking about moving Kyle Walker into midfield and Jamie couldn’t take it. 

“That’s bollocks. Where is the one place on the field where we actually have players? Fucking midfield. Gareth’s drowning in defenders but not experienced ones. Playing Walker in midfield fucking undermines Henderson and leaves the young centrebacks overexposed.” Tom laughs for some reason. Jamie doesn’t find it funny.

“Well, you would certainly know.” This is what you want, he reminds himself again. Peace, calm, stability. This is happiness. But, fuck, Jamie missed Gary. He missed the challenge. He missed the little crease between Gary’s eyes. He missed Gary’s squeaky voice when he gets worked up. He missed fighting and bickering with Gary over things that didn’t matter. He missed screaming at Gary and Gary screaming back. He missed the really hot sex they’d have after such screaming matches, making Gary scream in a different, more satisfying way. He missed Gary’s laugh, his smile. It seemed to Jamie that neither of them have smiled much since that day. Jamie thought that smiling didn’t seem worth it if Gary wasn’t smiling back. 

Jamie checked his phone. It was nearing 1 am. He had a handful of messages from Kelly. Jamie didn’t want to read about how great she thought Tom was, he fucking knew that Tom was great. On paper, he was fucking perfect. The perfect boyfriend. The dream guy. Not for Jamie though. He dreamed of an angry, passionate, crazy, wonderful manc. He opened his messages anyways though, figuring Tom would want to hear what Kelly thought about him. 

Jamie. I know you’re on your date but we need to talk. Can you call me? It’s about Gaz. The first one read.

He’s at mine. Really upset. He said not to talk to you so I figure you know what’s going on. That sounded about right. Kelly caring more about Gary’s well being than Gary himself. Gary was too stubborn to care. 

Call me please. The last one read. Fuck. They’d made a mess of things. Not only had they made a mess of themselves, but they’d also dragged the others into it. 

“Can you pull into that park up there?” Jamie asked Tom. He nodded and turned down the radio, waiting for Jamie to say something more. He didn’t though. Not until he got out of the car and puked some partially digested salad in the grass. Tom came over to him and rested his palm on Jamie’s mid back. Gary used to pet his hair, carding his fingers through it, on those mornings after he’d had a little too much to drink. 

Jamie laid on his back in the middle of the parking lot. The rain soaked through his thin shirt in seconds. Tom looked down at him concerned. “I can’t do this, Tom. You’re so lovely. I mean you’re so fucking lovely but I just can’t—”

“I get it, James. You’re still in love with him.” The bastard still looked perfect even drenched with rain. Jamie guessed that he probably looked like a drowned rat. Jamie must have been giving him a confused look because he laughed and explained further. “I saw the way you used to look at him on the tele like he’s the fucking sun. I saw the way you looked at him tonight like being around him was tearing you apart. Besides, I’m pretty sure half the nation knew there was something going on there.” Jamie laughed at that. They had been pretty obvious. And not just Gary, apparently. Apparently, he was just as open of a book. He needed to call Kelly. 

She picked up after three rings. “Hi Carra,” she whispered, “needed to get out of the living room, Gaz’s sleeping on my couch.”

“Is he okay?” Jamie asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. 

“He’s a wreck, Jamie. He misses you.” I miss him too, Jamie didn’t say, so much. 

“Can I come round?” Jamie asked. Kelly said yes so long as Jamie can get Gary the hell out of her living room and gave Carra her address. 

Thankfully, Kelly’s place was nearby, about a mile away. Jamie didn’t know where he got the energy considering he was dead on his feet a few minutes before, but he ran there as fast as he possibly could. His water-filled shoes squished loudly with every step. He got there in seven minutes and was panting heavily when he knocked on the door. Kelly let him in wordlessly. 

Gary was still sleeping on the couch when he walked into the living room. Kelly gave him a nod and walked into the kitchen. Jamie kneeled next to Gary and cupped his cheek with his palm. Jamie hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that simple feeling. Gary’s forehead was still crinkled in his sleep. His eyes were dark like he hadn’t slept much. Jamie hadn’t either. It was hard to sleep alone, without Gary’s comforting weight on his chest. Jamie took Gary’s hand from where it was tucked under his chin and intertwined their fingers. The weight of Gary’s hand in his set relief running through Jamie’s body. Gary started to stir at that. 

“James?” Jamie smiles at that. His stupid name sounds beautiful coming from Gary’s mouth. His eyes weren’t even open yet and Gary already knows it’s him. “What are you doing here?” He opened his eyes slightly but upon seeing Jamie they were wide open. Gary’s eyes were red and bloodshot. Jamie just wanted to yank him into his arms and hug him forever. 

“What are you doing here, you muppet? Bothering Kelly at 2 am?” Jamie said playfully. Gary flushed slightly. “Come on, Gaz. Let’s get you home.” He grabbed Gary’s hand to pull him up. Gary stumbled when he tried to take a step. Carra looked down at the empty beer bottles and figured that was why. He grabbed Gary’s arm and slung it over his shoulder. Gary’s head rested in the crook of Jamie’s neck, his soft breathing tickling at the skin there. 

“Kelly,” Jamie called softly into the kitchen, “we’re leaving.” She came out to stand in the doorway in her fluffy, pink bunny slippers that Jamie had somehow not noticed before. Jamie thought he should get Gary a pair. 

“Set an alarm,” she said, “he wakes up early. Don’t let him bolt.” Jamie figured Gary wouldn’t be racing out of his apartment at 5 am with the hangover he was sure to have but it was still a good idea. Gary was an unpredictable, stubborn bastard at times. Jamie thanked her and helped Gary down to his car. 

It was still pouring when they got out of the building because clearly the gods wanted Gary to either sober up or catch his death. Thankfully, in his upset Gary had forgotten to lock the car meaning Carra didn’t have to fumble around for his keys in the current weather. Except, that Gary wouldn’t get into the car. He sprawled his limbs over the door so Jamie couldn’t push him inside. 

“Gary, if you don’t get your arse in that car, I’m going to leave you out here to drown.” Obviously, he wasn’t serious but he figured that Gary might be drunk enough not to know that. Gary just smiled up fondly at him and stayed put. 

“I love you,” he said, looking like the most radiant, beautiful thing Jamie had ever seen in his life. His hair was a mess, stuck down to his forehead. His cheeks were bright red from a mix of alcohol and the cold. His eyes were still red but god they held all the love in the world. Jamie could see that somehow, after everything, Gary still loved him, truly loved him. After all the things he said, screamed, did, this man--this beautiful man--still loved Jamie every ounce as much as Jamie loved him. It didn’t matter what he should want, he wanted Gary and all of his adorable, infuriating flaws. His recipe to happiness was just that: his own. He didn’t need stability, calm, peace. He needed to feel something. 

Jamie cupped his face for the second time that night. He ran his thumb over Gary’s wet, stubbly cheeks. Jamie couldn’t help himself. He kissed Gary with all of the kisses they’d missed in the past two months. The two months of pain, loneliness, desolation. He kissed Gary with all of the love he had in his cold, wet body and Gary did the same. Gary moved slower than Jamie, less frantically but no less enthusiastically. Gary clutched at his jacket like a vice, unwilling to let go. Jamie moved his hands around Gary’s body. He wanted to make sure that everything was still as he remembered it. And it was. Of course, it was. He had Gary in his arms, it didn’t matter that the rain had picked up. Though, he was sure he’d hear about the soggy interior of Gary’s car in the morning. He pulled away reluctantly for breath and rested his forehead against Gary’s.

[dreamboatisland]

walk with me | h.s.

Summary: feeling the need to prove your relationship to your coworkers wasn’t something that once concerned you. until their comments push you to join them on a hiking trip.

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 3482

Warnings: bullying is somewhat present, none other than that I believe

A/N: So recently I decided to sign up for the Summer Reading Challenge hosted by the wonderful @helladirections with the prompt of hiking! As sort of my introduction into the Harry Styles writing world. In case this one doesn’t suit your fancy, definitely go ahead and check out some of the other authors and their works linked above! And if you would like to proceed, I would just like to say this is not where I intended to go with this prompt and that cracks me up. Sorry if it’s cringe. I can’t say it’s my first time writing, but it is for Mr. Harry Styles.

It wasn’t unusual for you to sleep in on days that you had off. In fact it was more than normal for Harry to come home and find you still sleeping tangled between the sheets just like he left you in the morning. But when you hear the door creak open and his footsteps in the room, you wake up immediately as you don’t want to waste any free time that the two of you had. With him always being in the studio nowadays, you took any chance you could to spend time with him.

Which usually consisted of cooking dinner together or watching a movie neither of you had heard about. These were the moments you treasured. The ones where he would dust flour over your nose in order to see your cheeky smile. Where you would cuddle up close to him under the blanket while you were both sprawled on the couch watching the latest episode of a tv drama.

The domesticity between the two of you was something you both treasured as it was a feeling of peace and comfort you experienced together. Usually it’s experienced when meeting each other's gazes. Knowing that you had to keep a level of friendship with the lovers portion in order to truly move forward in your relationship. And it truly did work as you were able to find a balance of seriousness, love, and enjoyment.

There were many people who questioned how your relationship worked. It wasn’t always the fans on Harry's side, but truthfully it came from those close to you. Close to you in the way that you spent a lot of time with them in your line of work. Always seeming to have an opinion on the way you both spent your time together and trying to fill your mind with doubts. Doubts that quickly went away if they were to appear as you knew how your relationship worked. But they didn’t understand.

Truthfully you didn’t understand what all the constant badgering on their part was for. To you it almost seemed as if they had nothing better to do then to pick apart your life, specifically your love life.

Even with all the constant telling and stories you gave of how you made it work and that you both treasured and cared for each other, it didn’t seem to convince them. Usually, that would have been the point where you moved on. But you couldn’t stand having people you worked closely with constantly ask and tell you how your relationship is when they had no part in it.

One of the many things they’ve done since you’ve announced you were dating the world renowned pop/rock star, is to invite you two to join them on their weekly hangout adventures. While you weren’t close to them and only kept up appearances to not be rude, they actually seemed like they got along well. Apparently more than well if they were willing to spend time together on their only day off.

After constant asking on their part, you decided to ask Harry if he would be willing to attend this week. You figured it was a way to show them how your relationship worked and that all they told you wouldn’t matter. You also wanted to see if they would say any of the things they told you to your face to his.

“So love what do you want to do this week-end? You’re finally getting a two day break, so I decided to take them off as well to be with you.” His arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Looks like he asked before you got the chance.

“Well actually now that you mention it.” You can’t help, but drag on not knowing if he’ll be open to the idea of going hiking with some of your coworkers.

Sure it seemed like an excellent idea for you two to have as a date, something you haven’t done in a while, but with your coworkers? It didn’t seem all the pleasant even to you.

“Hiking as in the forest or…” He trails off not knowing if there even was a hiking trail near your city.

“Yeah they said they know this pretty hiking spot about an hour from here. I don’t want to pressure you Harry, but please think about it? It’ll only be this one time so they can get off my back about never bringing you around them. They think you’re embarrassed of me.” You accidentally whisper out the last part not intending him to hear.

With wide eyes you look up at him and he looks disheartened. Knowing that people you have to work closely with in order to do your job think he could be embarrassed of you, hurts his heart. You, his golden gem that he only wishes he could ever bestow the same amount of love you gave him. His beautiful sunflower that has always managed to bring a sort of happiness to him at any time of day. It was undoubtedly obvious that he practically worshipped you.

He’s heard countless stories of what your coworkers say to you. And while you may not understand the hidden meanings that their words hold, he does. But he doesn’t ever mention it as he knows it will only hurt and anger you more than they already do. Instead he subtly tries to tell you that you should ask your director for a change in coworkers. He knows how much you actually love your job though so he could never ask or tell you to quit and find a new one.

Maybe accompanying them will let them know you two are as serious as can be. And that you are the light of his life that they won’t be able to dim or take away.

When he lifts your chin for your gaze to meet his, he can feel the guilt radiating from you. Knowing you didn’t want to guilt trip him into this makes him feel more confident as you truly didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You truly did love him with your whole heart. No matter how much you wanted to go so that hopefully the comments would stop, you would never want to put him in a position where he wasn’t happy or comfortable.

As soon as word hit your office, specifically those going on the hike this weekend, they couldn’t believe it. Mostly because ever since you entered this office and were hired for the current job you have, you were perceived as naive, standoffish, and unapproachable to your comrades. However, the one thing that irked them and why they resented you and made all those comments to you was because you had everything going for you.

You were hired soon after obtaining your degree in a position they weren’t able to acquire for years. Everybody always praised you in the work that all of the team managed to put in. And to top it all off for them, you managed to capture the heart of the sweetest man alive.

In your eyes, you worked as hard as you had to, even sacrificing friend or family time to focus on your career, always commended and put the focus on your teammates when working on a project, and managed to get lucky enough to meet Harry in the middle of a diner on one of the late nights working where they all sent you to pick up dinner.

You could never see how much they resented you and they would never understand how long you had to suffer for before the good started to come your way.

Eventually the day came where you and Harry climbed into your car and headed to the location your coworker, Laura, messaged you.

Blasting as many songs as you could on different radio stations was a great way to spend the drive with Harry. With his angelic voice seeming to soothe you even with the screeching coming from the radio artist.

But you couldn’t help but think as to why this was such an important thing for you. To be fairly honest you’re not quite sure as to why going on this trip was a priority for you. Even with all the comments they made about your relationship, you didn’t normally let it bother you. Being the girlfriend of Harry Styles was already an immediate case for backlash, but you took it harder when it came from the people you work with. Which made some sense as they are tied closely to your life, but usually you didn't care.

Not wanting to dive too much into it and instead focusing on the fact that you and Harry will be able to spend some time together in the forest, even with some not so desired people, you couldn’t help but get excited.

This was something you’ve always wanted to do. The climb didn’t sound all that much fun, but you wanted to see if you could push yourself. And from what you’ve heard the view was absolutely stunning.

When you both arrived at the parking area, you noticed they had already arrived and were gathering their packs for the hike.

Once they noticed you both exit the car they all walked over to you upon locking their car doors.

“Hey Y/N, Harry. Hope the drive was alright. Excited?” Harry notices the slight distaste on the girl's face when she faces you to speak. But it’s not something you either seem to notice or aren’t bothered about, which irks him deep inside. They shouldn’t be treating you like this.

“Yeah we had a blast singing along to the radio. I’m excited, but a little worried. I didn’t really know what to pack.” You’re reaching into the backseat to pull out the small backpack you managed to gather supplies in right before the trip here.

“Oh Y/N I’m sure you packed well enough. Shall we get going?” The guy with the sunglasses seems to only be looking at him and never faces you, Harry notices.

But you just nod and grasp his hand in yours. Pretty soon you’re all walking along the path many others have trailed along that foliage no longer grows.

The others seem to have agreed upon asking Harry seemingly normal questions. Mainly about what his work schedule is like. Does he enjoy what he does and all the spotlight that comes with it. The questions seem pretty normal and you all seem to actually be getting along which calms you down as you were worried they wouldn’t like him.

However that should have been the least of your worries. In fact, after working with then for years you should have known that it was the opposite.

It wasn’t until halfway through the hike when you all stopped for a break that they broke the peace and calmness.

You were all resting against some fallen trees for a few minutes before you had to go down one path on a fork in the road.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Laura sneak up next to Harry and stand up tall to reach his ear in order to whisper something to him. You can see him tense when she goes back down and smirks at him, but continues to speak lowly to him.

You stuff everything back into the bag from your place on the floor where you were looking for a bottle of sunscreen you thought you had packed. When you get back on your feet you can feel the heat of everyone’s stares shift between where you stand and where Harry stands with Laura.

“How dare you! You all can go to bloody hell!” You can hear his voice echo throughout the densely packed trees. You’ve never heard Harry curse is all you can think about as he suddenly grabs onto your wrist and pulls you towards the path on the left, the furthest away from them.

“I hope you all know you are all heartless human beings who do not deserve my sweet Y/N. I should make a call to your company to let them know how you’ve been harassing their most hardworking employee. And yes, hardworking employee as we all know you’re all busy being too jealous doing any actual work.”

As he walks away from them you can’t help but turn back and see them all look surprised with a hint of remorse it appears? You shyly look up to Harry and see how he is fuming. And think it’s better to let him calm down. Nothing better than taking an angry stroll through the woods to calm someone down.

You continue walking right next to him trying to keep up with the pace he’s set. But with you being a bit shorter than his tall frame it’s hard to keep up the pace. Especially when the pace he set seems to be increasing the more he realizes they could be right behind the both of you.

His hand still on your wrist seems to clench tighter and you find yourself almost tripping over a dip in the trail.

It’s not until you tug harshly on his sleeve that he pulls back and recognizes what he did.

“Oh crap I’m sorry love. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pull you.” He lowers his head in shame and you know he doesn’t feel angry anymore, but instead awful at having hurt you.

“It’s alright baby. It’s alright. I get you didn’t mean to.” Rubbing his cheek with your fingers seems to calm him down as he leans into your palm.

“Do you wanna continue our climb? We’re already here. We might as well see what this view is that everybody is talking about.” You know he’ll talk when he’s ready about what happened, but until he does you want to let him know you’re not angry at him despise what may have happened when you were still with the rest of the group.

He softly smiles at you and intertwines your fingers to walk alongside you.

The walk seems peaceful until the actual hike part seems to appear once again and you have to walk upwards. You can’t help but sigh. The one good thought coming to your mind is that since you’re no longer with the others you can take your time and not feel like you’re going to pass out from pushing yourself in order to not get left behind. Harry seems to have a natural endurance for this sort of thing and is the motivational voice you need and end up hearing. Pushing you to take your time but to keep going and not give up.

Originally you wanted to keep going to give him something else to think about, but you were actually thinking about going back down. But with Harry’s words of support you want to keep going. Want to see what’s at the top of this mountain climb. He seems to distract you by the height of which you’re climbing by talking about his upcoming musical pieces. By which one is inspired by you.

It was meant to be a surprise but what a better time to tell you how you were his muse then when you were grabbing on tightly to his hand and sweater sleeve in order to not slip on the rocks below your feet.

You can’t help but feel honored at the fact that Harry had written a song about you. All he ever showed you was kindness, joy, and love and you hoped that one day you would be able to show him just how much he mattered to you. Whether that be by taking his last name, having a family with him, or just spending the rest of your life with him, you couldn’t wait to create more memories with him.

When you both reach the top of the hill, you can’t help but feel drained. And when you notice that it keeps going up, although more slowly, you want to turn back around yet again.

“They asked me why I decided to be with you. And said some awful things about you. Well at least until I walked away with you. Y/N I know they’re your coworkers but why do you put up with them? I’ve told you that you could probably get put in a different department, but still keep the same position.” You can tell this is tearing him up inside. And it really is, he doesn’t understand how you have such a strong group of dislikers that they get joy over seeing you get hurt. And yes he does understand that some of it may come with dating him, but these are people you work with. You even have superiority over them. Heck his haters seem to be kinder to you, knowing that behind it all you were still a human being.

He didn’t understand how one person could hold that much hate over someone who’s never treated them with an ounce of disrespect. Much less a whole group of them. The opinion that you’ve had everything in life handed to you was something they held on strongly to. And at the end of day he couldn’t do anything about it, but he could still protect you from that environment. It was also their loss is how he viewed it. They would never get to experience the true bliss he gets when you laugh at one of his lame jokes. Or the kindness you bestowed upon him when you brought him dinner after staying too long in the studio.

“Come on love let’s keep walking, well until we reach the hiking part.”

You hold onto each other as you continue walking forward and up the rest of the hike while he continues to offer his opinion on what you should do. And you know you should listen to him. That’s what you intend to do.

You honestly can’t believe it took you this long to grow a backbone to demand respect in your office group. With Harry’s help you decided you would be going to talk to your supervisor about it. Although you still didn’t know if you wanted to be moved or if you wanted to quit working there altogether. Harry was correct that you loved your job, but maybe it was time for a change.

Knowing the possibilities of what might happen when the week started was almost as exciting as coming over the bend with Harry. Seeing the top of the mountain finally flatten out was a great pleasure knowing you no longer had to walk up.

It really didn’t hit you that you made it to the top until you looked out past the peak and saw all the greenery below you. Towards the horizon you can barely make out a hint of your city. But that’s overshadowed by the beauty that’s right in front of you. The breeze that blows through your face and hair feels refreshing after working up a sweat.

You look back and find Harry grinning at you. Not being able to suppress it, you find yourself running back in his direction only for him to catch you in his arms. You can feel him spin you both around and you can’t help the laugh that comes from you. Feeling a surge of happiness you look down to meet his eyes as he slowly lowers you to the ground.

Knowing you couldn’t have done this without him, both deciding to finally do something about your job and the hike, you press your lips against his as a sort of thank you. Hoping he’ll understand. And he seems to when he moves his lips against yours, quickly finding a rhythm.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, so much.” You whisper to him when you separate and rest your forehead against his. The breeze blowing harshly against you causing you to shiver.

“It’s a lot colder up here huh?” He lets out a chuckle as he shrugs off his sweater and places it over your head and onto you.

“There you go all nice and cozy.” He quickly presses another kiss onto your lips until he’s spinning you around.

Hugging you from behind, you grip him closer. He can’t help but admire the way you hold his arms tight to your body. How nicely you tuck under his chin. Trying to be discreet, he presses a kiss onto your temple and you unconsciously lean into him. He can’t help but let out a sigh at how beautiful you truly are.

“My precious Y/N.” You can feel his mumble of words against your head. Softly, he begins humming into your hair as you both admire the view laid out before you.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 11: You Don’t Come Around No More]

A/N: I apologize profusely for the long wait. Thank you all so, so, so much for your support. Every single reblog, message, comment, emotional rant, and/or screech of despair makes my day, and I couldn’t do this without you. 💜 Only THREE more chapters left!!!

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “More To Life Than Baseball” by Petey. 

Chapter Warnings: Language, angsttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

Word Count: 7.5k. 

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @queenlover05​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​ @some-major-ishues​​​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​​​ @youngpastafanmug​​​​ @simonedk​

The Rain

I wish I felt empty.

I’m supposed to feel empty, right? I’m supposed to feel steeped in grey, oceanic misery; I’m supposed to dip in and out of depressive naps all day and sob delicately over creased photos and fading, wistful memories. I always envisioned heartbreak as a soft and inherently feminine sort of affliction: the hems of nightgowns and bathrobes sweeping along hardwood floors, Kleenex boxes and concave couch cushions, weepy phone calls to friends and aunts and mothers, Queen Victoria wearing black for the rest of her life after Prince Albert’s death, Mary Todd Lincoln sinking into dark and hushed obscurity. Women, hollowed out by despair, cross the history of the earth like lines of latitude.

I don’t feel empty at all. I don’t even feel sad. I feel razored by sharp, red, ceaseless anxiety. I am consumed by thoughts of what I did wrong, what I said that started the wheels of doubt spinning in his mind, if he had known how it would end from the start. I dream of white, clawed hands dragging me down through cold waves. I hear words scream to me as I toss at night in my suddenly too-spacious bed, words that now hit me like knuckles to the gut: Shhh, hey, it’s just me, don’t get up, as Joe slipped beneath the Arizonan blankets, wrapped an arm around my waist, kissed my collarbone as I tumbled back into sleep; I love you to death, as his Subaru idled in Charlie’s driveway; Baby Swan, listen to me, nothing is supposed to hurt, okay, so if anything hurts, ever, at all, you tell me and we stop, deal? as we stood in the doorway of our hotel room at the Four Seasons in Chicago. And now...and now...

And now everything fucking hurts.

It doesn’t make any sense; and yet it does. Look at him. Look at me.

The Polaroid photo from Homecoming was still taped to the top of my full-length mirror. I peeled it free like a layer of translucent, friable reptilian skin, tore it straight down the center, burned both halves over a brand new three-wicked, lemon-scented Bath And Body Works candle—a gift from Renee and Paul—and closed my eyes like a child casting a wish over her birthday cake like a spell. I wished for my memories to vanish with the photograph. I wished to get hit by a truck and wake up in the hospital with no recollection of the past two and a half months. I wanted the Lees to dissolve into distant, enigmatic mystery; I wanted to join the rest of Forks in believing that they were nothing more than bewildering and yet harmless freaks, barely worth noticing, one of those glitches of the matrix that were better off ignored like liminal seconds of déjà vu. I wished to carve out every part of myself that they had ever touched.

And Joe’s voice came rushing back from where we stood by that star-lit fountain outside the Church of Saint Lawrence, accompanied by falling raindrops and a crooked grin: I can make wishes come true.

The three tiny flames flickered in the breeze that sighed through my open window. The bright, citrusy scent of the candle reminded me of Lucy. I couldn’t fucking win. What else is new?

I turned back to the mirror. I flinched when my gaze snagged on my reflection: bloodshot-eyed, swollen-faced, utterly unbeautiful, restless like a caged animal. Look at him. Look at me.

I ripped the last memento off the mirror—Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!!—and watched the yellow square of paper catch fire, curl up around the edges, become unrecognizable, turn to ash. And I wished over and over again, like a poem, like a prayer: Let me forget, oh god please let me forget.

Charlie keeps asking if I’m okay. The answer, of course, is no; but I can’t tell him that. So I wear a serene smile like clip-on fangs, a cheap polyester cloak, crimson smudges of lipstick like trails of spilled blood down the side of my neck. Every day is Halloween for me now. I dress up as someone who isn’t haunted, who hasn’t become a ghost.

And when Charlie turns up the World Series or I’d Do Anything For Love on his geriatric, staticky kitchen radio—the same radio he’s had since my mother was the one joining him for daybreak coffee and Pop-Tarts—I choke back tears like dragonfire.

Missing In Action (Revisited)

Joe wasn’t here. Neither was Ben.

Lucy, Rami, and Scarlett were sipping cups of tea at the Lees’ usual table, their eyes downcast, their voices low and murmuring, their pristine lunches neglected. Lucy and Rami were dressed in matching charcoal grey turtleneck sweaters; Scarlett had come from Fencing Club and was wearing royal purple yoga pants and a black tank top, her duffle bag of gear on the floor by her sneakered feet. Her hair was in a long fishtail braid. Archer hadn’t mentioned her since Joe broke up with me. That either meant that it was going blissfully and he didn’t want to injure me further, or that Scarlett had ended things as well.

Since Joe broke up with me. That sounds so fucking pedestrian.

I stared at the three present Lees, almost leered, commanding them to see me, to acknowledge me, to admit that I had once meant something to them, that this hadn’t all been some transitory delusion to fill the cavernous void of losing my home, my life as I knew it in Arizona. They took no notice whatsoever.

Jess kicked me beneath the lunch table. My attention snapped back to her.

“Sorry, what?”

“You want to go shopping with me and Angela tonight?” Jessica’s hands were folded just beneath her chin, her voice gentle, her eyes large and sympathetic and watery. This was her version of being supportive. I appreciated it...in a perpetually tormented and preoccupied sort of way.

“No thanks.” I forked my cold, sauceless spaghetti listlessly. I’d forgotten to pack a lunch. I didn’t have an appetite anyway. I had deleted the GrubHub app from my iPhone and had no intention of using it ever again in my comparatively short and calamitous human life.

“You could come to temple this weekend,” Jessica pressed.

“Uh.” Mingling with a churchful of sociable, wholesome, marriage-obsessed adolescent Mormons sounded like the absolute last thing I’d want to spend my evening doing. “That’s a really generous offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Well you have to do something,” Angela said. “You can’t just sit in your bedroom alone all weekend and stare at the wall and wallow in self-pity.”

We’ll see about that. I turned to Jess. “How’s Vodka Boy from your Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class? Did he ever reappear? What’s his name again, Elmo? Ellington? El Chapo?”

“Ellsworth.” She frowned as she slurped her patron-drink-of-Mormons Sprite. “And no, he definitely failed out or overdosed or something, because he never came back.”

“Tragic,” I noted.

“But I’m pretty sure Mike’s coming over this weekend, so we’ll see if I can get some Netflix and chill action going.”

“Jess,” Angela chastised, widening her eyes and nodding to me subtly (but not quite subtly enough). No talking about getting lucky in front of the heartbroken single loser, that look said.

“I think I can be emotionally supportive without taking a goddamn vow of chastity, Angela!” Jessica hurled back.

“I gotta go.” I stood, threw on my backpack, discarded my nearly untouched lunch.

“You’ve barely eaten anything!” Angela protested. “You’ve barely eaten for a week!”

“I’ll live.” I picked my umbrella up off the slippery tile floor—peppered with muddy shoeprints and pearlescent drops of water fallen from coats and limp, sopping locks of hair—and headed out into the pouring rain. I hated the rain. I hated it. Maybe I had forgotten that for a while, but it all came hurtling back now like a hurricane, like a hand cracking across my face. I ached for the desert, for blatant and unapologetic heat, for palm trees and cacti and naked stars in the night sky. I had been researching marine biology graduate programs in the Southwest. There were good ones at UC San Diego, UC Santa Barbara, Texas A&M, the University of Southern California, UCLA. I would miss Charlie and Archer—and maybe Jessica and Angela on occasion—and absolutely nothing else about Forks. At least, that’s what I promised myself.

This is a no-giving-a-fuck-about-Lee-boys zone, I thought morosely.

Ben was brooding at our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom. It was the first time he’d shown up to Chemistry since that day Joe met me on the beach at La Push, since the place I’d once occupied in his universe had closed like a wound. I took my seat beside Ben. The window was shut today, the downpour outside torrential. Ben recoiled, just enough for me to notice; he was wearing his oversized black hoodie and practicing his Welsh, his handwriting messy and unbalanced.

“You could have warned me,” I said.

Ben didn’t glance up from his notebook. “Would that have made it any easier?”

“No,” I realized in defeat. I guess it wouldn’t have. I pulled my own notebook, my favorite pen, and a can of Diet Coke out of my backpack.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ben said. “You really need to know that. It had nothing to do with you. And none of us are happy with the current situation. None of us.”

None of them. That included Joe. “Interestingly, that didn’t stop him from creating it.”

Ben was thoughtful, debating his next words. “We’re probably going to be moving soon.”

“What?” I startled; my turquoise blue pen dropped out of my grasp and rolled across the table. Ben snatched it up and returned it to me. “Really?”    

“Yeah.”

“And what, just redo this whole college thing?”

Ben shrugged. “We’ll probably start our junior years over again. Gwil will say there was some horrible family tragedy and we needed a few semesters off. I could use the extra time to figure out Calc anyway. Parametric equations make me want to kill myself.”

I just stared at him. It didn’t make any sense. “But...why would the whole family leave Forks? Because of me? One pathetic, aggrieved human? Do you all pack up and relocate every time Joe fucks and dumps someone? That must be exhausting.”

“It’s better for everyone if we get some distance. Put more space between our world and yours.”

“But...” I tried to imagine never seeing any of them again: no Mercy humming merrily as she tossed handfuls of homegrown carrots to the alpacas, no Dr. Lee dabbing away my blood with an ageless sort of patience, no Scarlett or Lucy or Rami, no brief glimpses of Joe as he avoided me in the campus library. It’s exactly what I wanted; and yet it wasn’t. It so, so, so, so wasn’t. It keeps getting worse. How is that possible? My voice was flimsy and quivering, absolutely pitiful. Disgustingly pitiful. “Who will be my lab partner?”

Ben peered over at me with wide, confused green eyes. And then—gingerly, awkwardly, like holding an acquaintance’s baby for the first time—he laid his hand over mine. “I’ll miss you too.”

Professor Belvin lectured about coordinate covalent bonds. I didn’t absorb a word. I conjugated Italian verbs with my turquoise blue pen, sketched disordered whirlpools of ink, tried not to think about whether this was my last-ever Chemistry class with Ben, whether it was my last-ever weekend sharing Forks with the Lees. Those rageful, frantic thoughts were back. What did I do wrong? What didn’t I do right? Why did he have to leave?

My nomadic gaze caught on a flier on the wall next to our misted window. I had assumed it was a leaflet for some club or protest or seasonal dance that I would definitely not attend, but it wasn’t. It was a missing poster.

Have you seen this student? the flier asked in bold, businesslike black font. It was urgent, but not quite despairing; not yet, anyway. I could hear a Dean of Student Affairs cajoling some affluent, strings-of-pearls-adorned mother over the phone: Yes ma’am, you have my full attention and I can assure you that we’re very concerned, but I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding...he’s probably gone backpacking or sailing with some friends and forgotten to call home. You know how college students can be. Beneath a large photo of a grinning blond kid—pink polo, flushed cheeks, clever crop job to nix a can of Natty Light clutched in one fist—was a name: Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin.

Ellsworth, I thought, my stomach plummeting. The guy from Jessica’s Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. He hadn’t failed out. He was missing. Missing like a 20/20 episode or a true crime podcast, missing like the pregnant stillness before a murder is confessed in some glaringly florescent-lit interrogation room, before a distended and bloodless corpse washes up on shore.

I turned to Ben. He noticed me eventually, crinkled his brow, shrugged in that way that seemed so petulant if you didn’t know him well enough to not be offended.

I pointed to the flier and raised my eyebrows. Ben twisted around in his chair to look. Then he sighed, scribbled a sentence in the corner of a piece of notebook paper, tore it free, and slid it across the table.

Ben’s note read, in atrocious penmanship: Are you seriously asking me if I ate that guy?

Maybe, I wrote back after a moment’s hesitation. Maybe that wasn’t exactly what I was asking; maybe I just wondered if he knew anything about it.

In either case, Ben’s reply was swift and resounding, and underlined three times: No.

Sorry, I wrote, abruptly remorseful. I am a jerk. And I added a frowny face for good measure. Ben chuckled when he saw it, shook his head, gave me a drawn little smirk. His words tiptoed around in my skull, leaving searing imprints like footprints in the sand. I’ll miss you too.

I have to forget about them. I drummed my turquoise blue pen against my notebook as Professor Belvin drew families of molecules on the whiteboard with squealing dry erase markers. I have to find a way to make myself forget.

Jessica was waiting for me in the hallway after class. It was part of her convince-Baby-Swan-not-to-jump-off-a-cliff initiative. “Hey.”

“Okay,” I told her with steely resolve. “I’m ready for you to set me up with one of those guys from your church or temple or whatever. I’m ready to be a nice wholesome wife, pop out like six kids, learn how to scrapbook, give up caffeine and horror movies, do the whole white picket fence thing. Sign me up.”

Jessica blinked at me. There were flecks of fallen mascara on her cheekbones like ashes. “What?”

“You’re a Mormon, right?”

“Girl, I’m not a Mormon,” Jessica said, puzzled. “I’m a witch.”

Lucille

I found Joe where he usually was these days: sprawled on the sofa, engulfed in the same blue Snuggie he’d been wearing for thirty-six uninterrupted hours, gazing catatonically at the big-screen tv. A 90 Day Fiancé marathon was on. Some rodentish guy named Colt was apologizing to his gorgeous, aspiring-green-card-holding Brazilian love interest for calling the cops on her during their last screaming match. He was also apologizing for the fact that they lived in a two-bedroom apartment with his mother. I didn’t need clairvoyance to see where their future was headed.

“Hey,” Ben said when he spotted me. He was sitting next to Joe and occasionally tried to shove pieces of popcorn into his mouth, which Joe accepted passively like coins plinked into a gumball machine. Ben had been his shadow for the past week; he was perhaps the best equipped of us to understand this degree of melancholy, of hopelessness.  

“Ciao.” And then, to Joe: “How are you?”

“Terrible,” he replied, not tearing his eyes from the tv.

“I figured.” I squeezed between them on the couch, curled up next to Joe, rested my chin on his shoulder. He ignored me completely. I could hear Mercy tapping at her laptop keyboard out in the dining room; she was browsing through Zillow listings in Portland, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Cleveland. Dear god, please don’t let us end up in fucking Cleveland. “Guess what.”

Joe stared at the tv for a long time before he answered. “What.”

“I had a vision of you. Just now, as I was doing laundry. Crystal clear and very scenic too, I might add.”

“Fascinating,” Joe said flatly.

“What happened in this vision?” Ben asked, far more invested, which I was thankful for.

“It was pretty far away, maybe a year from now. I saw you in the desert at night, under a full moon. There were cacti everywhere. The shadow of the Milky Way was threaded through the sky, and the stars were very bright. I could make out the constellations Pegasus and Cassiopeia. You were filling up a tiny glass bottle with dirt.”

“That’s remarkably helpful,” Joe said.

“It is, a little bit,” I insisted. “It means you get through this. That you have a future. I get nervous when I go too long without a vision of someone in the family. But now I know you’re going to be okay.”

The reflections of the feuding 90 Day Fiancé couples danced in his glassy eyes. “Being alive doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

“That’s dark,” Ben said. “Even I think that’s too dark.” He pushed a handful of popcorn into Joe’s mouth. “Are you gonna hunt at some point or what?”

“No.”

“You’re just gonna sit on this couch and waste away?”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to bring you anything? Grizzly bear? Brown bear? Fuck it, I’ll get you a polar bear if that’s what you want. There’s probably some on the black market. Rami would know.”

“He what?” Mercy called from the kitchen. Her typing had stopped.

“Nothing, Mom!” I shot back.

“I don’t want anything,” Joe said. That was a lie, of course. We all knew what he wanted. Rami couldn’t stand to be around him; the thoughts were relentless, smothering.

I linked my arms around Joe’s neck, laid my head against his chest, sighed deeply and mournfully. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I know that doesn’t fix anything. But I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll help however I can. We all will.”

And I had accepted that Joe wasn’t going to respond at all when he finally whispered: “I just wish I could forget.”

Cato

My rolling suitcase snagged on the cobblestone driveway. The tiny spinning wheels bashed against concrete as I scaled the front steps. As the taxi pulled away, I dug around in my suit pocket for my keys, found them, unlocked the enormous front door, stepped inside the palace as my suitcase trolled along the marble floor.

“Cato’s back!” Charity announced as she breezed down the nearest staircase, beaming and embracing me. She was a lovely, innately warm woman from Pointe-Noire, Congo; she still wore the silver cross necklace her mother had once given her around her neck. “Did you have a nice flight? Wait, let me check.” She pressed the fingertips of her right hand to my cheek. I felt the memories rush up like blood to a flushed face: the bite of sipped champagne against my tongue, the thin semi-transparent newspaper pages gliding between my fingers, the husky voice of the bearded, bearish naval officer who sat in the seat beside me, the misted silhouette of Vladivostok as it rose up out of the Pacific Ocean. “Uneventful, but pleasant enough. You flew commercial?”

“The jets were otherwise occupied, apparently.” Charity could see things with the predictability and precision that Lucy so often lacked, but only the past. I pushed her hand away. “Was that really necessary?”

“You’re not mad,” Charity declared, confident, impish, helping me shed my suit jacket and draping it over her arm. “You’re never mad.”

She was very nearly correct. “Where are the rest of the kids?”

“In the kitchen. Go say hello, they’ve missed you dreadfully.”

“I know the feeling.” I kicked off my Berlutis, ran a palm over the wiry fur of the Irish Wolfhounds that appeared to greet me before they resumed padding watchfully around the palace, and went to the kitchen, my black socks slipping a bit on the marble floors.

I could hear their voices before I reached the door: laughter, teasing, complaints, requests. The scents of pancakes and cold butter and maple syrup were thick in the air. Charity was one of our four newest recruits, and they all still had that energetic lightness of being human, a youthful enthusiasm, a relative normalness. I spent quite a lot of time with them. It was my job—to help with the transition, to keep them happy, to facilitate the welding of their individual parts into the beastly machine that was the Draghi—but oftentimes it felt more like a reprieve. Some would stay close to me as they matured, others would grow in different directions, like ambitious vines climbing the skeleton of a garden trellis. I usually missed them when they ‘grew up,’ so to speak...although there were exceptions. I had never liked Liesl. I had always liked Ben. I opened the door.

“Ah, you are home!” Ksenia cried from where she stood over the stove, a spatula in her right hand, bouncing excitedly in place on her small bare feet.

“Hey!” Max and Austin called together. They were both sitting with their shoes propped up on the unglamorous kitchen table. There was a massive formal dining room that could accommodate up to twenty-five guests, but we rarely used it.

“Good morning,” I said, aware that I was smiling for the first time in days.

Max groaned as he scrolled through his Google search results on a burner phone. “What the fuck. My name is one of the top five dog names again. I think I’m gonna have to change it.”

I ruffled his long blond hair, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate. Max had grown up a trust fund kid in Perth, Australia. His mother was old money; his father was a professional surfer. “Your name is fine.”

“Really, Kato Kaelin? Is it really? How am I supposed to intimidate people when I have a fucking dog name?”

“So make them call you Maximilian,” offered Ksenia in a heavy Ukrainian accent. She’d only been with us for eight months, but her English was coming along swimmingly. She flipped a massive A-shaped pancake on the sizzling griddle. That one was for Austin.

“Seriously?” Max said. “That is just way too many syllables. They’ll be halfway down the block by the time I’m done introducing myself. ‘Hey, come back mate, I haven’t killed ya yet.’”

“At least you aren’t stuck with a basic-white-boy-circa-1992 name for all of eternity,” said Austin Tyler McInerny, originally of Sheboygan, Wisconsin. He was chomping on a multicolored Fruit Roll-Up, which swung from his mouth like a lizard’s tongue. He’d been working at an ailing skatepark when Larkin found him. He still enjoyed showing off his kickflips, and kept insisting that he was going to teach me how to ollie. I didn’t have the faintest idea what an ollie was.

“Do you want a pancake, Cato?” Ksenia asked, passing Austin his plate and wiping her hands on her pink apron. Her black hair was tied in a high ponytail with a matching rose-colored ribbon. She looked so young. She was so young, actually. Nineteen. And she would be forever.

“No, thank you dear. I’m alright.”

“I like Alaric,” Max decided. “First king of the Visigoths. Alaric is a name fit for a vampire. Creepy, yet dignified. Or maybe Silas. Or Draco.”

Austin shook his head as he swirled a river of viscous maple syrup over his A-shaped pancake. “Definitely not Draco.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the Harry Potter connection is unfortunate. People will hear Draco and think of that obnoxious white-haired kid from the evil snake-people house or whatever.”

“Oh, right,” Max sighed. “Like I said. Alaric would work.”

“So many A-shaped pancakes!” Ksenia poured a K on the griddle for herself.

“It’s good for you,” Austin replied, pointing at her with his fork. “We’re practicing English.”

“Alaric Luther,” Max mused, scrolling through his phone. I didn’t think he’d find that on any list of trendy dog names. “Alaric Lothaire...Alaric Lucian...”

“I like your name, Max,” Larkin said from the doorway. None of us had heard him arrive. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing a deep maroon suit and a ring on every finger, grinning hugely. He was exactly as I remembered him: stunning, captivating, terrifying. The kitchen fell quiet. I could smell Ksenia’s pancake beginning to burn.

At last Max chuckled nervously, pushing soggy pancake hunks around on his plate with his fork, averting his gaze. “Guess I’ll keep it then.”

“I thought I heard you come in,” Larkin told me.

“It’s always a pleasure to be home.”

He nodded out towards the hallway. “Come. Regale me with the stories of your travels.” Then his eyes flicked down to my socks, and he grimaced—slightly, briefly—before turning away. “And find your shoes.”

I followed him through the hallway, the living room, the grand front foyer with the crystal chandelier, into the elevator. Larkin did not speak, but he hummed as we ascended: House Of The Rising Sun.

It hadn’t always been like this. It was difficult for me to pick out the details of what had changed—the tone of his voice, the proportion of wonder and gratitude I associated with him versus fear, the way this palace (or the one in Reykjavik, or Juneau, or Ivalo, or Murmansk, or any of the others) felt when I stepped inside it—but I knew something had. It had begun before Ben left. It was much worse now. Older vampires, in my fairly learned opinion, are something like the stars. They mellow as they age, temper their character flaws, grow wise and patient like Nikolai or Honora or Gwilym Lee; or they rage until they burn away every last atom of humanity, until they destroy themselves and take entire solar systems down with them. Increasingly, I harbored fears that Larkin was a vampire of the latter variety. And we were all his planets.

In his study, Larkin dropped into the chair behind his desk, brought a hand to his forehead, surveyed a disarrayed flurry of papers: letters, notices, deeds and titles, meticulously managed accounts of finances and disciplinary actions. Larkin had a laptop and burner phone, of course, as we all did; but he liked to work in paper as much as possible. That’s how he’d done things for centuries, since long before the name of the inventor of the internet (or harnessed electricity, for that matter) was a whisper on his parents’ lips. The sky outside was clouded and seeping soft rain.

“Things have been busy?” I ventured.

He frowned, gesturing to the cluttered desk. “I’m in purgatory.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Can I help?”

“The Lancaster coven says they’ll need an extension for their dues. That’s the second year in a row, now it’s not just an exception, it’s a precedent. If you let one coven bend the rules, others will follow. So something will have to be done. Then there’s Stockholm. Anders’ coven has eaten a few too many locals—including the mayor’s favorite niece—and now the city is launching an investigation. Fucking idiots. They’ll probably all have to relocate. There’s some new territory dispute in Lima between Alejandro’s coven and a group of strangers that just came out of the Andes. We’ll have to make their acquaintance, of course. And as if all that weren’t enough, Rigel accidentally fed on a heroin addict and he’s currently detoxing in a cell in the basement. Would you check on him for me? I’m sure your presence will be a...” He waved his hand distractedly, almost dismissively, searching for the words. “A comfort to him.”

“Of course.”

“How are the Lees?”

“Fine. Typical. Gwil’s putting in a lot of hours at the hospital. Rami’s planning to get another law degree. Ben is, uh, adjusting. Slowly, very slowly. He’s not particularly content. But he hasn’t murdered anyone that I’m aware of.”

“How nice.” Now his eyes darted up to catch mine: focused, luminous, unreadable. “Nothing new at all?”

And instantly, I wanted to tell him everything. I forgot why I had ever planned to blunt the girl’s existence, to conceal her talent entirely; I felt her name rising in my throat. And then I remembered again. I’m doing this for Gwil, for Ben.

I pretended to ponder Larkin’s question, as if it was so difficult to remember, as if there was nothing left to sift through but a trunkful of mundane details from the trip like a grandfather’s tattered correspondence and tarnished war relics. That was something an average family might have squirreled away in their attic, I assumed; I’d never met my own grandfather, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have had anything to leave me if I had. “Joe’s got some new girlfriend, but I don’t think it’s serious. I doubt she’ll be around long. You know how Joe is. Scarlett’s seeing someone too, actually. A Quileute kid.”

“Poor boy.” And Larkin grinned like a shark beneath burning eyes. “He’s in for a lifetime of disappointment. Who will ever be able to hold a candle to those memories?”

Larkin had a moderate preoccupation with Scarlett’s beauty, her...tenacity. Her lack of talent was a great disappointment to him, a somehow more egregious fault than Joe or Gwil or Mercy’s. What a shame, Larkin often said. And I believed I knew what came after in his mind, although never aloud: What a partner she could have been.

He was still grinning at me. His expression was hollow, vacuous. A shiver clawed down my spine. He was waiting for something. No, he was searching. I stared back, and I willed for that intangible, contagious harmony I carried around like a wedding ring to hit him like carbon monoxide or bromine: undetected and yet inexorable, knocking him off his path of inquisition.

What does he suspect? What does he already know?

“Anyway,” Larkin continued abruptly, turning his attention back to his paperwork. “I’m glad there’s nothing to worry about in Forks. Liesl will be back in the next few days, Rigel will be ready to work again, I’ll come up with a plan to handle all this and my mood will improve tremendously.”

And where has Liesl been? I almost asked; and then I didn’t. It was a good sign that she was coming home. I had looked for her once while I was in Forks. When I made up my mind to find someone—when that switch flipped in my skull or in the tangle of nerves of my solar plexus or wherever it lived—it wasn’t like poking around on Google Earth: zooming in here, scrolling over there. A goldish trail lit up on the floor, a ‘Yellow Brick Road’ Honora and I sometimes joked, and I followed it. And I had no way of knowing how far that trail might lead. A route heading dead east from the palace might stop in the next town over or continue across the Pacific Ocean; my search might last one day or a hundred. In Forks—as I perched in a soaring western hemlock tree in the forest outside the Lee residence on a cool October evening—Liesl’s trail had led north. North to Vancouver, to Victoria, to Dawson, to Alaska? Who the fuck knew. I was just relieved it hadn’t led to the tree next to mine.

“Well, as always, I’m happy to assist however I can,” I told Larkin. “Just let me know and I’ll be on the next flight out of Vladivostok.”

“I appreciate that, Cato.” He smiled, paternally this time. And then he spun his chair around to peer out the window into the episodic flares of lightning that illuminated great dark clouds like neurons in a celestial brain. I hate thunderstorms. They remind me of South Carolina. “But I think you’ve earned a rest.”

After checking in on Rigel—irritable, frenetic, pacing, and yet predictably pacified somewhat by my visit—I trotted up the main staircase to the second floor of the palace. I found her in our bedroom: sitting at her easel, a paintbrush held in one graceful hand, an image like a photograph on the canvas. I promptly pried off my Berlutis for the second time today and tossed them into the closet.

“Ciao, amore,” I said.

“Ciao!” Honora replied, beaming. Her curly brunette hair was pinned up and away from her face; wayward tendrils spiraled down to brush her bare shoulder blades, the back of her neck. “Just give me five minutes...I have to finish the shadow of this tree...”

There weren’t many in the Draghi who survived the transition from Nikolai’s leadership to Larkin’s, but Honora had. She was gentle to a fault, a hopeless warrior, turned into an immortal on her forty-fourth birthday when Rome was still an empire; and she was without any talents whatsoever, except for one which was useless in combat. Her paintings, drawings, and sculptures adorned every palace the Draghi owned. Each year, Larkin would ask her to paint all of us together, incorporating any new faces, erasing the memories of those who had proven themselves unworthy. One such portrait, I knew, hung in Gwilym Lee’s home office.

I went to the woman I called my wife, laid my palms on her shoulders, leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Take your time, love.”

“Everything’s alright?” Honora asked, looking hopefully up at me with large, wide-set jade eyes. No, not just hopefully. Trustingly.

“Everything’s alright,” I agreed, not knowing if I believed it.

Shadows And Spells

“He just...just...disappeared?!” Jessica sputtered, scandalized, gaping at me as she held a Styrofoam cup of spiked apple cider in her clasped hands.

We were on a quilt near the outskirts of the sea of beach towels and blankets that circled the bonfire. Women—wearing flowing dresses or robes or tunics or not very much at all—flounced around the flames banging tambourines and reciting chants that I didn’t know the words to. Some carried torches, beacons of heat and light in the darkness. Jessica was wearing a short black shirt, fishnet tights, and a black crop-top turtleneck sweater; I had opted for a bohemian blue dress patterned with stars, an old thrift shop find and the closest thing I owned to Wiccan festivities apparel. I had a cup of hot apple cider as well, enhanced with a generous splash of Captain Morgan, but hadn’t quite conjured up the rebelliousness to drink it yet.

I suddenly recalled Mercy bringing me an endless supply of virgin autumnal sangrias as Joe and I swam in the hot tub on the Lees’ back porch. As soon as you turn twenty-one, you can have the real thing. I frowned, shuddered, took a bitter and burning sip.

“Yeah,” I replied. “He told his roommate he was going to a frat party or something and never showed up and never made it back home either. The parents are blaming the university, the university is insisting he must be off with a girlfriend or on some hipster soul-searching nature adventure or whatever, it’s a mess.”

“Jesus,” she murmured. “What does your dad say?”

“He’s been helping the state police with the investigation. There’s really no evidence of anything. No witnesses, no footprints, no surveillance footage, no handy anonymous tips...”

“No body,” Jessica finished.

“That’s morbid.” I downed the rest of my cider. Was the world already beginning to list like a ship on choppy waves, or was that just my imagination? I guess it would be possible. I’d barely eaten all day.

“You were thinking it.”

“Well, one’s mind does tend to wander towards homicide under such circumstances.”

“It is the season of the dead.” She grinned wickedly, then took my empty cup. “He’s probably fine. I bet he wants to drop out to become a weed farmer and hasn’t worked up the guts to tell his parents yet. You want another?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” Jess rose to balance on black boots with five-inch heels and staggered off to the foldable table piled high with cans and bottles and snacks. I was getting the impression that her Wiccanism was more of a novelty than a spiritual commitment.

The season of the dead. Now that’s VERY morbid.

There were some guys laughing, smoking home-rolled cigarettes, and toasting glasses of red wine on a nearby mandala blanket, bespectacled intellectual types who were probably getting PhDs in Anthropology or Medieval Studies at the University of Washington. One of them—curly-haired, pale-eyed, wearing a sweater vest and a cautious smile—raised his wine glass in my direction. I waved back without much enthusiasm.

“He’s cute, right?” Jessica asked, plopping back down onto our quilt and shoving a full cup of spiked cider into my grasp. She motioned for me to drink. I did. “That’s Sebastian, but he likes to be called Bash. He’s twenty-three and speaks fluent German.”

“Charming.”

“He’s very...uh...gifted. I’m not saying I know from personal experience, but I’ve heard it from a very reliable source. And his parents own a beach house in Monterey. You could go skinny-dipping.”  

“In the ocean?” The world was definitely wobbling now. I was warm all over, numbed, fuzzy; it was becoming difficult to picture Joe’s face, to hear his voice. This was good. I kept drinking. “No thanks. Too many sharks. They have great whites down there.”

Jess tossed her long, loose hair and sighed impatiently. “I’m just saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So you should pursue that.”

“I’ll totally consider it.” I lied. I would not consider it.

She smiled, sympathetically, fondly. “I can’t believe you thought I was a Mormon.”

“I can’t believe I’m out in the Washington wilderness commemorating the Gaelic festival of Samhain, but here we all are.”

Jess glanced over my shoulder. “Oh my god. He’s coming over here.”

“Ugh.” I craned my neck to see. Sebastian—whoops, my mistake, Bash—was approaching. “Please distract him. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Also I’m pretty sure I’m getting drunk and I don’t want to do anything humiliating, like sob uncontrollably about how much I miss my ex-boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry. I gotchu, Baby Swan.”

“Hey Jess,” Bash said, but he was looking at me. He pitched his cigarette off into the trees. What the fuck, who does that?

“Only you can prevent forest fires,” I told him in a woozy, mock-Smokey Bear voice.

“What?” he asked, baffled.

“Ignore her, she’s drunk,” Jess said quickly. “So what’s up? Come on, sit with me. Keep me toasty. Teach me some German...”

As they chatted and giggled and snuggled closer together—I’m starting to think that Jessica might have been her own reliable source—I studied the forest, watching to make sure the cigarette didn’t begin to smolder in the damp brush. The voices and crackling of the bonfire and sharp ringing of the tambourines faded into one muted, uniform drone. The trees reeled in the haze of the spiked cider; the cool wind moaned through them. And then, for only a second: a glimpse of something impossibly quick, something silvery and reedy and sunless.

What was that?

I blinked. It was gone. I blinked again, staring penetratingly. The swarming heat from the cider evaporated from my skin, my blood. There were goosebumps rising all over me.

What the hell was that?

I remembered how Calawah University students sometimes reacted to Ben: flinching, withdrawing, autonomically fearing him on some primal, evolutionary level. They knew he was a predator. They knew they were prey. It was chillingly similar to what I was feeling now.

I have to get out of here. I have to go home.

I shot to my feet. Oh, wrong move, that was too quick. I swayed, and Jessica reached up to steady me. “Are you—?!”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I gotta go home now.”

“What?! We just got here! Look, chill out, let me get you some vegan samosas or something—”

“No, seriously, I have to go.”

“Okay, okay,” Jessica conceded. “I’ll finish my drink and we’ll call an Uber, alright?”

“Really?” Bash asked, crestfallen.

“I’ll call an Uber,” I told Jess. “You stay, I’ll go.” Maybe she shouldn’t stay, I thought foggily, irrationally. Maybe it’s not safe.

“I can’t let you go alone. I got you drunk and now you’re a mess and if you end up murdered it would be my fault. There are unsolved mysteries going around, you know.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Girl, there’s no way I’m gonna—”

“I’ll call you as soon as I get in the Uber and I’ll stay on until I’m physically inside my house, okay?”

Jessica considered this. Bash leaned in to nibble her ear. I could smell the red wine and nicotine and animalistic lust sweating out of his pores. And unexpectedly, agonizingly: a biting flare, a muscle memory, Joe’s fingertips skimming down the small of my back and his scent like winter nights saturating the capillary beds of my lungs. Stop, stop, stop. “Okay,” Jess agreed at last.

“Awesome.” I was already opening the Uber app on my iPhone.

My driver was a Pacific Northwestern version of Santa Claus: wild grey beard, red flannel, L.L.Bean boots, rambling about his upcoming trip to hunt caribou in British Columbia. I honored my promise to Jessica and kept her on speakerphone for the duration of the twenty-minute drive. I rested my whirling head against the seat, let my eyes dip closed, watched the intermittent streetlights appear and disappear through my eyelids. I let myself into Charlie’s house when I arrived, wished Jessica goodnight (and reminded her not to get pregnant), and meandered clumsily into the kitchen for a glass of water and a cookie dough Pop-Tart to ward off a possible hangover. Charlie was snoring quietly on the living room couch. I watched him for a while, smiling and achingly grateful, before heading upstairs to my bedroom.

My window was wide open; that’s the first thing I noticed. I didn’t remember leaving it that way. I was always neglecting to lock the window, sure—I kept forgetting that there was no one to leave it unlocked for anymore—but I hadn’t left it open when I went to meet Jessica this evening. Icy night air flooded in. The stars were bright and furious in an uncommonly clear sky.

“You trying to give me pneumonia, old man?” I muttered, thinking of Charlie. I tossed my iPhone down onto my bed and crossed the room to close the window. And as it creaked and collided with the sill, I heard my closet door open behind me.

Someone’s here. Someone’s in this room with me.

I turned, very slowly; it felt like it took a lifetime. She was standing in the doorway of my closet, sinuous and white-haired, wearing black leather pants and stiletto heels and a long-sleeved lace blouse the color of blood, the color of her eyes. And she was harrowingly beautiful; not like Lucy or Mercy, not like Scarlett. She was beautiful like a prehistoric jawbone, like a serrated crescent moon, like a blade.

The owl. The goddamn albino owl.

I recognized her immediately. I heard Joe’s words as he introduced each vampire in the immense painting hanging in Dr. Lee’s upstairs office to me, though I desperately didn’t want to: She’s literally Satan, only blonder.

Her name tumbled from my trembling lips. “Liesl.”

“Wonderful, we can skip the introductions.” Her voice was like windchimes, cutting and brisk, with a hint of an Austrian accent like a shadow. Now she was at my bedside and picking up my phone, scrolling through it with lightning-quick and dexterous thumbs. “Hm. No texts from any of the Lees in the past week. So we don’t have to worry about them dropping by, I suppose. Joe got bored with you already, huh?”

“Evidently.” My own voice was brittle, anemic, weak; just like my ineffectual human body.

“That’s quick, even for him. How sad.” She sighed, tucking my iPhone into her red Chanel purse. “There’s a private jet waiting at the Forks Airport. Pack a bag. You have five minutes.”

“Please don’t hurt my dad,” I whispered, scalding tears brimming in my eyes.

“Of course not,” Liesl replied with a savage, saccharine smile. “Not yet, anyway.”

[bosspigeon]

it’s a thankless job

Pairing: Mason/m!Detective Words: 1709 Summary: Mason learns something pretty... unexpected about the detective.

Title from “Thankless Job” from, of course, Repo! The Genetic Opera.

Chase doesn’t greet him with more than a curt nod as he comes out of the station, but Mason doesn’t take it personally. Especially not when he gives the detective a very pointed up-and-down look, and he catches the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

They start the walk to Chase’s car, and he glances sideways and up at Mason and raises his eyebrows. “I was heading to the warehouse already,” he says, glancing around. “Anything going on I need to know about?”

Mason fiddles with an unlit cigarette, twirling it between his fingers. “No. Just some whispers of trappers here and there. Got Agent Kingston a bit antsy, so I offered to look after you today.” The bone-dry side-eye Chase gives him makes him smirk. “Never took you for such an altruist,” he says.

It’s an easy one, really. Mason can’t resist. “Considering all that time I spend on my knees for you, that hurts a bit.”

“We both know you like that as much as I do.” Chase’s dark eyes are intent, bold brows quirked. He’s smiling too, just a hint of teeth showing. “Maybe more.”

Mason pauses for a split second, and Chase just laughs quietly to himself as he strides ahead. Mason shakes his head, and it only takes him a few long strides to catch up to the stocky detective again. “Walked right into that one,” he admits, snorting.

“You’re pretty easy,” Chase snickers. The double entendre is obvious enough neither of them need to comment. Mason’s long had his suspicions Chase finds it funny to set him up with innuendos and jokes, especially when they’re around the rest of Unit Bravo. Even Agent Kingston, more than once. The detective is damn lucky Mason’s got absolutely no shame.

They make it to Chase’s car, and Mason, of course, bitches about how tiny and beat-up it is. “How’s this thing even still running?” he demands, folding himself into the front seat. Chase, of course, has no trouble, short as he is, and he gets himself buckled in then entertains himself by watching Mason struggle to make himself comfortable with his much longer legs.

Chase huffs out a laugh and cranks the car easily. “Where there’s a will, some duct tape, and a mechanical engineering degree that would otherwise be collecting dust, there’s a way,” he says sagely. The car miraculously comes to life and Chase starts fiddling with the radio, raising his eyebrows at Mason as if to ask if he’s going to be a brat about it-- as he very bluntly did last time.

Mason huffs and crosses his arms, and Chase rolls his eyes, reaching over Mason’s lap to the glove compartment to pop it open and rifle through. “Oh, shit!” he blurts, eyebrows rising as he unearths something from underneath a stack of brown fast-food napkins, a battered leather CD book, and a little folder that likely has his registration and insurance papers. “That’s where that’s been!”

Mason doesn’t get much of a look at the jewel case, just a flash of bold red and black and yellow, before it’s flipped open and Chase is stuffing the disc into the CD player. He skips a few songs, so the vampire gets a few blurts of discordant guitar, some piano, perhaps whispering, but never enough to guess what genre the album might be. He grins at Mason as he tosses the case into the backseat and pulls out of the police station’s parking lot.

Mason’s face wrinkles up as what sounds like some sort of operatic chorus starts up, then… heavy guitar. “What the fuck is this?”

Chase just laughs and starts singing, well, more like talking, along with the vocalist.

“Out from the night from the mist steps a figure. No one really knows his name for sure. He stands at six foot six, head and shoulders, Pray he never comes knocking at your door. Say that you once bought a heart or new corneas, But somehow never managed to square away your debts. He won't bother to write or to phone you... He'll just rip your still-beating heart from your chest!”

Mason twists around to grab the case from the backseat. Repo! The Genetic Opera. He flicks open the case to try and figure out what they’re listening to. He punches the skip song button, seeing the CD player is on shuffle mode.

Chase is still laughing, tapping his fingers on the steering will along with whatever snatches of songs he can catch before Mason changes it again.

“Is this a fucking musical? You listen to musicals?”

Chase leans forward, almost wheezing as he tries to get himself under control without taking his eyes off the road. “I told you I got a full ride to uni, right?”

A bit bewildered by the sudden change of subject, and still trying to figure out what kind of musical has songs about organ harvesting of all things, he just says, “Yeah? What’s that got to do with anything?”

They stop at a red light and Chase turns to look at him, dark eyes shining. His face is more open than Mason’s ever seen it, his body relaxed. He pats his glove on the steering wheel again, gets distracted humming along to something about little glass vials. “Well, I dunno if you know, but you have to work your ass off to get those. You can’t just have good grades. You have to have near-perfect ones, along with shit like community service, and,” The light goes green, and he turns his attention back to the road, but he glances quickly at Mason again, one corner of his mouth twisting, “extracurricular activities.”

It dawns on Mason slowly, but when it does hit him, his jaw drops. He gawks at Chase, blurting out a disbelieving laugh. “No. Chase, you--” Another sharp laugh bubbles from his lips. “You were a fucking theatre kid?”

Chase’s half-grin is answer enough, and Mason completely dissolves, dragging a hand down his face and clutching the dashboard with the other. Chase reaches over and cranks the radio higher, and ordinarily Mason would be cringing away, but the detective’s laughter echoing his drowns it out, sits in his chest. Once he’s finally managed to calm down, he turns the music back down, and groans breathlessly. They’ve pulled off the main road and to the backroad leading through the forest to the warehouse by this point, and the dappled light through the trees finally allows Mason to relax into the seat without cringing away from the late-afternoon sun.

“How did you even manage that between your other extracurriculars?” Mason sneers, though there’s no venom to it.

Chase straightens up in the driver’s seat, shoulders back, and slyly says, “I’m very good at multitasking.” Another easy one. Mason gives a rough, low chuckle.

“Oh, I know that, at least.” He shifts in his seat, gesturing to the radio. “So did you ever do this one?”

Chase shakes his head. “Hm? Oh, no, this was from a movie that came out after I left for uni, and it’s way too gory and dark for most school productions. Plus, all the best roles are for baritones. I’m a tenor.” He rolls his eyes hard enough Mason can see it, even in profile. “But in secondary school, I was a contralto, because, y’know, bullshit gender roles.”

Mason scoffs. “Like I know what any of that means.”

“Keep following me around like a puppy begging for scraps, sunshine, and you’ll learn by osmosis. Don’t worry.”

Mason curls his lip at the nickname (and at the ‘begging for scraps’ comment), but supposes turnabout is fair play. “Bet Felix would have a field day knowing this, sweetheart,” he taunts back, already delighting in the idea of the other agent losing his mind. “Hell, Nate will probably be overjoyed, knowing you’re into the same nerdy shit he is.” He quirks a brow, listening to some of the lyrics still drifting from the radio. “Though I’m not sure he’d approve of this one.”

Chase is quiet as they pull up behind the warehouse proper, putting it in park. He turns slowly to Mason, who smirks, hoping this time he’s finally managed to get a rise out of the detective. He’s always so fun when he’s trying not to be flustered. But Chase just smirks right back, eyebrows raised challengingly. They just stare at each other for a long moment, before Chase unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over the center console. His hand slips over Mason’s, the leather of his glove warm and supple as he twists their fingers together. Mason’s heart rate spikes, his world narrowing down to those dark, sultry eyes framed by thick lashes, that little beauty mark that draws the gaze, the teasing curve of his plush lips that Mason dreams about biting when he should be focusing on work far too often. He laughs, soft and faintly wicked.

“It’s so cute that you think anyone will believe you.” He cuts off the car, ejects the CD, and pops it into the case he slipped from Mason’s lax hands before tucking it into his jacket and leaving Mason sitting in the front seat, stunned into silence for the second time in the span of an hour.

He snaps his seatbelt off once he regains himself, and hurries to follow the detective’s retreating back, laughing with breathless disbelief. “You son of a bitch!” he calls, somewhere between annoyed, impressed, and, well, obviously a little turned on.

Chase turns around to eye him, still smirking, walking backwards so he can taunt, “Oh, don’t let Rebecca hear you call me that, sunshine. You’re already on her shit list.” He whirls around and disappears into the warehouse.

Mason ambles along slowly, tilting his head back and looking up at the sky. He drags a hand down his face and huffs out another bemused laugh. There’s a niggling little voice at the back of his head that wonders, for a split second, what Chase sounds like when he really sings. But he brushes it off and hurries to catch up to him. Maybe if he distracts the detective with a bit of fondling in a dark corner, he can get that CD back from him.

[youreobsessedwithciminalminds]

For A Bunch Of Profilers (JJ x Reader)

I know this is done a bunch, but I freaking love them because, honestly, I feel like the team would be fucking oblivious

MASTERLIST

REQUEST

JOIN TAGLIST

Rating: PG

Warnings: Maybe a cuss word or two

Y/N smiled as JJ told the team what Henry did as he learned to ride his bike. “I tried to get him to just jump off, but he wouldn’t, that was until we go to to the tree and for some reason he jumped up and just grabbed it. I tried to help him but I couldn’t stop laughing.”

“Please tell me you got a video of it?” 

JJ shook her head when Penelope asked. Technically, she did have a video, but Y/N took it and well, that would be hard to explain. It was quite funny how for a bunch of profilers none of them realized the two were dating, well engaged.

“How hard is it to train him on how to ride a bike? It was difficult to train Jack, thought he would never learn.”

JJ shrugged, “Not that hard, plus I have Y/N that I can always call. Who knows how much experience she has in that department.”

The women of said experience laughed, “Perks of being the oldest, even better when the one closet to your age is 5 years younger. And then being a babysitter and practically living at one of the houses pays off.”

“Now I wish you had transferred 3 years earlier.” She  softly laughed at Hotch’s comment.

“Well, I’m sorry for not feeling the need to do so. Anyways, I am going to head home. I have a bottle of wine that’s calling my name.” She grabbed my bag as she walked out, “If you need me, I will probably be crying over something stupid.” Or cuddling JJ, she wasn’t sure which, but she knew she was a cuddly drunk.

JJ grabbed her bag and spoke, “Wait, you’re my ride home, remember? My car needs a new tire and you agreed to go with me tomorrow.”

They tried their best to stifle their laughs, “Oh yeah, forgot, c’mon then, I guess the wine can wait. Bye guys!”

They walked to the elevator and as soon as the doors closed they began to die of laughter. When the doors opened back up they had their arms wrapped around each other. “Y’know, for a bunch of profilers, they really are stupid.”

“Yeah, but we’re also lucky that neither of us have really gotten hurt since dating. Or else we would have to explain that.”

JJ nodded at Y/N’s comment, “Even more since getting engaged. Well, here’s the car,” They got in and Y/N started the car, “When will we tell them? I mean, truly, the cheapest thing to do would be to have it at Rossi’s and let him plan the most of it.”

She laughed, “True, true, who knows. I’m surprised Rossi didn’t plan for a ‘family’ night tomorrow, he usually does on the Saturdays we have off.”

JJ nodded, “How bout this, we start sending more and more hints that we are and then see if they’ve figured it out?”

Y/N nodded, the rest of the drive home was mostly quite. The sound of the radio filling the car. JJ casually having her right hand laying on top of Y/N’s, rubbing soft patterns with her thumb.

-

It had been about a month since that conversation. The team had been on at least 2 cases a week since and never had time to really do anything. But they were still throwing out more and more hints. Like calling each other nicknames more. Doing work while one of you is in the others lap. Or kissing the other on random places (besides the lips).

They both thought the team hadn’t noticed until they over heard a certain conversation. 

“Alright, I bet 20 that Y/N makes the first move.” 

“I’m with Derek here, Y/N is much more confident when it comes to these things.” They tried not to laugh as Emily and Derek bet that Y/N made the first move, which wasn’t wrong. She did.

“Okay then, 20 that JJ made the first move.” 

“Poor Penelope, she’s gonna be loosing 40 dollars.”

JJ quietly laughed at my comment. “Hey, why don’t we go ahead and put the misery out of the way, besides, I already found the perfect dress. It may or may not have been my mothers.”

Y/N smiled at JJ’s comment, “Yeah, let’s do it.” They walked out and Y/N was the one who spoke, “Penny, just give them both 20, I asked first, what was it, 10 months ago? Then I asked first 3 months ago.”

Penelope groaned, “Really? I’m happy but I was wanting to win this.”

Derek and Emily were laughing until Spencer spoke, “You said then again 3 months ago, what do you mean?”

“Oh my god! You’re engaged!” As soon as she finished squealing Penelope ran over to JJ and Y/N and hugged them. “Congrats guys!”

She let go and the other two agents and the doctors gave their congrats. “You guys finally came out? When do I need to plane the wedding for?”

Y/N began to laugh and JJ gave Rossi a confused look. “You knew?”

“I did help create the BAU.” Everyone laughed a little at that.

“Love how we got passed a few profilers for 10 months.”

TAGLIST (just say if you want off the JJ one)

@vivianabakshani @criminalmindsmoodrn @h-burner @criminalmindsfanatic @criminallminds

[lemonlushff-iy]

#4 and 11 for olr please 😊

Oh My God. Number 4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

HNNNNG...Ok. 

Chapter 4

"You and your causes," he tsked. "They still make the best damn truck I've ever been in. Doesn't mean I gotta like the man."

"As I recall you don't like a lot of people."

His eyes filled with sorrow and he stuck his hands into his pockets, shrugging.

"Probably 'cause a lotta people don't like me."

"I did," she whispered softly, and he looked away from her.

"You always were the exception to the rule, Kagome. All of 'em."

...

"Why dontcha give it a go?" he prompted, and the engine rumbled to life again. He quickly closed the hood, backing away from the front and walking over to the side. "Sounds like ya should be fine. You got real lucky this time. Don't you start doubting Fords," he smiled weakly, and she returned it.

"I won't."

"Listen," he breathed slowly, nervously. "I...I just want you to take care of yourself. Ok?"

"This sounds a lot like goodbye again, Inuyasha," she mused, and he lowered his gaze.

"Ain't it?"

Was it? Did she want it to be?

"I guess it is…" she whispered, glancing away from him. "Goodbye, Inuyasha. You take care of yourself too. I hope you're happy. Truly. With Kikyo or any of the others. You deserve to be."

She turned her head away from him and pulled her car out of park, shifting the gear into drive. She was about to step on the gas when she felt two clawed hands gently grab her face, pulling it out of the window.

She gasped and her eyes widened in surprise before closing when she felt his lips tenderly press against hers in a soft, lingering kiss before he pulled away. The feel of his lips against hers...it was just as she remembered it. Only she didn't remember this painful aching in her chest when they had kissed in the past...Or this horrible need to grab ahold of his neck to bury her face into his chest and just cry.

"Just wanted to do that one last time," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear, almost as if he were ashamed of himself. Of still wanting her. Of wanting what they once had. What they could have been.

Chapter 17

"You're fine."

"That's not the point," she snapped through gritted teeth, smacking his pectoral.

"Why don't you give me what for on Bessie then?" he grinned cheekily, and she just rolled her eyes, still simmering.

"You think I won't? I'll give you more than what's for. I'll give you a whole fucking dissertation on how big an ass you are."

"Complete with a cover page?"

She went to smack him again, but he just caught her hand and placed a finger over her lips. She tried looking at it, going cross-eyed in the process.

God, she was adorable. And sexy as hell when she was angry.

"Don't wanna wake up the whole town, remember?" he teased, and she glared at him as he removed his index finger.

"I'm not that loud."

He bit his tongue, trying - with great restraint by the way - to not comment.

He failed. Only a little.

"Sure ya ain't," he smirked, offering her a hand as she mounted Bessie.

"I'm not!"

"Ok then."

"Inuyasha!"

He just shook his head and climbed on after her, pulling her flush with his body as he encouraged the mare to start trotting in the direction of the cliffs.

"So...How loud are ya then? I've always wondered."

He could feel her confusion before understanding settled in over her and she began yelling indignantly at him. He didn't really care though. He loved teasing her. Loved seeing her get all huffy and flustered. Ruffling her feathers...He'd missed it.

...

"Kags," he whispered, staring into her eyes. They were filled with so much emotion. Desire. Want. Desperation.

"Yash," she murmured, biting the inside of her lip ever so slightly.

This time neither of them rebuked the name. He didn't want to, and it shook him...and neither did she.

He watched her eyes search his face, looking for something...and he couldn't help but wonder if she would find what it was. He supposed she must have, because her hand gently pulled his head down to hers, and she kissed his forehead. The place between his eyebrows. The tip of his nose.

She pulled away from him, biting her lip in thought.

"I feel like I'm playing a dangerous game," she mused, her words no louder than a whisper. "And I know I should stop, but I can't."

He wanted to ask her what she meant, but the gentle press of her lips against his cleared all of his thoughts from his brain in a matter of milliseconds. It was lighter than the flap of a butterfly’s wing - so faint a part of him wondered if he had imagined it…

But if he had, how come he could still feel her lips? How come the sensation of her kiss still lingered?

"Kagome?" he murmured, his eyes dancing across her face, trying to figure out what was going on with her? What was happening inside that head of hers?

"Just wanted to do that one last time," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, echoing his same words from that fateful day.

"One last time?" he breathed, his heart lodging itself in his throat. "We seem to have a lot of those, don't we?"

"It's because we keep saying goodbye…"

...When really they should be saying hello.

Chapter 24

Oh god…

She was telling Inuyasha to do this, wasn’t she? She was giving him all these signals that she wanted him and now he had gone and wrecked everything and—

“Ladies...maybe you should take a step back from this...”

“No. There’s no need for that, Hojo. I’m leaving. She got what she wanted...and I...I won’t begrudge you of doing whatever the hell this was, but I want to make something clear. I’m going back to California, so whatever the hell Inuyasha did...It wasn’t for me, and he knows that.”

She picked up the bag of alcohol on the counter, holding her head as high as she could, and walked towards the exit. 

“I hate you, Kagome Higurashi. I wish you never came back!”

She paused, her hand on the door, and turned to look at Kikyo. 

“And I pity you, Kikyo...Waiting years to make a move on a man? You should have just taken what you wanted long before now.”

Chapter 25

“Did you ever think about it? Over the last seven years?”

Her heart broke at his strained tone. Like he was afraid of her answer, but needed to know all the same. 

“Think about what…”

“Come on Kags,” he sighed in frustration. “You really need me to spell it out?”

“I…”

“Us,” he replied crisply. “What it could have been like if...Things had been different. If we hadn’t been scared, stupid kids who were more understanding.”

She swallowed back her anger at the implication that he could really believe that she could wrap them up so neatly and bury their past away in the back of her heart.

“Yes. I thought of us. Every time Garth Brooks comes on the radio or I look at a can of Budweiser...I can’t eat a pancake anymore without thinking of the times you would sleepover at our house. I can’t look at a man with amber eyes without seeing yours for just a split second. Every new moon, I wonder how you’re holding up. I never stopped paying attention to the cycle because it made me feel a little closer to you, and I can’t…”

She paused, taking a deep shuddering breath before turning to face him, making sure she held his gaze as she poured her heart out and reopened old wounds. 

“And I can’t think of home without thinking of you. What happened between us haunted me and I wondered what it would be like if we had been different. I wish things had been different. You were my world. The only man I ever truly had feelings for, and sometimes...Yeah. Sometimes I wonder where we would be now if...If things had been different, and we hadn’t…”

She sighed, shaking her head. 

“It doesn’t matter now though.”

“Don’t it?”

His whispered words were so quiet, if she hadn’t been looking at him, she might have thought that she hadn’t heard it. 

“If you could...Could have a second chance at it all...Would you take it?”

Her throat was closing up. It was hard to swallow. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but she could see how scared he was. He was terrified of her answer, because she knew that he was asking himself the same damn thing. Had probably been asking it for a while, and she knew he had his answer. 

But hers…

Hers scared the shit out of him, because he knew what he wanted her to say, but the possibility that she wouldn’t...What then? What would happen to them then? Once she said it, there was no way to unring that bell. 

So she had to be sure.

But the thing was…

She didn’t even have to think about it. She knew the second he asked what she wanted to say. So, she mustered up what confidence she had, and looked him right in his scared, desperate, pleading eyes so there would be no mistaking her when she replied.   

“Wouldn’t you?”

As for  11: What do you like best about this fic....

I like that it has so much of ME in it. I never knew how passionate I would become about this one when I started writing it, but I’ve never felt this way about a story before. It’s just so healing for me on so many levels...and it’s allowed me to pour so many feelings I’ve felt about different things over the years into a story. There’s no jilted lover in my past...No Inuyasha...But there is a lot of pain and loss and I think this has been a way for me to release some of that from within my soul. @clearwillow had NO idea what she was doing when she drew that picture, but I’m forever grateful to her for it. I never thought I’d be this into writing a western rancher fic since I know NOTHING about that, AND YET..... 

Thanks for the ask @liz8080!! 

Writer asks

[maylovexhs]

everytime - IT IS WHAT IT IS (Chp. 34)

Author’s Note: OH MY GOD. I NEVER RECIEVED SO MANY LIKES ON A CHAPTER LIKE LAST ONE’S BEFORE. SO JUST THANK YOU! I’M SO HAPPY AT LEAST ONE PERSON LIKES MY STORY. ANYWAYS, HERE’S ANOTHER ONE FOR YOU. HOPE YOU ENJOY - MAY

Catch up on everytime here

NYC. November 15th, 2019. 1 PM.

*Y/N’S POV*

“I’m one of your best friends, aren’t I?”

“Why do you ignore me for him?”

“I’m not ignoring you, H”

“Y/N”

“My friends would never act like this”

“Y/N?”

“Neither would mine”

“Hello, Earth to Y/N” I heard Ali say.

I looked up from my coffee to Ali and Izzy.

“What?” I asked Ali.

“What do you think?” Ali asked me.

Umm, what were we talking about again? Last thing I remember was just sitting down at the table in this cafe.

“Should I take the job or not?” Izzy asked me.

Oh, Izzy’s job. Right . . .

“I don’t know” I said. “That’s up to you”

Ali rolled her eyes at me.

“That doesn’t help” Ali said.

“Sorry” I said. “I just have a lot on my mind. Didn’t get much sleep”

That was true. I didn’t get much sleep. How could I when I had Harry’s and I’s last conversation on repeat on my head? He basically said I was horrible. I wasn’t horrible. Yes, I knew I was wrong for introducing to my friends so late but Ashton’s my boyfriend. Of course, Ashton met them sooner than he did. And Harry met Ali so many times already. Not to mention, all the times I’ve been on FaceTime with her and Izzy in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” Izzy asked me.

“Nothing” I said. “Just some Harry drama”

“What did he do this time?” Ali asked me. “He has a girlfriend you don’t like?”

“No, no” I shook my head at her. “Why the hell would I be mad about that?”

“You were once” Ali said.

“That was four years ago” I said.

“What happened?” Izzy asked me.

I bit my lip. How was I going to make this simple?

“Am I a bad friend?” I asked them. “Harry thinks I’m a bad friend to him”

“Why would he think that?” Izzy asked me. “You’re always so nice to us”

“He got mad that Ashton met you guys before he did” I said. “He said I was a bad friend for introducing him to you both sooner”

“Didn’t you tell me about this before?” Ali asked me.

“Am I a bad friend or not?” I asked them. “Just answer the question”

Izzy and Ali looked to each other. Izzy sat back in the chair.

“Yes and no” Ali said. “Listen, Harry does have a point. It took forever for him to meet all your close friends. Talha met you both after two months”

I sat back in my chair, crossing my arms.

“But Harry and you have always been in and out of loop” Ali said. “So, you can’t really blame yourself”

“And why would Harry still be friends with you  if he thought you were a bad friend?” Izzy added. “You couldn’t be that bad to him”

I looked down, contemplating.

Izzy was right. Why would Harry still be my friend if he thought I was so bad? And why was I still friends with him if he makes me feel so guilty?

“Anyways, what do you think Izzy should do?” Ali asked me. “We helped you with your problem, help her”

I looked to Izzy. I forced myself to smile.

“Is it worth it?” I asked her. “To leave the one you have now?”

“I think so” Izzy said. “I’m worried because I don’t know how it will go. I can’t turn back to my old job if I don’t like it”

I looked to Ali and back to Izzy.

“Take it” I said. “If it is really worth it, nothing should stop you”

“That’s it?” Ali asked me. “That’s your advice?”

I nodded.

“Do you mind if I leave early?” I asked them. “I have something to check”

“You could if you want to be a bad friend to us” Ali commented.

I squinted my eyes at her. I got up from the table.

“I paid for you coffee, didn’t I?” I asked her.

“Just go” Izzy said. “We’ll see you Sunday anyways”

I smiled at Izzy.

“Mhmm” I nodded.

I took my coffee and turned from them. I walked away, taking a few steps before I heard Ali say something.

“I never understood them two” Ali said. “Harry’s so bad for her but she is still with him.”

My smile faded.

I didn’t understand either. And I wanted to know why too.

AN HOUR LATER . . .

I came back home. The first thing I did was go my bedroom and took out my box of journals.

Yes, my journals. I always had them nearby. Whenever I had a problem, I always turned to them. They helped me out a lot, actually. They helped me with when I got in a fight with Ali more than once. They helped me with my parents. Now, I hoped they helped me find the reason I was still friends with Harry.

I already knew Harry and I shared a special friendship. God knows how many times we crossed paths and had our ups and down but I always found to be asking myself why I still let Harry into my life after everything. Harry hurt me so much in the past but so have I hurt him. Maybe him more than me but my point is - why do I still stick around?

I poured my box of journals on my bed. I had about five journals. My first one was from a red journal from 2008 to 2010. My second was blue, 2010 to 2011. Third, black and from 2012 to 2014. Fourth, green, 2015-2017. And the fifth and yellow one is right next to my bed. 2018 till now. But I only cared for the black and green journals in front of me. I picked up the black journal.

I met Harry in 2013. February 2013. The day of the Brits. I met him at an after party. Let’s start there.

I opened my journal, flipping through pages until I saw Harry’s name.

February 21, 2013. Brits were last night. Didn’t win international female but that doesn’t matter. I’m still happy. (Also my therapist said I should try not base my happiness off of success) But I’m happy because I have a new friend. Harry Styles. Yes, the same Harry Styles I bumped into when I was with Dominic and the same one from one direction. That one. Funny story is, he’s Nick friend. I met Nick at an after party and Harry was there. Next thing, I know is I’m at BBC radio station having drunk conversations with Harry. Is it weird I already feel comfortable around him? Like comfortable as in I already know him? I never felt this way before except when I met Ali. Is Harry my new best friend???

I flipped three pages, seeing Harry’s name again.

April 4th, 2013. Ugh, just came back from a museum. I’m so tired but I want to write this down before I fall asleep. Harry. Rita. Tickles. Drink. Shirt Ruined. Harry’s lucky I like him and Rita’s kinda a friend so I won’t kill them. Anyways, my birthday’s in a week. I’m leaving in two days to go back home to New York. Goodnight.

I shook my head, smiling.

I remember that day. Harry was so sorry that he poured his drink on me. He said he didn’t mean it. I knew he didn’t. Rita just happened to tickle him from behind and of course, I was in front of Harry and he spilled his drink on me. Harry practically followed me into the bathroom to wash the drink off my shirt. . . Oh, Y/N. You’re going to get mad at him again.

I flipped through my journal more. I stopped at an entry from the end of 2013.

December 6, 2013. Just found out Harry’s hanging around Kendall Jenner. He told at dinner tonight. Not that I care who Harry hangs out with . . . Why should I? I’m dating Robert anyways. But I feel protective. I just feel like Harry should be hanging out with more . . . good people. People who won’t take advantage of him. . . I don’t trust Kendall. Something about her and her family irks me. According to Twitter, I’m not the only one.

I bit my lip.

A jealous me. Why did I have to land on that?

I shut my journal, putting it down and picking up my 2015-2017. I remember I was on tour for the majority of 2014. Nothing really happened between Harry and I that year. 2015, on the other hand . . .

I opened my journal and flipped through the first few pages.

March 15, 2015. I broke up with Matt. It’s wrong to keep him from his job. If you really love someone, you shouldn’t hold them back. That’s the right thing to do. But why does it feel so bad? Why does it hurt so much? It’s the right thing to do but it hurts so much it feels wrong. . . I told Harry about it. He’s the only one in LA I can trust except Lisa. His girlfriend broke up with him too. I mean, ex-girlfriend. They broke up two weeks ago so, at least I have someone who is going through the same thing as me. . . This is for the best. It has to be for the best.

I flipped to June, remembering that month so clear. It was when I realized I fell for Harry. And when he broke my heart for the first time.

June 11, 2015. I think I’m in love with him. Harry. I never thought I would be but I guess I’ve always did. The last few months just made me realize it. Harry has a strange effect on me. He knows what’s wrong the second he sees me. He knows how to calm me down. He knows how to make me feel better and happy in a way no one has before. I just feel like he gets me. I feel understood by him. Special. The last few months, I felt like shit trying to get over Matt. I did, in the end but I fell for Harry in the process too. I started to feel like I’ve felt for him a few ago actually. I didn’t actually want to believe it. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to ruin my friendship with him over some feelings that could change. And a part of me thinks Harry could never love me back. I mean, I’m broken. My parents are shit. My friends are crazy and so am I. I have attachment issues. I can’t let anyone in and when I do, I can’t let them leave because of the pain. But my feelings for Harry didn’t change and I had to do something about that. I was fighting with myself for the last week if I should tell him and I decided, I am. I’m going to tell him when he gets his break from tour. I deserve to be happy. He makes me happy. I think I make him happy too.

I looked at the next date I wrote.

June 17, 2015. He doesn’t love me. I told him and he said he didn’t think of me like that. He said he was talking to another girl anyways. I saw the girl today. Pictures of them came out today. She’s a Victoria Secret model. . . I don’t want to talk about it.

I felt my eyes water up a bit but I quickly flipped towards September. Harry and I were not quite done. We never were.

September 16, 2015. Harry called me today. . . Yup, after two months of not talking to him, he called me. He said he was sorry and realized he had feelings for me too. He wants to give us a try. Crazy thing is that I said yes. Listen, I’ve tried forgetting Harry. I dived into work, I went out with Ali and Sophia to clubs. Still can’t get him out of my head. Maybe I was meant to wait until he realized his feelings. I just want to be happy, even if it means giving him a second chance. Who knows what it will take us . . . By the way, Ali’s pissed.

I flipped to October.

October 25, 2015. Harry broke up with me. He said as much as he tried, he couldn’t love me back. He said something was missing. I knew something was missing too. We didn’t have that passion I had with my exes. Not that I expected it’s just . . . I thought we love me back. He didn’t.

I turned to January, 2016.

January 3rd, 2016. Kendall and Harry. Harry could be with her and not me? Who the fuck did he think I was? Just a step to get fucked? Was that who I was to him? What did she have that I didn’t? Sure, she was a model and skinner and taller but I’m me. I was his best friend for the last three years. She wasn’t! I was there for Harry when his heart was broken. I’ve seen him cry. Did she? Fuck her. And Fuck Harry. This is the last straw. He can have her all he wants. He won’t have me though. Not anymore.

I looked up from the page.

I wasn’t a bad friend. If I was, Harry was worse. Harry rejected me. He made me feel like I didn’t matter. He forgot about me. What kind of friend does that? I wouldn’t . . . Why was I still here though? I forgave Harry. I forgave him a long time ago. Why did I care about what he did if I’m still his friend?

I looked down at the page. I flipped back to the June 11, 2015 entry.

I think I’m in love with him. Harry. I never thought I would be but I guess I’ve always did. The last few months just made me realize it.

I had to be over Harry. I was sure of it. I was way off happier with Felix. I am with Ashton too. But if I didn’t like, or love, Harry anymore . . . why would I be here? I’ve been through enough of his shit. So why on Earth am I still friends with him if I didn’t like him a bit? Did I love him a bit? I loved him like a best friend but like that? No, no, no. Unless . . .

I never thought I would be but I guess I’ve always did.

What if I did love Harry? Why did I love Ashton more then? Why didn’t I care what Harry would think of Ashton then? I would care for Harry more than Ashton.

I looked down at my journal again. I knew the answer.

I flipped to 2017. September 2017.

September 20, 2017. I don’t like being pregnant. I feel so emotional. . . I talked to Harry again. Well, actually I listened to Harry’s album first and then, I called him. We went out for lunch. I hate to admit it but I missed him. Hearing his voice sing made me realize it. I know we haven’t had the best relationship but . . . we have something. Something rare. We just get each other. I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve always felt something was there but I could never describe it. It’s like something has always pulled us to each other. We bring out the best, and sometimes the worst, but mostly the best in each other. . . I don’t want to lose all that for how stupid we were two years ago. Harry was twenty-one, he was supposed to not take relationships serious. I was twenty-six. I was too old chasing something that could never be. We’re different now and I’m happy with what I have now. Felix and our soon to be bundle of joy. That’s what Felix has been calling her/him. Anyways, back to the point - Harry. I’ll always want to be his friend. I loved him once and I’ll always love him. Not like that but there’s a little part of him that has my heart. Don’t all lovers do? I should tell Felix about what happened now. He invited us to his concert tomorrow and I really really don’t want to go alone.

I blinked at the page, knowing the answer all along.

Harry always had a piece of my heart. I’ve loved him and a part of me will always will. I will always be there for him, just as I have. Six years, on and off, I was always there. He was there for me too.

I  grabbed a nearby pen, outlining some of the page. I carefully ripped it out and folded it. I closed my journal, putting it down on the table. I got up and looked for my little leather backbag. I did find it and put the paper inside, closing it.

I knew the answer. Harry was going to know too.

*HARRY’S POV*

I didn’t dare call Y/N today. I wanted to but I knew it was better I shouldn’t. I knew Y/N long enough to know that she needed space to calm down. I did too.

I was a dickhead. To Y/N and Ashton. It was wrong of me to tell Ashton about Felix. It was Y/N’s choice when and how she should tell him. I shouldn’t have acted so hostile towards them to begin with. I was upset with Y/N and took it out on her and Ashton. I knew I deserved to be upset at Y/N but I should have just talked to her alone about it. I didn’t and now I looked like an asshole.

KNOCK KNOCK.

I looked to my dressing room’s door.

“Come in!” I said.

The door opened, revealing Heidi.

“Hey!” Heidi said.

“Hi” I said, getting up from the couch. “Don’t I still have fifteen minutes?”

“Oh, you do” Heidi said. “Just came over to ask  if you’re okay”

“Yeah” I said, smiling but a little confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I saw you and Y/N had a little fight last night” Heidi said. “Didn’t mean to see but I was leaving and-“

“Oh, no, it’s okay” I said, lying. “We just had a little argument. We talked after, we’re fine”

We weren’t. I had no idea if we were going to be fine really. Normally, when we did get into fights, we both don’t talk for days until someone finally breaks and admits they’re sorry. Y/N always forgave me whenever I apologized. The thing now is I don’t know if she will forgive me if I did say sorry. How could she if I didn’t forgive myself either?

“You’re sure?” Heidi asked me. “Because it didn’t look like it”

“I’m one hundred percent sure we’re okay” I said to Heidi. “She said she’s coming tomorrow for the show”

“Oh, she is?” Heidi asked me.

I nodded.

“Yeah” I said. “I actually told her about-“

BRINGGG. BRINGGG.

I looked to the dressing room’s table. I watched my phone vibrate on the table. I looked back to Heidi.

“Do you mind if I-“

“Oh, take it” Heidi said. “I’ll see you in a few minutes”

I nodded at her. Heidi left, closing the door. I walked over to the table, picking up my phone.

Y/N was calling me.

I answered her call immediately. I pressed my phone to my ear.

“Hi” I said.

“Hi” I heard Y/N say in a low voice. “I thought you wouldn’t answer”

“Me?” I asked her. “Aren’t you’re the one upset at me?”

“I was . . .” Y/N said. “I wanted to talk to you about that”

“Me too” I said. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to act like an asshole to Ashton and you. I was just angry and I should have just talked to you about it in the first place”

“No, I’m sorry” I heard Y/N say. “You’re right to be mad at me. I would be pissed off at you too if I completely ignored if you got a new girlfriend?”

“You didn’t though” I said. “I was just jealous-“

I heard a knock on my door.

“Ten minutes!” I heard one of the crew members say.

I sighed.

“Listen, Y/N. I’m sorry.” I said. “I was completely wrong. Can we talk about this later? I’m on call in a few minutes-“

“Yeah, sure” Y/N said. “I feel like we should talk about this in person anyways”

“So, your place?” I asked her. “I get off at seven. Could be there latest at eight”

“Yeah” Y/N said. “I’ll be waiting. See you soon”

“See you soon” I said.

Y/N hung up on me. I put my phone back down.

She forgave me. And in less than a week. I guess I had nothing to worry about . . . did I?

9 PM.

I walked in seeing Y/N sitting on her living room floor. Pages of papers were scattered in front of her.

“Hey” I said to her.

“Hi” Y/N said back, smiling.

“What are you on the floor for?” I asked her.

“I was writing” Y/N said. “I don’t know but I always find myself being more honest sitting on the floor”

“Were you writing about us?” I asked her.

“Something like that” Y/N said.

I smiled at her. I kicked off my shoes. I walked over and sat down on the floor next to her. I looked down at one of the pages. I picked one up, reading it.

“I won't pretend it's all your fault, when you were there through it all” I read. “I messed things up, I always do, but it was always you”

Y/N smiled at me.

“Like I said,” Y/N said. “Something like that”

I laid the paper back down on the floor.

I looked to Y/N, who was already staring at me.

“I’m sorry” Y/N said. “You were right. I’ve been a horrible friend to you. I didn’t think I would hurt you by letting Ashton meet my friends so soon. I’m sorry I forgot about you when I was with him”

I shook my head at her.

“No, no, no” I said. “I’m the horrible one here. I know you wanted me to meet your friends sooner than I did. I shouldn’t been mad at you because Ashton met them. I was just insecure and jealous of him. I thought that you would forget about me and he was going to replace me”

Y/N lightly smiled at me.

“H, he could never replace you” Y/N said. “How could he? You’ve always been there for me. No matter what happens, you will always be there. Every time we lose each other, we always find our way back.”

Y/N looked down.

“I’m not going to lie” Y/N said. “There were times I did hate you. You did horrible things and I wished I could forget you but as much as I tried to . . . I couldn’t”

Y/N picked a folded paper off from the floor. She looked to me, handing it to me.

“It’s actually funny,” Y/N said. “I found myself asking myself earlier why I was still friends with you. But I knew the answer a long time ago”

I took the paper from her. I unfolded it and started to read what was on the page.

September 20, 2017. I don’t like being pregnant. I feel so emotional. . . I talked to Harry again. Well, actually I listened to Harry’s album first and then, I called him. We went out for lunch. I hate to admit it but I missed him. Hearing his voice sing made me realize it. I know we haven’t had the best relationship but . . . we have something. Something rare. We just get each other. I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve always felt something was there but I could never describe it. It’s like something has always pulled us to each other. We bring out the best, and sometimes the worst, but mostly the best in each other. . . I don’t want to lose all that for how stupid we were two years ago. Harry was twenty-one, he was supposed to not take relationships serious. I was twenty-six. I was too old chasing something that could never be. We’re different now and I’m happy with what I have now. Felix and our soon to be bundle of joy. That’s what Felix has been calling her/him. Anyways, back to the point - Harry. I’ll always want to be his friend. I loved him once and I’ll always love him. Not like that but there’s a little part of him that has my heart. Don’t all lovers do? I should tell Felix about what happened now. He invited us to his concert tomorrow and I really really don’t want to go alone.

I felt my heart jolt. That same jolt I last felt in the summer. It was back but this one felt more . . . more tender.

I looked to Y/N.

“The underlined lines are the important ones” Y/N said.

“You wrote this?” I asked her. “When you were with Felix?”

She nodded.

“You don’t have to worry about Ashton” Y/N said. “You always have a special place in my heart. You always did”

I looked at Y/N’s lips. Why did they look so tempting to kiss?

“The last thing I want is to lose you” Y/N said. “I almost did once and I think it nearly broke both of us”

I stared into her eyes. God, her eyes. Every time I looked into them, I felt safe. Home.

“Nearly?” I asked her. “Didn’t you hear my heart break in that song?”

Y/N smiled at me. She leaned into me, hugging me.

“I love you, H” Y/N said. “You’re my best friend. I can never forget you”

I wrapped my arms around her. I felt another jolt run through my heart.

“I love you too” I said.

And I don’t think it’s in that way anymore.

[popculturebuffet]

The Loud House Reviews: The Cow-Pie Kid and Saved by the Spell

Welcome back Loudiacs.. I .. don’t know what the fandom calls themselves. And given I dont’ know anyone personally in the fandom and the going into the tag is like living in a living nightmare.. it’s easier to keep workshopping a name till either someone tells me or I find one that sounds right. Loudites.. there we go that didn’t take long. Point is we’re back in The Loud House, In The Loud House for the first regular coverage, i.e. when I cover a show as It comes out of the season. And I was lucky enough to actually see the episode same day this time and with a promo that at least gives me images to work with, so yeah, i’m pretty pumped. And not just because I can cross this one off because SOMEBODY has a birthday tommorow.. no not me, that was last month. 

There ya go. But yeah the show’s back. I’m excited, your excited, i’m scared because nick dosen’t give a clear schedule out ahead of time so i’m left wondering when one’s going to pop up and when to get it on my schedule now I have one... it’s a good time. Seriously though Nick needs to get their scheduling in order. So i’m happy to be back, your happy to have me here, but probably not happy to have spoilers so let’s take this under the cut and we can talk about cow pies, magic, and ... how this block is weirdly almost all lincoln episodes. 

The Cow-Pie Kid:  Yeah.. this was the only bit from cow pie kid I could find. Tons of stuff to mine from for saved by the spell. Nothing for that one. Weird.  Anyways our story opens with Lynn’s baseball team, who we’ve met before.. and include friends who have played other sports with her and that guy she had a crush on for all of five minutes because the writers kinda forgot L is for Love happened for anyone but Luna and Luann. 

Okay look MOST of the love intrests introduced there were not great and while Lincoln needs one NOW, at the time he really did not as the Ronnie Anne thing had not, and still has not, been properly resolved. Still vastly prefer him with Stella and her with Sid, i’m just saying closure would be nice.  Look i’m getting off topic point is one besides Sam, who was great out of the gate and not just for being gay.. though that was a lot of it, and Benny, whose objectively a really sweet kid and damn likeable. Luaggie shippers feel free to boo me, I understand.. dosen’t change my mind or the fact Poly exists to fix that. I mean why not both I ask you.  Besides them, we had Chazz, a loveable chubby guy who Leni was into and worked at clothing store and knew his fashion stuff. and was charmed by her romantic gesture. He just seemd sweet and it was implied via background stuff they were still dating.. but he hasnt’ shown up since despite her working AT the mall and that being her main arc for the last two seasons. 

Just why? What’s wrong with the chubby fashion boy? Why? Did they decide they had too many romance arcs.. at exactly two? I get focusing on sam, because duh, and because that was awesome.. but you’ve had 2 full seasons since then and again Leni and him now work in the same location if not the same store, which in itself is a plot. I don’t ask much from you show.. well okay I do but let me clarify I don’t ask much from you that you could actually do: I know i’m never getting my a diffrent world style spinoff with lori and bobby. I know Zach is going nowhere and i’m just going to have to get over it, I will not, but I DO know you could include chaz and just won’t. So do that at least. I will put up with several more seasons of Zach if it means this adorable love story continues. It’s even easy enough to pick up this late: they are both stupid. Work with that. Gah... coach if you’d please. 

Thanks coach. Okay so one tangent later we’re back to the episode. Point is her team is loosing even though Lynn’s the captain now, and while she’s perfectly encouraging it’s not winning games. Lynn is understandably dejected in the car not helped by the sports commentor guys from the game... commenting about it on the radio...

I mean.. I get sports can have dry spots and all that but who covers a middle school basketball team on the radio that isn’t the middle school radio station. I mean I genuinely can’t decide which is more sad... a radio personality doing a children’s baseball game on his own show, or having so much trouble getting one that he’s apperaing on the middle school radio show. And I COULD say it’s just a guest spot but he’s talking like he knows what’s going on intmatiley> Did his daughter ask him to? I mean I know radio’s fallen pretty far but I dind’t think it was that much in the basement. Do a podcast at least man. 

Okay before I go on another Tangent point is Lynn feels it’s her fault as Captain.. which granted whoever the coach is should be .. but it genuinely looks like they don’t HAVE a coach. Maybe they had to sack him to pay for the newly refrubished av department? I dunno. Point is she feels bad and Lynn Sr vows to cheer her up.. before stopping for farm fresh eggs. Which.. yeah can’t blame him. He’s a cook, and Liam’s family likely has good prices. He can buy for both home and restraunt at once. I mean he has a van and only one occupant at the moment. Don’t judge him.  But this little detour DOES help Lynn’s mood. Her problem is the team lacks a decent pitcher, since Lynn herself was banned for throwing one at a heckling goat. The Lawsuit is ongoing and that made me laugh a lot. But Lynn finds Happy Gilmore style that Liam.. has a really great arm. Granted instead of actuall balls it’s with cowpies because this series really loves a shit joke, hence the title and the new nickname for liam, the cow pie kid.. but compared to some of the series toilet humor it’s a lot less in your face. But with Liam being so good Lynn can’t help but sign him to the team and Liam being a sweetie pie is happy to agree.  I have.. not hid even for a second how much I liked Liam or wanted him, and Stella, to show up outside of Lincoln episodes more often, or even get his own again. That day.. has come. Not only does LIam now have a roll entirely outside his friend group, but this episode’s about him and Lynn together.. not in that way.. yet. Someday.. Point is my boy is in the spotlight and I could not be happier.   And thankfully.. Lynn’s at her best. What I feared would be an episode about her overtraining him and making him not enjoy the game, htat old chesnut instead.. she just genuinely helps mentor him. She’s tough but fair as she helps him get his aim right as he’s used to firing Cow Pie’s, so the weight distrbution is off. So she helps train him and .. it’s really cute honestly, with her genuinely helping him and showing a softer side and later realizing she had him thinking about it too hard and just having him not think.. and going by instinct naturally works for a carefree and easygoing guy like liam. Wouldn’t be suprised if he went ultra instinct eventually.. but that’s for another episode. They also have a pig pile together.. which sounds bad but is just pigs piling on liam and lynn gladly gets on top of the pigs and god that sounds worse. next scnee. 

So Liam gets ahead and becomes the star pitcher for the zanarkand abes.. I mean the Royal Woods Kangaroos, and they just keep wining and wining and wining. Their like glomgold: all they do is win... but probably with less attempted corpse dancing. Problem is as we see during the montage Liam’s arm is slowly but surley getting cramped and while he wins hte next game.. his arm gives out from noodle arm. The good news is with rest, he can fix it, as her injury prone friend Paula, whose somehow allowed to play with crutches despite ALL the legal and moral issues that raises explains. but they don’t have days to rest it. So insane plans it is!  So Lynn goes to her sisters for herlp..specifically lisa int he hopes her mad science can either fix his pain or turn him into the hulk. Neither happens.. yet. I mean LIam is so sweet if he IS a hulk, we won’t know yet. But the green door will.. it always knows. IT ALWAYS KNOWS.  Lynn bemonas her luck.. before Lucy appears!

I JUST said last month when reviewing 11 louds a leapin that I missed the duo of her and lynn and lo and behold here we are. While we dno’t get much of the two fo them, it is still nice to see Lynn suprised by her scares and Lucy trying to use the dark arts to heal his pain.. which actually works. Lucy’s upgraded from wants to be a witch to full witch. 

So yeah her dark magic works and now Liam is fine just fine as the championship game approaches. Until naturally it isn’t. While Lucy STOPPED the pain, she didn’t make anything better, just numbed it so Liam’s arm’s pretty bad and Lisa suggests there’s a 70 perfecnt chance he’ll wreck it if he does so.. and while Lynn is naturlaly, given one of her main traits is asshole, ready to risk that.. she realizes she can’t. Rusty is on her team following her orders.. and no matter how good a W feels.. she can’t trade in someone’s health for one. Honestly bettter than most sports managers ngl. So Paula subs in and misses, loosing them the game.. but Lynn. takes it in stride, having realized she can win next year and having finally realized what being the leader REALLY means. She can work on paula’s curve, give Liam a break, and win next time... which she’ll have because time dosen’t work normally in this show’s dimension and a solid timeline is just a pipedream, so she probably has another year of being 14 to redo this and has become aware of it. I’m scared and excited for what that means.  Liam celebrates with a pig pile of two and we get a REALLY fucking cute shot of the two being happy and what not before a pig jumps on them still though.. yeah I ship it now. Liam taps into the space where I thought a black void of misery and douchebaggery was but ti turns out is in fact a heart, something few can do with Lynn and Lynn can protect him form bullies and is perfectly suited for his rough hewn farmboy styles. Point is their cut.e And so was this episode. IT was a really nice return to the series and it was again REALLY fucking great to see one of Lincoln’s firend,s and one of the GOOD ones at that, get a starring roll without him. HOpefully this keeps up and hopefully we see more of these two. 

Saved by the Spell:

RUSTY SPOKES IS TRASH (Ring) I don’t have a saved by the spell font that’ll have to do. Point is he is but before we get to Rusty being Rusty, Lincoln is doing magic tricks at the table. 

Point is he’s excited to do it at the talent show. The next day his friends discuss doing something to make them look cool to everyone. WHich.. kids. i’ll level with you. You. are. NERDS. As a massive one in both size and nerdiness myself, there’s nothing wrong with that. 2/3 of you are lovely people. You’ll be fine. But you are geeks, and should be proud of that.. not so proud you evolve into an incel or it’s adjacent form of assholes mind you, but still proud of who you are. You are never going to be that cool by trying to appeal to everyone. Just be yourslef and the cool comes naturaly. Like kool aid, which is naturally made by milking the Kool Aid man. Be you. 

But instead they decide to do a dance routine which..  let’s face it.. is probably just this spread across 6 people...

Point is maybe don’t do that. Also when Clyde does a dorky but endearing dance and says their going to shake their groove things, Rusty pipes in with “But cool”... and while sadly not as glorious as EVERYONE looking enitrely done with him like last time we saw this tool, Clyde clearly still does while the rest of hte Lincrew have no idea what the hell he’s on. I think their just.. numb to his stupidity and ego at this point.  But when Lincoln shows off his magic they all hide him, fearing that magic.. is well for younger kids and this won’t play so well. Which isn’t an invalid fear: this is middle school and from personal experince, middle school can be hell.. and also one of hte best years of my life which shows the vast gulf between the two schools I was in but was also not the point. the point is kids can be cruel and maybe don’t do this. But lincoln gonna do it anyway because he has confidence.. and frankly given there was an ENTIRE episode about being yourself instead of putting on an asshole suit of armor to avoid being hurt, which Lynn finally took off again last episode, he’s right.. but the rest of them all feel THEIR ALL GOING TO LAUGH AT YOU. and since they don’t know if he has latent psychic powers or not can’t risk him getting pigs blood dumped on him so they plan to find some way to trick him out of it.. Clyde of course gets his stomach in nots because he’s not good with schemes or lying ot his best friend, both of which this is and requires. 

Also Stella’s in the lead, as she should be. And she helps as her positive attudie makes what their doing come off as it should: KINDA douchey, but not intentionally so, they just worry about hteir freind getting pummled.. possibly by his own sister but now sh’es possibly with Liam that’s probably not as much of a worry. Or Chandler but frankly he’s going to do that no matter what.. and is probably getting his ass kicked himself by older kids who won’t toldeate his bs, so your clear. But their fears while a bit unfounded are understandable and well inteitoned if misguided, as we don’t know LIncoln’s act at this point or how well it’d go over with a mostly tweenager crowd, who can be the best as we’ve seen in recent tv.. or aboslutel monsters.. same deal. You either get Luz or you get BOscha, the inbetween is rare. 

So cue our usual setup of a bunch of attempts to do something in a row, but like I said while i’m not a fan of reptition if it’s done well enough it works and with it’s rather sizeable supporting cast , LIncoln and Friends episodes usdually do make it work. In this case it does as each of the sensational 6, lincoln and clyde asid,e try their hand at it. Liam, being the golden child, just has the most direct and obvious route: swipe his magic stuff.. and runs off without letting them talk it out but unlike Rusty in the next attempt, his plan was actually viable.. he just gets tangled up in the scarves and taps out.  Rusty is next ....and his idea is to.. show lincoln his killer dance moves to convince him normally. 

Yup pretty much that. And somehow out of the four plans, RUSTY’S is the only one that dosen’t bring up any serious moral quandries. I know i’m shocked too. He just thinks his moves will do it when no they won’t, please stop it hurts to watch and I can’t turn the fuck away. This is my job you redheaded kanker sore! Gah it thankfully ends and is unsurisingly unsuccesful. 

Also unsuprisingly, i’ve been waiting since i got that image to use it on Rusty. And as a third dollop of unsuprise I did not have to force it in any way shape or form. Point is it’s Zach’s turn as during the last two he’s been pushing really hard to use some form of brainwashing on his friend.. yes .. really. 

Thought Rusty would be the first loud house character to get that one but hey if the shoe fits. Seriously I thought rusty was the creep among them but at least you know.. altering someone’s throughts to suit your own isn’t his go to move. Being excetsivly cocky and coming on too strong is but still better to take THAT out of the Zach Morris playbook than “brainwash people into dooing whatever you say because tha’ts not creeptagious.” And unsurpsingly it does not work.. on Lincoln it woroks on Meyrl for some reason. Thankfully it dosen’t though just.. Zach needs no power epsiecally over the mind. 

So UNSUPRSINGLY, Stella has the working plnan.. and also unsuprisingly the last three just did theres by running off, running off and shouting the loudest. Again somehow Rusty is NO LONGER the most obnoxious one of the group. Zach won that title this episode. He’s still the most pathetic.. but i’m the most done with Zach who adds nothing to the dynamic or the planet or anything and I wish would just go away. Your home planet needs you. 

But yeah Stella has the winning idea: pretending to be “Yodel Boy”, a student who was humilated at a talent show last year, proving sh’es not only a decent actress (I mean it’s obvious i’ts stella in a wig, padding and lederhosen, but points for the accent being okay and hey she’s in middle school), but also the smartest of them. Only one of those is a suprise. It works and Lincoln agrees. 

So the night of the talent show they’ve caught him up to speed and prepare to celebrate, only for clyd eto open the wrong locker and reveal the yodel boy suit. WHy it was in there instead of at Stella’s house where this wouldn’t happen?

But yeah the cat’s out of the bag and lincoln leaves, depressed his friends think that little of him and lied to him. Which.. yeah completely fair. They tried talking to him, it did not work.. they shoudl’ve just left it at that. It would’ve SUCKED if he got bullied true, but it was his choice to go out there and take a risk and do what he loves. As someone whose constnatly self concious and had to fight to start writing like i’m doing now, I envy that kind of youthful confidence and thus wholly support him. 

And finally.. so do his friends. Realizing they’ve been kinda crappy, they introduce lincoln instead and work as his assitants.. and.. it works. Stella gets sawn in half, Zach gets astounded by a card trick, and Liam wears a bunny outfit which is just.. precious. Good boy. Best boy. It’s a huge hit.. and we also get to seesome of the new background kids including one with pink hair who looks kinda nb. I’m just saying one of you should take a crack at them, they seem nice. But for now our heroes are haield as heroes, and the other 5 apologize to lincon and they do their now cemented and fucking adorable group hug. Happy ending to a pretty great episode, with decent gags, a good relatable plot, and Rusty being just the right amoutn of obnoxious. Good stuff.  So that does it for this week. If you liked this review like or reblog it, check out my other work and come back later today for some duck content. and every week once the show returns. Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure. 

[shotgun--rider]

Fake It Till You Make It - Two

A Sam x Reader Series

PART TWO

Y/N knows it’s a bad idea to try telling her family that she’s dating Sam Winchester. But it’s just for the week of her sister’s wedding, and it’s all fake anyway. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 4100

Warnings: plus size! Reader, fatphobic, & diet comments, Y/N’s family are demons, allusions to drug use

A/N: Significantly more fluffity fluff than I intended this part to have. So enjoy it!

Aunt Abaddon’s garden, like the rest of the house, was oversized and vaguely vintage-designed and expertly manicured by underpaid grounds staff. It was less of a garden and more of a courtyard-esque mingling space, really, and it was currently filled with all of the people you would have been perfectly content to never see again. 

Involuntarily, your hand tightened around Sam’s, and he responded immediately with a reassuring swipe of his thumb over the inside of your wrist. You tugged nervously at your sundress with your free hand for a moment, trying to scope out the least disastrous location to aim for, and winced as your mother immediately came barrelling toward you. 

You dropped Sam’s hand just in time to catch her as she squeezed you (too hard) in an over-the-top hug, squealing in your ear at some kind of bat-radio frequency. “Oh, thank god you’re here. We were beginning to worry, weren’t we, honey?” She beckoned to your father, who sidled up with an awkward grimace and an untouched glass of something very pink in his hand. 

Her hands came up to frame your face, squeezing your cheeks, and she tilted her head critically. “You look...pale. Doesn’t she look pale?” Her eyes rolled impatiently. “You’re not sticking to the keto, are you?”

You exhaled heavily, pulling your face back out of her grip and suddenly feeling very small. “No, Mom.” You had a whole speech you’d delivered many times to other people about how diet culture was all bullshit anyway, but your mother always had a way of making you feel like your words would be wasted if you bothered to speak. 

“How many times do I have to tell you, Y/N? Your life could be so much better--you could look like Ruby, you know, if you put a little effort in. She’s tiny, and now she’s getting married.”

“That’s because she survived on crack in college, Mom,”

Your mother rolled her eyes, waving it off. “Well everybody has to have something,”

Your mouth tightened into a thin line, her words needling into you the way they always did. “Okay, Mom,” you said tiredly. “Whatever you say,”

She hmmed at you like she didn’t believe you, but let go and turned her attention over your shoulder. “Who is this?” Her eyebrows were making an escape toward her hairline and you couldn’t deny that it was a little bit satisfying watching her tilt her head up trying to look at Sam. 

“Mom, this is my boyfriend, Sam.” The lie came out smoother than it had the last time you tried it, but the words still felt like they wanted to stick in your throat.

“Mrs. L/N,” Sam extended his hand toward her, but she didn’t take it.

“Y/N, how did this happen?” she asked dismissively, waving at Sam on the word ‘this’ like he was something inanimate. 

Sam offered her a polite laugh, his hand coming to slide around your waist and tug you into his side, warm through the thin material of your dress. “Uh, the usual way?”

Your mother sniffed, crossing her arms as she looked between the two of you. “The house is all her aunt’s, you know; Y/N doesn’t have money.”

Right. Because the only way you could bring home a good-looking boyfriend (or any boyfriend at all, apparently) was if he was looking for money. You cleared your throat, your hands twisting together anxiously. “He’s a lawyer, Mom, he doesn’t need money,”

You weren’t actually sure if Sam had all that much money, given that Dean was always talking about all the pro bono cases he took on, but it would hopefully shut your mother up.

“A lawyer? But--”

“Yes,” Sam cut in roughly, “and I consider myself very lucky to be with her.” He dropped a kiss to the top of your hair, selling your relationship with more ease than you’d expected, and you focused on reminding yourself that was what it was--two friends selling a lie. 

Your mother sputtered indignantly, unable to come up with any further response, and you took the opportunity to slide off to the side, aiming for the shock of blonde hair you were fairly certain belonged to your most tolerable cousin, Meg. To your surprise, Sam followed without letting go of your waist, though you weren’t really sure what you had expected. You were trying to look like a couple, after all. You just had to remember not to get used to it.

“Sup?” Meg half-slurred when you reached her, immediately holding out a glass of what was probably very alcoholic punch. You took it from her hastily, mostly to keep her from spilling it on herself, and sighed. 

“It’s barely three o’clock, Meg,”

“That’s almost five,” she returned cheerfully. “You didn’t think I was gonna do this shit show sober, did you?”

“I don’t blame you,” you mumbled, cautiously sniffing the glass. It smelled overpoweringly of alcohol, and you figured someone--possibly Meg--had spiked it well beyond the original content.

“So, who’s the hottie?” Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at Sam. “And where do I get one?”

Sam could tell she was harmless, and he laughed easier this time, letting the most-of-the-way-drunk woman tease him. It was kind of sweet to watch, if in a mildly alarming way. Meg had been your only solace growing up, but she’d lived too far away to be more than a buffer at big family gatherings. Still, you knew how she could be, and you weren’t too confident in leaving him alone with her. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t look like you were going to have much choice. A claw-like hand was suddenly digging into your upper arm, and you turned to meet your sister’s cold eyes. “You need to come with me,” she announced, leaving you barely enough time to set the glass you’d been holding down on a table before she was physically hauling you out of the conversation. Sam shot you a slightly concerned glance, but Meg immediately demanded his attention back, and you allowed your surprisingly strong sister to pull you back toward the house.

“What do you want, Ruby?”

The expression on her face was equal parts annoyed and vindictive. “You missed the fitting for your dress. I figured I had better make you do this now,” she sighed, “in case we have to alter it again. Not like you seem to care,” she muttered. 

“Ruby, I already told you I couldn’t get off work--”

“Whatever,” she cut you off. “It’s whatever. I just thought maybe my maid of honor would put in a little effort, you know?”

You gritted your teeth in silence, knowing nothing you could say would change her mind. Everything in Ruby’s life that went wrong, from the time she was a child, was always someone else’s fault. Somehow, neither of your parents had thought to correct that assumption before she grew up and took it into the world with her, but, given the way your entire family was, it shouldn’t have surprised you. 

Following her reluctantly into a sitting room on the second floor, you watched Ruby sift through a standing rack of silvery-gray dresses. None of them were particularly flattering, and you had no doubt that whatever she’d picked for you would be especially ugly, in her passive-aggressive way. It wasn’t like you’d expected a pretty bridesmaid’s dress, because, really, weren’t ugly dresses the stereotype anyway? Still, it was the same kind of thing she’d done to you since you were kids, and it left a sour taste in your mouth. 

Ruby handed you a mass of slippery fabric, and you held it up hesitantly, a cautious sensation of relief in your chest as you realized that it didn’t seem overtly horrible at first glance. 

“Hurry up,” your sister was waving at you, “put it on!”

You huffed, walking behind the conveniently located changing screen with a still-nervous pit in your stomach. You hated trying on clothes, from the time you were a teenager shopping with your mother, and she’d made comments about how the clothes you’d picked would look better in a smaller size. Even now, shopping alone, it was still frustrating and embarrassing to look in the changing room mirror and realize that you looked nothing like what you’d hoped you would when you were picking items off the rack. 

“I’m not wearing the right bra for this,” you warned Ruby, noting that the dress had a plunging back. 

“I figured, it’s whatever for now,” she said carelessly, then, “So how long have you and Sam been together? He’s new, right?”

“Three months,” you returned automatically, recalling the date you’d agreed on in the car as you shimmied your hips into the slinky fabric. It was a bit too clingy for your tastes, but that was what you’d packed extra shapewear for. 

“Huh,” Ruby mused from somewhere beyond the changing screen. You could hear her feet pacing softly, and you didn’t have to see her to know she had her hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips. “That’s like a new record for you. What’d you do, anyway?”

“Do what?” you grunted, twisting your arms behind you like the world’s most painful pretzel trying to grab the zipper. 

“Keep his attention. I mean, come on, Y/N, he’s gorgeous,”

“Why do you care?” you shot back. “You’re getting married,”

You could almost hear Ruby’s too-casual shrug. “I was just curious. I know he’s not staying for the sex. Dick said you never fucked him,”

“You talked about me?” you practically shrieked. It wasn’t enough that your bitchy, entitled sister was marrying your god awful ex, they had to bring you back into it too?

“Duh,” Ruby giggled. “Wait, are you still a virgin? I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me--”

Finally wrestling the zipper into submission, you lifted the hem above your bare feet and stormed out from behind the changing screen. “No,” you snapped out. “Do you like it or not?”

“God, Y/N, I was just kidding,” Ruby rolled her eyes. “You need to calm down. And, yeah, the dress is fine. Just try not to eat anything before Saturday,”

You just stared at her, the brief anger flaming through your chest dying as hurt welled up instead. “Every time,” you whispered. “You do this every time,”

“Oh, quit being so sensitive.” Ruby waved you off. “Hey, remember you’re picking up the cake and the flowers tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, no problem,” you returned hollowly, watching her bounce out into the hallway, leaving you standing there in an ugly bridesmaid dress, defeated expertly in the way she always knew how. 

And you had promised yourself that you weren’t going to let them make you cry, but your eyes were stinging and your chest felt tight. For what felt like the millionth time, you wondered what it would take for any one of them to actually act like they cared about you. 

You stripped off the dress mechanically, hanging it carefully back up to avoid Ruby throwing a fit, noticing as you did that every other dress on the rack was tailored to accommodate tiny women with tiny waists. The rest of the bridesmaids were Ruby’s crowd of friends, and you knew you were only part of this because it would have looked bad to not include her sister. 

Blowing out your breath, you put your own clothes back on and shook your head. This was a standard day in your house. Last Thanksgiving had definitely been worse. So why are you still letting them get to you? You snapped at yourself. Get over it, Y/N.

You knew that you should be going back outside to Ruby’s little pre-wedding garden party to rescue Sam, who was probably in well over his head by now, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of dealing with any more of it right now. Before you could change your mind, your feet were pointing toward the third floor staircase, and you were making a beeline for your bedroom. 

“There she is!”

You stopped in your tracks at the sound of his voice, swearing a blue streak inside your head. What on earth had you done in your life to deserve this kind of brutal cosmic karma, anyway? Turning slowly, you let out a resigned sigh. “Dick,”

Your stupid ex-boyfriend was smiling with all of his perfect white teeth, hands slid into the pockets of a pair of very nice dress slacks as he meandered down the hallway toward you. “It’s been a long time, Y/N,”

“Best two years of my life,” you confirmed with a nod, well past the point of being nice, even if you knew your entire family would inevitably end up hearing about you sassing the groom. 

He laughed as though you’d just told the funniest joke. “Charming as ever, dearest. You know, I still have a few days before I’m married. What do you say?”

“Ruby would kill you,” you tried, taking a step backward. 

Dick arched an arrogant brow. “Hardly, I’m sure she’d encourage it.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” you said flatly, your skin crawling at the mere thought of him. “Please go somewhere far away from me now,”

“It’s a public hallway,”

“Just leave me alone,” you sighed, turning away resolutely to resume marching toward the stairs. 

“Alright, alright!” Dick muttered. “Damn, I’m glad I chose the other one,”

His words shouldn’t have mattered, but they cut into you anyway. You slammed your bedroom door behind you with tears welling up in your eyes, kicking your shoes off across the room and marching to the bathroom halfway between misery and rage. See? Even slimy Dick fucking Roman doesn’t want you. 

You stared down your reflection in the bathroom mirror, all anxious bitten lips and red, teary eyes. You looked, in your personal opinion, a little bit deranged, and huffed out a breath, trying to control yourself before you went into full-blown ugly sobbing. That would just make you look like a mess for dinner. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d just been leaning on the sink, staring blankly at the outdated gold faucet, when you heard the door in the bedroom open. You swallowed hard, thankful you’d shut the bathroom door behind you, and debated between silently trying to pretend you weren’t there at all and just shouting for Ruby to get lost. 

“Y/N?” 

No, that was Sam’s voice, and that sent a whole new wave of panic through your body. This wasn’t Sam’s mess to clean up, this was so not what he had signed up for, hell, he’d barely signed up at all. What was any halfway decent person supposed to say when Dean and Charlie started ganging up on them?

A soft tap sounded on the bathroom door, and your voice came out slightly strangled as you bargained for time. “Yeah, be out in a sec!” You swiped your hands under your eyes hastily, blinking in the mirror like that was somehow supposed to make you look less emotionally flattened. 

Sam, evidently, wasn’t buying it. “Y/N, can I come in?”

Your emotions had been all over the place for the past week in the anxiety of having to come here and deal with this, and, apparently, just the sound of Sam’s concerned voice was enough to have tears welling up in your eyes again. Damn it. You pressed your quivering lips together, staring up at the ceiling like that was going to convince the tears to drain back into your eyeballs. 

The bathroom door opened behind you, and you opened your mouth on a gasping breath to say something just as you felt Sam wrap his arms around you from behind, pulling you back against him carefully without choking your neck against his forearms. The contact and gentle support broke the last thread on your tenuous control and you let your head fall forward as a sob wracked your body.

“Whoa, hey, what happened?” Sam sounded surprised at your sudden reaction, but he didn’t let go, just tucked you more firmly into his embrace and held on as your body shook with the sudden pain you hadn’t even acknowledged in your chest until now. “I got you,” he whispered just above your hair. “I got you, Y/N,”

You followed pure instinct, wiggling around in the circle of his arms until you could bury your face in his chest instead, and Sam let you, automatically adjusting to make sure you stayed tucked against him. He was warm and solid and safe, and he felt like home in a way you’d never experienced before, a physical barrier between you and the world. 

That thought jarred you out of your mini-breakdown, because you couldn’t afford to think like that. This wasn’t a rom-com and just because you had a stupid crush on Sam before this whole thing started didn’t mean you could let it go to your head. You pulled back from him slightly, wincing as you noticed the damp spot you’d left on his shirt. Your nose wrinkled, and you grimaced as you ducked out of his arms to grab several of the Kleenex on the back of the toilet tank. “Sorry,”

Sam had that look of adorably genuine puzzlement on his face again as he watched you blow your nose, unfazed like he couldn’t figure out why you were saying what you were saying.

You gestured vaguely with one hand at yourself, at the bathroom. “This shouldn’t be your problem, Sam,”

“Y/N,” he frowned, catching you in the web of those hazel eyes that somehow never failed to take your breath away. “I’m right where I want to be. I told you I had your back, remember?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head wearily as embarrassment and frustration began to sink in. “This is so stupid,” you whispered turning your body away from him more than you really needed to toss the tissue from your crumpled fist into the trash can. 

“If it makes you upset, it’s not stupid, Y/N,” Sam argued softly. “You don’t deserve that from people,”

You paused at that, staring at him awkwardly as you tried to come up with a response. Finally, you settled on the truth. “I’m pretty sure no one has ever said that to me,”

“I’ll say it more often,” Sam reached out to you, his hand landing on your upper arm to gently pull you out of the bathroom. The sun was starting to set through the big west-facing window, and you let yourself fall back onto the bed with a groan as you remembered that the night wasn’t over yet. 

Sam walked over to peer down at you on the mattress, standing over you with an expression on his face that almost made you burst out laughing. “What?”

“Dinner,” you huffed, throwing an arm over your eyes for a brief moment. “I forgot they were going to expect us for dinner,”

“Do you want to go?” Sam raised an eyebrow, and you almost shot into a sitting position at the question. 

“What? No. Why are you even asking me?”

Sam shrugged, sitting down next to you easily and lacing his fingers together in his lap. “If you don’t want to go, then let’s not go,”

Turning to look at him with a smirk, you propped your head up on one hand. “Sam Winchester, are you suggesting we play hooky?”

His face split into a wide grin, his eyes dancing as if to say why not? “I’ll tell them I missed my girlfriend, and we can stay up here and leave them all downstairs to be jealous of our functional relationship,”

“Our functional relationship that’s so functional it’s fake?” You were laughing up at him now, and Sam Winchester was going down in your book as the only other person besides Charlie who could completely change your mood in under five minutes. 

Sam pouted at you, some of the light dimming from his face. “Exactly,” he cleared his throat.

“There is one flaw in this plan, though,”

Sam turned, flopping down on his stomach on the mattress beside you and making you bounce slightly. “Hm?”

You batted your eyelashes exaggeratedly at him, making your best puppy face. “I’m hungry.”

Which was how you found yourself creeping down the stairs in your bare feet with your hand in Sam’s even though nobody was watching, on a mission to raid the fridge. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Mr. Big-shot Lawyer,” you teased, peering briefly down the hallway to check that it was empty before continuing.

Sam shot you a mock-hurt look. “I’m in human rights law!”

You stifled a fit of giggles, cursing yourself for turning into a girlish idiot around him. “If Aunt Abi catches me down here, she will actually kill me,” you said instead, your voice conversationally sarcastic. 

“I think she’s still fighting with your uncle,” Sam shrugged, following you into the thankfully empty kitchen. “What do you want?”

“Ooh, did Uncle Fergus show up high again? And there should be a bunch of crap in there, just grab whatever.”

Sam blinked at you, holding open the fridge. “Why do you sound happy about that?”

You opened the pantry, lifting out a bag of chips. “Because, a, unlike my sister, he doesn’t try to force other people into drug abuse, and b, the fact that everyone hates him more than me is probably the only reason I’m still alive. Oh, grab the brownies!” you added, peering around him into the fridge. 

Sam just shook his head at you, studying you with an expression you weren’t sure how to identify. 

“What? I like brownies,”

He shook his head, hair sliding into his face with the motion, and pulled out both the pan of brownies and a bowl of tossed salad. “Nothing. I’ve just, uh, never met anyone like you before.”

“What, surprisingly well-adjusted?” you asked sarcastically. 

Sam held your gaze over the dishes in his hands. “I was going to say strong,”

You swallowed, glancing down, not sure how to answer. “Okay. Uh, we should probably get out of here. This is enough,”

Thankfully, he let it go, leading the way back upstairs and smiling at the way you burst out laughing as soon as the door was closed and locked behind you. Then, you watched him pull a spare bed sheet out of the bathroom and throw it down on the floor, sitting cross-legged and waiting for you to join him. “Dean used to do this for me,” he said quietly, sticking a fork into the salad bowl. “Sometimes Dad would leave us in motel rooms and Dean would try to make it like a picnic.” He winced. “Couldn’t cook, though. He was eight.”

You laughed softly, reaching out with a fork to pull a mouthful of lettuce from the other side of the salad bowl, your eyes soft as you looked at him. “Tell me more,”

You let Sam keep talking while you both munched on snacks and sprawled out on the floor, listening to the random stories of his childhood and, occasionally, something from law school. His voice was soothing, and you hadn’t realized you were tired until you were suddenly blinking back awake, the room pitch-dark and the thin carpet making your spine complain. 

Still half-asleep and fuzzy headed, you started to sit up, reaching for your phone, and noticed suddenly that something was holding you down. Your thumb grazed the home button, lighting up your phone’s screen enough to see, and you blinked in surprise as you realized that Sam was asleep beside you with his arm slung over your waist. 

A small smile crept on your lips as you studied his sleeping face in the dim blue light, completely at peace. Waking him seemed like a crime you weren’t willing to commit, and if part of you was unwilling to make him let go of you, well, who would ever know? You turned slightly, pillowing your head on one arm, and let your phone turn itself back off as you felt Sam try to pull you closer to him. Your decision made, you told your spine to shove its complaining. You could totally manage one night on the floor. 

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tags: @vicmc624​,  @thebookisbtr​