#wish joseph were still here because What Could This Mean

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I'm glad to report that even my religious dreams are just weird. I had this dream where I had to be in a crowded church for services (why a religious jew is in a church is beyond me. I brought my chanukiah. There were many others who brought theirs and it made me Wonder if they were jewish (I was fully jewish in the dream)), but it was in an attic, and my dad found me, and I was very Visibly Jewish so I was talking to him about how weird it all was, and he got so offended at what I said that I was basically compelled to leave. And then I legit ran away and became a Dead Body. I was so ashamed to not think the song "our g-d is an awesome g-d" was the best thing ever to the point I died 😭😭😭

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, cheating

Author’s note: so, i got a request from the lovely @lfdybadgirlsdiw that i wasnt able to let go and now, here we are, the beginning of a new five-parter! enjoy! lmk what you think, thanks! <3

Wordcount: 5.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The first little crack.

“No, that is your side. And this should be mine.” Joe argued, arms flailing, gesturing at both sides of the bed as he stood at the foot of it.

The first little crack of many.

“Joe. I have always slept on this side,” you said, already in bed, tucked up and all cosy, barely able to keep your eyes open still.

If you hadn’t been aware of how much Joe had been pushing to get his way lately, this could have come across as playful banter.

“Listen. If we’re going to establish actual sides, you should be furthest away from the door.”

But given how Joe had been making you feel after compromising, after giving in and meeting you halfway, no one would think this was funny.

“Why?” you closed your eyes and nuzzled into your pillow, not even slightly bothered by Joe’s pleading who desperately wished you’d roll over to what, up until now, had been his side of the bed.

“For… just, because.”

“Hmmno.”

“For danger. What if a burglar gets in?”

You sighed. Deeply. Sank into your pillow more. It was the kind of breath released just before you were about to doze off, and it was meant to signal that you weren’t going to engage in this discussion any longer.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Joe could go and lay on his side of your bed, or he could go and sleep on the sofa, and that was that.

“Babe.” Joe tried to give you a little push, but the way you’d wrapped yourself up proved you needed more than just a slight shove to end up where he wanted you.

“Hmm.”

You were bone-tired, already all sunken into the mattress, ready to go visit another planet for a good few hours.

“Babe.”

You opened a bleary eye to see Joe still look just as awake and ready to win this argument as he was when you’d closed your eyes.

“This flat won’t get burgled.”

“You don’t know that. Might have someone kick in the door tonight, and, then what? Hmm?”

Something cute about this need to protect you, and you knew that’s what he could dress this up as, but the timing of it was so God-awful, you couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to fall asleep on your own side of the bed already.

“Think of it this way,” you started, holding a stretched hand out that Joe easily took, knees pressing into the mattress as he towered over you for a minute. “In case of a fire, I’ll be the first one out.”

And just like that, Joe let himself fall into the empty spot next to you, seemingly giving up and giving in.

Good.

“A fire is much more likely than a burglar.” You concluded, word slurred and eyes closing again as Joe got his legs underneath the covers.

“That’s not as good but…” Joe thought for a second, then said, “If a fire breaks out here, it’ll be from that old hair thing of yours. That thing you use that smells like it’s melting.”

“See?” you mumbled, disagreeing, but happy to let sleep take you.

“Or because you leave an empty pot on a burner again.”

“Mhm.” Little less happy. You only did that once and it wasn’t even your fault.

“Or because–” 

“Joe.”

A short moment of silence followed.

“Fine,” he whispered, adding, “for now.” on the back-end of a deep breath. 

When you woke up the next morning, you were on Joe’s side of the bed.

“Morning.” Joe smiled, just beyond pleased that he’d gotten his way by moving your unconscious body across the bed in the night.

You gave him the blankest stare you’d ever given someone, which was easy because you’d only just opened your eyes, sleep still causing enough confusion to fully comprehend why Joe seemed to be awaiting a response.

You tutted and rolled your eyes when his expectant smile only grew.

He had rolled your defenseless body over in the night. What the fuck, actually. And this idiot thought he was being all cute. Was reaching over to take your hand into both of his, to pull it to his mouth where he gave it a small kiss.

“You’re such a child.” You pulled your hand from his grasp and turned away from him as you sat up.

“What?” Joe feigned indignancy, his smile too big to sell it to you properly.

“An actual child. This isn’t funny.”

“Oh come on. It’s a little funny.”

You got up and out.

“Babe.”

You ignored him. Walked right past him.

“Baby.”

The first little crack.

“Oh, come on!”

The first little crack of many.

Friday. End of a long day a long week of whirlwind work days and awful nights of sleep. It’s the wrong time of day for this.

“A flat white for…”

Autumn. Rainy, cold weather that your wardrobe’s not caught up to yet. It’s the wrong time of the year for this.

“Joe?”

You can give yourself a stern talking-to later about how most of the day had completely passed you by in a blur, but you hear the words flat white and Joe and are immediately more in tune with the world.

You look up from your phone in the queue to see Joe step forward and take his drink.

“Thanks.”

It takes a slow second for you to realise it’s really him. A slow blinking moment of just looking at him, a tired mind slowly speeding up to real world tempo, before your brain goes, it’s him.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’re too tired for this.

Wrong place, wrong time, entirely wrong headspace.

The second he turns, you make eye contact for the briefest second which prompts him to do a comically exaggerated double take that immediately makes running into each other less awkward. You smile despite your mood.

God, you’d almost forgotten what he’s like.

It’s been a couple of months now, just over half a year, and the hurt has dulled enough that trying to be normal, and civil, and courteous, and polite, and kind shouldn’t be the most difficult thing ever.

That’s your ex-boyfriend.

You hope your face didn’t show how that first millisecond of seeing him struck you, but you saw him before he saw you, so you are probably fine.

That’s your too-kind-to-pretend-to-not-have-seen-you ex-boyfriend. Your somehow-still-really-happy-to-run-into-you ex-boyfriend.

And now you’ve gone and smiled at him, even though pulling up the corners of your mouth feels like exercising at the minute, you need a nap so bad.

You shouldn’t have left work early.

Shouldn’t have decided to go for a large coffee on your way home.

Shouldn’t have looked up.

Shouldn’t have even wanted to check if the flat white was for your Joe.

Correction.

No longer your Joe.

Just Joe.

It’s fine, it’s fine. There’s a whole new person in your life. It’s fine. But it would’ve been lovely if the universe could’ve waited until after you’d drank this large black coffee you are about to order, but of course that’s never how things work.

Stars are against you when it comes to Joe, apparently.

Joe could’ve left it at that. You’d had a moment of oh my god it’s you, what are the odds across a coffee shop and he could have easily waved and left. Have that be the whole interaction. That would have been fine.

But instead, Joe decides to stay, and he communicates with looks for a moment. With facial expressions and gesturing arms.

It’s a wild look around from Joe that tells you, what a weird time and place to see you! and a funny tired shrug from you in reply that tells him, life’s weird, what can I say?

You feel a little proud that you’ve not ignored him. That you’ve not pretended you just didn’t see him only to later contemplate sending him an incredibly lame “was that you getting a flat white this afternoon?” text that you’d regret the very second those ticks would’ve changed colour.

You’re working at 40% brain activity right now, and it’s a little difficult to use your social filter to pretend to feel any other way than you’re actually feeling.

Up until now that meant that your bad mood was everyone else’s problem.

Seeing Joe now, it suddenly means that you can’t pretend that you don’t immediately notice shit like how he isn’t wearing any of his rings. And how he probably wore something that covered his hair earlier today.

Wrong things to focus on, but a tired mind is difficult to keep in its lane.

You see how Joe checks his phone with a thoughtful look before he then nods as he puts it away. He gives you a questioning look as he points down.

You got a minute?

And you do the same; check the time on the phone that’s already in your hand and think of a million excuses to turn him down, but you only have the gym later, and that’s it. When you look back up, you give him a funny nod and a half shrug and you try your best to make your eyes look like you’re properly awake.

Yea why not, go on then.

You’re an adult running into an ex and you said you’d stay friends and you had really truly meant it then, so this is fine.

He looks a little too handsome for his own good, but it’s fine.

Joe waits for you. Hangs around near the bar at the windows and half-sits on one of the stools there, one foot still on the floor, more leaning than actual sitting, with his back towards the windows.

You try not to watch him, but you can’t help but notice the way he lets his eyes scan the room for a minute. The way he looks over his shoulder as his eyes dart across the street.

It occurs to you how quickly the checking you used to do for him stopped after you broke up. After you left his world. It’s a little weird how, here, in the same coffee shop, in the exact same location, you’re in entirely different worlds from each other, and the closer to you get to the end of the counter, the more they overlap.

It’s one of the things you haven’t missed.

When you step into earshot properly, after ordering, you make eye-contact and smile at each other.  

“Hello,” Joe makes his voice go up and down, like he’s just as pleasantly surprised to see you as you do him, but you’re trying to not make it so obvious. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You smile and grab his arm for a second as a hello, rather than going in for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Joe smiles right back, and takes the touch of his arm as enough of an invite to hug you anyway.

You ignore the flicker of worry you see across his face, the slight twitch in his eyebrows, just before his face disappears from your view and all you can really focus on is how Joe smells.

All right.

Jesus.

Joe smells like that little hidden bottle of his old cologne that you still have, and it’s like being transported back into your old life a little. The life that you tried to hold onto with all ten fingernails until they all chipped and broke and bled.

When you step back, Joe smiles all warm, eyes fully fucking focused on you, like he’s glad he can just look at one thing instead of having his attention with all of his surroundings.

Not a hint of worry there now.

God.

You’ve missed him.

Miss him still.

You know that he can see how tired you are. That the slight concern that flashed across his face was only there because of how you weren’t fully opening your eyes after each blink.

“Nice shirt.” You comment, doing your best to keep the ice broken and not let it freeze back over.

Joe looks down at himself and grins wider. He’s wearing a shirt he only got because you said you liked it. Which, you still do.

“Thanks. You look good too.”

Liar.

What follows after warm smiles is warm small talk by the end of the counter until your coffee’s ready. He asks how you’re doing. What you’re up to. Remembers something specific that you had coming up at work ages ago, something that’s now long passed, and Joe wants to know how it went.

“My God. All right, Mister Memory.”

Charmer. He’s basically interviewing you.

“Oh, sorry. Is that weird? I’m being weird. Sorry.”

“A little. But… um…” you have to really think about that for a second. “Yea, all of that went fine.” you guess before your brain finds the right memory and you give him a slightly more certain, “Great, actually. Yea. It was good.”

Joe smiles. Nods. Looks like he’s really fucking pleased for you which is almost funny because you remember a time where your work hours were mostly an inconvenience to him.

“I should be asking what’s going on with you!” you chirp, and Joe just shrugs. Jokes, “Nothing much. Quiet life. Sort of boring, you remember what it’s like.”

You laugh. It’s out of you before you can stop it.

Fuck.

Joe has no business making you feel the way he is right now. You’re tired and in actual need of comfort. It’s dangerous to be around someone who knows how to give you what you want. What you need.

Your coffee gets placed onto the counter, and there’s this awkward moment where you now have your drink and maybe this is the moment where you go, Okay, was good seeing ya, bye! and dart out the door.

But instead, Joe grabs you by the arm and nods towards a table where someone’s packing up. “Come on, let’s sit.”

And just like that, you’re being lead over to go and sit down with him.

You take the biggest gulp of hot coffee before you sit down, definitely burn your tongue, and are already thinking of ways you can explain this to others. What if someone sees you? If someone gets a sneaky pic in?

You’re not doing anything illegal, obviously.

And it’s not like you went to this coffee shop on purpose.

You hadn’t meant to run into Joe.

But now you’re taking your coat off and so is he and you both have hot drinks to warm your hands and Joe pulls in his chair real close and asks you a bunch more questions about work, and your family, and he says he heard you traveled, which you did, and he’s making you laugh, and yea, you’re tired, and you keep suppressing yawns, but the coffee is helping a little, and it’s nice to sit, your limbs are thanking you for it, and Joe is acting like you meet up for coffee all the time, like this is normal, and you almost start believing it, he’s being so friendly and casual, until he suddenly leans over the table, both elbows on the faux marble surface, ducks his head down a little before he says, “Is this the time we... where we talk? About what happened?”

It catches you off guard, a little.

You don’t want to talk about what happened.

You kind of don’t even want to be talking to him at all if you really think about it. Not because you don’t like it. Despite that, actually. It’s lovely talking to Joe. That’s precisely the problem. You didn’t break up with him because you stopped liking him.

The longer you look at him, the more nice things you’re remembering about him. The more you start thinking about what could have been.

So you don’t respond for a moment, and then you give a half-hearted shrug.

“We don’t have to.” you say quietly, almost absently.

There’s not enough brain space available to you right now. This is the type of conversation to have five years down the line, after a long holiday where you’ve managed to catch up on sleep and… you know… when you look well rested. Tanned. Satisfied with life.

Not now.

You could carry all your essentials in your eyebags right now if you really tried, you think.

Joe just smiles at you. Watches you for a moment, head tilted back a little, chin jutted out.

“I mean, is there anything left to say?” You’ve pretty much said all that needs saying. Everything else is implied and doesn’t need to exist in the world, you think.

The two of you didn’t work out because it simply didn’t work out.

Joe seems to disagree.

He twirls his paper cup, his flat white, and raises his eyebrows a little. Makes you hold your breath at what he’s about to say next.

“Weird if I tell you I miss you?” his voice is all soft as he asks you, almost breathy, like he knows the effect it will likely have on you.

You let your head drop to your shoulder and grimace, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh my God,” you blurt out, and you sound like you’re in actual pain.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Joe immediately back tracks, but this motherfucker is smiling. Blushing. He makes eye-contact with you as he goes for another sip of his coffee and then looks at his hand placing the cup back down as he adds, “You’re right. No need for me to tell you. So I won’t.”

He’s already said it.

You try your best at hiding a smile as you mirror Joe, going for a sip of your own. When you place yours back on the table, Joe can hear from the hollow sound of it that it’s empty.

“I, em…” you start, hand reaching for the back of your neck where you rub at your skin, a little awkward now that Joe’s said that he misses you. “I should probably go. I’m meeting…ugh, it’s– someone.” You cringe inwardly, try to do it so Joe doesn’t see it. You could’ve lied and said you’d be meeting Emily, but it’s a thought that comes to you after you’ve already been weird about it.

And Joe knows you. He sees you cringe inwardly just fine. Sees you rub at your neck the way you always do when you’re tired. Remembers all the times he used to take over and you’d fall asleep within seconds.

Joe knows that if you’re as tired as you look, there’s no thinking before you speak.

Someone.

Joe nods.

So there’s someone.

He bets this someone doesn’t know shit about how you like the back of your neck massaged, fingers in very specific spots, pressing and rubbing into very specific pressure points.

You resist the urge to rub your eyes. Rub your neck instead.

He sees that too and, in turn, tries to hide the sudden, protective wave that washes over him so you don’t see it.

He’s lucky you’re too worn out to catch his twitching hand that wants to reach out and replace yours.

“Sorry for making it weird.” Joe is still smiling, and you don’t want him to think that what he said is the reason why you’re suddenly done talking to him. You really are meeting someone. That’s not something you made up to round up this interaction.

“No, no. I’ve got–” you check the time, and you have so much of it before you have to be somewhere, but Joe doesn’t need to know that. “I’m meeting someone to go work out with.”

Joe raises both eyebrows and widens his eyes, the playful shock there clearly visible.

“At the gym.” You finish, and you scrunch up your whole face in a full grimace, because you know what he’s going to say.

“At the gym?”

“At the gym.” You confirm, finding your coat whilst your eyes remain in contact with Joe’s.

He sits back, a little baffled. A little… proud.

“She goes to the gym. Wow.”

You hate the gym.

You hate working out in general, but doing it in a gym, indoors, on machines? You really fucking despise it. Still. You’re going. Trying to put your best foot forward in this new relationship you’re trying out with this new person in your life.

Joe knows you hate the gym. He remembers the countless times he’d told you to just come with him. Come work out with him at his gym. He also remembers the countless times you’d told him to fuck off and that you’d rather die.

Something something personal development. Whatever. You’re fucking exhausted but, you’re trying, all right? Progress.

“That reminds me, actually,” you say, struggling to make your arms find the sleeves of your coat. “I still have your pumas.”

You say pumas like it’s meant to be a dig at him.

It is a dig, in your opinion. His old faded Speed Cats, these two feminine looking things. Fucking purple too.

The very second Joe learnt that you didn’t like them, still don’t, he started wearing them extra often.

Little shit.

“Oh my God,” Joe says softly as he huffs a laugh through his nose and closes his eyes for a joyous second. “My pumas.”

“I found them on one of the top shelves of the wardrobe.”

“I…” Joe narrows his eyes at you in suspicion, smile unwavering. “What were they doing there? If I remember correctly, that’s not where I left them.”

You know that’s not where Joe left them. That’s where you left them. Hid them. So he’d be forced to buy new shoes. Different shoes. Which he then did, so, it all worked out fine.

You give an innocent shrug as you get up, slow and sluggish, arms still not in the sleeves of your coat properly.

“No,” you sigh, feeling how bad your legs want you to go and sit back down. “But that’s where I found them.”

Joe laughs heartily and then, like you’re not two people who went through a painful break-up, also gets up and helps you into your coat. Holds it and guides your arms where they’re meant to go. Folds the collar so it sits how its meant to. Lets his hands linger there for a fraction of a second too long, but it’s nice.

It’s nice having Joe close.

“If you’re not doing anything right now,” you start, but stop because you’re already regretting where your mind is taking you.

You want to have Joe close so he can rub the back of your neck when you sleep.

No.

There’s someone else.

You can’t.

Shouldn’t.

“Oh, do you mind?” Joe is quick. Easily takes the step you hesitated to take.

“Well, they’re your pumas.”

You’re not sure how he does it. How he keeps this air of normalcy. Like inviting himself over to your flat to come and pick up a pair of shoes is all casual and fine.

It’s not.

And yet somehow, it is.

The familiarity that’s still there added to the amount of time that’s passed somehow makes this not feel like the wildest thing, even though you know that if you tell Emily that Joe came round to pick up his stinky old trainers, that she’d worriedly ask you if you were okay.  

The worry would be misplaced, because you’re actually totally fine.

You’re fine as Joe leads you from the coffee shop, opening his umbrella and offering an arm for you to link yours through, just so you can share the protection from the rain, no other reason.

You’re fine as Joe doesn’t need to be told where to go, obviously knows where you live and the quickest way to get to it.

You’re fine as Joe says something about the bakery near your flat that he used to go to all the time, and when he looks inside he squeezes his arms to his body in a silent moment of celebration, involuntarily squeezing you closer to him.

You’re fine as he makes you laugh when he pretends to be normal about baked goods, shrugging and clearing his throat and softly murmuring that you didn’t just witness him get excited over coffee cake that he’ll definitely get on his way home.

You’re fine as he keeps you from tripping up because you’re not really lifting your feet enough for your shoes to not get caught on the uneven pavers of the wet London streets you’re braving together.

You’re fine as you make your way into your building, where you share the small space of the lift together, and you lean against one of the side panels and can see in the reflective surface of the doors how Joe’s giving you a soft smile.

You’re fine as you let Joe into your flat, where you leave him momentarily to go get his shoes from your bedroom, and when you come back, he’s discarded his coat over one of your dining room table chairs, has already gone and turned down the thermostat, and is looking at one of your bookshelves near the TV.

“Found ‘em.” you say, holding them up before placing them on the table near his coat.

Joe throws you a look over his shoulder, smiles, but then goes straight back to scanning book spines. Like he doesn’t care about his pumas at all.

“You read this?” he picks up a book, turns around so you can see which one he means as he reads the blurb on the back.

You’re too busy staring at the visual of Joe in your messy living room, wearing the shirt you chose for him, to answer the question.

Too busy letting your eyes focus on his hands that you want in a very specific spot on the back of your neck right now, because your body remembers exactly what that feels like and you’re tired.

“Did you like it?”

Joe is in your living room and… it’s actually not fine.

Joe is wearing a shirt he only got because you liked it, and it’s not fine.

Joe is holding a book and you can see how large his hands are and it's not fine.

Joe confessed that he misses you, and you’re not fine.

Fuck trying to mold yourself into someone that goes to the gym for this new person who pales in comparison to your ex-boyfriend who kept you close and walked you home and who just took off his coat like he’s going to stay for at least a minute and who you can just be yourself around. You don’t have to pretend to care about working out, or about an untidy living room, or about your hair that’s frizzed up from the rain and... isn’t that just lovely?

Your lack of answers eventually makes Joe look up at you, and oh… you look like you’ve fallen asleep standing up, eyes slightly distant and unfocused.

“Hey, you okay?” the book Joe’s holding finds a new home on your coffee table as you blink a couple of times to bring yourself back into reality.

It doesn’t really work.

“Yea… yea, fine.” you say softly, your expression unchanged, eyes still just as glassy.

Joe doesn’t buy it.

Knows you.

Sees how you’re watching his hands. His fingers. Knows exactly what you want.

“You sure?” he steps closer, a little hesitant, because what even really is he doing here? He doesn’t want those ratty old shoes back. He thought those had been thrown out ages ago, well before the two of you got even close to considering not being together as an option.

Joe watches you stare into space for a moment, and sees you blink so slowly, you might as well just keep your eyes closed at this point.

There’s not a chance you’re going to be meeting someone at a gym.

Joe walks across the room until he’s right in front of you, and he stays there until your eyes slowly rake up his body and you’re looking each other in the eye.

He knows what he’s doing here.

You know what he’s doing here.

Joe watches you raise a slow arm up to let your own hand touch the back of your neck as you inhale deeply through your nose.

Joe smells nice.

“Can you, um…” you pause and frown, and let your deep breath escape you in a sigh, not finishing your question as you rub your fingers where you want Joe to rub his.

You don’t need to finish your question.

Joe knows you.

Knows he probably shouldn’t do what he’s about to do, but finds he wants to and so, why the fuck not, you know?

He grins, but only slightly, and uses both his hands. One to remove your own hand from your neck, the other to grab hold of it there, where he pushes his thumb right into the dip at the base of your skull and starts to rub in small circles.

It almost works like an off-button.

Joe knows it does, because it always has.

He has to grab hold of one of your arms to make sure you don’t topple over. He ignores how he feels your whole body shiver.

“You’re not going to the gym.” Joe says gently.

“Mhm,” you hum, not even sure if you’re answering a question or not.

Joe smells so nice. Familiar and comforting and just, lovely.

“I think you’re going straight to bed.”

Joe barely has to guide you. The smallest of pushes just makes you turn and walk straight back over to your bedroom where your wardrobe doors are still open from fetching Joe’s old trainers, and you vaguely think how Joe shouldn’t be in your bedroom with you, but… he is, and so what?

You try undressing with heavy limbs, jeans a little clammy and difficult to take off. You do most of it with your eyes closed and wait for Joe’s hands to come help you out. But they don’t come, and it’s a little confronting how that disappoints you.

It’s something to think about later though.

Joe came over for his shoes and is now just making sure you don’t trip and bash your head on something. That makes sense.  

But then, Joe hands you one of your own folded pyjama tops from one of the drawers and you can’t help but let a tired laugh escape you. You sit down on the edge of your bed and take it from him with dropped shoulders, head hanging to the side as you look up at him.

This is so stupid.

“Sorry,” Joe says a little sheepishly. “I just… remember where you keep things.”

“No, no,” you yawn before you add, “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine.

“I’ve missed you too.”

So stupid.

But again, it’s all something for later. Your leading with your wants right now. Not rational thought.

It’s want that reaches for Joe’s hand after you’ve put your pyjama top on.

It’s want that whispers, “Take your shoes off.”

It’s want that sits and stares at Joe with half-lidded eyes as he undresses until he’s in his underwear.

It’s want that asks if Joe can put his hand back on your neck where he had it before.

It’s want that lets you be scooped up and placed into your own bed, on the wrong side, furthest away from the door.

It’s want that doesn’t give a shit about where you are in your bed, because all you care about is that Joe’s there, and he is there when he climbs into bed right next to you and lays behind you on his side, not entirely big-spooning you, but if he just got a little closer...

Then he softly asks, “Is this okay?” and holds you by the back of the neck again which makes you whine into the pillows.

Joe is allowed any spot in the bed he fucking wants.

“There you go,” Joe says softly, and he suppresses a smile as he feels how you relax.

It’s the wrong place, the wrong time and absolutely the wrong person.

You logically know this.

You’re going to have some explaining to do tomorrow.

You know there’ll be missed calls.

There’ll be hurt feelings.

There’ll be guilt.

You know it’s all wrong, but it’s hard to let your rational mind make smarter decisions when it all feels so stupidly right.

You’re not doing anything illegal.

Joe said he misses you, and it took a little time, but you said it back. You miss him too.

Joe decides to stay awake until you fall asleep, and maybe he’ll take a short little nap himself too before he goes to get himself some coffee cake, he’s not sure yet.

He has to stop himself from shaking his head at the fact that he can tell just by the way you’re breathing if you’ve fully dozed off yet or not.

It shouldn’t take long. You’ve barely been able to focus your eyes on anything from the moment Joe saw you in the queue of that coffee shop.

Just before you drift off, Joe feels how you slowly turn around to face him. How you scoot a little closer. Then two smaller hands find his forearm, and Joe lets you wrap both arms around his bicep. Lets you hug it to yourself, which involuntarily makes his hand rest on one of your bare thighs.

Joe’s hand is warm, and his touch his gentle, and it fucking makes your eyes sting.

There’s something about being in bed with a man that makes you feel safe and protected and like you can actually sleep.

It’s not like that yet with who you’re seeing now. These are the things that take time. Hence how fucking tired you currently are.

Have been all day.

All week.

“Yea,” you suddenly whisper, and it’s so soft, Joe wouldn’t have heard it had he not been so close to you. “Miss you.”

You tighten your arms around Joe’s which makes his chest ache, and finally let sleep take you.

Joe smiles.

You said you miss him.

He knows you do.

Thinks that maybe you don’t have to.

What if there’s a way back?

He’ll find a way back. He knows he can.

“Yea,” Joe repeats, and decides taking a nap in your bed on your side is actually the best fucking idea he’s ever had.

“Miss you too.”

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @cowboymcflurry

@demonsanddemogorgons, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson

@emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby

@gri959, @hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns

@keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @loves0phelia, @mandyjo8719

@mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr, @munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq

@niallersfreckles, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid

@readergf, @royale1803, @skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac

@solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle

@tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[lynzishell]

The Present 🤍 San Myshuno

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Phoenix: Hey. Dawn: [sniffles] Hey. Phoenix: Why are you sitting in the dark? Dawn: [shrugs]

Dawn: I was worried you wouldn’t come back. Phoenix: I just needed some time to cool down. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, I’m sorry. Dawn: It’s okay. You were mad. I don’t blame you. Phoenix: It’s not okay. I should’ve stepped away sooner. It won’t happen again, I promise.

Dawn: [nods] Are you still angry? Phoenix: Yes. But mostly, I’m hurt. And confused. Dawn: I’m so sorry. For everything. You have to believe me; I’d take it all back if I could.

Phoenix: I know. I just… I don’t understand why. I’m racking my brain, but I can’t make sense of any of it. Why did you do it? Dawn: I don’t know. I just… when I read the letter, and I learned about his life and his son, it felt important to… I couldn’t just disregard it, throw it away.

Phoenix: Okay. But why contact him? Dawn: I knew you weren’t ready to talk to him, but I hoped one day you would be. I guess it was just a way to leave that door open… just in case. Phoenix: But you knew that’s not what I wanted. It’s never been what I wanted. That’s not going to change.

Dawn: Well maybe it’s not just about you. Phoenix: What?

Dawn: What about Aspen? Doesn’t she deserve the opportunity to know her grandfather and her uncle? Phoenix: Aspen is fine. She’s surrounded by family. Megan and Alex, Atlas and Asher, they all love her, and they’re all here for her, and for us. Dawn: Megan and Alex aren’t her grandparents. Joseph is. And she deserves to know him. I couldn’t just turn my back on that. Why can’t you give him a chance? For her.

Phoenix: Dawn, I’m protecting her. Why would I allow that man into her life? Dawn: I really believe he’s changed.

Phoenix: Why? Because he said so? How many times did he tell my mother that he’d changed, only to show up wasted and belligerent? Hell, even Julian had to cut him off eventually. The man is full of shit. Why would I believe this time is any different? Why would I risk it when I have you and Aspen to think about? I don’t want her anywhere near him. Or your parents for that matter. What if it was them who’d reached out? You think the fact that they’re her “real” grandparents is reason to let those awful people into her life?

Dawn: Well, you don’t have to worry about that because they’d never care enough to bother! At least your dad cares enough to try! Do you know what I would give… [voice cracks] Phoenix: What?

Dawn: All I’ve ever wanted is for them to love me the way they’re supposed to. To care about me and my life, be there for the important moments. But no. Ash’s mom had to step in and do all the things MY mother should’ve been there to do. And I had to put a smile on my face and be happy about it because anything less would be ungrateful. And now what? They’re supposed to step in and pretend to be Aspen’s grandparents because her own don’t give a shit?

Phoenix: Dawn… Dawn: And then the one thing I’ve spent my entire life wishing for shows up out of nowhere in an envelope with your name on it, and you just want to toss it away like it means nothing.

Dawn: [crying] I’m sorry.

[imaginexwwe]

SPRING BREAK 5 - Roman Reigns

TIME SKIP (MINOR)

•

REAL NAMES WILL BE USED

•

A GUILTY Y|N IS ON A MISSION TO TRACK DOWN HER BABY DADDY AND APOLOGIZE (🤣)

•

PART 4 (×)

•

"This is so cool." Tori squealed, as we pulled closer to the stadium where Extreme Rules 2016 was being held. "Like so cool."

I giggled at my best friend's excitement, playfully rolling my eyes as I glanced back at her from the passenger seat. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" Tori repeated, her words in the form of a question instead. "This is our first time seeing wrestling in person and it's at a major pay per view. So no." She added, poking her tongue out at me. "I will not calm down. You should be getting more excited if anything."

My giggling slowly eased as I sighed.

I wish I could be excited.

This is my first, well me and Tori's first pay per view like she said.

And the both of us have been getting more and more into wrestling lately after taking the time to actually admire the craft of wrestling entertainment and all.

But I'm scared.

I'm scared to see Joe after how I basically snapped on him for no reason after breaking up with Austin for good.

And it definitely doesn't help that I hadn't talked to Joe.

I mean, it's not like I called him or anything.

I've actually been too scared to call him, but still.

I'm carrying his baby.

You'd think he would call me or at least text.

Something.

"I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." Tori said bringing me out of my thoughts.

It was almost as if she knew what I was thinking.

"I hope so." I mumbled, as Colby brought his rental car to a stop.

I just...

I really, really like Joe and now that I don't have my ex breathing down my throat, clouding my judgment, I could see us being serious.

Like a real couple.

But of course it's not just up to me.

Joseph still has to forgive me.

As soon as my brother parked and took the key out of the ignition, the three of us were out of the car.

And within minutes we were walking through the arena, surrounded by wrestlers and backstage workers.

A few wrestlers I had quickly become familiar with over the couple months I'd been watching wrestling and a few that I either weren't familiar with or just wasn't a fan of.

"Oh my god." Tori half yelled, half whispered, pulling on my arm, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. "That's The Usos." She gasped out trying to low-key point to Joe's twin cousins without being caught. "I've never been one to go for brothers but those two -"

"Are happily married." Colby said, laughing as he cut my best friend off, earning a scoff from her in return.

"I was joking, idiot." Tori verbally spat at my brother as he again, led up through the crowded hallways eventually coming to a stop when we reached a area with a lot of tvs, more wrestlers and a few backstage workers.

All of whom seemed to be tuned into the current match that was taking place.

Wait.

That's Joe, I mentally confirmed with a smile forming on my face as I watched the father of my unborn baby kick ass inside the ring.

This is so cool, I thought, silently echoing Tori's earlier words.

Ugh.

He looks so good out there in his element.

His hair wet, and falling around his face.

His muscles flexing as he preformed move after move.

That sexy, yet extremely cocky smirk on his face because he knows he's the best and no one else is on his level.

And don't even get me going on his body.

"God, I love that man..." I mumbled to myself.

My eyes getting wide after I realized what I had said.

Did I actually mean that?

Do I love Joseph?

Or was I just getting lost in the moment as I stared at him through the screen infront of me?

"I'll be right back." I heard Colby say, looking from me to Tori as he snapped me back to reality. "Stay right here." He added, before quickly disappearing through the crowd of people moving in both directions.

Shit.

Did he hear that?

I bit down on the inside of my cheek.

It was a habit of mines when I'm nervous.

"I heard that." I heard my best friend whisper in my ear with a giggle as she nudged me with her elbow.

Of course.

If anybody were to catch me slipping it would be Tori.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I shot back, continuing to focus on the screen, rather than the stupid smirk I know Tori was displaying on her face right now.

"Bullshit." Tori giggled even more.

Before I could think of something to say back, the sound of applause was heard through backstage and Tori and I both found ourselves joining in.

Joe had won the match against his opponent and was proudly holding up his titles in both hands, as he stood over his latest victim.

That smirk of his...

No, Y|N, I thought, mentally slapping myself.

You can't spiral again.

"Hold up." Tori spoke up again, probably taking note of my silence. "Why are they booing?"

"Apparently it's what the crowd does for the character he's playing." I answered with a shrug. "Some heel thing, I think." I again spoke up, explaining to her what my brother had told me a few weeks ago when I was curious about the boos that were noticeable louder than the applause.

"Oh, okay."

I nodded, unconsciously placing my hand on my belly to rub circles into it. "I guess Joe will be coming back here in a few." I said, looking over at Tori.

"Yeah." She replied, nodding before looking around. "I wonder where your brother went though."

Yeah...

Where did my brother go?

"He did say he'll be right ba-"

Before I could finish what I was saying, an all to familiar theme, that I had gotten to hear plenty of, over the last month or so, rang throughout the arena.

Gasps being heard from people close by and those that occupied the crowd.

Colby.

My brother, Colby was sprinting towards the ring as Joe stopped his celebration taunting to the audience, to glance over at the entrance, a surprised expression now replacing his previous cocky one as he watched Colby come closer and closer to the ring.

Wait.

When did he have time to change into his wrestling gear?

"Holy shit." Me and Tori said, simultaneously as we continued watching, both our eyes glued to the screen.

Colby finally reached the ring, taking no time to slide inside of it, soon standing eye to eye with Joseph.

The two men exchanged a few words to each other, neither man backing down from the other.

Then in the blink of an eye, my brother had taken control of the moment, grabbing Joe and preforming a pedigree on him.

Why didn't Colby tell us he was going to be back in action tonight?

Or at least me?

I'm his sister for goodness sake.

As the drama continued to unfold out in the ring, Joe's cousins Jimmy, Jey, and Solo Sikoa could be seen coming to the aid of their Tribal Chief as Joe's wise man Paul Heyman stood outside of the ring, a look of disbelief on his face.

And only for what seemed to be two or three seconds, my brother held up both of Joe's titles, dropped them, then disappeared through the crowd, just before the Usos entered the ring tending to Joe.

Barely escaping far into the crowd before Solo could catch him.

This was not how I imagined my first pay per view but I must say, I was not disappointed.

•

Colby was the first to come through the curtain that led back into the backstage area and me and Tori wasted no time fighting for the chance to be the first to congratulate him.

Well more like excitedly question him.

"Why didn't you say your knee was healed enough for you to get back in the ring, Colby?" I asked, throwing my arms around my brother in a hug.

"If I told, it wouldn't be a surprise."

"Well that was a pretty awesome surprise, Colby." Tori said, joining in on the hug.

After a few more seconds, hugging my brother I pulled back, glancing up at him. "So, what..." I stuttered out. "What did you say to Joe out there in the ring. I mean, I couldn't really hear but it looked like it was a heated exchange."

"We were just in character." Colby said nonchalantly, with a shrug. "We weren't being Colby and Joe in the ring we were being Seth and Roman. Don't worry. I told you I was cool with you and him."

I nodded, biting down on my lip.

But you also said you were gonna kick his ass in the ring. I thought remembering my brother's words from a couple weeks ago.

Did he already have his plan in motion that night?

Or is all of this just a coincidence?

And again I'm just over thinking.

Fuck!

I just wish I knew what was sa-

Oh there's my man.

I mean my Joe.

Ugh, there's Joe.

"Hi, Joe." I called out to him, waving my hand like an idiot.

I probably looked like Forest Gump when he was waving down Jenny.

What is wrong with me?

"Hey." Joe replied, as he made his way over. "What are you doing here?" He asked awkwardly as his eyes locked on mines.

His beautiful brown eyes.

"Colby brought us out."

This is awkward.

Like this conversation spells awkward.

But why?

This isn't like us.

Me and Joe were practically strangers and we had a better conversation then, compared to this one.

Is he still mad at me?

"I uhm..." I again found myself stuttering on my words. "I've been texting and I even called a few times but you hav-"

Joe grabbed my hand, pulling me away from my brother, Tori and his cousins who weren't exactly in arms reach, but still close by.

I'm not sure they were close enough to hear but I guess Joe didn't want to take chances.

As me and Joe walked off, I noticed he was lost in conversation with his friend and fellow superstar Bayley.

There was no way he knew Joe had dragged me off.

But Tori had of course.

She stood off to Colby's side, giving me two thumbs up with a huge smile on her face.

But back to my brother...

Why was he seeming off today?

First he was quite the ride here.

Then the surprise attack on Joseph.

It's just, for someone who's supposedly okay with me and one of his best friends, he's hadn't been acting okay.

I don't know, maybe he was just trying to get back into his Seth Rollins mind set.

Cause if he wasn't, he would have brought us out with him.

No matter how much Tori and I had begged.

"Where are we going?" I asked Joe, realizing we'd been walking for what seemed like forever in a five month pregnant woman's mind. "Joe?"

Still, ignoring me, Joe finally came to a stop in an empty room.

A dark empty room.

Why are two of the men that means the most to me being so strange today?

"Sorry about that." Joe said, finally speaking up for the first time since he pulled me away from my best friend and brother. "And I'm sorry I was ignoring you. I was just still pissed from you snapping on me a couple weeks ago." He explained, making me feel guilty all over again.

Joe flicked on the lights and all of a sudden my eyes had to adjust to the brightness, as I slowly looked around, immediately realizing this was the room Joe is sometimes seen in backstage while he's either yelling at his cousins or watching his cousin's on going match.

Well one of them anyways, considering Smackdown isn't filmed at just one arena so there's no way it's just one room.

His private locker room.

Yeah, that's it.

"Can I?" I asked, pointing to one of the chairs, practically power walking to it the second Joe nodded.

"How are you?" Joe asked, sitting down in the empty chair next to mines. "How's the baby?"

"I'm good." I answered, looking down at my belly. "And the baby's good." I said, answering Joe's second question. "He or she actually kicked last night." I giggled, glancing over at Joe.

I felt my lips turn up into a smile as I remembered that amazing feeling of those little kicks.

It even had me questioning if I still wanted to go through with the adoption.

Or if I wanted to keep this baby.

I mean, as much as I hate to admit it because I was so sure of my plan...

I have been getting used to this pregnancy and the idea of having a mini Joe.

Or even a mini me.

"Could I feel?" Joe asked as I quickly nodded.

"Of course." I verbally answered him, watching as he stood from his chair and came over to squat in front of me. "But don't expect to feel anythi-" I stopped talking, as a gasp escaped my lips.

The little kicks were back.

Okay wow.

Scratch that.

That was a big kick.

"That's our baby." Joe gasped, smiling up at me as I smiled down at him. "We made that."

Again I nodded, feeling tears stinging at my eyes.

Yeah we did.

"Either it doesn't want daddy's hand on me or it is excited to finally feel your touch, cause that's the biggest kick I've felt so far." I joked, giggling again while also making Joe laugh.

"I'm gonna take it as it likes my touch." He replied, as he continued rubbing my belly.

I sighed dreamily as I continued to watch Joe. "I love your touch too." I sighed out, my eyes widening for the second time today as I realized I had embarrassed myself yet again.

What is it with me and this man?

At least I didn't make a mistake and admit my love for him again, in front of him this time.

Tori hearing me was enough.

And maybe Colby if he'd heard.

"Please ignore that." I mumbled, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "I didn't mean for you to hear that."

"I'm happy I did." Joe replied, standing up again and going back to the chair he was previously sitting in. "With how you been acting these few months, I was starting to think I was more into you than you were into me."

I shook my head.

How could he think that, when he looks like he does?

You'd think that man never has to worry about a girl being into him.

And don't even get me started on how great of a personality he has.

Basically Joseph's the whole package.

And more.

"I'm sorry." I finally apologized. "Especially for the way I snapped on you a couple weeks ago. It's just even though I wasn't really into my ex, I still, for some reason was hurt finding out he was still cheating on me and when you asked if I left him for you, it just set me off. And I know you didn't mean it like that, when you asked, I just couldn't help but take it that way." I rambled as Joe quietly listened. "Can we just blame it on the hormones?" I asked, with a playful pout.

"This time." Joe answered.

And for a few minutes everything just seemed right between us again.

Joe and I were laughing.

Catching up on what's been going on in our lives

It was like my last day in Miami again, before I had to say bye to the man I've quickly come to love.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask." I said, still looking over at Joe. "Why didn't you tell me that you had talked to my brother about us..?"

Joe raised an eyebrow at me, giving me a confused look.

Like, a really confused look.

"I don't know what you're talking about, babe."

OMG he called me babe again.

I don't think he's called me babe since Miami or when I last saw him at my house.

It just feels so right hearing him call me th-

Wait.

Did he say he didn't talk to Colby about us?

"The last time you were in Iowa, Joe." I said, nervously. "Colby said you came to see him at Black and Brave and told him about us." I added, hoping to jog his memory.

"Y|N." Joe replied, letting go of my hand that he'd been holding for a while now, using his thumb to stroke small circles onto it, his facial expression showing signs of nervousness also. "I didn't know your brother knew about us, that's why I brought you in here so we could talk. And if he does, he definitely didn't find out from me. I haven't even talked to him since I've been back on the road."

My heart rate began increasing.

And my throat all of a sudden felt dry.

Very dry.

This would explain why Colby had been acting weird since the second Tori and I had asked if we could come to the show with him.

I'm betting he wasn't as okay with me and Joseph like he said he was to me that night.

He probably didn't really want me to come here because he was worried about me seeing Joe but knew it'll be more suspicious to say we could come with him.

Colby had lied.

But why?

And if Joseph didn't tell him...

Who did?

•

😱

•

T A G S -

@southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @seeingstarks @harleescreepycreations @mikaylathenerd5

[ladylynse]

Part 3 of this untitled Doctor Who fic post Waters of Mars where 10 meets up with Grace Holloway again. (Well, I say untitled, and then I realized that when I posted the first bit to tumblr, I used the working title Saving Grace when linking it in this post, so let's go with that for now, shall we? It's better than my document title.) Posted for @gentildonna.

(Previous)

The Doctor made sure he was disconnected from all the machines before he set to work starting up his second heart. It wasn’t easy, not by himself. He would’ve liked to have someone else to help him. But he doubted the hospital staff would give him a good walloping on the back without what they deemed to be good reason, even if he specifically requested it. Not that he would, of course, because that would require explaining himself.

And when explaining himself didn’t work, he tended to run.

That would be slightly harder to do, given the conditions his clothes were in.

He’d started mending them, just a bit, so that he could get by. He could do a bit with the sonic screwdriver, mending fibres here and resonating dried blood off there. He was a bit surprised that, considering he had all manner of things in his pockets, he didn’t have a needle and thread. He made a mental note to put some in there in case anything like this ever happened again.

Though, if and when it did, he probably wouldn’t be wearing this suit anymore. Or this jacket.

Still. He’d worked quickly. Enough so that he’d finished before his scheduled appointment with the good Dr. Holloway. He doubted she’d be particularly disappointed, what with how she felt about him now.

He wished she hadn’t thought he was teasing her, poking fun at her stories. That hadn’t been his intention at all. He should have just come out and said it, but he hadn’t. He had such a gob on him in this regeneration, but did he open his mouth when he should? Of course not.

And now he’d missed his opportunity.

It was just as well. He shouldn’t have come. He managed to ruin them all, somehow, one way or another. This was simply proof that he was making more mistakes, not trying to compensate for his last one. How could he, when he ruined everything—everyone—he’d touched?

No shoes, but at least he was dressed in his suit again. Not that it fit quite as well as it ought to. Bit lumpy. He wasn’t the greatest at stitching. Never had liked all that domestic stuff. But it would do.

It wasn’t as conspicuous as a certain coat he’d worn in the past, one that would put the biblical Joseph’s to shame.

He’d get by.

Though he would like to find his trainers first.

Shouldn’t be too hard.

And then he could slip away to the TARDIS, no worse for the wear, and leave before he ruined Grace’s life any more than he already had.

-|-

The TARDIS refused to let him in.

Even when he claimed it would just be to get a change of clothes.

But she knew better, and he hadn’t been able to win an argument with her yet.

So he went back.

Not back to his hospital bed, no. No, he could do without that. He’d be fine. He’d only lost a bit of blood. Nothing serious. No broken bones, nothing lodged in his body, both hearts fully functioning, memory intact—not much more he could ask for.

He waited outside instead. It was, he thought, perhaps 2004, 2005. Grace may still be in San Francisco, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t moved. And, really, last time he’d been at her place, she hadn’t even had a couch, so she’d either have needed to buy quite a lot of furniture or move to a smaller place. And her place had been a bit of a hike from the hospital, if he remembered correctly. Not normally something that would bother him, but he was, perhaps just a little bit, under the weather.

The Doctor winced as he tried straightening up. Not quite healed up yet. Shouldn’t’ve tried running, really. That probably hadn’t helped. But he was sore enough that he figured pacing probably wasn’t the best way to pass the time, so he found a bench and sat down, waiting.

He was very quickly reminded why he rarely sat down with only his thoughts for company.

Ignoring the pain and his fatigue, he started walking, slowly, around and around and around the hospital grounds.

When he noticed someone watching him, he stopped that and sat down again.

But the itch to be moving remained, gnawing at him.

He wondered why he was doing this.

It wasn’t like he had a lot of time left, as far as he could tell.

His song was ending.

And here he was, waiting, doing nothing except thinking, rehashing everything he’d thought before, when there were worlds to see and places to explore and people to meet and—

Lives to ruin.

That kept him in place, that single thought.

The Doctor waited, deciding what to say the next time he saw Grace.

Because as far as he could tell, he’d only have one shot to get it right. And if he didn’t—if he started off on the wrong foot again—well, then, he wouldn’t get what he needed out of it. Not that he was entirely sure what he would get, or did need, precisely. Not closure. Not peace of mind. More…understanding. So that he would know for the future. So that, perhaps, once he regenerated—if the circumstances were such that he could regenerate—he might be able to see it, in the future. And if he could see it, he could avoid it.

And then he’d never, ever—ever—make that mistake again.

The fact that he’d done it once still scared him.

Almost as much as what would have happened, had someone else not taken it upon herself to correct it, even knowing what that correction would cost.

-|-

Dr. Grace Holloway was not happy to learn that their patient, the self-proclaimed Dr. John Smith, had somehow managed to escape the hospital and that not a single security camera had seen him leave. She hadn’t been particularly pleased with him, pulling the stunt that he had, but he wasn’t in good health, and if he really was a doctor—something she was strongly doubting—then he ought to at least acknowledge the foolishness of his actions. It was something too few people did, thinking they’d just pull through something on their own when they needed some sort of medical care.

Then again, if she were in another country without a passport or so much as a cent to her name, she might have run off, too.

Still, that didn’t explain why he’d singled her out, nor why he’d tried pulling that cruel joke. There was no reason for it. She’d learned, very quickly, to make the entire thing out as a story. And she’d told it, time and again, when she visited the children’s ward. She told other stories, too, but somehow, she always went back to that particular one.

Perhaps because that particular one wasn’t just any story—or just a story at all.

But the amount of detail she’d put into her retellings of it had some people questioning her. Perhaps because the details never changed, as the details of invented stories tended to do. She’d been shocked by the first remark she’d gotten, and even by all the ones that followed, despite knowing better by then. Not that anyone ever meant anything by it, really, as far as she could tell. They were only joking about it—with her, in their eyes. But the comments still stung.

To have snippets of the story repeated back to her, in a manner that hid the joke a little bit too well…. It felt cruel. Uncalled for. And it wasn’t even April Fool’s Day.

Perhaps it wouldn’t bother her so much if she hadn’t spent so much time thinking about it. Wondering, for the most part, what she had missed out on. Whether she’d made the right choice. Whether she’d change her mind, given the chance to. Whether it really had all been just a story or a dream.

The hospital records of that particular John Doe had been destroyed. Explaining away a dead man walking was a bit more difficult than simply burning a couple of x-rays and covering up the death in the first place, but it could be done. Rationalized. It had been late. The orderly had been confused, half-asleep, mixing up reality with that blasted movie he’d been watching. The door hadn’t been closed properly and had been loose on its hinges. It had been battered during normal use but had functioned well enough to not be reported, but its evident failure of function had ultimately required its immediate replacement, holiday or no holiday.

And things had simply fallen into place, logically, rationally, and everything that hadn’t fit had been shoved under the rug and had become unmentionable.

She’d even tried to find Chang Lee, once, when it was all said and done. She hadn’t been successful. She suspected it was because of the two bulging bags he’d held the last time she’d seen him. She still didn’t know what had been in them, but she knew they were from the Doctor. And that…that meant that they could have held anything within them from trinkets to cash to something as outrageous as gold dust.

Grace laughed, a bit bitterly. Oh, look at her now. Pining away after a forgotten possibility. All because some skinny idiot who had no idea what he was doing, how much he was hurting her, was dredging up her memories and shoving them in her face. Someone would have had to put him up to it, she was sure. They’d gone to a lot of trouble, telling someone all her stories. Perhaps he was a friend or relative of someone, thinking he’d have a go at her and have a laugh at her expense.

Although the wounds had been all too real. And the heart trouble wouldn’t have been faked, either. She wondered if they still had those x-rays. She’d be able to tell if his heart was overworked, as he’d kept insisting, by its size.

Grace put her coffee cup down. It was cold anyhow, though the brew had barely been lukewarm to begin with when she’d gone on her break.

Still. John Smith. Doctor. She should have seen through it immediately. The lack of ID, the odd things in the pockets, no money. And then the jelly babies. Oh, it had been planned, all right. Carefully. Not the stabbing, though she expected he’d have come up with one reason or another to see her. It was quite understandable that they didn’t replicate circumstances too much—and it wasn’t easy to fake a gunshot wound, not unless the entire hospital staff was in on it except her. The heart trouble may have been unexpected, or it may have been the reason he’d been the one to try it. She couldn’t be sure. X-rays inconclusive her foot. Perhaps they hadn’t even been taken.

Pursuing that thought, she went to check. But when she got there, she was informed that they had already been disposed of. She demanded to know why, without her even seeing them, particularly before they’d had a chance to take more, and had simply been told that it was out of their hands.

She cornered the newest addition to the staff. She didn’t know the man very well, and she wasn’t good at intimidating people, so she didn’t even try it. She merely pulled him aside and asked for the truth. What they had looked like.

Double exposure.

Double exposure. Yeah, right. As if she’d buy that after all this. Apologetic tone or not, even if he had been the one to take the blasted things— That didn’t matter. They were all in on it. What was this for? There was no rhyme, no reason. Who was trying to make her life hell?

She needed a break. And not just a measly five minutes. She wasn’t the only cardiologist in the hospital. They could cover for her. Oh, not easily, but they’d make do. She might lose her job, but, given the circumstances, she wasn’t so sure that wouldn’t be a bad thing. She’d thought about leaving after that first time, back in 1999. She hadn’t. She’d hung on, clinging to normality after her life had spun out of control. She’d used it as an anchor.

But some things you couldn’t bury so easily.

Given time, it would resurface.

Time.

She’d seen it backtrack, loop around, and play again. Just the once. But that experience had changed everything.

They always say that if it doesn’t matter in five, ten years, it doesn’t matter now, not really. Well, it had been five years. And it was still affecting her. And she was fairly sure another five wouldn’t change that.

She didn’t head to the parking lot, to her car. She knew she’d come back. But now…she needed to walk, now. Just to work off some of her frustration, expend her energy. She needed some time to think, where other things weren’t crowding her thoughts.

She nearly didn’t see him, sprawled on the bench as he was, fast asleep.

“Dr. John Smith,” she said, looking him over. She frowned as she studied him further. She’d seen the condition his clothes had been in, bloodied and torn. And while they were a bit raggedy, there were no gaping holes, no dark red stains stretching across large portions of the shirt. But she knew it had to be the same, because there were smaller spots of blood still there. Only, when she moved closer to get a better look at the material, she couldn’t tell that it had ever been ripped. The holes had closed up as if they had never been there.

How the hell had he managed that?

She shook him, intending to wake him up. He didn’t stir.

She felt for a pulse and yanked her hand back. He was cold. How long had he been out here? She pried open his eyelids, wishing she had a flashlight to better test pupil reactions, and then tried checking for a pulse again. She couldn’t find it, but his pupils had contracted slightly in the light when she stopped shading them with her hand. He wasn’t dead.

He really was in trouble after all.

It was all a bit more serious than she’d been led to believe, then.

“I’ve got to get you back inside,” she said. She looked dubiously at the lanky body splayed over the bench. He’d be heavy enough if she had to carry him. She’d be better off going inside and getting a wheelchair or someone to help her than struggle with him alone.

“And here I only wanted some time to think,” she muttered as she arranged the unconscious man into the recovery position.

She’d just finished making sure his head was tilted at the right angle when his eyes snapped open.

It was a bit hard not to shriek at that.

A grin spread across his face. “Hello, Grace,” he said as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “Just the person I wanted to talk to.”

“You need medical help,” she hissed, too angry with herself for losing her self-control earlier and for letting her emotions interfere with how she’d treated a patient than to wonder about how quickly he’d woken up, let alone how he’d woken up at all.

“Nah, better now. Had a bit of a rest. Didn’t expect to. Well, didn’t mean to. I did expect it would sneak up on me. Haven’t had much the last few days, and then, what with getting stabbed and all, well, I do need to replenish my energy now and then. Even I can’t run full-out forever.”

She grabbed his arm and only just stopped herself from pulling him roughly to his feet. “Come with me,” she said, her tone not allowing for argument.

“I don’t need to check back into the hospital if that’s what you’re thinking. If I need anything, I ought to see if I’ve got another zero room hiding out in the TARDIS somewhere. Listen, please. I just…. I think I need to talk to someone.”

Oh, and he was still at it. TARDIS indeed. Not that she knew where he got that bit about a zero room from, but that was beside the point. “I’ll make sure someone will be there to listen to you.”

He frowned, carefully extracting his arm from her grip. “I don’t need a visit from psychiatric,” he groused. But then his expression fell again. “Or perhaps I do, by your terms. But it wouldn’t help. Well, not me. I don’t need to end up in a padded room, thank you very much. Plenty to do without having to deal with that.” He sucked in a breath. “Please. You have to listen to me. I….” He trailed off. “It’s different now,” he said, starting again. “I’m alone now. Gallifrey’s gone.”

“Why do you insist on doing this?” Grace demanded, but she was uncertain now. There was something in his eyes….

“I can regenerate twelve times. But don’t worry; you’re the only one to kill me by punching a hole through my second heart. I’m not about to make that mistake again. Not that it was working earlier. Sign that I wasn’t doing so well, that. But she’s pumping now.” He caught her hands and placed one on either side of his chest before she could think to fight him—maybe because she didn’t want to. Maybe because she wanted it to be true.

A near-impossible duality of rhythm beat beneath her palms.

“There, see?” he asked, giving her a lopsided grin. “I’m easy to find. I’m the guy with two hearts.”

[swampbrick]

played the Joseph: Collapse dlc for FC6 tonight and wow do I have Thoughts About That!

spoilerish content below the cut I suppose, about something that’s been out for a hot minute (but I digress)

As a Jacob Seed Girly™️, I have nothing to say except: Ow. Really, this was so painful on his end that I could hardly react from emotion, rather, I was literally just getting nauseous anytime we’d get backstory with him. I have nothing bad to say about the Jacob sections of the memories and visions, which speaks volumes because I always critique extra hard about characters I love? But nah, he was great. Broke my heart a little extra, but great nonetheless. I feel like, even if this DLC isn’t hard canon, it still solidified a lot of my headcanons for Jacob and really added some extra umph to his characterization. 10s across the board, 5/5 stars, but at what cost?

As the best friend of a John Seed Girly™️, I was also a bit disappointed? As far as we found, John didn’t have his own “big moment” like Faith and Jacob did, outside of the family excursions where you’d see stuff with all of them, or have to fight/find/save all of them. We need to go back and replay, because we missed one thing we for sure know about on our first play through, but it seemed like he didn’t get his own set aside event/memory with a big bad John fight at the end of it, the way the others did. I guess it could be excused if you were to say that Joseph felt less guilt there due to XYZ reasons or what have you, but that feels kind of like a cheap copout. That aside, I do think it’s likely that we could have just missed it somehow due to the nonlinear gameplay style and how there aren’t quest pickups/you don’t have to complete everything to beat the DLC. We did think that we had scoured every inch of the map, but it could be worth combing back over more finely. I WILL SAY…. The John crumbs we did get sprinkled throughout the group stuff??? Delectable. All his talk of “the urges” had me rightfully unsettled. Once again; GREAT addition to characterization here, I have to say that they really gave us more personality with all of the guys.

That being said…….. while the guys got some great new depth to them, I wish that, if the DLC was going to focus so heavily on Faith, we could have gotten more FAITH. Not Rachel. Or a mix of both, perhaps? I would have loved to have seen Rachel being brought into the fold of Eden’s Gate, or material with the past Faiths, or even the ORIGINAL Faith- and what she meant to Joseph, and the Seed Family overall. I feel like everything we got from Faith in this is DLC, was stuff we already knew about her from FC5. We didn’t really get any new depth to her character here, it just felt like her storyline from FC5 rehashed, which sucked a bit considering that so much of this DLC seemed to revolve around her.

Do not get me wrong, I LOVED this DLC. As a Jacob fan, I was eating it up (and by that I mean choking on my tears before they could even form). I just like to pick at things and critique them when applicable, and I feel like maybe this DLC struggled a bit because it was a bit too focused on trying to paint Joseph as being irredeemable and awful, and it missed out on really truly digging into why he was the way he was, or at the very least his family dynamics. Which… to me, kind of seemed like the whole point of a DLC about the mind of Joseph Seed? Not to paint him to be an awful terrible person and sling bias on him, but just to take a sterile approach to his life and see it though his eyes- his mind?

Anyways all that aside this DLC has hella replayability and I will be diving back into it at least 50 more times before all is said and done with.

[pillarsalt]

Anon worried about her trans-identified friend again, I wish I had the words to express how much I appreciate your kind words!!! (Maybe admitting it made me tear up would help? haha) Your response was just as thoughtful and considerate as I thought it would be, but I never expected you'd write so much for a stranger talking about another stranger, let alone throw compliments my way. You're a truly special person and everyone on here, including me, is so lucky we get to hear what you have to say and chat with you :) (And see your wonderful art to boot!! Finding another bug-lover is such a lovely surprise!)

I'll keep your kind thoughts in mind whenever the rare friction comes up again between my friend and me. It was such a quick process for me to desist and become gender critical that I think it's easy for me to forget how much harder it is for people to change their minds on the trans topic when they're so much more invested in it than I was. (Feel the same way about religion too, even as a little kid I was asking questions about why certain things bothered me in the Bible and getting frustrated when I got shame instead of answers. Maybe being annoying and asking too many questions is just in my DNA haha. But all the more reason why it's important to help those who aren't naturally critical: they're the ones falling for unreality the hardest because of that fact.)

Ultimately I will keep being me and see what happens, like I've done before. If nothing comes of it, then there was nothing else I could've done differently anyway. I've asked her if she'd like to do gift exchange for the holidays. We're planning on getting each other a few embarrassingly nerdy collectibles we've been eyeing for a while :)

Thank you again for your help, I'll cherish your words always!!! Hope you have a blast on your trip and get to see all the little guys you could dream of!!!

I'm very glad to hear from you, anon! :) and thank you so much for the kind words! it makes me very happy to be able to help in any way. ❤️

It's funny that you mention questioning the bible as a kid. I went to catholic school and I remember being taught in first grade that we were supposed to love god more than anything. More than we loved our parents or even our dogs, and I just couldn't get past the notion that I had to somehow love the kinda mean, angry, invisible flying grandpa*, who never says a damn thing when I pray, over the actual people who had raised me. I stayed in catholic school until graduation despite opposing catholicism, argued a LOT. I think my point is that I've also kind of been primed for voicing unpopular opinions, so I'm biased when it comes to people who are more hesitant to take any position on the matters at hand.

*sidenote, around this time I obsessively read My Book of Bible Stories (1978) which was given to me by JW doorknockers. This is a bit uncanny, I haven't seen this since I was about 8. It was a treasured book to me, it's full of old testament stories and pretty brutal:

To demonstrate how young I was while reading this: the book refers to god as Jehovah, but I was still learning to read and thought he was called Joseph. So all the adults I told all these Joseph stories to were confused as to why I thought Jesus's stepdad was so OP. Anyway yes, Joseph was a scary guy in my mind, I mean look what he made abraham do before he said sike:

which really didn't give me much faith in him. Kind of a questionable thing to do to a guy tbh. Finally here's the illustration that basically inspired my URL:

Sorry to hijack your ask anon, for some reason your message sent me down memory lane. Finding that pdf was crazy.

ANYWAY: you made my night with yoir nice message, so thanks for that, hope you stay well. I'm happy that it's chill for the time being, and the gift exchange sounds like fun. Come around to chat anytime.✌️

[shipcestuous]

(submission)

Thought I leave these M/M incest book recommendations here.

Quillon’s Covert by Joseph Lance Tonlet & Louis Stevens

Martin is a guy’s guy, one who enjoys the simple things in life: baseball games with his son, family days, barbecues, and date nights with his lovely wife.Once a year for two weeks, Martin takes his son, Marty, to Quillon’s Covert, a rustic family cabin secluded in the beautiful California mountains. Since before those long days of learning to play ball, Marty has loved his dad, but as Marty matures, Martin starts to see something else settle in his son’s uncertain gaze. What’s there lingers a little more than it should, and it seems far more appraising than it once was.As Marty shows every sign of taking the lead, Martin is faced with the tough choices most parents never see: lose his son by being a father, or try to balance what’s best for their relationship by being something… more.But with another trip to Quillon’s Covert on the horizon, has the point of no return already begun?

Shame by Gianni X

He’s a famous football star used to getting what he wants. And what Eric wants is his father standing in the crowd at his games chanting his name. Not just because he’s Eric’s father but also his lover. It would be their own dirty little secret.

Eric grew up with a single-parent father who worked his ass off to give Eric the life he never had. Father and son were close until Eric did the unthinkable. Now ten years later, drunk on fame and used to getting his way, Eric has gone back to where it all started. One night. Money exchanged. Secrets revealed. Shame settled. Shame is a novella of a broken bond between a father and son and the repairs needed to bring them back together.

Let your Heart Decide By Lily G Blunt

New house, new job. A new start with his brother….Two out of three isn’t bad, right?Rhys returns to his hometown and must face the brother he’s been avoiding for two years. In his heart, Rhys still hopes to recapture the bond they once shared.Jake willingly offers him the hand of friendship, but Rhys is reluctant to confront their past, fearing it will only rip them apart again.When Rhys sees ghostly figures in the grounds of a local historic house, it leads him to investigate their shocking past—and to face his heart’s true desire.

His Brother’s Brat by T.M Chris

Simon hasn’t seen his nephew, Kael, in ten years, but when Kael needs a place to live and someone to take him in hand, Simon steps up. He’s determined to teach Kael how to be a responsible adult and an out gay man, but Kael’s looking for more hands-on lessons. He’s always worshipped his uncle. Maybe a little too much.

Never Mind the Genetics by Mel Thorn

Since breaking up with his high school girlfriend seventeen years ago, Kevin had no idea that he had left something precious behind with her. Now at age thirty-five, his success has brought him everything in life that he might need– all except companionship.Since his birth seventeen years ago, Andrew and his mother haven’t had a very peaceful relationship. Born into a family that couldn’t afford him, and haunted him with threats of violence, he hoped and wished for a better life– a life with the father he had never met.After years of bickering and bitterness, Andrew’s mother takes him not only to meet, but live with his long, lost parent. What Andrew expects is a cold shoulder, but what he gets instead is a warm welcome.Kevin’s gentle demeanor and sweet words are all it takes for Andrew to understand the true meaning of what it is to be loved, but something else– something bright and unexpected– blossoms from their growing friendship: a very different kind of love.

Brother by Marina Vivancos 

Nathan had always loved his twin brother. How could he not? They had been inseparable since before birth. They’d shaped each other. Were each other’s homes.But even love, Nathan knew, could go too far. Too deep. So he had tried to keep his distance—had gone to a different college, tried to make a life without his brother.Now that they’re both back home for summer, though, Nathan doesn’t know how to escape the way he feels…or the way his brother might feel in return.

Sinfully Mine by Nicky James

Four years ago, mistakes were made, lines were crossed, rules were broken.It was wrong, and it never should have happened.But, the past refuses to stay buried, wrongs start feeling right, and lines begin to blur.Sometimes, the heart wants what the heart wants, and nothing will stand in its way.Consequences be damned. Rules be damned.Sometimes, secrets are sinfully delicious.

Blood Bound by Odessa Hywell 

Marcus Malnar—head asshole of the Malnar Family—has spent a lifetime stepping over the bloody remains of his enemies. Fulfilling his purpose is the only thing that matters; nothing can stand between him and his goals. Except his nephew.Despite what everyone says, Holden Malnar isn’t spoiled. If you ask him. He’s a pint-sized bundle of insanity with a pain kink, barely held together by a straitjacket, and he owes everything to his uncle. There’s no limit to what he’s willing to do for the man. No. Limit.Loyalty means everything. Betrayal is a bitter pill to swallow. When Marcus and Holden have to rely on one another to weed out the traitor attempting to destroy their Family, there is no fighting the inevitable.

My Brother’s Love by Chara Croft

I’ve been good. I’ve stayed away. But now I have no choice but to go back home… and God help me, once I do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make myself walk away from him again.JONAH: From the moment my parents first laid my baby brother in my arms, I was smitten. Caleb and I were inseparable all the way up until I left for college, and for the first couple of years I was away, I lived for the breaks when I could go home and see him again. But last year, everything changed. We got too close, and it was all my fault.I’ve always taken care of him, protected him, but now the only way I know how to do that is to stay away… because the one I have to protect him from is myself.I tried to be good. I always followed his lead. But last year, I got too needy. I got greedy. I asked for too much… and it pushed him away.CALEB: When my parents tell me they don’t trust me to stay home alone for the holidays, I’m not sure what they think I’ll get up to, but I’m not that surprised. After all, it’s not like they really know me. A point they only prove when they tell me that my big brother is finally coming home and that he’ll be in charge, and they say it sternly, like they actually think I might argue.They don’t realize that it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Both to see Jonah again, and yes–God yes–to have him be in charge. I’ll be so good this time. I promise. Because I don’t think I can stand it if he leaves me again.

[josefavomjaaga]

“If my soul was not more elevated than the throne...”

All of Napoleon’s family members whom he had placed in high positions were in a similar position: they owed their thrones or titles to the emperor and were expected by said emperor to do his bidding because of that. Yet they of course also wanted to do what was best for their subjects and to gain some footing in their new domains, to be esteemed by “their” people and to make themselves popular. Joseph’s position in Spain surely was the least enviable, and yet I cannot bring myself to sympathize with him in the same way I can sympathize with Eugène, or with Murat.

The passage translated from a letter below helped make me understand why:

Joseph to Napoleon, Madrid, 31 August 1810

[…] In my current position, I need absolute confidence, Sire. If I do not have that, absolute retirement, whatever you wish.

That’s about the 8th or 9th time Joseph expresses his wish to quit the throne since he has put his ass on it in 1808. And he’s still here. Just saying. “Absolute confidence” of course means: I want to act as I see fit, without interference from Paris. Except for the troops, you can leave me those.

Your interests, Sire, and I dare say your glory, do not allow you to prolong any further the shameful agony of one of your brothers on the throne of Spain, exposed, in such a high place, to the mockery of your enemies and the contempt of his friends.

I feel like Joseph is trying to exploit Napoleon's insecurities here. Napoleon was always very careful not to give the "old powers" any reason to consider him as beneath them. When he scolded one of his family members he often argued along the lines of “you’re making us the laughing stock of Europe”. So Joseph now says: If you brother does not have the aboslute power of a true king, people will laugh about our family.

If my soul was not more elevated than the throne, I would accept the help that they want to give me, [...]

Hold a second! Joseph admits that people actually want to help him? 😮

[...] I would wait for time, and in the meantime I would live on the protections of my inferiors; for Marshal Soult declares in Andalusia that he loves me, as well as the Andalusian nation [emphasis in the original], where he has consented to establish himself. This is what a royal commissioner from Seville wrote to me; so we could come to an arrangement with him: Kellermann and many others would not be intractable either. But no, Sire, I will only ever come to an arrangement with you.

And here it comes. “O, sure I could try to arrange myself and find a modus vivendi with the people around me, as those are actually quite willing. But I don’t want to! I do not want to negotiate with them, I want to command them, so give me that command!” For a diplomat - that Joseph passed for during the Consulate - this is a highly suprising attitude. Also of note: the term “inferiors” [mes inférieurs].

If it does not suit you to keep me on the throne of Spain in the way that a man of honour, your brother, should be there, then make up your mind, and be sure that in my retirement I will be able to believe that the Emperor has made a great mistake in depriving himself of a man inspired by my feelings; [...]

Keep me on the throne, but on my conditions. Why? Because I am of such indispensable value to you due to my “feelings”.

[...] but I will always retain a good and tender feeling for my brother, because in the end he will not have degraded my character by keeping me in a position unworthy of me; and by restoring me to my original obscurity, he will preserve for me my self-respect and the conviction that he will not be able to remember me in the distant intervals when his thoughts, free from business, will be able to dwell on his first affections, without being forced to admit that he has not found men, in the long trade he has had with so many, who deserved more, and perhaps as much, his true esteem and his complete confidence.

Or kick me, your dearest bestest brother, the only person who truly loves you, back into oblivion. I totally will not mind [*in a breaking voice, intermingled with audible sniffing and sobbing*], I will always remain your loving brother, and one day, when I’ve died of secret grief, you will tell yourself what a huge mistake you made and that you had no better friend than your dearest bestest brother whom you’ve treated so shamefully...

So, I’m obviously exaggerating. But this is how Joseph comes across to me in many of his letters. He’s the embodiment of entitledness. He’s king like Murat, but unlike Murat who has a long list of services rendered to Napoleon to merit such a position, Joseph has done little for the empire except cash in his monthly treatment as prince of France. He owes his position entirely to the fact he belongs to Napoleon’s family, but unlike Eugène who is very self-conscious about it and does whatever he can to belatedly merit it, Joseph sees his elevation as something he has a right to, treats everybody around him (and among them people who have done decidedly more for France and Napoleon than he ever would) as “inferiors” and is only ready to discuss matters with Napoleon.

Following my first impulse, in Napoleon’s place I’d tell Joseph to stuff his elevated soul back into his arse and get some work done...

[danilovesivars]

What now?

Time doesn’t make sense. The days are long and draining and yet I’m doing nothing.  It used to be filled with you. It took you forever to eat your meals (although I guess it’s because it was hard for you to do the work when your brain couldn’t get the messages through).  The house is quiet. You aren’t banging on your pots and pans in the play kitchen or throwing crayons off your table. Containers of play doh just sit there now. Not that you cared as much for the play doh as it was taking the lids on and off the containers. I went out with Miss Kelly, and Miss Amanda and Miss Cat yesterday then saw my friend Michelle. I cried to all of them.  Then I came home and felt lost again. There was still so much of the day left. I felt exhausted and sore all over my body. I took a nap. Napping isn’t right anymore either because I napped with you. If my hair was still in a pony, you’d reach your little hand under my neck and pull my hair towards you. So I made sure to put my hair down yesterday. I can’t even keep track of what day of the week it is. Nothing is comforting. I can’t figure out what to watch on TV. I could do some work but I can’t think up anything creative and it seems like too much mental effort. Reading is hard I’m too easily distracted by the silence. Since when does that make sense? I can’t even find a Twenty One Pilots song that helps. In some ways I guess that’s an okay thing because I would never wish this pain on anyone and to write something that would explain this you’d have to experience it. Which means I have to be the one to write it. And let me tell you Charlie, Mommy is not the writer Tyler Joseph is. I wish I could be. Music has often been a comfort to me. Now I’m pulling songs from Frozen because I don’t know where else to look.  You received a lot of Easter gifts - some stuffies and blankets and chocolates. Losing you on Easter Monday meant you never got to use them. You were like Mommy and were addicted to chocolate. We have so much chocolate now because you had to start every meal with a small piece. Weirdly enough though Mommy has lost interest in chocolate. I’ve had some but it doesn’t taste the same anymore.  I try to talk to you like you are here. I’d love to hear your voice though. You are supposed to be whole in Heaven now so in theory you may even be able to talk. You certainly understood what was being said to you. You did have some words at one point. If in Heaven those lesions are gone from your brain are you chatting up your grandmother? What does it sound like when you talk? I wish we knew Charlie. I wish we knew what you were going through so we could reduce the suffering a little bit. Everyone says it may be better that we didn’t. You experienced a lot - A Blue Jays game, Wonderland, Santa’s Village, Sauble Beach, Daycare - things we probably would have been too afraid to take you to if we knew. But I don’t forget your tired eyes and your sighs. I know now why and I wish I could have helped you through those moments. At least we think we know why. We are still awaiting the genetic testing to confirm it was Leigh’s. I don’t know how I’d feel if they came back still not sure of what it was. Today I’ve tried to do stuff. Daddy got me a new grief journal. Plus I had one I got another day. I tried to look at Disney Cruises. A little getaway. We had hoped to take you to Disney so I thought a cruise might be a nice alternative. I sent out more GoFundMe Thank you’s and but I couldn’t finish anything I set out to do. Somehow after trying all those things it was still only 2 something. That’s when we’d normally be napping. Riley then called home. She almost made it through the whole day. I don’t blame her I can’t get myself to do anything so why should I expect her to? Daddy described this as feeling almost like you’ve lost a limb. Mainly because you always were clinging to Daddy’s shoulder so he quite literally felt like he lost a limb. But I went on to agree because I was thinking something similar. When you lose a limb (modern technology aside) it doesn’t grow back. You can stitch up the area and it will heal up but the actual limb is gone forever. How you move forward in life is completely different. You have to learn to adapt without it. And most of your limbs are pretty important in your daily life. You don’t NEED them to be alive but they are important to your functioning.When they are gone you still can feel pains from where they were. You can still feel your brain try to use them and function as you did.  So we are still here. Trying to continue without an important piece of our family. Moving forward and learning to adapt but trying to accept that you won’t be coming back. We still feel the pain of losing you. We still anticipate seeing you in the hallway when we open the bathroom door, or pulling yourself up to stand by the couch when we are watching TV. I still think I hear your voice when you wake up from a nap then remember you aren't there.  I just don’t know what to do now.  

[theenemyod]

Part two of a previous post might write part 3 later enjoy some devoured Alex angst bs

Monsters don't bleed. That's what he'd told himself more times than he could count. Staring into the bathroom mirror at the reflection of the silver mask attached to his face that he can no longer take off, the identity he never wanted but spent his entire life trying to replicate.

His face wasn't his own anymore. None of his features were. His face, his hair, his body, nothing was his own.

'Eyes are the window to the soul' Joseph had told him once. That was how he was so sure Call had Constantine's soul. The exact same eyes. So what did it mean that Alex's previously bright blue eyes had turned a solid black with dotted stars. They never looked like that before. He missed it. He'd never paid attention to his eyes before but now he did.

He wished he could see his own face. Even with the eye bags and hollow cheeks and pale skin, he'd rather have the reminders of his pain than this mask.

He took off his jacket. He remembered it used to be grey but for whatever reason had gone black in his time in the void. Alex didn't understand that. He didn't understand what the void does to colour, it'd lightened his hair to nearly white then darkened his clothes to black or nearly there. It turned his skin pure white and eyes pure black. It made no sense.

He can't see his skin though. Even without his jacket clothing covered every bit of him, the shirt with the neck reaching to his chin and sleeves reaching to his wrists, black leather gloves he'd chosen to protect his skin from the Alkahest, black jeans and boots. And the stupid mask that covered every part of his face except the eyes.

The reflection in the mirror didn't look like him. He wasn't even ever supposed to be a chaos mage. He stole the magic. If he didn't he'd still be human, instead of this creature. He wasn't human anymore.

Monsters don't bleed. He rolled up his sleeve. He hated seeing his arms now. His skin isn't supposed to be this colour, almost glowing white. It doesn't look solid enough either. And not enough shadow. His scars and cuts are gone too. Reminders that he was human, that he wasn't completely a monster. Gone now. The clean skin was driving him crazy. No more proof of anything.

He walked out of the room and pulled the sleeve back over his arm. He didn't want to see his reflection anymore. Only for a few more days. He'll only be in this dumb apartment for a week before his tower is finished – two days left now – and then he can rule and be the best and he won't think about what he used to be or how he's changed or anything like that. He'll have far better things to think about.

Eventually he walked into the kitchen without really thinking. He took a few seconds to figure out what he was doing here, then his eyes landed on the sharp knife he'd left on the counter last time he cooked. He didn't need to eat anymore, but he would still cook for Eliza to help her (and because she still seemed unimpressed with him, he still wanted his stepmother's approval). Master Joseph taught him how to.

Without fully thinking he picked it up. It was still dirty, like everything else he hadn't bothered to wash yet. Alex quickly rinsed it in the sink, trying to figure out what he wanted to do.

"Just one more time." He whispered.

Monsters don't bleed.

He walked back into the bathroom, trying to ignore the mask he could see in the mirror, and pulled up his sleeve. One more time. Just to confirm. He couldn't be a monster.

The cut was quick. He didn't want to cause himself pain this time. Just a test. A single slash across his wrist.

It opened easily, going quite deep. No blood. He couldn't see any veins or muscle or fat or anything that should be on the inside of his body. Just plain white, like he'd cut into a clay person and not a human.

Monsters don't bleed.

Does that mean he's a monster now?

He wanted to cry but tears would never come. He's learned that this body can't cry. So he just pulled the sleeve back over his arm and left the room. He wanted to sleep despite not needing that either.

Monsters don't bleed.

That meant Alex was a monster now, right?

[riddlerosehearts]

still not gonna fully come back on tumblr yet but i just wanna say that i... finished my dreamworks tier list... i have now seen all 46 of this studio's movies--well, i guess technically not all, since i'm including the direct-to-video release joseph: king of dreams (which, despite only being at the top of the B tier on my list, i do think is pretty underrated and idk why nobody seems to give it a chance), but excluding the trollhunters movie because i've never seen the trollhunters show. maybe someday i will, but right now i'm just not interested.

so, this all just confirmed for me what i've thought for a long time already, which is that dreamworks is an incredibly weird and incredibly inconsistent studio. they've created some of the most beautiful and magical animated films of all time with releases like how to train your dragon, rise of the guardians, and prince of egypt, and some of the most absolute bottom of the barrel trash i've ever had to experience with things like antz, shark tale, and boss baby. and then they've also made a handful of very middle of the road movies, that i wouldn't really say i enjoy all that much, but which i don't think are necessarily bad either--this is the C tier on my list and i will be honest, the first shrek movie was originally in this tier for me because i'm just not that into it. i only moved it up a little because i felt like i had to admit that it is objectively a pretty good movie that was groundbreaking for its time and paved the way for shrek 2 and the puss in boots movies, all of which i love, to exist.

i guess i should share my final ranking, huh? before i do that i will also say that this ranking is absolutely not objective at all and is almost entirely based on my own personal enjoyment. like i said, i originally had shrek 1 in C tier lol. and i have trolls world tour in A tier because i just genuinely love a lot of things about it and very thoroughly have a fun time watching it. the trolls franchise as a whole is so much better than most dreamworks stuff and i will die on this hill. i also tried to rank things from best to worst within the tiers, but i'm very indecisive and some of these movies were hard to rank simply because i couldn't decide if they were closer to "okay" or "bad", or "bad" or "awful"... i could see some of my rankings maybe changing slightly if i thought about it a little more. for now i'm fine with where everything is, though.

anyway, here's my list that is sure to make at least one person want to yell at me lol:

so, to break it down, my top 5 favorite dreamworks movies are:

Prince of Egypt

Rise of the Guardians

How to Train Your Dragon

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish

How To Train Your Dragon 2

(i feel so bad that spirit: stallion of the cimarron got pushed out of the top 5... puss in boots: the last wish just existing + me rewatching HTTYD 2 and remembering how much i love it made that inevitable. but hey, it's still top tier.) and my top 5 least favorite dreamworks movies, starting with the least terrible one, are:

The Boss Baby

Turbo

Shark Tale

Antz

Spirit Untamed

(i watched these movies all out of order and for the longest time i thought nothing would dethrone shark tale as the worst of the worst, but i really did hate antz and spirit untamed that much, which surprised me lmao)

again, if i called your favorite movie bad, that really just means it's not enjoyable to me personally--i'm no professional film critic. also, i feel like the tiers came out sort of weirdly even, and i ended up with 21 movies in S-B tiers and 25 movies in C-F tiers, which really speaks to the inconsistency of dreamworks as a studio. i plan to try and keep up with their releases from now on, so i do hope that kung fu panda 4 & orion and the dark turn out well... but dreamworks keeps doing shit like releasing prince of egypt right after antz or putting out ruby gillman right after puss in boots: the last wish, so i guess we'll see! i'm just glad that i can currently say i've seen basically every movie from this ridiculous studio.

[crookedtines]

Lots to dig into here! So get ready, because these answers are going to be long.

The Collector's Catalyst

My dip pen craze started back in art school thanks to a helpful recommendation from a friend. They suggested dip pens as a solution to my awkwardly static linework, and I was instantly hooked on their amazing line variation. I signed up for a pen and ink class the next semester, switched almost entirely to working in ink, and started collecting dip pens wherever I could find them.

Evidence of how I use my dip pens

Over the years, I amassed enough of a collection that I owned most of the readily available nibs. When I discovered vintage nibs, the horizon broadened again! I wish I could say I slowly collected these discontinued nibs by finding them at estate sales or befriending antique shop owners, but truthfully I bought most of them at once from an online shop.

Line Style: A Mystery

You can't tell how a nib will write by looking at it. There are only 3 ways to know:

1. Write with it yourself. The best way, but it's probably not going to happen until after you buy it. Unless you have a friend that also hoards dip pens! (I don't, it's not that common apparently.)

2. Test the nib against your thumbnail (for brick and mortar shops). Watching how the tines spread, and feeling how springy the nib is will give you a good idea of how it will write.

3. Check the product description for notes on nib flexibility and line width (online shops). If you're lucky, they might even have writing samples!

Okay there is a fourth option, which is to search the internet and hope someone has made a writing sample. I remember finding this blog pretty useful.

For a long time I was on a mission to find the finest, most flexible nibs. It wasn't really until I started buying vintage nibs that I stopped looking up how each one might write. Though I find my curiosity still gets the better of me.

Identifying the Nib of Your Dreams Without Ink

You've picked up a dip pen nib in a shop, and you want to know how it might write. What can you puzzle out?

Left: A very stiff nib. Those tines are staying put—this nib will have no line variation. You can see it scratches the paper a bit, but not very much. Stiff nibs tend to be scratchier, but the end of these tines bend up a bit, which softens it. This means it should glide smoothly across the page. The bend at the end, which is not common, makes this nib great for casual writing. (J.B. Mallat No.110 Manifold)

Middle: A very flexible nib, and a fan favorite. The tines spread far out, meaning this nib will have good line variation. Though it's flexible, you can tell that it's still a stiff nib. A stiff nib can scratch up your paper, but is easier to control (read: beginner friendly), and will last longer. (Brause 361 Steno "Blue Pumpkin")

Right: Another very flexible nib! But this time, it's also a very soft nib. These are often referred to as being 'brush like'. This doesn't change the look of your lines as much as the experience of creating them. It hardly scratches the paper at all, but it is one of the most finicky nibs to work with. It's so mushy that the tines tend to start splaying almost immediately. Tines that are splayed, even a little, have trouble getting the ink to start transferring to the paper. But once you get them going, they are a dream to draw with! (Joseph Gillot 290 Lithographic)

Keeping Things Tidy and Safe

On the left are my modern nibs, the right my vintage nibs, and the bottom duplicate nibs. The baggy holds nibs that have rust damage.

I store most of my nibs in Art Bin nib cases. Up until recently they were organized by tip size and flexibility as follows: top row-inflexible, bottom row-flexible, arranged thinnest lines to thickest lines from left to right. This was the perfect system until I dumped them all out of the case and forgot the order.

Before this they were all just floating around an altoids tin. Nibs are pretty tough and they can handle it.

An Ocean of Inks

A drawer full of ink. I was not shy about collecting ink from my old job's unsellable products pile.

Your sneaky feeling about ink is completely correct! There are several kinds of ink and they can be VERY different. The good news is, dip pens are compatible with all inks! Some might flow better than others, but they won't destroy your nib as long as you clean up in a timely manner.

Note: This is not true with fountain pens. Fountain pens get fountain pen ink only! And even then you can still clog your pen. This post isn't about fountain pens, but that felt like an important distinction to make.

The two basic ink categories are India ink and water based ink. I might switch between them depending on my project, but I almost always use India ink. Then again, I almost always use dip pens for drawing.

India Ink & Acrylic: Make That Art Waterproof!

A series of India and Acrylic inks. Bombay India ink is my favorite.

Both India ink and acrylic ink are waterproof. India ink for being shellac based, and acrylic ink for being, well, acrylic. They're ideal for drawing with, especially if you plan to paint over your lines. These inks sit on top of your paper and will dry raised. Because of this, the type of paper you use isn't as big a deal (for the ink! not necessarily the nib). I use either Bristol board or very smooth hot press watercolor paper.

If you stay on top of rinsing your nib as you work, you can keep them clean with just water. Most likely though, you'll need to clean off your nib with alcohol. If you want to keep your nibs looking new and shiny forever, stay away from India and acrylic inks.

The future look of your favorite nibs, thanks to India ink

Water Based Ink: Calligraphy Central

A few examples of drawing ink (left) and fountain pen ink (right)

Water based inks are easy to clean off your nibs, and generally thinner than India ink. I'm going to split them off into two more groups: water based drawing inks, and fountain pen ink.

While fountain pen inks do work with dip pens, you have to keep in mind that they are much wetter inks (less viscous) and you are more likely to come across a situation where your ink, nib, and/or paper combo refuses to work for you. This will look like an ink that balls up on your nib and won't flow towards the paper, or an ink that flows too freely off the end of your nib and creates thick or feathery lines. Fountain pen inks come in a huge variety of colors, often featuring special effects like dual tones, shading, sheening, and glitter. This makes it very fun for calligraphy!

Water based drawing inks include sumi ink, manga ink, and what is sometimes just called 'calligraphy ink'. These are made to use with dip pens so they shouldn't cause you any trouble! While they're made to draw with, I personally prefer India ink since no water based ink is perfectly waterproof.

Water based inks will sink into your paper, making the paper you choose much more important. Fountain pen paper and manga paper are safe bets.

Note: Some of these inks advertise themselves as being waterproof. They aren't! What they mean is water won't make the bulk of your line disappear. The ink will probably still lift, if only a smidge.

The Importance of Paper

Paper WILL affect how your nib writes, though it affects water based ink the most.

Here we have 2 fountain pen inks (top: Diamine River of Fire, middle: De Atramentis Document Blue Gray) and an India ink (bottom: Bombay Van Dyke Brown) on several different kinds of paper.

You can see how poorly the water based ink reacts to the two papers on the bottom, and even starts to feather on the Bristol board (circled). But Rhodia is a fountain pen friendly paper, you cry, why doesn't it work? This is true, and it works with fountain pen ink in fountain pens, but dip pens put out a LOT more ink than fountain pens do, and not all papers can handle it.

American notebook papers aren't made to handle anything heavier than a highlighter, so they're automatically out—though you can see the India ink doesn't seem to mind. Japanese and German notebooks tend to be fountain pen friendly, so they're worth experimenting with. So are smooth, ink friendly art papers like Bristol and hot pressed watercolor paper.

I also wanted to point out an example of how ink affects your line widths. If you look carefully, you can see that the hairlines circled on the right side of the picture are thicker in the middle swatch than the top. That's because the middle ink is much wetter!

Since this post is getting a little out of hand, I will wrap up with one last picture showing off the different textures of the inks. River of Fire (top) is a sheening ink! This feature—that red sheen—shows up best on paper where the ink can pool and dry slowly on top of the page. Here we can also see how 3-dimensional and glossy India ink is. Keep in mind the India ink I used had started to dry out, so it's even blorbier than usual.

Still Interested?

Here's where you can go to start your very own nib collection!

Dip pens can be found at art stores, stationery shops, and online stores. I've also seen some vintage nibs on etsy, though the prices can be inflated. These are some online shops I've come across that I trust:

Paper & Ink Arts (I bought most of my nibs here! They even have some vintage ones. US based shop)

St. Louis Art Supply (US based shop selling vintage nibs)

Kallipos (German shop selling an extensive supply of vintage nibs. I got most of my vintage nibs here!)

JetPens (Begrudgingly adding them because they have very useful writing samples for both dip pens and fountain pens. I know because I created them for several years before they laid me off.)

Could you please (if you haven’t before) do pics of what each of your vintage pen nibs’ writing style look like, if they are different widths/create unique lines?

Oh absolutely!! I've been looking for an excuse to do this for ages. Their writing styles are as varied and unique as their shapes.

Here they are on Midori MD paper written with Rohrer & Klingner's Iron gall Salix ink. I photoshopped the pen nibs next to each writing sample so it's easy to tell what's what.

Now you can't tell from the writing sample, but two of these nibs have ball pointed tips! This is a feature you'll find on fountain pen nibs, but seems to have disappeared from modern dip pen nibs. Instead of coming to a sharp point, a ball pointed nib has a little round nubbin on the end that is much smoother to write with.

Because of this, the Perry & Co Glideaway and the R. Esterbrook & Co Oval Point are extra nice to write with! Though ball pointed nibs do come at the price of flexibility.

[marvelwinchester67]

MAJOR STRANGER THINGS VOLUME 2 SPOILERS BELOW

………………………………………………………………………………

Honestly, fuck the duffer brothers. The minute Nancy said she wanted to kill Vecna I knew something would go horribly wrong.

The minute that Eddie cut that damn rope and decided to stay behind I knew something would happen. Yet I held onto the hope that he’d be ok and Dustin would reach him in time.

I’m sorry, but if Steve can survive the demo-bats, why couldn’t Eddie? Why couldn’t he live? What was the fucking point of any of the last two episodes if they were just gonna kill off one of THE BEST characters to be introduced on this god forsaken show? It was supposed to be his year, and instead, he sacrificed himself for no goddamn reason.

Because the whole town still believes him to be a murderer and satanist. The only one who even remotely cares for him (besides Dustin) is his uncle. Who, despite seeing all the hatred for his nephew and the blatant disrespect towards him, still believes him to be alive and innocent, until Dustin tells him what happened (without telling him the real reason he died). He hands him that damn guitar pick necklace and calls Eddie a hero, he tells Wayne that he wished people had gotten to know him the way he did because they would’ve loved him. I know I did. I still do. But here’s why I REFUSE to believe he’s really dead.

1) Dustin still refers to him in the present tense. Instead of saying “He WAS a hero.” He says “He IS a hero” and that could just be nothing, but I’m holding onto the little crumbs that I can.

2) where’s his body? I know for a damn fact that Dustin never would’ve left him behind like that. He cares way to much about people to just blatantly disrespect him like that in the end. Especially after he begged Eddie to stay with him.

3) why is no one else talking about him? He literally died saving their asses, and the ONLY one who mourns him is Dustin. We know that Mike looked up to him, so why didn’t we see Dustin tell him what happened to their friend? Why didn’t we get to see Mike mourn him to? Why didn’t Steve or Robin or hell, even Nancy, say anything about him. They literally just left him there and acted like he wasn’t the reason they’re still alive (partially)

4) it was Nancy’s plan to kill Vecna. It was her idea to use a LITERAL CHILD and Eddie as bait to lure the demo-bats away when she KNEW what they were capable of doing. She only cared about killing Vecna. I mean, they almost killed Steve, but they didn’t because all of them showed up in the nick of time to save him. She should’ve known better than to have only two people be bait for those bats when she also knew what Vecna was capable of. He SHOWED her what he was gonna do, yet she still decided to kill him. And even that didn’t fucking work because he’s still alive.

5) the duffer brothers said that not all of our questions would be answered in this volume, and that we’d have to wait for season 5 to get those answers. BUT, why have Joseph Quinn petition for more scenes with Charlie in season 5? Why bait us into thinking they wouldn’t pull a Bob on us and kill him off? Why create such a lovable character, WHO WASNT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE LOVABLE IN THE FIRST PLACE CAUSE THEY WANTED HIM TO BE SCARY AND MEAN, just for us to get attached to him and be disappointed in the end?

6) if his body was never brought back to Hawkins, if he’s still there, if they just left him there, then maybe, just maybe, a hopper will be pulled and he’ll be revealed to still be alive, albeit severely injured and alone in the upside down.

7) if Max can survive being folded in half by Vecna, ACTUALLY DYING, going blind and being in a coma, then surely Eddie could survive a swarm of demo-bats? Right? I mean, I’d rather him be in a coma than dead, because then at least we’d know he’s still alive.

8) Dustin deserved so much more than having to watch as his newest best friend goes off on his own to be a “hero” when his whole character arc was about him NOT being a hero, just to watch him die in his arms as he begged him to stay alive long enough to get help. But it also begs the question. Why didn’t Dustin signal for help? Why didn’t he radio Steve, Robin and Nancy and tell them what happened and that he needed help immediately? Lucas can beg for Erica to get help for Max, but Dustin can’t beg his friends to do the same either? It’s bullshit. Utter and complete bullshit

9) for it only being two days later, it seems awfully suspicious that Dustin is out helping and volunteering at the school when his friend literally just died in his arms less than 48hrs ago. Now, that could just be because he needs to take his mind off of things. He needs a distraction from the grief so he doesn’t break down and blame himself. Because we all know Dustin, he absolutely would blame himself for what happened in the upside down two days ago. But it still seems a little suspicious that he’s there, runs into Wayne and then tells him his nephew IS a hero and not WAS a hero. Again, it could just be his way of coping, trying to pretend that Eddie’s death wasn’t as traumatic and heartbreaking as it was. But we are talking about the same kid who found a baby demogorgon and tried to raise it as a pet in secret. So it would in no way surprise me if he found a way to hide Eddie away somewhere and try to keep it to himself without telling anyone about it. Remember, eventually his friends did find out that Dart was still with Dustin, and they were mad at him for keeping it when he knew it was a monster (but Eddie’s not a demogorgon so they wouldn’t be mad at him, just confused)

10) which leads me to my final theory and point. Vecna survived in the upside down for years. Yes, he has psychic abilities that are extremely powerful, and yes he was infected by the atmosphere over time, but he still survived it, just with a new look. If Vecna can survive that place, why couldn’t Eddie? We already know he’s pretty decent at hiding, and he’s been taking care of himself for a while now because his uncle is rarely home due to working all the time. So why couldn’t he? If Henry/001 can do it, then it stands to reason that, even though Eddie has no psychic powers, he could still survive. He’s been doing it his whole life. Also, why mention his dad? Why give us any inclination of his home life before Wayne if you were just gonna kill him? Either that’s just lazy writing, or there was a point and we’ll see it in season 5 (which I hope to god it wasn’t just a plot hole to make us even more invested in his character because they already knew what would happen to him and that we’d all be upset we got Eddie and his dad crumbs just for nothing to come of it)

So, all in all, I was excited for no god damn reason, the duffer brothers really hyped up so much just for none of it to happen, I have, and always will be anti-Nancy, the entirety of volume two deserved better than what it got, we, as a fandom, deserved so much more than what we got, and I hope to god that season 5 is entirely different from this. We did not deserve to be introduced to such an amazing and complex character again, only for him to be killed, again. I actually cried when jopper kissed, I’ve been waiting for so long for them to be happy, I started sobbing again when Dustin told Wayne about Eddie, only for more sobbing to ensue when El and Hopper reunited (because I was not about to end that damn catastrophe of a volume without an El and Hopper reunion) I also will always refuse to believe Eddie is dead, because I feel like I’ve actually lost someone important to me in real life. Like, I KNOW emotional damage, but that was on a whole other level. I get attached to characters so easily, and Eddie was one of them. Still is. That soft doe-eyed metal head swooped in, stole my heart, made me fall in love, and then ripped it out slowly and painfully with that scene. I absolutely adore Joseph Quinn, and that’s coming from someone who’d never even heard of him before this season came out. He did an absolutely fantastic job with Eddie freaking Munson and he totally deserves better than the shit ending they gave him. This post ended up being really long, but honestly who cares. I’m so done with shows like this having an interesting plot in the first half and then throwing that entire plot away in the second. It’s shit writing, it’s a shit ending, and I refuse to believe that any of it happened.

[stardancerluv]

A Time to Love and Fight

Part 6

Summary: One chapter comes to an end for Enjolras, while another begins. While reader is visited by her past.

Warnings/Notes: References to being gravely ill…possibly passing as a result. Angst over this and “one’s duty” some gifs of Joseph come from Dickensian and the bottom image is of Marius’s love interest..but its just to give an impression of the moment.

French to English translations…

ma douce fille - my sweet girl **** Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité! - liberty equality fraternity (was the main slogan of the French Revolution)

mon doux petit rêveur - my sweet little dreamer. **** Juste des rêves, maman - Just dreams, mama *** Ma fille forte s'évanouit enfin. - My strong girl finally swooned. **** mon trésor - my treasure *** mon ange - my angel *** C'est moi, ma petite fille. - I am here, my sweet girl

His carriage bounced and skipped along the road, his was consumed by you. He had to focus. He could not even imagine what the General wanted.

Yet, his mind wandered. The touch of your gloved hands were fresh. He could still recall, the sweet memory of laying his hand your lower back.

******

Gavroche, with a twist of his head smiled at you . “I wouldn’t have wanted to tie you up.”

You swallowed. “You recognize me?”

He nodded. “Only because you were standing beside Enjolras. You were also the only person, I’ve ever seen to make him pause.”

Confusion filled you. “Pause?”

“Enjolras and his friends are very methodical in making France better. We cannot afford to have anyone trying to stop us or obtain information.” He spoke fast.

“Understandable.” You nodded. “It’s smart.”

“He is.”

“Are you fond of him?” You asked.

The young man shrugged. “He is a kind man, yet has the ability to be incredibly ruthless.” Gavroche smiled. “And he wins at card a lot.” He beamed.

You could tell by that the young man saw Enjolras as a hero. It was endearing. “So he enjoys card games?” Imagining Enjolras in such a way, made you happy.

“Occasionally with his friends.” He chuckled.

“I enjoy a good card game.” You absently mused.

“Oh, I believe he has never played with a lady. And he only plays after four to five drinks.”

You nodded. “Was just musing.”

“Good. Don’t want to try his patience.”

His words made your stomach lurch. What could that possibly mean. You shrugged off the sentiment. “Here we are.”

Once you felt the weight of the satchel, you were grateful for Gavrouche. Reaching in. “Gavroche, thank you for your time.” You held out a few more coins.

“No, mademoiselle. Enjolras paid handsomely.” He handed you the two pheasants. “And you are such a sweet woman. I don’t want any more coin.”

You rose an eyebrow.

“Alright, Enjolras paid me far more then what my time was worth.”

“That is generous of him.”

“He has a generous streak.”

“Interesting.” You thanked him and bid him a good day.

********

Enjolras’s stomach lurched, as he saw the older man. His cheeks were flushed but was pale. His eyes were too shiny.

“My boy, I feel weak. Not terribly confident I can fight this one.”

Enjolras, sighed. “You’ve fought the English, the Russians. You will fight this too.”

“Such a good boy.” He rubbed at his stomach. “France needs more like you.” His hand shook as he drank from his cup.

“These letters contain the lists of people who are my connections, along with the locations of warehouses that house supplies. I wish I had more time.”

“General, please you are going to be alright.”

******

“Greta? Greta?” You called entering the kitchen. “I’m back.”

With a sigh and a heave you put the satchel onto the large wooden table that sat in the middle of the kitchen. Beside it you placed the pheasants.

“I’m here ma douce fille.” The woman wiped her hands on a rag, as she came up from the root cellar.

“Greta. What do you think?” You smiled, as you began taking things out of the satchel.

“Oh!” She rubbed her hands together. “You found a lot of things.” She smiled.

“It was a good day at the market.” A flutter went through you at the memory of Enjolras.

*******

Enjolras, took the envelops and slipped them into his coat.

The older man ran a hand over his stomach groaning. “You may not have fought along side of me,” The man winced. “but, but I consider you a brother in arms.”

He swallowed. “I don’t know what to say, sir.”

“No words are necessary.”

Seeing this man, his hero so sickly filled him with such anguish. He had done so much.

“Keep at it, son. Don’t give up.” He leaned forward and extended a hand. “Take my hand.”

Enjolras reached out, the older man took his hand with a fantastic amount of strength. “Enjolras, say it with me!”

“It would be an honor.”

He smiled. “Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité!”

His heart swelled with pride. It was a great honor to share this moment.

******

“There were apples at the market?” Your mama wheezed while she sat in the salon with you. She was still ill but getting better. There was a good flush of color in her cheeks.

“Yes. They were pleasing to see. It had been awhile.” The two of you shared some slices. This one was particularly tangy and sweet.

“Tell me mon doux petit rêveur,” Your mama said sweetly, her eyes finally having a touch of their old glimmer. “Have you had any new adventures? You have been so terribly quiet since that night.”

You pressed your lips together as you debated what to say. “No mama. No adventures since. Juste des rêves, maman.”

She shook her head. “I was so happy for you.” She barked out of cough. “You deserve to be. You haven’t been in so long.”

You jumped up and rubbed her back. “You getting better is all I wish for.” You gave her the glass to drink from, hoping to ease any pain.

There was no way, you could tell her of your plans at midnight.

*****

Enjolras, glanced at the general’s house before the carriage began to pull away. The wheels were soon were creaking and clanking against the cobblestones.

A pang, sliced through his chest at the prospect of never seeing the general again. He had been a good and kind man to him; he dared admit he was like a second father. Sitting back he felt ill, at losing a great man and powerful ally.

Though in the deepest part of his heart he also struggled with his feelings for you. He still couldn’t believe he had promised to see you in your gardens.

What had come over him, he wondered tugging on his red scarf. France was a far more important then what he could ever feel for you. People were dying and the Royal guard, the upper class did not care.

Over the last few months, since Marius had met his angel. He had even told him , he was being foolish.

Now he had his own angel. The idea of you being his angel made his heart swell. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he wondered if it was it all worth it, were you worth it.

******

You made sure your mama was tucked away and comfortable. You also placed a glass on the table near her in case she grew thirsty and most importantly you snuffed out her candles.

Safely back in your room you went about freshening yourself. Sitting at your vanity, with your hands trembling, you opened a beautiful porcelain jar. You held it your nose and smiled.

Memories, floated and swirled around you. It was as if the jar itself had been holding onto your memories. One of your favorites came for a visit.

You remembered the last time you dressed up for an elegant dinner party. Father was throwing one for his good friends. It had been four long months since he had been home so a party had been in order.

That night he promised you that after he returned from his next journey; him and your mama would begin planning a party worthy of you. The idea of courting excited and terrified you.

He was eager for you to finally have the flush of love. He had met your mother when she was a mere sixteen years of age graced her while twenty years had called on him. Though, it had been another four years before the two would become man and wife. He had gone away to war and done other tasks to prove that his love was true. By then she was an even lovier and stronger flower for him to love, and love he did. He wanted you to have that kind of love.

You were already past the years your mama had on her when she met your father, but he had wanted you to be lovely, strong but also smart.

For you, he wanted you and your man to care equally for each other. No simple man, would have a chance at his daughter’s heart. He had promised you that after his next adventure he would start meeting with potential suitors.

You were fine waiting for him to go on this next journey. This one held the promise of great tales and items one only could dream of.

“One day, a true suitor will see how precious and how sweet you are.” He assured you as Greta weaved a lovely ribbon into your hair.

“Will he be kind?”

“I will see to it. And I will make sure he is a true and rightful suitor, for ma belle fille. He will bring you exotic gifts that will bring a smile to your lips.“

“But father, you have already have given me so many exotic gifts.”

He smiled. “He will, he’ll care for all things about you, just like I do with mama.”

You glanced over and once again you were lone getting ready for your visit from Enjolras. The memory of your father faded like a fog. It brought a pain to your heart.

******

Stepping down from the carriage Enjolras struggled over what to do. He really should tell his comrades what he knows.

Entering the boardinghouse, he hoped terribly to have a few more moments alone. Climbing the creaking stairs, he entered his room and was relieved to find it empty.

Sitting down on his bed, he opened his journal. Despite knowing that he was alone, he still glanced around before tucking the envelops from the general into its safe confines.

Catching his reflection in his window, he made a face. Quickly he shed his scarf, followed by his coat and vest. After wiping his razor, he prepared his shaving soap and face. Gritting his teeth, he soon sliced away all the stray growth.

Looking from side to side, he was pleased. He had done good, he looked much better.

Pulling off his shirt, he took out and slipped on a fresh one along with one of his better vests. He ran his fingers through is always rebellious curls. There was not much that could be done about them. Moments later, he back on the cobblestones walking.

*****

You glanced at your dresses. Satisfied with yourself, you found a simple dress with a light blue silken ribbon. It was the easiest to slip on. The cotton was exceptionally soft. Opening your drawer, you removed the light blue scarf that reminded you of the night you met Enjolras. As you wrapped it around yourself, you smiled.

After slipping on some shoes, you very slowly crept down the hallway. You paused at Mama’s door. You could hear her wheezing, it was steady and deep. You knew she was deeply asleep. Then holding your breath you made your way down the stairs.

Going into the kitchen, you found one of the pears that Enjolras had given you. Glancing over your shoulder you undid the latch on the door that led into the garden.

You leaned in the doorway. Your heart beat bard against your chest. You were becoming breathless. You had never done anything like this.

*****

The moon was in the sky and the stars had begun to twinkle he reached the pub. He glanced in the window. Seeing his friends, he decided to he had better speak with them.

Pushing the heavy door in, he made his way over to them.

“Enjolras! You’ve arrived!” Grantaire cheered holding up a large mug.

The girl who usually attended to them was at his side before he could even reply ro Grantaire. She pushed a mug into his hands. “Thank you.” He put it down on the table.

He looked around at his friends as he braced himself. “I have something important to discuss with all of you.”

Grantaire, roared with laughter. “Enjolras, we all know.”

Courfeyrac, happily nodded and tapped on the table. “We want to know more. I especially since I haven’t been graced by her presence.” A wide smile was across his face.

Enjolras gritted his teeth, he glanced over at Gavroche who looked away. “So you told them? And yet the more pressing news of General Lamarque being is gravely ill isn’t important?”

His friend’s eyes smile didn’t wane. “Look, we care about you.” Grantaire practically whined.

“Seriously. You the one who only ever beds red heads and never the same woman; and my possible angel is of concern to you.” Thinking of you caused a lump in his throat.

“So you have found yourself an angel?”

Shaking his head, he looked down at the worn wood, exhaling. “To be honest.” He looked at his friends. “I may just let that angel have her wings.”

“But why?” Gavroche, cried out and looked over with wide eyes. “She seems pleasant enough, for a lady.”

Enjolras made a face. “Regardless, I do not care to discuss that matter. I am here to tell you that General Lamarque has become gravel ill.”

Grantaire, shrugged and took a swig from his mug. “Look, I know he was like a father to you, but what difference does it make. We have so many who’ve come to our side and all our supplies; we’re in a good place.”

Enjolras grabbed his mug. “Lamarque was one of the last heroes who stood up for the common man. He’s fought in the revolution and has been on our side ever since.”

“That’s all fine and good but we also care about you.”

Enjolras sighed, inwardly he was in turmoil. He put the mug back in front of his friend. “There is no talking to any of you.”

Turning, he left. He practically tore open the door.

He welcomed the silence of the cobblestone. Behind him, he left the stuffiness of the pub, the clatter of the wood scrapping against wood and his ridiculous comrades.

*******

Your heart had not stopped thudding hard in your chest as you sat in your alcove. You had placed the pear on its side, then you had it rest on its plump base then on its side. You were so nervous. In the end you decided on its plump base would be a nice way for Enjolras to find it.

******

He walked past several buildings, finally crossing a few of the streets as his heart began to beat harder. When he could just see your house in the distance, he stopped to look at the sky above. He looked towards the bright, silvery moon smiling as he took in all of the sparkling stars.

As he looked at them, he remembered what his mother had always told him, if you are to ever to make a wish, it had to be on the twinkling of a star. So placing a hand over his heart, he wished that he could do right by you. As he had made his way to your house he realized, just how much he wanted to have you at his side.

He truly hoped that he could be a good man for you, care for you as you deserved. He would strive to do be good for you while making a France that was worthy of you.

******

You held your hands out in front of you. They fragrant like the powder you had so keenly dusted yourself with. Were they truly how you wished they looked. They were not claw like Gretas, they also were not padded and speckled like mama’s own hands.

You would meet Enjolras with no gloves on. You fretted. Perhaps you should run in and retrieve a pair. You got up, walked a few steps and then shaking your head you walked back to the bench.

You shifted where you sat. You really shouldn’t worry, you remembered that the gentlemen that made your gloves, assured you, that your hands were a delight to make for. But right now, you sat there worried.

Looking skyward, you watched as a cloud passed by the moon. It was full and bright with the stars were all there twinkling and filling the night sky. As you looked up, you spotted one that was brighter then all the rest.

Placing a hand over your heart, you wished for happiness with Enjolras. You didn’t wish forever. You wished for two of you to know happiness for as long as fate thought it was just. You sealed the wish with a tear. It was a tear, that slipped free from deep within you. Now you could hope that the angels of above would look kindly down upon the two of you and grant the wish.

*******

Enjolras, found himself outside of the wall. If he did this there would no be going back. His hearted thudded, his mind brought him a memory of your sweet smile and he had the strength.

Walking around he studied the wall, seeing a bench up against the wall worried him. He shook his head. With all the unrest in the city, he was grateful no brutes had chose to climb your wall.

Taking a firm hold, he looked it over to see if it was strong. Having determine it would be able to hold him, he climbed onto it. Taking a breath, he leapt up and got a hold. Somehow, he really didn’t know how he found places to put his booted feet and pull himself up. Feeling triumphant, he got himself to the top.

Gazing skyward then back at your garden, he smiled. The moonlight poured into your garden. Standing there he looked, a small smile played on his lips when he saw the fabric of what he could only guess was your dress.

The smile dropped as nervousness grasped tightly onto him. He rocked back and forth on his booted feet. He was reminded of having a similar nervousness before addressing his comrades or when he would have to fence again Pierre and Jacques, he sneered at the memory. Those two had become so insignificant. Yet, right now the nervousness he felt was similar to those days. It wasn’t until he do his first lunge did his nerves calm.

If he could sit with you in a pub or even have his hand gently resting against you while walking in a market, he could do this. He wanted to do this. So bracing himself on one hand and crouching down, he jumped down. Pleased with himself, he stood up after landing smoothly.

He ran his finger through his rebellious curls a final time. His nervousness had great diminished, though his heart beat terribly fast. He swallowed a few breathes, the best he could and as he drew nearer. As he did, he saw you move. Just then, he stepped onto to a twig, that snapped as loudly as whip used by a coachman.

You turned, surprise splashed across your face.

“Tis me, tis me!” He whispered, stopping where he stood and held out a hand.

“Enjolras?”

He watched as you shifted trying to get a better look. He stayed rooted where he stood, as to not startle you more.

You finally stood and stepped out from behind archway over the bench where you sat. He finally noticed it was covered in greenery. That was you most likely had not been able to see him. Smoothly, turning towards him you were fully bathed in moonlight.

“Yes, it is.” He uttered.

He resisted smiling, once again like all of your scarves this one was no exception as it fluttered away from you and floated to the ground behind you. As you grew closer, he realized just how taken by how lovely you were but now in the moonlight, you had become ethereal.

You quickly closed the distance between the two of you. “Enjolras, you came.” You were breathless.

He took a step so he stood right in front of you. “I promised.” His coat just grazed you.

His eyes moved over you. Your hair was looser then it had ever been before. Your dress, was unlike he had ever seen you wear before. It made him swallow. Somehow, how it was revealing yet also very tasteful. It made his heart beat harder. Then finally he saw your hands, actually saw them. Finally, no gloves hid them from him, this pleased him very much.

“Is everything ok?”

He could hear your voice quiver. A painful flush at possibly hurting you blossomed in his heart.

Meeting your eyes. “Yes, of course.” He whispered.

Without thinking, he reached out and with both of his hands brought yours up. They were just as soft as he had hoped. Inhaling deeply, their sweet scent made him tremble.

“Enjolras.” Your voice came out as a breath.

The most exquisite knots formed in his stomach. It was the single most delightful way he had ever heard his name spoken. Another tremble came over you.

“Yes? We…we” He glanced around stumbling to find the right words, his mind had gone blank. You robbed him of any coherent thought. He grazed his lips against you knuckles. “We should sit.” He finally was able to utter.

“Yes. Yes.” You agreed repeating yourself.

You wavered before him. Always quick on his feet, he moved with you and caught you as you swooned.

Moving just so, he ended up sitting just the right way so he could hold you close. Gazing down at you, a smile curled his lips. A soft tremble came over him holding you as such.

Once the girl who always took care of him and his comrades at the pub, had draped herself across his lap. Perhaps it was to show her feelings toward him or at the very least, display what she wanted to offer him. He was just glad that she had not spilled his drink when she had done it. He had helped her to her feet and dusted himself off. She was the last thing, he had wanted to feel against him.

While right now, he was enjoying just how soft you felt against him. You felt so good. Your sweet scent tickled his nose in the best possible away. “Ma fille forte s'évanouit enfin.” His voice barely above a whisper as he traced his finger tips along the gentle curve of your cheek and long your jaw.

He studied your features in the silvery light. He could not stop the flutter of his heart, as the idea of tracing the curve of your lips. One always heard there was nothing sweeter then a kiss, he licked and bit his bottom lip. Curiosity, blossomed within him.

A soft sound came from you.

“Mon trésor, mon ange are you with me?” Speaking such sweet words felt as if he had always said them and especially to you. He had never thought that he had that in him or at the very least, he never thought it would be part of his life. That was until you came walking in.

Your eyelashes fluttered open, and a soft smile appeared on your lips but he could see as your brow creased ever so slightly.

“Enjolras, is that you?” Turning your head, reaching up your hand found a cupped his cheek.

“It is me, mon trésor.” He replied.

You smiled. Following, his heart he placed one of his hands over yours pressing it more against his cheek. Tilting his head he gazed down at you smiling back at you.

“Tell me, I am not dreaming. I could not bare it.” Your voice cracked.

“C'est moi, ma petite fille. You are not dreaming.” Gently he eased your hand to his mouth and pressed kisses to your palm.

You giggled. “En..Enjolras.” You gasped and giggled.

He smiled and pressed more kisses.

“Stop.” You smile grew even bigger. “Enjolras, that tickles!” You exclaimed.

“Only if I truly must.”

“Yes. Yes. I can barely think.”

You moved to sit up.

“Allow me to continue holding you.” He swallowed. “That is if you will allow me to do so.”

Surprise over took you and you nodded. “There is nothing, I’d enjoy more. So yes, I think I would like that very much.

Slowly shifting, you were facing now him. You were laying across his lap just so. It made it easier so he was able to hold you up higher. Now, you two could look into each other’s eyes.

“You have given me such a sweet pleasure.”

@aftertheglitterfades @sebastianstvn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix

[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 11/?: Nightmares

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10

In which none of the previous golden guards or wittebro died, actually, they're all fine and living happily together as one big dysfunctional family

Ao3

“Hunter. It’s my turn for watch.”

Hunter stood up, stretching. “Dagger, Cyrus, and Joseph are still out there, right? Are they… coming back soon?”

Cherry shook his head. “I might swap out for Joseph soon, the griffins are getting antsy without him, but after the stunt that our little guy pulled with those Hexside students… Dad wants eyes on him at all times, close enough to interfere if necessary. Making friends is… sort of usually a big step in the danger direction. That and the whole incident with the key… he’s on a slippery slope.”

Hunter gave the crystal ball a fond smile. “At least he has Darius now.”

Although I wish he hadn’t scared the living hell out of him with that scythe first

He needs to work on what he thinks is a funny joke.

Still.

They found each other, I won’t…

I’m not going to have to choose.

Cherry winced. “Hunter, I’m not sure a single head pat is exactly… I mean, they’re on the same side for now, but if that changes, when that changes—”

“You don’t know Darius like I do.”

He has to be on our side, he has to.

He wouldn’t side with my murderer if he knew.

“Alright, alright. But if Belos sends Darius after Hunter, we’ll have to deal with him as a threat. You know that, right? You don’t have to fight him, no one is expecting you to, but… don’t get in our way?”

“If.”

I have to believe in him.

“Yeah. If. I mean, who knows, he might decide to pick someone else!” Cherry gave him a lopsided grin. “Go get some sleep. I’ve got this.”

Hunter trudged off to bed, curling up on his side.

It would be just like Uncle to send Darius to kill him, after Darius started actually liking him.

Would he do it, though? Could he do it?

Darius had always had a strong sense of justice. But he’d also always wanted to be exactly what he was now. Powerful, respected, the top of his field. Would he give that up, for some kid?

Would he have given it up if he’d known what had happened to me?

Creeeeeak.

Hunter held his breath, eying the shadow in the door.

“Hunter?” Jason’s voice wobbled, “Are you asleep?”

“No,” he grumbled, sitting up.

Jason twisted his hands in front of himself. “Would you… would you mind if I stayed in here tonight?”

Hunter yawned. “Nah. Go ahead, there’s plenty of sp—”

Jason clambered up into bed next to him, pressing against his side.

“—oh okay not on the floor, up here, got it, sure.” Hunter sat up more completely so that Jason fit under his arm. “Nightmares?”

Jason let out a tiny laugh. “I mean, not as bad as Chryses, or Alex, they’re barely nightmares, more like just… not good dreams. Usually I’d go to Mom or Dad, buuuuuut… well, Chryses AND Alex are having a bad one tonight, and I… didn’t want to bug them. Not for mine, it was stupid, the other two need them more right now.”

“Mmm. What was it about?”

“Alex has bad falling dreams, you know the ones where you wake up and you feel like you were falling? Theirs are really bad, though, and—”

“Jason.”

“It was about him,” Jason said in a small voice, “About the night I…” He drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. “It was my first mission, you know.”

“Your first?”

Explains why he’s so young.

Jason sniffed. “Yeah. I mean, I did pretty well as a guard, I kept him safe, I protected him from threats, I helped around at home, I provided security at his gatherings. But it was the first time he ever sent me out on my own to do something for him.”

Hunter held his breath, sure that if he moved, Jason would be scared off.

“He wanted me to gather some palisman because he was out, and, you know, I thought, no big deal, they’re just animals, and he needs them, right? I can do this for him, he needs them to survive.”

Yeah. No big deal. I did that all the time, usually just collecting them from new recruits.

“I chickened out, though. I caught some, I had them all ready to go back to him, and then… I saw someone looking for theirs. They were so distraught, and they were calling for it, and I realized… I realized they were like family to their witches, that I was sacrificing someone else’s family to save mine.”

Jason shook his head. “I ran away. I couldn’t… I couldn’t go back empty handed, but I couldn’t just give those guys to him, so I ran. I thought, I’d just release them and… then I’d figure it out from there. He wasn’t… I knew he wasn’t great, I knew how his moods got, but I thought, I thought I could just keep managing things, I could find an alternative for the palisman, or else I’d just… go. I’d quit managing him and just go do what I wanted to do, leave him and his near outbursts behind forever.”

Jason ran a hand through his hair, tears building up in his eyes. “Guess that was pretty stupid of me. Guess it was pretty stupid to think he wouldn’t know, that he wouldn’t come after me. He was watching, he’d been watching the whole time, and he showed up just as I was about to release the palisman.”

He looked up at Hunter with desperate, watery eyes. “He said he wasn’t mad, he said he’d expected too much of me for my first time out on my own, and he never should have put that burden on my shoulders. He said we could go home, that we could—and I believed him, I believed him like a great big idiot.” Jason buried his head back in his arms. “The instant I turned around to go home…”

Hunter reached out towards him wordlessly, hand hovering over his back for a moment before finally coming to rest.

Through the thin fabric of Jason’s pajamas, Hunter could feel a singular thick scar on his back.

Just the right length and thickness for one of Belos’ “outburst” blades, the ones that had given him the scar that marred his right eyebrow.

They’d never gone this deep before.

Hunter rubbed a gentle circle on Jason’s back as his shoulders shook. “You’re here now,” he murmured.

“He just left me to die there,” Jason whispered, his voice breaking, “He stabbed me, and then he just left. He took the palisman, I didn’t even manage to save them, and he just left me there and I was all alone and—” He fell back against Hunter’s side, and Hunter wordlessly wrapped one arm around his shoulders. “I only made one mistake,” he whispered, “It was the first time I ever did anything wrong.” Jason scrubbed at his eyes. “I don’t belong here.”

“What?! Of course you do!”

“No, I don’t. Everyone here, they—they fought back. They confronted Belos, that’s why he killed them. Me? I just ran away. They did so much, they went through so much, they endured him for so long and did things for him for so long, and I… I chickened out on my first mission. I couldn’t even get past that. Everyone else in this house went through so much at his hands, and I… I didn’t.” He sniffed. “I don’t deserve to be here with everyone, I didn’t go through anything as bad as they did. The Jason in the stories came back to fight his uncle, just like the rest of you, but I’m not like him. I just ran away. I’m just a coward.”

“No—No, Jason. Jason, listen. I collected palisman for Belos, too. And maybe, deep down, I figured it was wrong. But I pushed that part down and did it anyway.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Hunter shifted so that he was facing Jason, brushing his hair out of his face. “No. It wasn’t brave of me to do what Belos wanted. I did it because I was scared. I was scared of what he’d do if I didn’t. But you? You realized what he was asking you to do was wrong, and you acted on it. You didn’t push down your doubts and just keep on doing what he told you to do, even though it was wrong. You were brave enough to run away from him, smart enough to run away from him.”

“Doesn’t matter. I went right back when he asked.”

“He was going to kill you, Jason. Whether you agreed to go back with him or not.”

“I’m just… scared,” Jason said in a very small voice, “I’m scared that if he shows up again, if my family is put in danger… that I’ll run away again. That I won’t stay and fight to protect everyone, that I’ll leave you all behind to save myself. That I’ll be a coward all over again. Dad and Mom and all of you guys are always there if I need you. I’m scared that I’ll fail them when they need me.”

Hunter opened and closed his mouth. “I… Jason, I…”

Jason curled up in a ball, turning away from Hunter to face the wall. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. It’s stupid.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Pretend like what you’re going through is less important than what everyone else is going through?”

“’Coz it is. Everyone else here has all these horror stories about Belos, about what he’d do if they failed, about the horrific way they died. Meanwhile, my life was pretty okay, and my death was pretty straightforward. Nothing horrific there, just a basic stab in the back. I don’t have the right to ask for the same help they do.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I didn’t make a stand against him, and I wasn’t killed as badly as everyone else. I shouldn’t need the same help they do.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t.”

“Mm.”

“Jason?”

“Mhm?”

“Thanks for trusting me.”

Jason heaved a sigh. “Thanks for listening. Even if it is ridiculous.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop saying that? Please?”

“But—”

“Just try?”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

Hunter’s door slammed open. “Hunter, wake up!” Cherry yelped urgently “Hunter—oh, hi, Jason—Hunter, he’s gone.”

Hunter sat bolt upright. “What?!”

“Dad’s talking to the others right now, but he just disappeared!”

Hunter leapt out of bed and tore down the hallway to the crystal ball room, Jason on his heels. Caleb was listening to a raven phone, his face pale.

“—and he stepped on the potion, and there was a flash of light, and he was just gone!” Cyrus’ voice was saying frantically from the phone, “We don’t know where he went! I don’t think anyone does! The Owl Lady’s kid disappeared, too, so they’re together, but—”

“The Owl Lady?” Caleb squeaked, “Never mind. Is Dagger on the trail?”

“There is no trail!” Dagger yelped, “Magic leaves a trace, usually, but not this spell. Wherever they’ve gone, it’s not a place I can follow!”

“Okay. Okay, I’m coming, we’ll find him. Just hold on.”

Caleb hung up the phone, his eyes moving wildly around the room. “Cherry!”

“Yes, sir?”

“I need you to let your mother know what’s happening. We might need her healing abilities, I don’t know yet, but… just be prepared. Hunter?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been to Bonesborough before?”

“I have.”

“Grab a concealment stone, you’re with me. We’re going to get to the bottom of this. We’re going to find him. And we’re going to make sure he’s safe.”

“Dad?” Jason asked quietly, “Is this it? Is it happening?”

Caleb stopped, putting his hands on Jason’s shoulders. “I don’t know. But we’re going to be ready if it is. We’ll make sure he gets out of this. Whatever it takes.”