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abbysfrenchbraid · 4 years ago

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Daring - Chapter 2

This is part two of my Abby Mordern!Au, you can read Chapter 1 here.

Masterlist

Abby and the reader have dinner at Abby's place. There is music playing and referenced, so I'd recommend you listen to this playlist with all the songs playing in order as soon as the date night begins. About 10k words.

CW for alcohol consumption, mention of death/murder, mention of dubious consent (and possibly terrible grammar. It's 10pm, I just finished this, I don't have a proofreader atm)

Thyme and Tree Bark

“Don’t mess this up, airhead. Take care!”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot!”

You closed the door behind Mark as he vanished down the stairs and headed straight for your bed. Though you were less wobbly on your feet after devouring half of a perfectly cheesy pizza with just the right amount of jalapenos, it had thrown you straight into a food coma. Your angel of a brother had come over at noon with two chilled cans of coke and a large pizza from your favorite Italian place and not even ripped open the curtains as he usually did. Instead, he had thrown himself on the bed right next to you, handed you a slice, and demanded you start talking.

Of course, he already knew about Abby and your embarrassing shyness when it came to the buff blonde, so he was extremely proud of the progress you had made with your excruciating crush. You both agreed that Abby had definitely invited you over for a date this week - alone, without Manny there - and that it had to mean she was interested, too. He had laughed about the little bar stint when Abby had shut down your flirt with the hot waitress in an instant and was now 100% sure this was going to go great. As long as you kept it together and didn’t ruin everything. As you often did. This needed some tactical planning.

Mouths full of cheesy delight and laughing at each other’s stupid ideas, you and your brother had come up with a fairly foolproof plan. You would text Abby in 1-2 days, keeping it cool and asking when you should come over. Then, you would suggest making cocktails at home, already granting a fun activity and something to loosen the mood. You would keep it casual and bring over some nice liquor and maybe a bag of chips, perfect for watching a movie. You’d try to keep the conversation casual and try to speak mostly about Abby, asking lots of questions so you didn’t get tangled up in speaking about yourself. If you steered the conversation toward movies, you could watch something exciting and maybe even scary together so you could cuddle up on the couch together. And well, if you got that far, things would probably fall into place naturally. Foolproof. Y/N-proof.

You groaned as you reached over to grab your phone from your nightstand. You had a message from your mom asking if you wanted to come over for dinner next weekend and an email from your professor who wanted to submit your last essay to some kind of grant application. You’d have to answer her later, your head still felt like it was filled with cotton. Instead, you sent Leah a message.

-Hey, you still alive? There’s leftover pizza and coke over here.

Five seconds later, there was a delighted squeal at the other side of the wall and you heard the click of your roommate’s door before yours opened and Leah tiptoe-danced inside, beaming at you. She was wearing nothing but an extremely tight-fitting cropped wifebeater and a khaki thong, accentuating her long legs as she leaped right onto your bed and almost made you fly as her weight hit the mattress. You tried not to stare at her perfectly toned abs as she opened the gigantic carton and held up a slice of pizza over her head, letting the tip dangle in her mouth before biting down with a moan that made you snort awkwardly.

“Good morning, you animal.”

Leah just moaned again, making a grabbing motion with her hand and pointing toward the second can of coke on your nightstand. You laughed silently as you handed her the cold can, condensed water running down the sides and wetting your fingers. You wiped them on the blanket. The tall brunette swallowed hard and took a sip of coke.

“Good morning, womanizer.” She grinned widely. “I’m so proud of you, man. This is the first time I’ve seen you in action and I can safely say Abby was just as surprised as I was.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh god, was I that obvious? Did I do anything inappropriate? I thought it went well, but now I’m not so sure.” You spread your fingers to peak at your roommate who was currently chewing on a ginormous bite, tomato juice running down her chin. No manners, that girl. She just shook her head and made a noise somewhere between protest and encouragement.

“No, you were fine,” she said with a full mouth, “very tipsy, but cute. I hope you remember Abby inviting you to her place.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You ran your fingers through your hair, immediately getting stuck in a tangle of knots. God, you needed a shower.

“Yeah, I already went over it with Mark. We made a plan so I won’t embarrass myself.”

“Good. I hope it goes well, you two would be cute together. Hot, even. I mean, no one can deny the allure of those biceps. And her ass?! Godly.” She easily evaded the kick you aimed at her ribs, laughing and slapping your shin away.

“Come on, let’s not act like you’re not ogling her every chance you get. I am, too - the woman looks like a greek goddess!”

“That’s enough,” you giggled, aiming another playful kick in her direction but only lightly hitting her in the thigh. “I know what she looks like.”

“Right. And soon, you’ll hopefully see a lot more of her.” This time, Leah jumped off the bed before your toes could sink right into her side. You tried to suppress a grin as you two stared at each other for a moment before Leah sat back down cross-legged and began eating the last slice of pizza.

“I mean,” she said casually, “you have seen more of a woman before, right?”

You grabbed your coke and turned it in your hands before answering.

“Yeah, I have. It wasn’t… It wasn’t all that, though. Just one time and we were both so nervous it was just awkward.”

Now Leah looked at you with a mixture of shock and pity.

“Come on, Y/N. Only once? You’ve never seen stars because of a woman’s tongue? Never screamed into a pillow because of some skilled sapphic strap game? Never lost your mi-”

“Leaahhhh!” You groaned, feeling blood shoot into your cheeks. “No, okay? I… I made the other girl cum, but for me, it was just… it was too unfamiliar and I didn’t know her well enough to really let myself enjoy it.”

Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and you felt your eyes open wide.

“Wait. Has Abby…? Is she..?”

Leah paused mid-bite and thought for a second.

“Well, she does have experience with men, obviously. As far as women go… I honestly don’t know. She’s dated a few, but it never went longer than a couple of weeks. I don’t know how fast things go with her and she’s never gone into detail with me. I have to ask Nora about that.”

“Don’t you dare! She’ll know this is about me and tell Abby!”

“Oh come on, I’m interested, too.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you so you know what to prepare for, win-win!” She nudged your foot and gave you a mischievous half-smile.

“For god’s sake, do what you must.” You finished your coke and threw it perfectly into the bin beside your desk. Leah gave you an impressed nod. “And now I desperately need a shower. There is a literal nest on top of my head.”

“True,” Leah said and stood up, stretching her limbs as she walked to the door. “Thanks for the pizza. I’m gonna ask Jordan if he wants to come over, so don’t walk out naked if you don’t want a threesome.” She winked at you before closing the door, but a small part at the back of your brain knew that she wasn’t completely joking. You sighed and swung your legs off your bed. No point in lying around, it was past 3 pm anyway.

Grabbing your phone, a shirt, and some clean boxers, you headed for the bathroom. You took your time showering, detangling the mess on your head with lots of conditioner, humming along to Marika Hackman’s cover of I Follow Rivers as you stood under the hot stream of water and brushing your teeth for at least five minutes while waiting for a hair mask to do its magic. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with hot steam and you felt like a whole new person. You slipped into your fresh clothes and held the blow dryer to the mirror until your reflection was clear.

So. Here you were. Finally, you had spoken to the woman of your dreams and even flirted with her. She may have even been jealous of your short conversation with Ellie, the bartender. Tomorrow, you would text her, you would be brave and cool and not at all awkward. As you collected your clothes off the floor and took your phone, you suddenly realized something that would destroy your entire plan. You didn’t even have Abby’s phone number. Why hadn’t you asked her? Of course, you could ask Leah for it, but Abby would know because she knew she hadn’t given it to you. It would be a lot less cool and casual. Fuck.

You stepped into the hallway and ran straight into Jordan. Perfect. Good thing Leah had warned you.

“Oh, hi Y/N! You doing alright after all those tequila shots?” Jordan’s face was open and kind. You immediately relaxed. Just a guy, not a threat.

“Better than I thought I would, actually. What about you?”

“Well, I sent them back out the way they came as soon as I got home.” He grimaced and shrugged. “Just glad I’m still alive, to be honest.”

You had to laugh. “I’m glad, too. Leah would have been devastated.”

“I hope so.” He grinned back. The silence between you stretched a little bit too long.

“Anyways, I’m gonna see what she’s up to. See you later?”

“Yeah, sure!” You said, relieved that he didn’t make it awkward. You quickly slipped into your room and sank down on the bed, composing a text to Mark.

-Minor hiccup - I don’t have her number.

His reply came immediately.

-Shit. What now?

You let yourself fall back on the mattress and covered your face with your arm. Your phone vibrated again and you lifted it up, hoping for a brilliant idea.

-Hey, this is Abby. Are we still on for next week?

You almost dropped your phone on your face. For a minute, you just stared at the message. Then you rolled over onto your stomach and screamed into your pillow.

-Hi Abby. We absolutely are. Y/N.

You tried to suppress a fit of giggles as you texted your brother.

-Nvm, she just texted me.

-Omg what!! Play it cool, don’t answer yet. What did she say???

-Oops already answered. Still on for next week.

-Incredibly casual lol. Whatever, good for you!

-Shut up!

Another text by Abby came in and you actually started drumming your feet on the bed with excitement.

-Tuesday? I could cook for us

-Very impressive, I’ll bite. What time should I come over?

-Very clever. 6pm? Any allergies?

-Vegetarian, hope that’s okay. 6 is great, text me your address?

You watched the little text bubble pop up and vanish again for a good minute, getting more and more nervous for her answer.

- No problem. 2425 Constance.

There was nothing else to do but scream into your pillow again.

The next two days went excruciatingly slow. You spent the rest of your Sunday in bed, watching a terrible zombie movie and later ordering curry because you couldn’t be bothered with preparing any food. As it got late, you suddenly heard a knock on the wall. At first, you thought it was accidental, until the knocking started to continue in a steady rhythm. With a death glare that you hoped would reach through the concrete, you plugged your headphones into your laptop and continued watching your movie.

On Monday, you threw yourself into art history coursework and caught up on your studies, emailed your professor, and spent three hours on an essay about the depiction of blood in paintings of Judith beheading Holofernes. Lovely subject. Even though you got through a lot of your tasks for the day, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at your phone every 10 minutes to see if you had missed a message. Of course, nothing came up. Around 4 pm, your phone buzzed and you leapt for it only to find out it was Leah asking you to buy toilet paper later. At 6pm, you shut off your laptop and grabbed your backpack to go grocery shopping.

Standing in the liquor store you realized you hadn’t asked Abby about cocktails.

“Looking for something in particular?” the elderly lady behind the counter asked. It seemed to be her own shop and to have been hers for a while, judging by the elegant wooden shelves and the warm, nice feeling of the room instead of neon lights and rows of white metal.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I have a date tomorrow and I thought we could make cocktails, but I forgot to ask what she likes. So now I don’t know what to bring.” You gave her an apologetic half smile. She stood up from her seat behind the register, growing not even 2 inches standing compared to sitting and made her way over to you. Her eyes twinkled behind thick glasses that made her look a little bit like an owl.

“Well, dear. I don’t know if I would go straight into the hard liquor on a first date. On my last first date, we had a delicious red wine, a Merlot. Couldn’t that be something? Are you going to eat anything?”

“Oh yes, she said she’d cook for us, but I don’t know what exactly.”

The shop owner gently put a hand on your arm and guided you to a shelf of dark bottles.

“Well, Merlot goes well with any food, so I think it would be perfect. Cocktails come later, when you dress up and go out together or after a night of theater.” You felt a surge of warmth spread through your chest. Theater? Well, why not? For a second, you began to trail off, imagining Abby in a perfectly tailored suit, you at her arm just as dressed up, every head turning as you entered the room and ordered Gin Tonics at the bar during the break. The voice next to you pulled you back to the present.

“If you’re cooking at home, wine is the thing to bring, trust me.”

“I trust you,” you said with a smile as you took the bottle she handed you. The label was a creamy white, with beautiful golden letters. Hopefully this wouldn’t bankrupt you. “Thank you for your help.”

The shopkeeper sat back down in her chair with a sigh and typed into the cash register. 15.99$. That wasn’t so bad. You paid and gently put the bottle inside your backpack.

“You know, you should come by soon and let me know how it went. I think that Merlot will bring you good luck. My wife and I still have it every Sunday.” Your head snapped up and your eyes met that charming, smart twinkle again, flashing at you out of dark brown irises. For a moment, all of the things you wanted to say were stuck in your throat, then you just broke into a smile.

“That’s wonderful, ma’am. I hope I can have that, in the future.”

“Of course you will, dear.” She really sounded like she meant it. A small lump suddenly appeared in your throat.

“Thank you so much. I wish you all the best.”

“Go get her!”

You laughed and waved at her again as you exited the shop, taking the warmth and comfort of it with you and tucking it right beneath the bottom of your heart and the top of your stomach where you knew it would fuel you for a few days. You had already decided that you would come back and make it your mission to befriend that old lady. What a wonderful woman.

Only 23 hours to go. That night, it was almost impossible to fall asleep.

You got through the next day by once again banning any thought of the evening from your mind and diving head first into your assignments. You were going to lead a discussion on different planes of language or communications in women’s art and literature and reading up on the historical differences between male and female narratives, beginning with the ancient poet Sappho. It was an exciting topic, something you were extremely thankful for. Otherwise you might have been looking at your phone every 3 minutes instead of every 20. Of course, no message from Abby.

The bottle of wine was standing on your nightstand, reminding you of your plans with an exciting tingle in your stomach. At 4pm, you gave up on doing anything productive. You spent forever in the shower, stealing some of Leah’s expensive pink body scrub, shaving everywhere and regretting it immediately because you felt stupid for assuming anything, entertaining the but what if thoughts while you thoroughly lathered your entire body in Leah’s shampoo and shower gel and spending a good 10 minutes just standing under the hot water because you weren’t ready to leave that fantasy yet. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was an actual steam bath and you could hardly see the door through the thick waves of wonderfully scented fog. You took your time stealing some more of Leah’s skincare products, having come to the conclusion that if she noticed anything and scolded you for it, you might as well try out the whole arsenal.

When you finally opened your closet door, feeling luxurious and clean and fresh, it was 5.10pm. What the hell were you going to wear? You and Mark had agreed on casual, but what the hell did that even mean? You decided to ask him.

-Help!!! Freaking out over my outfit, need a definition for casual

-Jeans and T-Shirt, just your standard outfit. Imagine meeting me for sushi.

-I’m bringing red wine. It seems wrong to bring wine in jeans and a t-shirt..

-What happened to cocktails?? Trust me, keep it simple. You don’t wanna turn up in a dress and she opens the door in sweatpants.

-I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in sweatpants. Ughh fuck I don’t have time for this. Jeans and t-shirt it is. Lesbian grandma recommended wine, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow x

-Go get her x

You quickly slipped into some black jeans that were just the right amount of tightly fitting around your ass and a white shirt with a tiny pomegranate embroidered on the front. Then you put on your jacket and quickly threw your wallet, phone and keys into a tote before grabbing the wine and putting it in as well. With a last look into the hallway mirror and a yelled goodbye to Leah, you rushed out of your apartment.

The evening air was not as cool as you had expected and the sun was just about to set. On your way to the train station, you typed out an on my way! message to Abby and quickly deleted it again. No sense in sending it now when you hadn’t spoken since Sunday and were about to see her. The train ride was annoying, the wagon stuffed with commuters and some guy trying to convince you the apocalypse was upon you all. Zombies, not the last judgement - something different at least.

During the walk from the station to Abby’s house, you were sure it wouldn’t take much more for you to actually start levitating. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your throat was so cramped up it was hard to breathe. When you pulled out your phone, your fingers were actually shaking. Jesus Christ, get a grip. 5.58 pm.

And there it was, 2425 Constance. Just a normal suburban white house, like any other in the street. It actually seemed a bit weird, Manny and Abby living here in the midst of what seemed to be a family neighborhood with real adults . Then again, they both weren’t in college, so you supposed they actually were real adults. When you walked up to the front door, you could hear faint music from inside - jazz? You wouldn’t have guessed she was the jazz type, but then again you knew almost nothing about her. Right. Ask questions, keep the conversation about her. Be cool.

You knocked.

Abby opened the door, a wave of warm air hitting you from inside. It smelled delightful. Her face was slightly flushed, her lips parted as she took in a deep breath. She had tied her hair back in a low bun, but a few strands had fallen out and framed her face. One was standing up in a funny angle.

“Hi, Abby,” you said, trying to keep your voice level and not stare at her body. Fuck, she had dressed up. And she looked hot.

“Hi!” A smile slowly grew wide on her face. When she realized that she was blocking the door, she quickly shook her head and stepped aside. “Come in! Can I take your jacket?”

Oh God, this was hopeless. You already knew you were hers. Thanking her, you took off your jacket and she hung it in a closet next to the entrance. When she turned around, you got a chance to admire her fully. She wore wide dress pants that perfectly accentuated all of her muscles, topped with a loose white shirt with wide sleeves, reminding you a little bit of a pirate. Her jewelry rounded off the pirate look and you had to bite back a grin. She raised her eyebrows at you.

“What?” Her cheeks were still slightly red, but you attributed it to standing in a hot kitchen for probably the last hour, judging by the variety of smells overlapping and mixing together, already making your mouth water.

“Uh, I brought wine,” you said and held out the bottle. Eloquent as always. Abby took it and whistled through her teeth as she inspected the label.

“That looks classic. The sauce I made has some wine in it as well, this is perfect. Thank you, what a great idea!”

You were overwhelmed with her generous praise and didn’t know where to look, so you settled on her hands. You had always sneaked looks at her hands, at the way she held a glass or drummed on a table or clasped them when she was intently listening to someone. They looked strong and rough from work, but there was also a delicacy in their movement and you were sure her touch could be as gentle as the brush of a hummingbird flying past. Realizing you were staring, you tore your gaze away.

“It smells delicious in here, I can’t wait to see what you cooked.” You followed her into the kitchen, where she placed the bottle on the counter and took a corkscrew from a drawer. A big red pot was standing on the gas stove over a tiny flame, the lid still hiding its contents. Your stomach suddenly growled loudly into the silence.

“Someone’s hungry.” Abby gave you a side glance and an amused smirk as she screwed the silver device into the cork. “Everything’s already set, we can get started right away.”

You covered your eyes with your hand for a second before laughing.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot to have lunch earlier and then I figured I’d just wait so I could really savour this.”

“Smart thinking. I made patates au vin , a vegetarian version of coq au vin which is chicken in wine. It’s basically potatoes and vegetables in a thick brown sauce, served with some good rustic bread.” You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back at the thought of getting to eat home cooked french cuisine made by Abby in a few minutes.

“Oh my God, say that again.” You could barely stop yourself from moaning. Abby laughed and opened the wine with a loud pop.

“Here, take this over to the dinner table. I’m right behind you.” You took the bottle and followed her nod into the dining room. The wooden table was beautifully set with big and small plates, glasses for water and wine, candles, two blue glass bottles of water and a bowl of salad topped with what looked like apples, pomegranate seeds and feta cheese. You carefully placed the bottle of wine next to the water bottles and stepped aside for Abby, who came out of the kitchen carrying the heavy pot and placed it on a cork coaster in the middle of the table.

“Wait, let me just…” she trailed off as she grabbed her phone from the sideboard and changed the music. A saxophone led a jazz band into the song before a beautiful female voice set in, soft as butter and filling the room like the smell of roses. The voice was familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. As Abby sat down, the music came to a crescendo before breaking off, the voice setting in again with a soft

is it a crime?

“Who sings this?” you asked as Abby opened the water bottle and filled your glasses.

“Oh, it’s Sade. She was my dad’s favorite.”

And I want you to want me too, the woman sang, and your eyes met over the table. You swallowed. Was? Not the right time.

“Sade? Oh, she sings Smooth Operator, right? I know that one, but I never checked out more of her music.”

Abby smiled at you and opened the lid of the pot.

“Yeah. This is the Promise album, my favorite. She is a force.”

A wave of steam erupted from the pot and you bent forward to look inside. Thick, roasted wedges of yellow potatoes lay in a bed of orange and purple carrots, mushrooms and tomatoes in a thick brown sauce, a stalk of thyme on top and a bay leaf poking out from the sauce. You weren’t sure if you were drooling, but you didn’t care.

“Abby, oh my God! This is fantastic.”

A spark had lit in her eyes when she heard you say her name. She elegantly stood up again, grabbed a serving spoon, and held out her hand for your plate. You watched her hands again as she plated an array of vegetables for you and used the spoon to draw a little sauce heart on the rim of the plate. Your ribs felt two sizes too small around your chest. This woman was actually going to be the death of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said and waited as Abby helped herself to a plate. She sat down and gestured toward the small basket with thick slices of grey bread with a dark brown crust.

“Help yourself. Bon appétit.”

After a few moments of eating in comfortable silence before you showered the blonde in an array of compliments, this time not able to refrain from moaning when you bit into a tender, sweet purple carrot, the conversation began to flow. Abby complimented the wine, you talked about your studies, Abby told a few work stories in which both she and Nora were involved, you told her about your close relationship with your brother and she bittersweetly reminisced about her upbringing as an only child with a single dad. It had just been the two of them, moving frequently because of his changing jobs in different hospitals. He had been a neurosurgeon, and a brilliant one at that, but always humble and ready to help wherever he could. Abby sat up straighter when she talked about him, her chest actually swelling with pride when she told you about one time they had rescued an injured horse that had run away and been hit by a car in front of them.

“I think I was 16 back then. It’s one of my favorite memories of him. It actually wasn’t long before…” Her eyebrows moved into a frown and she bit her lip, pushing a small piece of onion around her plate. Fuck, maybe it would have been easier to talk about you, after all.

“We don’t have to talk about it. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

She looked up and you expected to see tears, but her eyes were full of love and her face smoothed out into a gentle smile.

“No, it’s okay. I’m still working on it, and part of my therapy is telling people who don’t know yet. You know, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” She suddenly laughed, easing the tension at the bottom of your lungs. “That sounds stupid, of course I do. I have Manny and Nora and Leah and Jordan and Owen, I guess. But the thing is, they all knew me before. I haven’t really made friends ever since my dad.. passed away. The idea of needing to open up to someone about all this so I can develop a real connection and friendship with them is just a lot to bear.”

“The mortifying ordeal of being known,” you mumbled, more to yourself, crumpling up your napkin in one hand.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, it’s this quote from a New York Times article that has been floating around the internet for a while. ‘If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known’.” You looked up at her and inhaled deeply. “It’s something I’m also terrified of. Although it seems kind of stupid sometimes, because compared to you for example, I don’t really have a good reason.”

Abby looks at you like she’s just discovered something extremely interesting. She takes a sip of her wine before answering, her silver rings blinking at you in the candlelight.

“It’s not at all stupid. I’ve always been very careful with who I open up to, even before my dad died. It’s horrifying, laying yourself bare for a person, putting yourself on a silver plate and handing it to them and saying there, now do with it what you wish. Maybe they’ll look at it and say no, thanks. Maybe they’ll call everyone and say hey, look at this mad woman with her twisted insides, isn’t that funny? Maybe they’ll see it and think, I can do this, and then after a few years they suddenly realize they actually can’t and you’re way too much and so they leave for someone with a more simple, prettier silver plate. Maybe they’ll even take a few pieces with them as they go.”

She didn’t sound bitter as she said it, and she didn’t look terribly sad either, more as if she was making an observation about something she was mildly interested in. You didn’t know what to say except for show me your silver plate, please show me your all, and I will devour it, savor it, keep it with me forever. But you stayed silent, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“I’m quite the handful, am I? Sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown all this” - she gestured toward herself - “at you during our first date.” Then her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. “Fuck, sorry, I just assumed… you probably don’t…”

Finally, movement came back into you. You jumped from your chair and were next to her in a few paces. She lifted a hand and you took it in yours.

“Of course this is a date,” you said gently and smiled at her. “Otherwise why would I have been this nervous for the past three days, thinking of nothing but you, constantly checking my phone to see if you texted me? And I brought red wine, come on.” That brought a smile to her face. She chuckled lightly.

“So I haven’t just ruined everything?” The hope in her eyes was mixed with real, honest fear.

“No, of course not. I’m glad you’re being open with me. You know, I planned not to reveal too much about myself tonight, fearing I would scare you away or say something stupid and make you suddenly lose interest.”

The current song ended and a soft, funky beat came on. There it was again, that twinkle in Abby’s eyes. Your hands were still clasped around hers and she made no move to pull back.

“Well, now I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me. Lay it on me. Over dessert, maybe?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“There’s dessert? You’re going to have to roll me out of here later.”

She laughed, warm and genuine, and the pride you had felt back in The Closet filled your chest again. You would do anything just to be the one to make her laugh every day for the rest of your life. She got up and you both started clearing the table together.

Never going to know

What fate is going to blow

Your way, just hope that it feels right

Could that Sade lady be any more on the nose? You risked a glance at Abby, who was smiling to herself. You followed her into the kitchen and she opened the fridge to produce a large glass dish, showing the several layers of biscuit and white cream, topped with dark cacao.

“Tiramisu? Seriously Abby, how much time did you spend in the kitchen today?”

She gave you a crooked grin before exiting the kitchen.

“Took the day off.”

You just sighed and went back into the dining room.

Such a fine time as this

“Here.” Abby handed you a small plate with a piece of her gourmet tiramisu. Your fingers brushed against each other and you both paused for just the blink of an eye.

What could equal the bliss

The thrill of the first kiss

You sat down and grabbed the small fork left next to your wine glass. On second thought, you took another sip of Merlot. It really was exquisite.

“Buon’ appetito,” you said and sliced off a perfect edge of tiramisu. The soft, coffee-drenched biscuit fell apart on your tongue, mixing with the heavy vanilla-flavored mascarpone. “Did you know where the name tiramisu comes from?”

Abby lifted her fork to her mouth and softly closed her lips around the piece of creamy dessert. You were entranced, watching her hand sink down to the table again, then her jaw moving and flexing as she chewed. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and you cleared your throat, taking another piece on your fork.

“ Tira mi su is Italian for ‘pull me down’. It’s the last thing you eat after dinner and the thing that makes you tired, pulls you right into the food coma. In restaurants, it rounds off the meal and guests will probably leave in the following hour because they feel they’re ready to go home.”

Never as good as the first time

Natural as the way we came to be

“Oh,” Abby said, her voice quiet. She looked up at you through dark lashes. “And are you going home after this?”

“No.” You said it without thinking, only knowing what was true in your heart. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m glad.” Taking a deep breath, Abby straightened up, then reached a hand across the table, her palm facing up. You stared at it for a fraction of a second before placing your hand in hers, feeling something fall into place inside you. The glances you exchanged said so much more than you could possibly dare to say out loud right now.

You used your free hand to stab the last piece of tiramisu. This time it was Abby who was watching you with hungry eyes as the fork vanished between your lips and emerged clean.

“This tiramisu could be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” you said after swallowing and Abby’s fingers twitched ever so slightly around your hand.

“Thank you. I’m really into French and Italian cuisine, as you may have noticed.”

You leaned back in your chair, careful not to pull back your hand.

“I couldn’t do it, honestly. Spending so much time in the kitchen. Especially not with a job like yours, on your feet all day. I’d probably survive off of pasta and takeout.”

Abby smiled and began slowly drawing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb. You were already hyper-aware of how your blood rushed through every vein of your body, a side-effect of the red wine, but now it came to a roar in your ears.

“I guess I need some kind of hobby besides lifting weights. It calms me down. And it’s not just about the end result, about getting to eat something, but also about picking the right ingredients, taking my time cutting them up, trying new recipes with new flavors, and learning more about food and culture, and honestly about myself. It’s like meditating.”

“That sounds…” you were at a loss for words, “unbelievable? I’ve never heard someone talk about cooking like that. And I’ve never felt that way about it, too. I guess I’d like to, though. It sounds nice.”

Abby brushed her thumb over your knuckles.

“Well, I could show you.” You tilted your head slightly. “I mean, we could cook together. Next time. If you want to?”

Sade’s voice, smooth as polished wood and dripping with honey cut into the moment.

How could I have doubted

Honey, it's with me that you belong

“Yeah, I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”

“Do you like lasagna? We could make a vegetable lasagna and substitute the meat for soy. I could show you how to make a béchamel.”

You laughed and squeezed her hand.

“I love lasagna, although I have no idea what a beshmel is.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Abby’s face was glowing with happiness.

As the last two songs of the album played, you helped Abby clean up the table. You got into an argument about doing the dishes - Abby said she’d do it later but you insisted you would do them now or at least help because so far you had not lifted a finger.

“Come on, Abby, please let me help?” You tried your best doe eyes at her. She grinned and playfully slapped your upper arm.

“Okay. But I’ll put on different music.”

She vanished to the dining room while you began filling the sink with water. A high note filled the room before a man spoke.

You broke my heart / 'Cause I couldn't dance

You didn't even want me around

And now I'm back / To let you know

I can really shake 'em down

Abby stepped into your field of vision. The music set in, a delightful 60’s rock and roll melody, and Abby began dancing toward you with tiny steps and shaking shoulders. She was lip synching to the coarse voice of the singer and reaching out her hands for you. Snapping out of your frozen position, you shook your head, grabbed her hands, and were immediately twirled through the kitchen. A squeak escaped you as Abby pulled you back toward her and with another pirouette, you almost slammed into her chest. You both laughed out loud, continuing to dance through the kitchen with big, overexaggerated moves, flailing your arms and shuffling your feet across the tile.

I can do the twist

Now, tell me baby

Do you like it like this?

You quickly began singing along to the simple lyrics and both of you were giggling at each other’s dance moves. The next song was Stand By Me and you both settled down, beginning to clean the pots and dishes. You did the washing while Abby dried off the pieces you gave her and put them back into the right cupboards. Both of you were swaying and humming along to the music.

During the second chorus, both of you began belting along, filling the kitchen with the wonderfully familiar sound of slightly drunk women singing together. As the song ended, you both comically froze and waited for the next song to set in. When it was La Bamba by Ritchie Valens, you both continued singing along and showing off some probably terrible salsa moves. You were done in no time and Abby took your hand, pulling you into the dining room and sliding across the wooden floors with you. Your stomach hurt from laughing and you couldn’t stop smiling.

Next came the bittersweet Be My Baby by the Ronettes, a song you remembered from your childhood, vague memories of your parents slow dancing together after another terrible fight. You swallowed down the hint of bitterness creeping up from your stomach. Instead, you looked up at Abby, almost a full head taller than you, and dared yourself to step forward. You placed your right hand in Abby’s and your left on her tricep, coming unbearably and exhilaratingly close. Abby put her hand on your back, right below your shoulder blade, warming you through the fabric of your shirt. Your faces were incredibly close, her breath warm on your nose, and you could have counted every single freckle on her beautiful face. There was a slim ring of gold around her pupil, complimenting the green of her iris. She was breathtaking.

You couldn’t take this any longer. Should you kiss her? Everything inside you wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close the last inch of distance. It felt like wanting to do a handstand but pulling back at the last second every time because of a deep fear of failing and hurting yourself. It was terribly frustrating.

Instead, you leaned your head against the round muscle of Abby’s shoulder, turning your face toward her chest and pressing your temple to her collarbone. You could smell the herbs she had used to cook earlier in the fabric of her shirt, but her skin smelled like pine and something else, earthy and dark, like tree bark or wool. Abby rested her chin against your forehead and her low hum of contentment vibrated against your cheek.

A light waltz melody began, Unchained Melody, a song you knew from some commercial and had listened to for a few weeks straight after.

I need your love

God speed your love to me

You smiled to yourself and could sense Abby was doing the same. You kept slowly turning, dancing through the candle-lit room and swaying side to side. The band set in louder and you lifted your head again. Abby’s eyes were fixed to yours, but you couldn’t stop yours from wandering lower, finding those perfectly pink lips, hanging open ever so slightly. Your hand wandered upward, along her shoulder, and to the back of her neck. As the last verse of the song began, you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against her. Abby inhaled sharply, her fingers spreading on your back and pressing against your skin. You gently pressed your lips to hers again and this time, she kissed you back. You dug your fingertips into the back of her neck, desperately wanting to come closer, to pull her down to you, hell, you would climb her like a tree if you had to.

Feeling courageous, you stuck your tongue out and ran the tip upward over her lips. Abby instantly reacted, opening her mouth for you and greeting your tongue with hers. She tasted like wine and cacao, and faintly like thyme. Releasing your hand, she wrapped her arms around your waist. You reached up and buried your hand in her hair. She gasped into your mouth. You tucked that sound away for later, swearing to yourself you would make her do it again as often as you could.

A few seconds of silence between songs were disrupted by your wonderfully frivolous wet kissing sounds and a small whine that escaped you when Abby’s hand wandered lower to cup your ass. The first guitar chords of Nights In White Satin vibrated through the air and Abby grabbed you tightly before lifting you off the ground and wrapping your legs around her hips. She carried you over to the dining table and set you down.

The dramatic crescendo in the song you loved so much began.

And I love you

Yes I love you

Oh, how I love you

The singer’s voice filled every corner of the room, his declaration hovering above you, the high voices of the background singers ringing in your ears and Abby’s hands everywhere, her body leaning over you, her hips pressed between your legs. You flexed your legs to pull her in closer, almost falling apart when Abby let out a low moan and rocked her hips forward against you. Then she suddenly slowed down and broke the kiss.

“Wait, let’s talk for a second.”

You kept your legs clamped around her, but relaxed back a little, brushing back a strand of hair from her forehead and giving her an encouraging nod to go ahead.

“I haven’t… I’m not that experienced with - with women. And generally. And I don’t want to rush things and do something wrong and lose you. I don’t really know how this works and I want to do it right.”

Her hands on your waist tightened slightly. You gave her a shy smile.

“Me neither. I’m scared, too.” You surprised yourself with your openness. “How about we take this slow, then? Talk about everything openly? And just go one step at a time?”

Abby nodded and pulled you closer again.

Holding Back The Years began playing.

“One kiss at a time.” She gave you a gentle peck on the lips.

“Oh, really? I would have never picked you as the sappy type,” you laughed against her lips.

“You wouldn’t?” She acted shocked. “Let me remind you of how I took the day off to cook a gourmet french dish for you.”

“True.” You shrugged and pulled her in for another kiss. “It’s probably the muscles. With those guns, you can do anything and still be taken seriously.”

Abby snorted and you realized that had been the wine talking. For a second, you were mortified, then she scooped you up again, holding your body with one arm as she ran her free hand through your hair.

“Oh, those? You know, they’re specifically for carrying you around all day. Anything for my - princess.” You had very well noticed the little pause there, but you decided not to say anything yet. Instead, you lifted your chin and eyebrows, imitating what you thought a royal would look like.

“Well, what does that make you? You’re obviously not a prince. My lady knight?”

Abby nodded solemnly.

“Sworn to protect and defend you. And to carry you wherever.”

“Well, do you have a sofa you could carry me to?” You tightened your hold on her shoulders and leaned in closer again.

“Of course, my lady.”

Abby carried you through a doorway at the back of the dining room into a cozy living room, equipped with a large sofa and a gigantic flatscreen tv, two vintage armchairs, a wooden bookshelf with at least 100 books, and a desk facing the window, medical books spread across the surface. The blonde sat down on the sofa and you knelt left and right of her hips, straddling her as you gave her another soft kiss.

“You know,” you began, “I’ve been crushing on you for months now. I thought you had absolutely no interest in me. I didn’t even know you liked women.”

Abby’s eyes widened at your confession.

“Shit, I had no idea. You weren’t exactly forward, you know. The first time we met, you already had this pull on me. But you were so shy and I didn’t want to jump you or annoy you, so I tried to keep my distance and wait if you would come around.”

“You have Leah to thank for that. Me coming around. I kind of forgot to come out to her until karaoke night and she told me you were dating women as well. She knows I’ve been a hopeless case when it comes to you, but she wanted me to figure this out on my own.”

Abby thought about this for a second.

“Yeah, Leah probably only told you because she knew I liked you, too. I haven’t been that open about dating women in the past, just because talking about dating in general was weird with Owen and Mel around and I also just don’t like everyone knowing my personal business.”

“I get that.” You nodded. “As I said, I hadn’t even been out to Leah. Mostly because I haven’t dated anyone in forever and the last time was a disaster not worth talking about.” You winced at the memory.

“You wanna tell me anyway?”

You thought about it for a second, then you climbed off Abby’s lap and laid down on the sofa, resting your head on her thigh. Her fingers immediately began brushing through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“Well, I met this girl during a freshman party at a sorority house the weekend before my first semester in college,” you began. You had felt weirdly out of place, but were determined to speak to at least one person. A few hours and an almost-lethal amount of tequila later, the girl you had talked to all night had dragged you into one of the bedrooms. You both had no previous experience, were extremely drunk and it was already 5am. You had fun making out and were both eager to try more, but it had been more out of curiosity than desire for each other and so the experience had not ended in the expected bliss of lesbian sex. Rather, she had come pretty quickly and afterward she'd begun crying and told you she had a boyfriend, and you had gotten dressed and fled the house. After that, dating in college was not really something you thought about much.

Abby listened to your story with interest and sympathy, laughing at a few parts and stroking your hair as you told her about the end of that fateful night. She felt deeply sorry for your experience of strangeness and betrayal, immediately promising to you that she would always tell you what was going on inside her head and what she wanted.

“Like you just did,” you smiled at her. “That was brave. It’s what I should have done that night.”

“I mean, I had a few weird moments, too, before I learned to speak my mind.” Abby’s gaze unfocused and she frowned as she clearly recalled some not very pleasant memories.

“Wanna tell me, too?” you asked, keeping your voice light. She nodded, looking down at you again.

“I mean, there's Owen, obviously. That didn’t work out well and now he is with Mel, leaving me wondering if he was interested in her while we were still together. After we broke up, Nora and I went on a little bender.” Your heart jumped into your throat. Did Abby and Nora...? A wave of jealousy rose from the bottom of your stomach, but you forced yourself to keep your calm, smiling at Abby as she continued.

“We spent every weekend at a different bar, and one of them was actually at The Closet. Nora was making out with a woman in actual overalls” - she snorted - “and I just hung out at the bar, drinking Long Islands and not brave enough to make eye contact with anyone. And then the bartender started talking to me.”

Suddenly realization dawned on you. You sat up and stared at Abby.

“Wait, Ellie? The short-haired one?”

Abby grimaced.

“Yeah. We talked for a while and I came back the next week with Leah and Jordan. They didn’t even notice I was spending a lot of time at the bar. Ellie and I met for coffee a few days later and I mentioned my dad and she got really quiet and strange. Turns out, she’s related to the guy that murdered my dad, so...”

You were pretty sure your heart stopped for a moment, all the air in your chest building up pressure as you tried to figure out how to breathe out. Abby noticed and gently guided you to lay back down, continuing to weave her fingers into your hair.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’ll tell you the whole story another time. So yeah, Ellie and I. It was horrible, but we still stayed and talked for a while. She couldn’t tell me a lot about what happened, but she had no idea that I even existed and she was about to have a panic attack over it all. I helped her calm down and then she felt terrible for reacting so badly when it should be me panicking and I just told her that there’s nothing any of us can do now and we should probably leave it at that.” She sighed. “I hadn’t been to The Closet until a few days ago. I only came because I knew you’d be there.”

“Fuck, that’s terrible,” you mumbled. “I don’t think I could have gone back there. I’m still glad you did, though.”

“Me too,” Abby said, her voice gentle and honest. She leaned down to kiss you, deeply and passionately.

You stayed on the sofa for the next few hours, talking about school crushes and gay awakenings, about women constantly hitting on Abby and her being confused for a long time. She told you more about her relationship with Mel and you started to actually resent that woman. Who did she think she was? You told Abby about living with Leah and about your current research projects and she listened intently, asking a lot of questions about the art you were analyzing. You began diving into queer art and Sappho and your theory on the different languages of different social groups. Abby actually gave you some great new ideas and some good questions you couldn’t yet answer and you were actually beginning to look forward to writing tomorrow.

As the clock moved past midnight, it became clear you would have to leave at some point soon. Abby had to get up at 7 in the morning for a 10-hour shift, and you had stifled one too many yawns. You were cuddled up on the couch, kisses interchanging with long, deep conversations and more kisses.

“I can accompany you to the station,” Abby suggested as you looked up the departure times on your phone.

“You don’t have to. That’s sweet of you, but I’ll find the way.” You kissed her for her generosity, but she pulled back.

“Honestly. I don’t want you walking alone. I’ll go with you.” A sheepish smile appeared on her face and she did a tiny bow. “My lady.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, making your way to the entrance hall. Abby gently helped you into your coat and put on a black bomber jacket, a strange but hot combination with her fancy pants. She opened the door for you and you stepped out into the cold night together.

You held hands on the way to the station, stopping at every corner to make out, laughing together, and making plans for your lasagna night. You would come over on Thursday, promising to yourself you would finish all your coursework until then. Manny would come back on Friday, so you’d have the house to yourself again.

You arrived at the station way too soon, but your train was announced to arrive in two minutes. Heavy-hearted, you flung your arms around the tall blonde and she wrapped hers around your waist, lifting you up for another deep kiss.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” she whispered against your lips.

“I’ll even dress up next time,” you mumbled and she grinned at you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. I’m excited.” Well, now you had to go shopping. Leah would be delighted to go with you.

You pressed a last kiss to Abby’s lips before unwrapping yourself from her arms as the train rolled into the station. As you stepped away, she caught your hand and pulled you back for another one, cheekily running her tongue over your bottom lip. You sighed and kissed her hand, wrapped firmly around yours, before stepping back and boarding the train. You waved at her through the window as you departed and watched her stand on the platform until she was out of sight.

Letting yourself fall into one of the seats, you pulled out your phone and texted your brother.

-We kissed!!!! Call me when you can

Then you texted Leah about shopping tomorrow, just able to send the text before your phone vibrated with a new message.

-You looked beautiful tonight. I’m the luckiest person in the world.

You tried to keep your squeal as quiet as possible. A woman a few seats ahead of you briefly looked up from her phone.

-Can’t believe I have a personal knight who will carry me wherever I want to go

The reply came in seconds.

-Anywhere and anything you want. Text me when you’re home!

-Can I text you before I’m home? I miss you already :(

You had to wait a few minutes before your phone vibrated again. This time, Abby was calling.

“Sorry, I was cleaning up and getting ready for bed.” She sounded a bit breathless.

“No worries,” you said. “What are you wearing for bed?”

Abby let out a surprised laugh.

“Really, now?”

“I’m serious. I want to imagine being with you.”

“Well, I’m wearing a gigantic black t-shirt with a ton of holes and boxers.”

You closed your eyes, envisioning Abby’s thighs straining against the hem of her shorts and the soft cotton of her shirt that you could bury your face in. She would smell like nature and like home somewhere far away.

“I wish I was there.” You noticed you were sounding desperate. Fucking hell, were you about to turn into a 13-year-old? You could hear the smile in Abby’s voice when she spoke.

“I wish you were here with me, too.” She paused for a moment. Then, “Do you want to sleep over on Thursday?”

“Uhm -” you had to think for a second, remembering you only had dinner plans for Friday with your mom. Before you could answer, Abby cut in again

“Fuck, am I rushing you? I didn’t mean - I just thought it would be nice, falling asleep together. But I totally get if that’s -”

“Abby! Of course I want to stay over!” You clenched your free hand into a fist, punching your thigh a few times in order to divert the explosion of energy inside your chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Abby’s shaky laugh was heart-wrenching. “I thought I messed up already.”

You stood up to exit at your station.

“No, not at all. I’d love to fall asleep with you.”

The way to your apartment was over faster than you wanted it to be.

“I’m home now. I think I should hang up, Leah is probably sleeping.”

“Yeah, don’t wake the monster.” Abby chuckled.

“Good night, Abby. Tonight was incredible.”

“Good night, Y/N. You’re incredible. Sleep tight.”

Author's note: Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #the last of us 2 #tlou abby #abigail anderson #abby fic #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson fanfiction #ellie #ellie tlou #leah tlou #jordan tlou #owen moore #owen x mel #mel tlou #owen tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader

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luke-patterson-owns-my-soul · 4 years ago

Text

Tiny Pretty Phantoms

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Title: Tiny Pretty Phantoms

Words: 2241 (only a short one)

Summary: Charlie and his girlfriend are separated by work.

Requested: Sort of. The lovely and talented @dream-a-little-bigger-x got this request. Charlie x reader where the reader is on a tv show like ahs or something that’s not necessarily “kid friendly”. But as she’s not taking them atm, I decided to swipe this one. I hope the anon who requested it doesn’t mind.

TW: Swearing, alluding to sexual intercourse. That’s it I think. If I miss anything, message me so I can edit.

Author’s notes: I’m baccccckkkk. This was my way of getting back into writing reader fic. It’s been a while, and I hope y’all haven’t forgotten me. Also, while I’ve seen Tiny Pretty Things, I know nothing about the cast, so anything I’ve written, is completely made up.

Being back at home in my parent’s home was both reassuring and strange all at the same time. I’d been living in L.A. for almost two years, hundreds of miles away from home. While I missed my family like crazy, I loved being out in the world, being independent, and chasing my dreams.

However, rejection after rejection after rejection were beginning to weigh heavy on me and I had been starting to regret making the move. I’d been considering heading back home and teaching dance to kids. Then, I met Charlie through a mutual friend.

From the moment I met him, there was something that drew me to him; it wasn’t particularly hard. He was charismatic, funny, and crazy talented. The good looks were an added bonus. From that first meeting, we’d been inseparable and after six months, I gave up my apartment and moved in with Charlie and his friends.

We both booked jobs on upcoming TV shows within a week of one another, and we’d celebrated the news hard. A week of partying with your friends had wrecked the apartment, but it had totally been worth it. The main difference between our shows were the target audience. His, Julie and the Phantoms was aimed at a younger demographic to mine, Tiny Pretty Things. I was just glad to be using my ballet background as well as my acting abilities. He was also playing a main character, while I was to be in the background.

I was jolted from my memories by my phone ringing, Charlie’s face filling the screen. With a smile, I answered the facetime call.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, babe. I miss you.” Charlie was still in L.A., but he was at a boot camp thing that the legendary Kenny Ortega was running.

“I miss you too. How’s it going?” in answer to my question, he held up his hand. I could see band aids wrapped around his fingers. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing. Guitar war wounds.”

“Poor baby.” I snarked, grinning at the mock upset look on his face. “Oh please. You’re loving every minute.”

“Babe, I really am.” His grin was wide. “When do you fly out to Toronto?”

“Not for another three weeks. I’m back in L.A. the day after tomorrow though. Will I get to see you?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if we get any time off before we head up to Vancouver for filming.”

I couldn’t help the groan that escaped me. I hadn’t seen him for over two weeks, and I was going insane. It was one of the reasons behind my trip to see my family. They were enough to distract me, at least until I climbed into my childhood bed, the bed that only held me at night. That was when I missed him the most.

“That sucks.” I felt the lump in my throat, an indication I was close to tears.

“I know, babe. I know. I’m gonna try and get back, even if it’s just one night.”

“Please do.” I missed him, missed waking up next to him, missed just goofing around and hanging out with him. He was the man I loved, and I hated us being apart.

:: ::

I’d been in Toronto for almost six weeks. A month and a half had passed since I last saw Charlie, and it was killing me. It wasn’t as if I was alone, far from it. I may not have been playing a main character, but the entire cast of Tiny Pretty Things were close, even those of us in the background. We’d all been put through our dancing paces until we were exhausted – that had a habit of bringing people together.

Charlie and I spoke most days, if we could, and when we did, we were often interrupted by cast mates. Through our facetime calls I became friends with Jeremy, Owen, and Madison, and he became friends with the girls I was rooming with, and Brendan who played Shane. He and I had been partnered up during rehearsals and had become close. It didn’t bother him I wasn’t a main character and he was.

I had a rare night off while the main cast were working hard on some night scenes, so I was able to kick back in my room and relax. And I made the most of it. While a hot bath was running, I connected my phone up to my speaker and hit play on a relaxing playlist Charlie had made for me before we’d had to say our goodbyes and fly to opposite end of Canada.

I’d just sank into the steaming water, bubbles up to my chin when my phone rang. Reaching over, I managed to pick it up, and saw Charlie’s face on the screen. Quickly swiping, I answered the call, despite wanting to stare at the photo I’d taken almost a year ago when we’d gone camping.

“Well, if I’d have known you were in the tub, I would have called sooner.” He grinned as he spoke, making me roll my eyes.

“Charles Gillespie, you’re a damn perv.” I attempted to scold him as he pretended to try and look around the screen to see if he could see anything. Joke was on him, the bubbles came up to my neck.

“Only for you.” I laughed at the corny line. “Hey, why are you in the bath anyways?”

“Because I ache like a motherfucker and I don’t have any night shoots tonight. So, a hot bath is in order. I’ve been dancing almost non-stop for ten hours a day for six weeks. I never did this much when I was with the company.” I knew I was whining; knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I needed to get it off my chest. All of us in the cast moaned to one another, but it wasn’t the same as venting to my boyfriend, no matter how much I loved my job.

“I’m sorry, babe. If I could take the aches away, I would.” I knew he would too.

“I know. Ignore me, I shouldn’t be putting this on you. How’s your set?”

We chatted for almost an hour, Charlie making me laugh about his previous night’s filming eating what he said felt like hundreds of cold hot dogs, making me laugh so much, my stomach was starting to hurt when I climbed out of the bath – much to his enjoyment – and wrapped myself up in a large, soft towel. We carried on talking as I made my way into my room and got myself ready for bed.

“Look, I gotta go. But I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” I couldn’t help but sigh when the call ended, and as I snuggled up in bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, I also couldn’t help crying. It was the longest we’d been apart in over six months, and even though I was loving my job, it hurt how much I missed him.

:: ::

When I walked onto set the following day, it felt as if everyone was acting a little shifty. No one seemed to look at me directly and whenever I initiated a conversation, they either found something else to do, or the director made us begin working.

“Hey, we’re all going out for dinner and karaoke tonight. Make sure you look pretty.” Brendan whispered in my ear as we got into position in the ballet class, ready for our scene.

“Uh, okay. Sure.” He gave me a smile before walking away.

We’d all be out a few times during filming and the rehearsals we’d had before, but this was the first I’d heard about plans for tonight. Rolling my neck and stretching my arms, I put it out of my mind as I followed the instructions of the director as the scene began around me.

By the end of the day, I was yet again exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to do was go out. But, as I packed up my gear, putting my comfiest shoes on, Brendan came over.

“Don’t forget we’re going out. We’re all meeting up in about an hour. Make yourself pretty.”

“Can I give it a miss? I’m ready to have a shower and crawl into bed.” He knew how I was feeling, I could see it etched onto his face too.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. Attendance is mandatory for all.” He flashed me a wide smile before spinning away from me, no doubt off to get ready.

When I got back to the apartment I was sharing with a couple of the other female background cast, they were almost ready. The three of them ushered me into the bathroom to shower, telling me to find a nice dress.

The shower did reinvigorate me, and by the time I was dressed and applying my make-up, I was feeling much better, and was even looking forward to some great food and a good night. There were no shoots the next day, so we were able to let our hair down for the night.

When we all met up, the atmosphere was electric. We’d all worked so hard, and were more than ready for a night of not having to worry about getting up early or having to be in hair and make-up at the crack of dawn.

“Ready for a great night?” Brendan asked, linking arms with me as our huge group began to walk to a restaurant nearby we’d all been to on more than one occasion.

“I am actually. Thanks for making me come.”

“No worries, sweetheart.” He placed a kiss on the top of my head before turning to talk to the two guys behind us.

:: ::

Moving from the restaurant after dinner, we all made our way to a club where all of us were able to let go. I got myself a drink from the bar, and stood on the edge of the dance floor, watching my cast mates and friends having the time of their life, showing off their dancing skills. Laughing, I finished my drink, I put my empty glass down and joined them, losing myself in the deep bass. Brendan was in the center, lapping up the attention in a way only he could. He and Barton, who played Oren in the show, were busting out one of their routines from the show and had attracted a hell of a crowd.

As everyone whooped and hollered, I moved away, needing to head to the bathroom. I pulled my phone out of my purse to check if I’d missed any messages or calls from Charlie, but my screen was blank beyond a photo of the two of us. Disappointment flooded me as I shoved the phone back into my purse. Just as I zipped it up, I crashed into someone, strong hands grabbing my waist to stop me falling over.

Thinking my mind was playing tricks on me as my senses were invaded by the aroma of Charlie, the aroma I knew as well as my own. I looked up to find my boyfriend smiling down at me.

“What… how… huh?”

“Surprise, by airplane, Brendan organized it. Hew knew you were missing me as much as I missed you, So Kenny gave me a couple days off while Madi does some scenes with Jadah.”

“You’re really here?” I still wasn’t sure I was hallucinating.

“I’m really here, until tomorrow afternoon.”

With a squeal, I flung my arms around his neck, and kissed him. The evening suddenly got one hundred percent better.

:: ::

Waking up wrapped up in Charlie’s arms was the best thing. I’d missed it so much, and I knew I was going to struggle when he had to leave again, but I felt so happy being with him.

After he’d surprised me at the club, we’d mingled with my friends for a while before slinking away, going back to the apartment and making the most of the quiet as we got reacquainted with one another, multiple times, all night. So much so that when I managed to untangle myself from Charlie’s arms and legs to go to the bathroom, I ached in a completely different way I had been from work.

Once I was finished in the bathroom, I swiped my phone off the counter in the kitchen and sent a text to Brendan.

Thank you. I owe you one.

Once it had sent, I set the phone down and crawled back into bed with Charlie, making the most of having him with me. Especially naked.

Tagging: (strikethrough unable to tag) @dream-a-little-bigger-x @calamitykaty @crybabyddl @xplrreylo @morganayennefertyrell @lovesanimals @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @echocharm17618 @kinda-really-lost @n0wornever @all-in-fangirl @5sosmukefan @kcd15 @charliesmountains @amazinggracy

If you want to be added to my taglist, drop me a message.

#Mich writes fic #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader

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alkhale · 5 years ago

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Lost and Found (Jason Todd x Reader) Ko-fi Request

JASON TODD x new fledging superhero female OC plssssss

I wanted to try to make this one as open as possible because I wanted to give more free reign over the imagination of the hero’s occupation as a hero, but hopefully these work for you! Always love writing for this beautiful, beautiful boy :’)

THE BACKGROUND:

- You have a very interesting choice for occupation as a so-called “hero”

- Within the scope of that title, many brave men and women under that profession might not exactly consider you to be on their… level, per say. Several very, very big names have become only a bit or vaguely aware of your new, bustling presence in Bludhaven, apparently making quick time and moving all the way to Star City or popping up in Metropolis in a single night.

- Villains don’t really know what to do with you. They most leave you alone, to be honest, because they have a feeling dealing with you is just a headache. The only villains that really have any beef with you are big time thieves, and Cat Woman is not happy about your new rising popularity but she’s still staying off your radars for now. (You’re working on her)

- Most heroes advise you to stay home, they’re the ones giving you the most trouble. Small run-ins have them instructing you to go ahead and give up this line of work and perhaps join a local law enforcement or help-group, they think it’s much better for you.

- You, however, are determined, and you’re rather set on doing what you feel is truly your happiest calling.

Jason Todd, currently donning the sleek, reinforced metal of Red Hood’s mask, gave the drug dealer one last good kick to the ribs, listening for the satisfying crack of a few that promised he wasn’t getting up or going anywhere anytime soon.

Goons littered the hallways, their blood spilling over across the walls. The acrid smell of cigars snubbed out by their own fluids flooded the deserted motel hallways. Car lights were punched out in the front of the parking lot of the cheap, off-the-highway motel they’d been hiding out at like a pack of rats. It hadn’t been hard for him to find them, to be honest, a much easier job tonight more than anything. Jason was just a bit pissed off so he let off more steam than usual.

Jason tapped one gun against the side of his mask, a light little thump thump as he set his hand on his hip, surveying his work. He’d dump the cash in a fucking river. It was blood money and he had better things to do then get his hands on it. He’d rather just break another ATM. Fuck, I’m still pissed off. I should get Thai tonight.

Normally, Jason had a very nice, selective choice of arsenal on his person. Guns he’d tuned up and had tricked out. Nice, pretty things that never failed him. Classic knives, the works, he liked having options.

Jason let out an aggravated sigh, muffled through his mask. He scowled, kicking another limp body for emphasis and turning, wiping some blood off the corner of his jacket.

His fucking problem was that one of his pretty, nice little guns was missing. Gone. Lost. He was one hundred-fucking-percent sure it was his last job in Bludhaven after tangling up with Dickie Bird and having to scram before he received any kind of dark tongue lashing from Bats or the Demon Spawn pulled some sick shit like pulling Alfred up on speaker again to discuss his misdemeanors. Like the little shit can talk. Jason had come scrounging back, searching through the dockyard left and right for his gun and found nothing. Nada.

He really liked that gun too.

Have to put in an order for a new one. Jason rubbed the top of his mask, hooking his fingers to prepare taking it off. What a pain. Thai it is. I’m starving—

“Hi! Excuse me, but is this your gun?”

Jason stopped.

It took him a second to process what he was seeing. Only a second, because he sensed no blood thirst or killing intent—he still cocked his gun and pointed it at the newcomer without a single hesitation though because what the hell, right?—and he needed that good second because even quick footed, always adaptable, always moving Jason needed that fat second to understand what the fuck was in front of him.

Halfway through what appeared to be some kind of… portal? It was the weirdest fucking portal he’d ever seen and he’d seen some weird fucking portals. A bright yellow, piss yellow, stretching in a warped, warbling kind of flame in the middle of the air, as though cutting straight through dimensions. Jason could get a peek of something behind. A city? He sniffed the air. A dock?

In the middle of the portal, with one, combat booted foot out, was a slender leg covered in black tights. Black tights led to a black fitted top that was clad by a… a construction vest? A neon green construction vest. Over her face—he assumed her because of the body and hair, but who the hell was he to know, right?—was a weird mask of a man, like some kind of religious figure, covering her entire face. Her hair was pulled back into two buns on either side of her head.

In one bare hand, held out to him by this new person in the middle of a piss yellow portal, was his gun.

Jason stared.

“Sorry, I know, this must look strange, right?” you quickly apologized, stepping fully out of the portal. It disappeared and you now stood before him, mask and stupid construction vest and his gun. “Here! This should be yours unless…”

You trailed off, mask looking pointedly at the bodies scattered around them. “Oh, unless it’s one of these guys’s. Sorry about that.”

“What the fuck?” Jason said, rough through his mask. He still had the gun pointed at you.

You beamed behind your own. “I come in peace! Just trying to return this. Found it in the dock by… Fifth? It was glowing, so that meant someone was looking for it—”

“Hold on,” Jason waved his gun at you for emphasis. You nodded at it, waving his gun back. Jason almost laughed. Who the fuck is this clown? “I’ll ask you two questions. Just two. Depending how you answer, I’m going to shoot you, got it?”

“Oh,” you said, sounding a bit sullen. You glanced at your watch. “Will this take long? I have two more deliveries.”

“No,” Jason said. “Depending on how you answer.”

“...okay, shoot,” you said. You paused, quickly holding a hand when Jason raised his gun. “Sorry, I meant figuratively, please. Ask the questions.”

Jason cocked his masked head to the side. “Who the fuck are you. Why the fuck do you have my gun.”

“I feel like those weren’t phrased as questions—”

Jason shot at your feet. You yelped, jumping up. “Jeez! Is this what I get for doing a good deed? Saint Anthony! I’m Saint Anthony!”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “And I’m Jesus fucking Christ.”

Jason prepared to shoot your kneecap out and you squawked, tossing the gun his way. Jason quickly caught it, inspecting it for any damage before narrowing his eyes at you behind his mask. You wiped your hands off your pants like brushing off germs.

“That’s my alias,” you said, tapping your mask, a pious man’s face printed over it. “Saint Anthony! You know, the patron saint of lost things? The guy you pray to when you lose shit?”

“Do I look like I pray?” Jason said, pointing his gun to the drug dealer whose brains he’d blasted out. You made a small noise, as though just noticing.

“Well, you never know. Met some strange folks who pray and still do some very questionable things—let’s not get hasty!” Jason put his gun down. “That’s my codename! Have to be careful with this hero business, you know. I felt like it fits because of my power.”

You pointed to his gun and it began to glow a soft piss yellow. Jason dropped it in disgust, pulling his other gun back up and getting ready to shoot you. “I can see what items are lost! If an item belongs to someone and they’re looking for it, it’ll glow and I can see it like that. Then I pick it up and it teleports me to whoever it belongs to.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Jason said. “You’re a human lost and found?”

“Yes! But much more effective,” you reached into a sack you had strapped to your back, opening it up for him to see where several more objects were glowing a piss yellow. “I decided I should put my talents to use, so I go around returning lost objects. Everybody loses something once in a while, you know? The other day I found this strange looking little USB and it turned out it belonged to Lex Luthor’s secretary and oh, boy, that was a sticky situation when Mr. Superman came and—”

Jason shot at your feet again. You jumped, clutching the sack protectively to your chest. “What the hell was that for?”

“I just felt like it,” Jason said. He tucked his gun back into his strap and picked up his now found weapon, inspecting it curiously. “Weird fucking power, sweetheart.”

You shrugged in a what-can-you-do manner.

“You said you were a hero?”

“Oh, more of a good samaritan,” you said, waving a hand. “I’ve just been working with the police lately on stolen goods. Sometimes burglars are real clumsy and drop items, you know? Apparently night vision goggles are very expensive so they’re always looking for those.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. Jason watched you in idle interest, having a bit of fun with this interaction. Been a while since he met anyone so fucking weird. He kind of liked it.

“Anthony, huh?”

“Yes!” you slung your sack back over your shoulder, sticking out a hand to him. “It’s very nice to meet you…?”

Jason tapped his gun against your palm in greeting. He tucked it back into its holster, giving you a long look behind his mask. You stopped, cocking your head at him. “What?”

“No, it’s just…” you rubbed the back of your neck. “Ah, nothing really. If we’re all squared away here, you mind if I take off? I’ve still got this pair of chain cutters and this funny looking stone to deliver.”

“You ever worry you’re delivering it to some weird place?” Jason said. “Or to someone who, I dunno, might kill you?”

“Oh, all the time,” you said cheerfully. “But usually I can take care of myself.” Jason quirked a brow behind his mask. “But thank you for your concern! I’ll be off then, Mr. Red. Thanks for your cooperation!”

You grabbed the funny shaped rock from the bag, a piss yellow portal appearing in front of you. Jason watched wordlessly as you stepped halfway through before turning back to him, raising a small hand in a little wave.

“Live a good life, Mr. Red!” you waved harder. “If you ever lose anything again, I’ll be sure to look out for it!”

Jason offered a lazy wave back, kicking a goon in the head who’d started to rouse.

You curled your fingers into your palm. The portal began to swallow you whole and you watched behind your mask as Jason turned, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

You figured for this particular customer, perhaps it was better not to say he was glowing a very beautiful, very somber shade of yellow.

Looks like whoever lost you is looking very hard for you, Mr. Red.

#jason todd x reader #ko-fi request #jason todd #reader insert #batman reader insert #this was very fun to write

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sillyfudgemonkeys · 4 years ago

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so i just heard on twitter P5S had some development problems, thus the issues with the story, the lack of character development, and the switch performance. It would explain quite a bit, but I haven't really heard anything from legit sources. Did you ever see or hear anything about that?

I....I’ve been very sparse on Twitter today tbh. So I’m a bit behind. So I don’t know the tweet you’re referring to. ;w; orz

(oh boi, under the cut cause weeeeeeeeee 8U buckle up novel time)

If P5S had development problems with story/chars, that would’ve been with the JPN release. Which might explain why it started developing before P5R but released later (doesn’t help that Atlus apparently just signed off on the story rather than write it themselves >.> think that info in particular can be found on another personacentral article). But AtlusUSA isn’t involved with writing the story, just translating/localizing it.

Switch performance, I doubt AtlusUSA is the one who is in charge with fixing that too. If anyone is gonna patch that mess, that’s gonna be KT (hell not even AtlusJPN, cause KT is who developed it iirc). Now I DO know that AtlusJPN is working on a patch for having SMT3 run better but that’s not P5S sooooo 8U

Now my personal theory/theories about why P5S was taking so long was:

Covid

Localization rights (KT America vs AtlusUSA/AtlusWest, I’mma still use USA screw west sorry its one letter too long and I’m lazy >8U)

PS5

Swap PS5 out with Steam and there we go. Should’ve seen the hints before but yeah....we’ll get to that in a bit.

Covid really screwed a lot of things up, like REALLY REALLY. I don’t think I can stress this enough. It pushed back a lot of stuff because people couldn’t gather. Not just “in public” like literally at work. It took awhile for people to implement ways to still do their job (either by working from home, or having a small bubble). We know anime and dubbing got delayed because of that. Hell some games got delayed because of that too! So I cannot stress enough how much Covid screwed everything up. But how much did it screw everything up? Well......that’s when I decided to look at the past few games AtlusUSA had localized. The result was usually 5-7 months, that includes PQ2 which infamously didn’t have a dub (ah should’ve included SJR..... uhhhh oh same time, 6 months). Anyway I predicted August-November if they skirt the marketing, otherwise we’d get it early 2021. And a-yo wouldya look at that~!

Anyway that post was in July, by that time I think companies figured out how to safely gather for dubs. But keep in mind AtlusWest was also doing other translations beside english now so........yeah......people who say the dub is the reason for the delay, I don’t think that’s right (heck even in this case I don’t think it’s right). Considering that SJR/PQ2 both took about the same time, I have a feeling that AtlusJPN doesn’t want AtlusUSA to release their game until a set time (thankfully it seems that might be changing with SMTV tho!)

So we’ve addressed Covid, and my mini conspiracy of AtlusJPN forcing a later release date on western releases..... What about Localization rights? So.... ok, there was a post I wanted to make sometime around 2018 but never did. In around 2018 BBTAG was coming out right? So fun fact, at Acen I was there and lo and behold a rep from Arcsys was there showing off an arcade of BBTAG~! And not just any rep, a marketing rep iirc! Well let’s just say I had a few questions, as a fan I’m not a reporter fksjdkflja didn’t come in swinging with a recorder sorry (anyway the questions were something about VAs like getting old Kanji/Chie/Teddie back, changing Aigis’ name back to Aegis....iirc Teddie wasn’t out yet so yeah I’d ask why the wishy washy stance but ey didn’t know that info yet, if they’d be working on Arena 3 rather than AtlusUSA, yadda yadda). Well the thing that stood out was when I asked if Arcsys’ new western branch would be in charge of localizing this hypothetical Arena 3 or any other Persona Fighting game if made. And he said “yeah, if Arcsys JPN works on it, we’ll be localizing it!” Now, that was then this is now. Things change, it’s also a diff company compared to KT so things might be different. (btw Arcsys didn’t have a western branch with Arena/Ultimax so yeah obvie AtlusUSA did the localization). Or it could’ve been bad info. Or it could’ve been that-that was the case but it isn’t now. But here’s the thing, KT does have a western branch (that or google is lying), and IF, IF what Arcsys’ rep says applies here....then there might have been a dispute between two companies on who might localize it going on behind the scenes. Which might explain why AtlusUSA wasn’t talking about P5S cause....yeah....you don’t really talk about that stuff when it’s in dispute. >.> BUT that’s just a theory. 8U A SILLY THEORY! Thanks for-oh wait I have one more. 8U (but low key that could’ve been happening behind the scenes, so like I wouldn’t be surprised, but the next theory also makes sense why it was delayed so eh, could be both, could be one or the other doesn’t matter)

So the last theory I had was originally the PS5. So like, we didn’t know till very late that when the next gen consoles were coming out. :) Thanks Sony. :) And Microsoft. :) *cough* Anyway, so I thought maybe AtlusJPN wanted to do an update or something and might’ve been holding AtlusUSA back so they could do that because YEAH WHY NOT! ANYTHING GOES ATM! But....BUT..... after the leak.....it made sense. I wouldn’t be surprised if they held back because of.....Steam. sajdkfla Esp with those teases of other games coming to Steam....I can’t believe I didn’t see it kdljsaf It also makes a lot of sense timeline wise. So we know that CHN/KR got their own versions of P5S right? Yeah so those dropped around the time of P4G’s WW release on Steam (4-5 days after P4G iirc). Now, CHN/KR tranlsations are probably faster than the western releases for a number of reasons, similar cultures (so localizing isn’t as bad), and the languages are closer than their romance counterpart so it’s probably easier translating too (they also don’t have to dub but as SJR/PQ2 have shown that’s a non issue). But here’s the thing, AtlusJPN wasn’t expecting such a success on Steam....and then it happened. So that leads me to believe that they probs got to work right away on a Steam release (or at least got more serious about it). And now all of it is probably basically done (translating, dubbing, Steamming, yadda yadda), now they just have to market it, and VGA is the best time this late in the year.

*inhales* So yeah, that’s my theory on what happened. Again, it’s a theory, all speculation from info I have available. Not saying any of it is true, it’s just what sounds plausible.

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unliikelylovers · 4 years ago

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1, 9, 19!!! - transkaai

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

well my most notable project rn is an original story that has about 43k words atm, and when it’s done it’ll have ??? like, 70-90k probably?? it’s a novel so yeah, the first draft is probably like half or slightly more than half done

it’s basically just about,, two girls who are randomly matched as roommates in their freshman year of college, and they both kind of have their own storylines, mostly about like finding ur place and like. relating to ur parents/family .. but there’s a twist!! (ooh) which i usually spoil when i’m giving the elevator pitch about this book but hey i’m not gonna spoil it here, u get the mystery. woo

i just love writing it!! there’s a lot of it that makes me very soft, but also a lot of it’s heavy and emotional, and finding the balance is difficult but so rewarding. also i really just want to like. Have A Novel. To Edit. that will be really cool. once i finish it. in like 40k more words

9. Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?

for fic, i am solidly a short fic writer! my yueki oneshot is my longest one and it’s like. 2500 words LMAO but also whenever i’m writing original fic i tend to have a really big concept and then run out of steam when it comes to actually writing

which is probably related to the fact that i literally never plan a single thing -- this novel i’m working on is the only thing i’ve had a solid plan on, and that plan was, like. breaking the thing up into 21 chapters and writing one (1) sentence per chapter

i honestly wouldn’t want to change anything about this! i like writing without a plan, because i love it when my writing takes me somewhere i wouldn’t expect. i started working on the story that would become my novel in about february and if i had set out to plan and then write a novel at that point, the story would be very very different, and would not fill out a novel at all. i had to write probably like 10-15k before i found the story i wanted to tell and the voices i wanted to do it in, and i’m so happy about what i settled on

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

do wlw count? that’s a joke but it’s also not bc all of the main characters of my novel are women and there is one (1) cishet woman. just one

i think i use the word “just” a lot. also “padded” to describe walking, the phrase “let out/heaved a sigh”, and “[emotion] and [emotion] all mixed up on their face/in their voice” to describe when someone has mixed feelings. i also use a lot of repetition, but like the specific kind of repetition (anaphora) where you repeat the beginnings of sentences for the rhythm. i like that a lot

thank you for the questions!!! sorry my answers were so long i love talking about my writing ajkfhdkjghf

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brerediddy · 7 years ago

Text

more than survive - chapter 8

After he left the SQUIP, Jeremy didn’t feel any different. He remembered that the man said it would take twenty-four hours for the pill to activate, so he figured that it was relatively safe for him to take down a few petty criminals - safe in the sense that the SQUIP couldn’t affect him or throw off his abilities, at least.

Dark had fallen by the time he made it to his usual post. Jeremy settled with his legs folded under him (criss-cross applesauce, as Michael used to call it when they sat down together for reading-time in the first grade) and kept his eyes open for any danger. After a few moments of silence, he was beginning to think that maybe it would be a quiet night. Maybe he’d find a lost pet or two and get a churro on his way home. That would be nice , he thought. It was usually never this silent on Fridays.

His peace was interrupted when he heard a loud CRASH from a few blocks over. He pulled himself up, wary of the noise, and then immediately sprang from his position to follow it. When he located the source of the sound, he found three masked men crowded around an ATM. One was holding a rather large sledgehammer and another had a crowbar. The third was holding a duffel-bag and emptying money into it.

“Did you guys forget your PIN or something? You can reset it, y’know,” Jeremy called, lowering himself above the ATM. He hung upside-down, his feet gripping the web as well as his hands.

The man with the bag immediately began piling money in even faster as the other two jumped at the interruption. Sledgehammer Guy raised the appliance slowly. In a surprisingly quick move, he swung for the masked teenager. Jeremy dodged the hit easily, letting go of his web to land on the asphalt. “That was rude,” he quipped. “Let’s not do that again, okay guys?”

Crowbar Guy took a step closer and Jeremy would be damned if he let another cliché crowbar get the best of him. He kicked the weapon out of the man’s hands, hearing a clang as it landed. Crowbar Guy took one look at Spider-Man and ran in the opposite direction. Smart.

Duffel-Bag Guy seemed to have collected all that he wanted in the commotion so he began to run, too. Sledgehammer Guy followed and Jeremy shot a web to hold them back. “Sorry guys, I can’t let you go.”

Sledgehammer Guy turned around, fighting against the web. His weapon was still dangling freely and he narrowed his eyes at Jeremy beneath his ski-mask. He swung the hammer at the teenager once more, but this time he let go. The full weight hit Jeremy in the chest, knocking him to the ground. As he regained his breath, the two men were already climbing into a stereotypical black van. Seriously, did robbers try to be predictable?

Jeremy pushed himself up, ignoring the pain in his chest. He ran after the van, shooting a web to catch it. The web stuck to the bumper of the vehicle as he was dragged behind it. He felt his suit tearing against the roadway, but he had to keep a strong hold. He didn’t want them to get away.

The van turned a sharp corner, throwing Jeremy into the brick corner of a building harsly. He grimaced at the pain in his ribs but held on tightly. Suddenly, the back door popped open and he could see one of the men pointing a gun at him. He wasn’t sure who it was due to the change of accessories and the ski-masks, but the man looked fully intent to shoot. In fact, he did. The first bullet swept by Jeremy’s ear, ricocheting off of a trash can. Another buzzed by his right arm, piercing the skin just lightly and he let go of the web, now only holding on with his left. He tried to pull himself closer, but the van turned yet another corner and threw Jeremy into a pile of trash bags.

They cushioned his landing, but didn’t help the disappointment that overcame him as he watched the van speeding further and further away. He tried to recall anything: a face, a license plate, but nothing would come to mind as he ached. Jeremy let his head fall back against the garbage, deciding that the situation couldn’t get worse anyway. His skin was scraped in a million places from his torn suit, his arm was bleeding, and it hurt to breathe. How had a routine robbery gone south so quickly? He shifted in place, groaning when his ribs caught fire. There was no way he could move. He’d have to lay there until he healed enough to get home; or until someone found him. Both thoughts were equally horrifying. He let his eyes close and tried to block out everything else.

“Spider-Man? Spider-Man, are you okay? Stai bene ? Salve ?”

Jeremy slowly woke up, opening his eyes to see a skinny-faced, mustached, kind-looking elderly man.

“You slept in my garbage,” the man said. “This morning, I come to work and see you! The Spider-Man!”

“I-I’m sorry, Sir, I’ll get out of your way.” Jeremy hurried to sit up. His ribs still ached, but it was nothing compared to the previous night. He figured that his bullet-wound was done bleeding from the gross sticky feeling in the arm of his suit. He had recovered enough to go home and sleep it off.

“No, no,” the man said. “It’s okay. Bene . Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” Jeremy spoke. He stood slowly, the man pressing a hand against his back to assist him. “Thank you.”

“Oh, my pleasure, Spider-Man. You saved my restaurant a few weeks ago. Grato . We’re very thankful for you.”

The boy was suddenly aware of where he was. This was he and Michael’s most frequented Italian restaurant—Buon Cibo had the best breadsticks in the tri-state area. “Mr. Rossi!” Jeremy said immediately. Now he could recognize his face. “It was no problem. I’d be lost without your place.”

“You know my restaurant,” Mr. Rossi said, his face brightening even more. “Take some food home, on the house.”

“I couldn’t, but thank-”

“Spider-Man.” Mr. Rossi held up a hand. “You saved my business. Grato . Take some soup, at least. Good for injury.”

Jeremy ended up with two bowls of minestrone and a bag full of breadsticks, free of charge. He went home to shower, letting the steam seep into his cuts and scrapes. It shouldn’t have felt good, but the burn was steady and consistent and kept him from thinking about his life being one failure after the other. The previous night had been a new low for him. Honestly, he slept in literal garbage .

After the shower, Jeremy dried off and got his first-aid kit out from under the sink. He bandaged his arm, wrapping gauze and tape over his disinfected injury. His chest was covered in light bruising, a few angry blue ones scattered around. Jeremy threw on some jeans and a loose shirt, then his cardigan. His ribs certainly felt bruised but it was nothing that he couldn’t deal with. The boy ran a hand through his hair, brushed his teeth, and doused himself in body-spray. He hoped that he no longer smelled like garbage.

He left his house, food from Buon Cibo in hand, and made his way to Michael’s. He just wanted to eat some soup, play some games, and forget that he was a total failure. He walked up to the front door and texted Michael.

1:13 PM To: michael mell straight from hell

hey i’m outside. i have food

Moments later, the taller boy opened the door. Originally, he had a look of skepticism on his face (which Jeremy thought was odd, but didn’t focus on it too much). The suspicion turned into a smile when he saw the bag in Jeremy’s hand and he stepped aside to let him in. “I was just about to get some lunch. Perfect timing,” he said. They walked into the kitchen and sat at the table, soft light streaming through the windows.

“So, why’d you get Buon Cibo? I mean, I’m thankful,” Michael spoke, pulling a breadstick from the bag. “But it’s kind of out of the way.”

“I was in the area,” Jeremy said. It wasn’t a lie. Michael nodded and took a bite of the bread, nodding approvingly. They ate in a comfortable silence for a while.

The taller boy cleared his throat. “So, where were you last night?”

“What?” Jeremy asked. He tried to keep the shocked look off of his face, but the other boy’s inquisitive stare told him that he wasn’t succeeding.

“You dad called and asked if you were here. Apparently you didn’t come home last night.”

“Why does he care? It’s not like he comes home half the time.”

Michael sighed, “That’s not important. I told him that you were with me.” Jeremy nodded gratefully. “But you obviously weren’t. So where were you?”

“I was out...shopping. It got late. He must not have seen me come in,” he said in what he hoped was a rational manner. “I left pretty early this morning so we just missed each other, I imagine.”

“Oh,” the other boy nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy agreed.

“So you went shopping alone?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy took a bite of a breadstick and shrugged. He didn't know why Michael was being so weird. “Why?”

“Just curious,” he responded. He put his hands up in mock surrender. “I never know what you're up to these days.”

“I've just been running a lot of errands, that's all.” The tension in the room was palpable and Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Dustin Kropp saw you with some guy at the eleventh street lot.”

Jeremy nearly choked. What? How? Had he seen anything?

Michael kept talking, “Do you have a boyfriend, or something? You know you could tell me.”

The shorter boy wanted to die. He wanted to die so much at that moment. The SQUIP? His boyfriend ? “You know that I would tell you. You know I would.”

“Would you?” Michael chewed on his lower lip. It wasn't like he was jealous. If Jeremy had a boyfriend, well, good for him. He didn't care. He didn't .

He just didn't understand why his best friend had been acting so strangely for so long and why he was apparently hanging out with some older guy without telling anyone. He didn't even know if Jeremy liked boys. He wouldn't be surprised but he certainly would feel a million times worse; now that he could maybe have a chance of his feelings for the other boy being mutual, someone had beaten him to it.

“Michael, of course I would. I tell you everything,” Jeremy said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Honestly, Jer? You tell me everything . Really?”

“I tell you what I can,” he corrected stubbornly. He knew that it was getting into dangerous territory so he said, “He’s not a boyfriend. I’m helping him with a project, that’s all. He said it would look good on an application.” Jeremy knew that he needed to stop digging this hole deeper and deeper. He knew that he should have stopped talking even as he began.

“So why did that never come up in conversation?” Michael asked, but the bite was out of his voice. He knew that Jeremy didn’t have a boyfriend. The thought was comforting.

“It’s supposed to be a secret until the project is done. I’m sorry,” the boy stated, his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Michael said. He didn’t mean it in a rude way, but he literally did not know what was going on. Ever. Jeremy seemed so...complicated, recently. He’d never been complicated before.

“Nothing is going on with me.”

The taller boy pushed his bowl of soup away from himself, crossing his arms. He leaned back in the chair. “Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?”

“No, Michael. That’s all,” he lied. Jeremy couldn’t stand the distrust in his best friend’s eyes so he focused his attention back on his food. “I’m sorry.”

After a painfully long silence, Michael opened his mouth to speak. “So…” The other boy was obviously trying to figure out how to guide the conversation back to normal. “You were out shopping?”

Jeremy nodded, rocking his head a bit to show his confirmation clearly.

“What for?”

“Clothes, mainly. Dad was going to take me, but he’s been busy with work.”

Michael unfolded his arms and reached out for his bowl. He pulled it closer to himself and asked, “You were in the city last night? Wasn’t there, like, a crazy chase with Spider-Man?”

Man, news traveled fast. He got dragged behind a van one time , and everyone knew. “Yeah, I guess so.” Jeremy shrugged. “I wasn’t in that part of town, though.”

The other boy hummed and stared at his hands for a moment before looking back up at Jeremy. “Do you carry any pepper spray or anything?”

“No,” he responded. “Why?”

“Just, I don’t know,” Michael spoke gently. “It’s just. You were in the city. Alone. At night. Did you forget that you were mugged?”

Jeremy sat up straighter in his chair. Actually, yes. He had forgotten about that conversation. “No.”

“I feel like you should carry something. Just to be safe.” The taller boy looked back down to his hands. He swallowed thickly and then added, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

And, well. If Jeremy didn’t melt right there on the spot. He knew that the other boy worried for him, even if it was uninvited, and it was comforting to know that someone gave a shit. That he gave a shit. “Michael…”

“I know. I know that you’re fine and that you can take care of yourself. But, Jeremy, the crime rates are so high. All the time. And I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt again.”

“I won’t get hurt again,” Jeremy reassured, feeling like a fraud. He gave a small smile and said, “See? Perfectly fine!”

“You’re a dork.” Michael let out a huff of laughter and suddenly, things felt normal again.

#meremy hell #boyf riends #bmc #be more chill #bmc spiderman au #my writing #my post

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nickgerlich · 5 years ago

Text

Never Going Back

We’re only two months into the US version of the coronavirus era, but it is only in the last week that things started to get serious. For those who understand simple math and exponents, it was obvious long ago that the growth rate for new cases would stumble along for weeks, until one day the exponents kicked in and growth took off. With that growth and the passage of time came deaths.

As of Tuesday morning 24th March, there have been 46,158 cases and 583 deaths in the US alone, a drop in the bucket compared to 395,744 cases and 17,234 deaths worldwide. But since the graph of US cases is still pointed straight up, it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. Our mortality rate is 1.26%, which is still 12.6X the mortality rate for the common flu. Globally, the mortality rate is 4.35%, no doubt bolstered by nations like Italy and Spain, where death has become a disproportionate reality.

Those who believed the dire predictions are saying “I told you so.” The disbelievers have become noticeably silent, aside from a few who still cling to their conspiracy theories and wishful religious thinking. Thankfully, those people are shrinking in number.

And just one week into what I will call peak pandemic, it is already safe to make this one general assessment: We are never going back. So much has changed in so little time, and all because of an enemy we cannot see, much less even begin to understand. We are isolated in place, frozen aside from the need to go to market or druggist. Travel is restricted in a growing number of states. Sixteen have complete statewide shelter-in-place mandates, while four others have similar such rules but only at the level of specific cities and counties.

Panic buying and shortages are so last week. Now we are stuck at home. Were it not for the internet and Netflix, we might just go crazy. Even my dogs are wondering why the humans are hanging out at home so much. We had all grown a little lax, a little too casual, a little too let’s-take-everything-for-granted. After all, it felt good, and we are social animals. Damn the bacteria and viruses, full steam ahead. Except now it is all painfully apparent that maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. So now we sit in quiet repose, watching the clock tick and the sun arc across the sky in slow motion.

It’s the end of the world as we knew it.

Presently Rethinking The Future

Once this is all over, whenever that is, I’m sure that many people will be more than happy to hop back on the Same Old, Same Old train. But then again, my hope is that everyone will at least give pause to consider that our response to the current crisis may in fact be the new world order—not that insidious plot some people think of, but a better, safer way of doing old things.

And I know that we cannot all become germophobes, trying to live inside bubbles of our own manufacture, because that would only decrease our immune systems’ abilities in the future to ward off infections. We still need to get out and soak up some bacteria and viruses, if only to increase our chances of living a bit longer. We don’t want our civilization to be wiped out like when Europeans came to the new world.

But there’s no reason we can’t add some order at the same time.

I find myself doing things very differently, starting first about two weeks ago, but ramping up in the last few days. It’s not that I am paranoid. It’s just that I have realized how careless I had become. For example, I now keep gloves in my vehicle so that I can pump my gas and make my payment without any viral or bacterial contact. Of course, I am hoping that the very air I breathe while doing so is not infested with nasty little buggers waiting to take up residence in my airways. I’m doing the best I can, and I cannot find any N95 respirators these days.

The gas pump nozzle is one of the dirtiest things we touch, and we do it at least once a week without thinking. Adding germs to injury is the fact we push all the buttons on the little keyboard as if an attendant had just been by with disinfectant, when we know in fact those things haven’t seen moisture since the last time it rained.

No more! I’m keeping my gloves handy from now on.

Now let’s carry this a little farther. Most of us pay with debit or credit at the store. Once again, buttons to push. Or the ATM. Or the Ziosk tabletop payment system at Chili’s or Red Robin. Heck, what about the menus at those place? All teeming with germs. If…and I mean if…I return to restaurants, I’m using their online menu. At least I keep my phone clean. As for the rest, I can see a lot of gloves in my future.

Which brings me to another thing: self-check at the grocery, DIY store, or wherever. Sure, I know a lot of people have complained in recent months about these things taking jobs away from people, but all of a sudden they are looking pretty good. If you wear gloves, you can do your entire shopping trip without human interaction, assuming you can safely navigate between other shoppers and hold your breath for 30 minutes.

Sure, it’s still quaint to engage in a little chit chat with the cashier from time to time, and self-check does require a human to push a button if you are buying alcohol, but I’m thinking there’s a lot more self-check in my future.

And what about cash? For many years I have hardly used any cash at all, but I can honestly say I have not touched a dollar bill now in at least 10 days. I don’t want the germs that come along for the ride on a fiver or sawbuck, and the same goes for coins, all token carriers of the deadly things hanging out inside of us. I will use plastic wherever I can, and even if I act like a teen, I will use it to pay for a measly $2 cup of coffee. Take that, you creepy little killers! Stay in your cash drawer.

I have started toting a spray container of Spic-and-Span with me, along with those durable blue shop paper towels. I’m spraying and scrubbing everything along my way. I am the father in next year’s My Big Fat Chinese-American Wedding when daughter Becca and Corey get married, making sure everything is safe. When it’s OK to travel again, you can bet I will be disinfecting my hotel room before I ever sit down.

Remember when family vacations included picnics at roadside rest areas? If you are old like me, you have faint memories, but if you are young, you probably have no idea what a picnic is or the ants who came running as soon as you set out everything. Recently on a day in which I had occasion to be behind the wheel, I had to come to grips with the new reality. I did what is now practically unheard of: I packed a cooler with beverages, snacks, and sandwich makings. Not only does this save me money, it’s also a lot healthier. I can control portion sizes, and once again, make no human contact.

This thinking translates into our broader lives. I for one have long loved going out to eat. It’s something my parents instilled in me when I was a child. While we were not rich by any means, Mom set down her foot and declared the kitchen closed on weekends. So we ate out. Many times we would drive up to 80 miles just to go to a favorite of my Mom and Dad’s. Skip forward to the present, and I was easily spending $125 per week on dining, usually at Asian and Progressive American restaurants with spendy and trendy items on their menus. Do the math. If I do not resume those ways, I have effectively given myself a $6000 a year raise.

By buying groceries and eating at home, I have given myself the opportunity to add to my modest cooking repertoire, eat exactly what I want and in which amounts, and save money.   I call that a win. The economy might not think so, as would restaurant owners and waitstaff. But this is a new world, and we have to find a new way to order things. Meanwhile, I have enough non-perishables to get us through a month, if necessary, and as per guidelines for someone in the—ahem—over-60 category.

Speaking of ordering, now that most non-essential shops are closed, how else are we to buy things? Easy. E-commerce is the solution. I am ready to buy an indoor bicycle trainer so I can maintain fitness at home; it will be delivered to my door. I’ve been shopping online for more than 20 years, and I am pretty sure that coronavirus is only going to reinforce those habits. I’m betting you’re in the same boat as me.

Just don’t get too close, you know.

To know me is to know I am a concert junkie. I love music regardless, but live performances are sonic ecstasy to me. I quit counting at 100 how many concerts I have been to. Of course, today there are no concerts to look forward to, at least not on the horizon. I had hoped to go see Bob Dylan in Amarillo this summer, along with Styx in September, but I have my doubts the former will happen, and who knows if we’ll be out of this mess come autumn.

Think about all the humanity at concerts. Even if we are all seated, like so many concerts aimed squarely at Baby Boomers like me, we’re still in proximal relation to dozens of people, if not hundreds and thousands if the air is circulating. Now factor in concerts with no seating, like some Blackberry Smoke shows I have seen in honky tonks, or the Stryper show I took in at the now-defunct Midnight Rodeo in Amarillo. Good grief, I was three feet from the stage, packed in like so many human sardines wasting away the last vestiges of our hearing. Yeah, those were good times, but I wonder how many hitchhiking germs I brought home, and how many I shared.

The same goes for movie theaters and sports arenas. I may never go to a theatre again, although I absolutely love visiting restored vintage venues like the Mulkey in Clarendon Texas. I am certain that no theatre in America takes the time to do more than just sweep up the popcorn and trash. Disinfect the seats? Are you kidding me? Just shut up, sit down, and try to enjoy the show while knowing you are living dangerously. Suddenly everything from concerts to films and sports are sounding a lot better on my 65” TV.

Let’s go a bit farther. While the lure of Las Vegas long ago wore off for me, I still have occasion now and then to be in Sin City only to find myself racing through the casino to reach clean outside air. I don’t gamble, so that’s not a problem, but what about the people who—gasp—touch those machines, deal those cards, and roll those dice? Knock yourselves out, folks. If I find myself in a casino again, I will also be doing my best sprint to get to the other side.

There’s one other thing that won’t change for me, and that’s the likelihood of my going on a cruise. More than 30 years ago, the ex and I had occasion to do a one-day mini cruise in the Gulf of Mexico with my parents, my brother, and his wife. I hate not being in control of my destiny, and knowing that someone else was steering that thing bothered me. Even more, I could see that the purpose of a cruise was really just to stand in line at decadent feeding troughs, then recline on the deck like beached whales. No thanks. Ain’t got time for that.

But in the coronavirus era, we now must consider the plight of a couple of cruise ships recently stuck at sea because suddenly people have realized them for what they really are: giant floating Petri dishes on which thousands of people mingle in tight quarters. Hey, what a great idea. Concerts and sporting events are one thing since they last only a few hours; now imagine spending a week or more with the same sneezing, coughing, dirty-handed fools.

Nope, nope, nope. You can keep your big boats.

And what about the religious and civil ceremonies we all attend at one time or another? Although there are still a small number of churches defying the Rule of 10 for public gatherings, a growing number has decided to perform their masses and services to empty pews, instead relying on technology to make them available to everyone. What an excellent idea! I realize this goes against the grain of many world religions. “Communion” is something to be celebrated together, hence the prefix. But the dirty chalice and shared loaves of bread are throwing caution to the wind. We can commune even if we are not commingling.

A friend I know who is a pastor recently conducted a wedding in the Phoenix area, and the only people in the church were the bride, groom, him, and a couple of witnesses. I even heard of a live-streamed funeral. Yeah. We can do this, and maybe going forward, churches and other places of worship should consider just doing everything online for those who no longer wish to take their chances in public, yet still allow people to congregate as per their choice when the pandemic is over.

I could certainly go on, especially with regard to online courses, but I would be beating the same drum I have for the last 23 years. Suffice it to say that today I feel very justified in all that I have done and promoted in this area, and will double down on my efforts going forward. While there is still a future for courses held in classrooms, we all need to prepare each and every class so that it could be online if we had to. It’s a lot like the emergency preparedness those in hurricane-affected areas already know: police can reverse the flow of traffic on freeways at a moment’s notice to handle people trying to evacuate. We educators need to be able to turn on a dime as well.

There’s more to rethink, of course, and for the vast majority of us who have turned on a dime in the last week, we may very well never return to other things we once did. Think about how suddenly major companies have turned into thousands of people who are working remotely, who connect via Zoom Video and Microsoft Teams when meetings are needed. Do we really need elaborate corporate campuses anymore, paeans to the profits they have enjoyed through the years? And do we really need more meetings, and meetings to schedule more meetings? I think not.

Other professions are finally figuring out that we can leverage technology not just for convenience, but for public safety. Telemedicine is suddenly OK and in fact desirable, but it hasn’t always been this way. Counseling can and should be done electronically as needed or desired, and not face-to-face because that’s how we’ve always done it.

To The Future And Beyond

Where it all goes from here is anybody’s guess. There are many voices in the woods, from Texas Lt. Governor Dan Patrick suggesting that grandparents should take one for the team and be willing to die for the sake of the economy, to Governor Cuomo of New York saying this could go on for another nine months. President Trump is hinting he would like to see us get back up on our feet and be rarin’ to go by Easter, while medical experts say not so fast.

As for me, I know I am never going back. I’m never going back to the way things were. Too much water has gone under this bridge, and even though it has only been a week or so since we all got serious, I have had a lot of time to think.

Maybe Michael Jackson was right all along. Being the gloved one was rather prescient, don’t you think?

Dr “But No Sequins For Me“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #COVID-19 #coronavirus

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beebomeebo · 8 years ago

Text

Don’t Go

Type: angst/fluff

Request// “Okay so the joe fic.. The overall is basically reader takes a like pregger test and it turns out positive and reader is scared to tell how bc they weren't married but engaged and how didn't want kids atm (he eventually wanted them but like not that sec yknw) anyway he is like shocked and doesn't say anything so reader leaves and comes back and like how is upset with himself and then see reader and says that he is happy and he is sorry for making reader freak out (this is super fucking specific)

(A/N) this is gonna be hella short and this is gonna be more like a small drabble. (and by short, I mean longer than most of my smuts.) This is my first angst fic so I hop ya’ll like ittttttt. I'm also changing it a little bit. #sorry

Warnings: pregnancy, tears, angst, fluff, a little bit of alcohol, FRIENDSHIP

Pairing: Joe Trohman x Reader

Word Count: 3K

“I don’t know what I’m going to do!” I run my fingers through my hair.

“Have you told Joe yet?” Jenna asks, attempting to calm my nerves.

“Not yet.” I stare at the floor, my head spinning. “I don’t know how he’ll react.”

“Maybe it messed up? How many did you take?” Jenna places her hand on my shoulder.

“Four.”

“And they all came up as positive?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

I stand up and begin to pace in front of the couch. Suddenly, I hear Joe’s car pull up into the driveway. Jenna and I exchange worried looks. Before I could react to the situation the front door swings open.

“Hi, babe.” Joe closes the door and plants a kiss on my forehead. “Oh, hi Jenna.” He waves to Jenna- who was on the couch. Jenna waves back.

“Well, I better get going. Tyler’s making dinner.” Jenna flashes me a smile and grabs her things. As I escort her to the door she whispers, “Good luck.”

“Uh, Joe?” I turn around to an empty living room. I fidget with the ring on my finger that Joe had proposed to me with only two weeks prior.

“Yeah, babe?” He shouts from the bedroom.

“I need to tell you something.” My anxiety kicks in. Don’t tell him. He’ll leave you. No, he won’t, he loves me. No, he doesn’t. You guys aren’t ready for kids. He’s going on tour soon. What are you supposed to do when the baby can’t see his dad for the first three months of their life? Suddenly, it becomes harder to breathe and I lose my balance, crashing on the couch.

“Yeah?” Joe walks into the living room and notices me hyperventilating. He rushes to me and pulls me to his chest. He begins rocking back and forth and whispering, “Hey baby, it’s ok. Whatever it is, it’s ok.”

After about ten minutes I finally calm down enough to talk. I keep my face buried in Joe’s chest for a while longer as I attempt to silence the voices.

“Are you ok, baby?” Joe lifts my face and examines it with immense concern.

“Joe,” I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. “My period is late. Like, really late.”

He stares at me blankly. “Ok, well what does that mean?”

“It’s a sigh of pregnancy.” My voice trails off as Joe’s face throws into full shock. Wide eyes stare at me as if I’m a completely new person.

“A-Are you sure? Did you do a pregnancy test?” Joe shoots onto his feet.

Reaching for his hand I reply, “Yes. I did four of them.”

Joe begins to pace like I was before. “What are we going to do? We’re not even married yet!” Joe’s voice raises.

I feel tears poking at my eyes as I stammer an uncertain answer. Soon I’m completely crying in front of Joe.

“I need to think.” Joe quickly jogs down the hallway.

“W-Where are you g-going?” I stutter through the sobs. He ignores me as he heads straight for the front door. “Wait!” I lunge to try and grasp his wrist but he slips out the door before I could catch a hold of him. The door slams and I keep my arm extended towards the door before sobbing harder and crawling up into a ball on the couch.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

I finally calm myself enough to walk into mine and Joe’s bedroom. I reach for my cell phone and bring enough energy to dial Joe’s phone. Taking a deep breath, I put the phone up to my ear and listen to the other line ring. I hear a faint ring behind me and I turn around to direct my attention to it. A cell phone buzzes against the nightstand and flashes a picture of Joe and I. I pick up the phone and begin to cry harder, reminiscing the memories that Joe and I shared. I crash into the king-sized bed and sob again.

A buzzing from my own phone pulls me from my tears. Jenna’s face pops onto my screen and I try my best to pull myself together as quickly as I can before sliding my thumb across the accept button. “Hey.”

“Hey! How did it go with Joe?” I can hear voices behind her and loud music.

“He walked out on me,” I mumble.

“He what?” Jenna asks.

“He walked out. All he said was that needed to think. He left his cellphone here and I can’t get a hold of him.” My words jumble together to form one incoherent sentence. I can’t help but let myself sob again.

“Hold on. I’ll be right there.” Jenna shouts before hanging up. I let the phone fall from my fingers I stare blankly at the wooden floor. I don’t even have enough energy to cry. My body falls back into the sheets and I stare up at my ceiling.

It’s not long before I hear my front door open and Jenna’s heel clicks down the hallway. “Y/N, sweetie.” Her soft voice wraps around my brain.

“In here,” I shout, still maintaining my lifeless position.

The clicks become louder and quicker as she rounds the corner into my room. “Oh sweetie,” Jenna speaks softly, meeting me on the bed. She pulls me to sit up and holds my head to her. I begin sobbing again.

“It’s ok. Let it all out.” Jenna rubs my arm as she allows me to vent. I spill everything: how Joe makes me feel, how much I loved him, how much he made me laugh. I go on to explain that he goes on tour soon and that the baby would be born while he’s on the other side of the country.

For a while, Jenna just lets me cry. “Let’s go get you cleaned up,” she says, breaking the silence.

I sigh and nod my head. She takes my hand and leads me to my bathroom. I can’t help but stare at my reflection. Jenna snaps me from my thoughts, “The water should be warm enough.” She lets the water run against her hand. When she turns her attention back to me her face reads empathy. “I’ll help you raise them if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want this kid to grow up not knowing who his father is. I don’t want to grow up the way I did, a broken mother and a poor home.

“Oh, honey.” Jenna wraps me in a hug. “He’ll grow up with the best family ever: he’ll grow up with his cool Aunt Jenna.” She laughs.

I smile weakly at her joke and look back to her. “Thank you. This means so much.”

“It’s no problem at all,” She says, wiping a tear from my cheek. “Tyler and I always talk about wanting a niece or nephew that we can spoil.” We both giggle. “I’ll let you get undressed and you enjoy the shower. Ok?” She squeezes my hand.

“I’ll try,” I say as she closes the door behind her. Quickly stripping myself of my clothes I step into the hot shower. My muscles relax under the steam and my mind slows to only think about the shower ... and puppies. After what feels like an hour, I finally decide to get out. Wrapping the towel around my body, I try to dry off everything from my neck down so I could twist my hair with the towel. “Hey, Jenna? Can you bring me another towel?” I shout through the door.

“Yeah,” she shouts back.

While I wait for Jenna, I examine my reflection; my mascara was smeared everywhere and I try my best to wipe it away. A soft knock comes from the door before opening just enough for Jenna to stick her hand in with a towel. “Thanks.” I quickly wrap the cloth around my body, covering my chest and hips. The brisk air of my room hits me as I open the door to get my pajamas.

“Oh, your pajamas are right here.” She gestures to the pile of clothing on the bed.

“You’re cool if I just change in front of you?” I ask, picking up my clothes.

“Yeah, I don’t care.” She keeps her attention focused on my TV as she flips through Netflix. “So, I was thinking either Moana or Finding Dory.”

I shoot a look at her from over my shoulder as I pull the warm underwear to my body.

“What?” She laughs. “They’re good movies!”

I shake my head at her comment, slipping into the rest of my pajamas.

“You need a musical. Moana it is!” She excitedly clicks the option.

“Does Tyler know you’re here? I mean, he must be worrying about you…” I become concerned with my friend’s relationship.

Jenna picks up her phone and clicks something I couldn’t quite see. She then presses the phone against her ear. “Hey, Ty. I’m at Y/N’s right now. I’ll probably be home sometime tomorrow.” She pauses for Tyler’s response. “Yeah, I’m going to spend the night. Y/N needs a girl’s night in,” She explains as she pulls me into a hug. I can’t help but smile at Jenna’s kindness. She says her goodbyes and exchange I love you’s with Tyler before hanging up.

“Hey, do you have any clothes I can borrow?” She asks me.

“Yeah, go ahead and look through my closet.”

She pulls out an old hoodie of mine and a pair of joggers. She quickly slips her day clothes off and pulls the comfy ones on.

She bounces to face me, an idea obviously bubbling on her lips. “You have wine, right?” I laugh, knowing exactly what type of night this was going to be. I nod and she rushes out of the room. She comes back with two wine glasses, a bottle of unopened wine and a bottle opener. Handing me a glass, she sets hers on the nightstand along with the bottle. She jams the screw part of the opener into the cork and twists it so the opener digs deeper into the bottle. I grab a hold of the base of the bottle so Jenna could try and pull the cork out. After many attempts, the cork finally pops out and sends Jenna onto the floor.

“Oh, my God!” I exclaim, trying to muffle my laughter. “Are you ok?” I set the wine bottle on the nightstand before helping her back to her feet.

“Yeah, I’ve had worse.” She laughs.

She reaches over to grab her wine glass and the wine bottle, holding the bottle in the air to toast. “To good times and better friends.” I lift my glass to toast with her before she pours the red liquid into my glass. I gradually sip the wine throughout the movie. Jenna and I joke around about the different characters and sing along to the songs. I point out the Lin Manuel-Miranda composed the music and she points out that Maui looks pretty similar to Dwayne Johnson. We laugh through the rest of the movie. As the final song plays Jenna’s tone seems to shift.

“Hey, do you think the Joe will come back?” She questions.

I glance over at his phone that was on the nightstand. “He has to,” I reply, directing my attention back to Jenna and taking a sip of my wine. She looks at me puzzled. “He left his phone.” Jenna nods and smiles.

Jenna flips on Finding Dory and I soon find myself drifting. My eyelids become heavy as I sink lower into the sheets. Noticing my sleepiness, Jeanna takes my glass from me. “Ok, I think we’ve had enough for tonight.” She takes the wine glasses and bottle to the kitchen. Once back, she crawls back under the sheets next to me.

I rest my head on Jenna’s shoulder and let my body sink into a slumber.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

My eyes flutter open as they adjust to the slightly brighter lighting. I notice my head was still on Jenna’s shoulder. I gently lift my head from her body, trying not to disturb her. I sneak out of the bed, pausing when Jenna shifts. Heading to my bathroom I comb my fingers through my hair. I look to my reflection and wash off the last bit of runny makeup I still had on from the previous night. Look back over to the nightstand and notice that Joe’s phone is still there. I shake myself from my thoughts and grab my toothbrush.

“Mmm, good morning,” a sleepy voice pulls my attention.

I smile with a mouth full of toothpaste. I spit some of it out before replying, “Good morning.”

“I had this really weird dream where you found out you were pregnant, and when you told Joe, he left and I came over the comfort you…” Her words slow down as she realizes the situation. She brings her palm to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”

I shrug it off, spitting the last bit of toothpaste into the sink. “I know it’s going to hit me hard later, but I’m just not feeling anything right now,” I explain, grabbing my brush to detangle my hair.

“Oh, ok,” says Jenna, surprised. “Well, what do you want to do today?”

I exchange looks with my reflection. “I’m feeling a movie,” I answer.

“Ooh! Yes. There’s this one movie that I want to see that just came out.” Jenna reaches for her phone off the nightstand. She unlocks it and opens Fandango. We quickly chose the movie we want to see and finish getting ready. I let her borrow one of my striped tops, a skirt and a pair of flats. “It’s crazy that I fit almost perfectly in these,” she laughs.

I leave a note on Joe’s phone that says that I’m just at the movie and when I’m most likely to be back home. Then Jenna and I do one last check to make sure we had everything before making our way to her car.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

“That movie was great!” Jenna blurts as we head back to her car.

“I know, right? But can we talk about that lead actor?” I swoon at the thought of him. We both laugh as we settle into our seats.

“Did you get anything from Joe?” She asks starting up the car.

I check my notifications. “Nope.” I paint my smile into a fine line knowing that I probably won’t for a while.

Jenna scoffs. “Screw him. There are plenty of fish in the sea. And I heard the Josh is newly single.” Jenna nudges my arm.

I swat her elbow away and roll my eyes at her offer.

She smiles. “Go ahead and play your music,” she says handing me the aux chord.

“Hell yeah,” I whisper to myself.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

I didn’t realize it but that ride home was what I really needed: my best friend and my favorite band blasting through the speakers.

We laugh at each other’s singing as we hop out and make our way to my front door.

“Do you want to invite the boys over and we can have a game night?” I ask Jenna as I open my door. Before a word could escape her lips we both freeze in the doorway. All I can focus on is a curly-haired man that was on my couch.

He turns around quickly and nervously. “Oh, hi Y/N,” he says.

“Hi, Joe,” I reply, hanging my purse on the hook nearby. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

Joe rubs the back of his neck, staring at his shoes he replies, “Yeah, I’m really sorry. I freaked and I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

I look over at Jenna for an answer and all she does is shrug her shoulders, giving me the exact panicked look that was plastered on my own face.

Joe continues, seeming to not even acknowledge Jenna’s presence, “I spent the night at Pete’s and I realized that I love you and that I do want to have a kid with you.” His face lifts from his feet to make eye contact with me and he steps around the couch to meet me. Taking my hand into his, Joes goes on, “I thought I wasn’t ready for a family but then I discovered: we already are a family; this would only be an addition. And I’m not leaving this child to make it go through the awful things your father made you go through.”

My heart stops as his words lap around my mind and all I can do is gape my mouth open. His eyes become watery and he tries to tuck his head away before I see a tear fall from his face. I hold onto Joe’s face with both of my hands and look at him with loving eyes that are also filled with water. Unable to form words I just crash my lips against his. His arms snake around my waist and pulls me closer to him. He picks me off my feet and spins before he gently sets me down. When we break away from the kiss I press my forehead against his.

“Does this mean I can be the Godmother?” Jenna startles us both.

“Oh, my God, Jenna. I forgot you were there,” I say awkwardly.

She shrugs it off. “It was cute. Anyways, can I be the Godmother?” She asks again, this time with more anticipation.

I exchange a look with Joe and turn back to Jenna. “Well, duh!” I announce.

Jenna jumps in excitement, almost dropping her purse. She runs toward me and Joe, bringing us into a tight embrace. “Congratulations! You guys are going to make the best parents.” Her words quickly escape her mouth and we can understand what she’s saying. Jenna suddenly gasps and breaks away from the hug. “I have to get home to Tyler to tell him about this.” She seems to instantly regret her words. “With your permission, of course.” I nod. “Yes! Ok, well, I’ll leave you two to attend to your baby business. Bye!” She gives Joe one last hug and pecks me on my cheek before skipping out the door.

Joe’s and my attention turn back to each other. “How long was she there for?”

“The whole time,” I chuckle.

Joe gives a small chuckle as he offers his hand. “Let’s go look up cute baby names.”

I lace my finger with his. “Let’s.”

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sermacsteph · 4 years ago

Text

awwww, that’s so cute :3 yuuuup, it feels like that far to often atm XD

I keep an eye on the sales :3 oh, I fully expect to be bad at them, I always find I’m a lot worse at games with no party members especially when I’m coming straight from playing a game like Dragon Age XD Ouch, I wish you the best with that!

Ooft! I remember doing a commission the other year that had about 14 characters on, the whole thing ended up being over 500 layers and none had no names, it was a nightmare to remember which was on what layer - you’d think I’d learn but I really don’t XD I’ve done inktober a couple of times but I never actually manage to finish it, I manage a couple of days and then just run out of steam for it

Oooooh, that be quite cool and could be like a clue puzzle when you have to put pieces together to get the exact story :3 I also always loved the sound of the dreamers and totally would play one if it was a specialization option! I did attempt to play the first one sometime ago but never really got into - might give it another go at some point :3

Me neither, tbh I always side with the mages just because they get dicked over so much in this universe that it doesn’t sit right with me to go with the tempalrs (that and also it means getting to have Dorian in the party earlier XD) Offft, yeah I’d struggle with that game XD (yay that you was able to turn the console off before the autosave!)

Hehe, whoop that you’re happy with him now :3 with estelle’s hair I think its cos that sometimes the hair looks like its going through his ears and looks weird but then you only really notice it during close ups XD

That’s fair - I’ve not played Mass Effect (or rather it was another game I attempted and couldn’t get on with XD) so I can’t really say anything about that XD I love the british male voice for inky, the American one doesn’t sound right for Estelle, though sounds alright for my house mate’s inky (weird how looks can affect that o.o) ahhhh, I love welsh/scottish accents, would have been awesome if that was an option or even an irish one :3 I do like pale hair too, but I went through a period of wanting red hair myself but I can’t dye my hair atm so I guess my ocs get to have red hair instead XD

I think it might have done but I can’t really remember. Yuuusss, all the angst :3

How have I played this game multiple times and only just noticed that when you enter into a romance, random skyhold npcs start commenting on it

I got the "did you imagine such a pairing?" "Oh, yes! The allure of command, a powerful magister... sigh" and was just like wait what?

#steph replies

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shogunpenny · 8 years ago

Note

Answer all 100

1: Is there a boy/girl in your life?: Not romantically, no2: Think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them?: Oh fuck this is a tough one. She cheated on me, but being the christian that I am, i’m called to forgive people who wrong me, no matter how badly. So reluctantly, yes. (doesn’t mean i’ve forgotten it, or will act like it never happened) 3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17: “He closed his eyes, but he could still see himself, huddling like a rabbit with nowhere left to run, Aes Sedai closing round him like ravens”4: What’s something you really want right now?: A girlfriend5: Are you afraid of falling in love?: Not particularly6: How can I win your heart?: Buy me a sword7: Have you ever slept on a couch with someone else?: nope8: What’s the background on your cell?: Currently its a default background because last month my phone decided to completely reset itself. Previously it was Gabe Newell9: Name the last four beds you were sat on?: What10: Think of the last person who said I love you, do you think they meant it?: Yeah11: Honestly, are things going the way you planned?: My life is a trainwreck, but tbh I don’t know what I expected12: Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts?: My sister’s13: Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler?: Rottweiler, but not a huge preference14: Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain?: Seeing as how my depression limits the amount of emotions I can feel at one time, physical.15: Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?: A zoo16: Are you tired?: Always17: How long have you known your 1st phone contact?: Since I was born18: If you had to delete one year of your life completely, which would it be?: This year probably19: Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes?: Incredibly unlikely, I wanted to think of an amusing analogy, but my mind has gone blank, so basically God would have to manifest into a physical form and start yelling at me to do it before I would consider it20: When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?: I’ve never kissed anyone romantically21: If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today?: *Smashes that mf marriage button* Fuck yeah!22: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?: Read Above23: When was the last time you were disappointed?: Every fucking day by myself24: Is there a certain quote you live by?: Probably risky to say cus the majority of tumblr hates him, but I love Jontron’s quote “If I can’t be the best at something, I sure as hell can be the worst25: What’s on your mind?: “Fucking hell i’ve still got 75 more of these”26: Do you have any tattoos?: No but i’d love to get one some day.27: What is your favorite color?: Purple28: Next time you will kiss someone on the lips?: Idk?? I can’t see into the future. Hopefully soon??29: Who are you texting?: Nobody atm30: Are you superstitious about anything?: Not legitimately31: Have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right?: Yep. shortly before I found out my ex was cheating on me I had lots of anxiety that she might be doing something of that sort. Usually my anxiety is unfounded, so it really sucks when its not. 32: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?: Yeah, a few33: Do you think anyone has feelings for you?: Feelings? For MY me?? (It’s not likely at all) 34: Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes?: Not really35: What was the reason for your last breakup?: See Above36: Were you single on Valentines Day?: Not this last one37: Name one physical feature that you like about yourself, and one you dislike: uhh. I literally cannot think of one physical thing I like about myself, whereas there are many I dislike38: What do your friends call you?: Most of them call me Penny39: Has anyone upset you in the last week?: Not badly, no40: Have you ever cried over a text?: No41: Where’s your last bruise located?: Is it particularly normal to keep track of bruises? I don’t know42: What is it from?: I don’t know, I don’t even know if I have any bruises currently43: Last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad?: I can’t say i’ve been anywhere particularly terrible in such a way, atleast not physically44: Who was the last person you were on the phone with?: My Mom45: Do you have a favourite pair of shoes?: I only have one pair of shoes, as sad as that sounds. I actually have a another but they’re so worn out they can barely be called shoes anymore, and I only wear them when i’m going outside really quickly.46: Do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day?: Not much anymore. I used to wear hats all the fucking time when I was young, similar to a security blanket sort of thing, until a few years ago I just stopped47: Would you ever go bald if it was the style?: No48: Do you make supper for your family?: Very often, yes. I swear my family would starve sometimes if they didn’t have me to make the food49: What’s the toughest decision you made this year?: I’ve barely made any decisions this year, everything’s basically just been thrust upon me50: Top 3 web-pages?: A private forum where some of my friends and I hang out, Youtube, and Tumblr51: Do you know anyone who hates shopping?: My dad and brother52: Does anything on your body hurt?: Not without messing with it. I have some acne, and a weird boil thing under my arm that hurts slightly if I mess with them53: Are goodbyes hard for you?: Depends if its permanent or for a long time. If so, yeah. 54: What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself?: Probably coffee55: How is your hair?: Usually it likes to tangle and is rather coarse, but right now its not particularly bad in either of those regards.56: What do you usually do first in the morning?: Go back to sleep57: Do you think two people can last forever?: Yeah58: Think back to January 2007, were you single?: I was 9 years old. 9 year olds aren’t typically known to have SOs59: Green or purple grapes?: Purple60: When’s the next time you will give someone a BIG hug?: Probably tomorrow for my mom61: Do you wish you were somewhere else right now?: I wish I was in Israel, laying Jerusalem under siege with the lads. Deus Vult.62: What did your father teach you?: Many Things. 63: Where will you be 5 hours from now?: In bed, asleep64: What were you doing at 8 this morning: Sleeping65: This time last year, can you remember who you liked?: Not really66: Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?: Any of my friends67: Did you kiss or hug anyone today?: Not romantically, but yes68: What was your last thought before you went to bed last night?: Who the fuck can remember the last thing they thought before falling asleep? Like wtf can people do that? things just get progressively more and more hazy as I fall asleep, and the chances are my last thought is something completely random and unrelated to anything69: Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?: Every time I draw70: How many windows are open on your computer?: 3, Skype, Steam and Firefox71: If you won 100 million dollars, what would you buy first?: Probably just put a lot of it into a savings account or something so I can make sure I live a comfortable life without having to work72: What is your ringtone?: Twilight of the Thunder God73: How old will you be in 5 months?: Still 1974: Where is your Mum right now?: Probably asleep75: Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?: Its really hard to love someone who cheats on you76: Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days?: Yes, my niece.77: Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago?: for the most part, yeah78: Do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7?: No79: Is there anyone you know with the name Mike?: A few people80: Have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms?: Excluding my mother’s when I was a babby, no81: How many people have you liked in the past three months?: Not including every girl I see, probably like 282: Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days?: I hope not83: Will you talk to the person you like tonight?: Not unless she somehow materializes into my house84: You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?: umm i doubt i’m above getting drunk, but definitely above harassing people like that85: If your BF/GF was into drugs would you care?: Depends on the drugs, and just how much she was into them. If she smoked weed every once in a while, who gives a shit? 86: What was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie?: Umm, I got to see the movie?? 87: Who was your last received call from?: My mom88: If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you?: like, I hate cruelty to animals and shit but fuck man, that’s a thousand bucks we’re talking about. 89: What is something you wish you had more of?: Money90: Have you ever trusted someone too much?: my ex91: Do you sleep with your window open?: Only in the summer when the AC hasn’t been turned on92: Do you get along with girls?: All of my coworkers save for one are girls, so yeah. 93: Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth?: No94: Does sex mean love?: Not necessarily95: You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?: See Above, have never kissed anyone romantically96: Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring?: See Above97: Did you sleep alone this week?: This week, and every week of my life98: Everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you?: Not one specific person, but my friends usually do the trick99: Do you believe in love at first sight?: Not really100: Who was the last person that you pinky promise?: I don’t think I ever have pinky promised anyone

That took way too long

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hallaig · 8 years ago

Text

Tag Game 2.0

I was tagged by @humanitys-shortest-soldier I’m glad you’re still kicking!

rules: answer these 85 things while i procrastinate on that monstrous prompt that’s calling to me

THE LAST:

1. drink: currently drinking a steamed milk with sugar sprinkled on top

2. phone call: my mom

3. text message: actual text? my boss. otherwise group chatting with the fam

4. song you listened to: voluntarily, addicted to you by avicii while i thought about how flipping good that eruri art is. but something indie and unrecognizable is playing at the café I'm holed up at.

5. time you cried: i had a dream i cried a lot last night. twas weird, nezumi was there, i was nezumi who knows. i feel like in the waking hours it was recently, but i can’t recall for the life of me rn. it’s on the tip of my memory. or maybe that was a dream too? hmm.

6. dated someone twice: hah.

7. kissed someone and regretted it: yes.

8. been cheated on: yeah, sort of.

9. lost someone special: um, probably? i had a dear friend once years ago that i didn’t keep in touch with and i hope she’s well and the world is treating her like the tiny goddess she is.

10. been depressed: currently, my friends, currently. writing tooth-rotting fluff helps, let me tell you.

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: yes, but only twice and a long time ago. once was a decade ago and i still remember it clearly *shudders*

THREE FAVORITE COLORS:

12. pink, like blush pink

13. yellow, but soft yellow, like afternoon sunlight

14. every other color, i love them all, but I prefer more muted, gentle colors. not that jewel-tones aren’t gorgeous. teal? mhmm. turner watercolors tend to be the types of colors i like. or my “palette” tag on tumblr

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. made new friends: i’ve met lots of lovely people <3

16. fallen out of love: no

17. laughed until you cried: it’s not a good day if i haven’t :)

18. found out someone was talking about you: yeah, but i think it was good?

19. met someone who changed you: absolutely

20. found out who your friends are: this one always cracks me up.

21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: wtf, no haha. also, i don’t have a Facebook

GENERAL:

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: i escaped Facebook hell long ago

23. do you have any pets: no, but i dream of the day i have multiple cats

24. do you want to change your name: lol! funny story friends

25. what did you do for your last birthday: it was really nice actually. i had a fancy cupcake and stayed home :)

26. what time do you wake up: anywhere between 8am and 11am these days

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: finishing bsd s2, yass

28. name something you can’t wait for: nothing atm, finally reaching emotional peace and a place in my life where I'm financially stable by the ocean with my cats i suppose

29. when was the last time you saw your mom: just had dinner with her

31. what are you listening to right now: that sort of bizarre indie station at the café. let’s change that. ....i just hit play on obsessions by marina & the diamonds

32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: yeah?

33. something that is getting on your nerves: plenty of things

34. most visited website: tumblr and youtube, or gmail i believe

35. hair color: brown

36. long or short hair: my own hair is short

37. do you have a crush on someone: no. i haven't had a crush in so long my heart forgot what that’s like

38. what do you like about yourself: i know myself well, i like my own sense of humor

39. piercings: none

40. blood type: o negative

41. nickname: well, everyone online calls me something different so

42. relationship status: single

43. zodiac: gemini! dazai is my birthday pal

45. favourite tv show: durarara? i don’t watch tv outside of anime just now

46. tattoos: none, but i want, oh how i want

47. right or left handed: right

48. surgery: just a topical one a long time ago, want to see my scars?

50. sport: no, but i used to play rugby and run a lot

51. vacation: this is so vague! i enjoy the ocean

52. pair of trainers: i literally wear sketchers guys

MORE GENERAL:

53. eating: again, vague but i just had some rice and veggies w/ guacamole which it was pretty magnificent. i like veggie curry like you wouldn’t believe.

54. drinking: coffee, always. though i do enjoy earl grey/chai/fennel-based teas

55. I’m about to: write this prompt?? finish izanyas glorious skk fic? get into bed and watch asmr videos?

56. waiting for: nothing in particular

57. want: to be better about writing daily, to be calm and organized about it, to finish my wips, not get overwhelmed by projects. all very attainable things that I'm working towards :)

58. get married: i very much doubt it, but i suppose you never know

59. career: i’m a librarian, to answer this the short way. trying to figure out what i want to do long-term in life is a big focus of mine rn

WHICH IS BETTER:

60. hugs or kisses: i dont enjoy being touched in general, but hypothetically both are wonderful

61. lips or eyes: on people? i dont know, all people look different, their features come together in unique ways and that’s fabulous

62. shorter or taller: no preference?

63. older or younger: ahh i never know if these are about dating. i prefer people to be close to my age or older regardless

64. nice arms or nice stomach: ....psh you do you, y'all are lovely

65. hook up or relationship: *shrug* whatever you like, i can't imagine being in a relationship so I'm going to say neither just now

66. troublemaker or hesitant: myself? flighty troublemaker, in others...i dont know, i dont get out much ;) both are good, so long as you aren’t an ass i think

HAVE YOU EVER:

67. kissed a stranger: no

68. drank hard liquor: yes

69. lost glasses/contact lenses: i dont wear either

70. turned someone down: yes

71. sex on the first date: honestly, i dont think I've ever been on a date in that sense

72. broken someone’s heart: yes? maybe. at the time i think so.

73. had your heart broken: yes, my friends, yes.

74. been arrested: no.

75. cried when someone died: yes, both in real life and in fiction. crying is good, let out your pain

76. fallen for a friend: not since middle school

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

77. yourself: hmmm, i think that’s a complex answer. logically, yeah, I'm a tough muffin.

78. miracles: no, but coincidences sure are mind-blowing sometimes, aren’t they?

79. love at first sight: nah

80. santa claus: lol oh god

81. kiss on the first date: sure, if you like that

82. angels: nope, but sign me tf up for wing!fics

OTHER:

83. current best friend’s name: i think the closest i have to this is my sister

84. eye color: brown

85. favorite movie: i dont really watch films to tell you the truth. surely i have one. this is like the crying question, i know it’s there, i just can’t recall

#tag game #procrastination #thank you for tagging me!!#that was a lot of facts #i finished my hot milk while i answered :(

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rebustein94-blog · 8 years ago

Text

What’s Inside of Room 25?

Glacier National Park is indescribable. You turn a corner and wham, there’s another peak, even taller than the last. Another corner and blam there’s an entire range you haven’t seen before. And you’re standing there, admiring the way the mist steams out of the very trees along its side, so awed that it takes you a full minute or two to realize that’s not mist. It’s the clouds. The mountains are so tall that the clouds can’t even rise above them.

Nothing will make you feel God like a mountain will. Nothing else in the world like it. You can almost hear them humming with age and power.

You can mess with the desert. Conquer it. Live in it. Whatever. You can own the prairie and the plains and the woods, of course. Swamps, too, I guess. The tundra, if that’s what you’re into.

But nobody fucks with a mountain.

I made friends with some of the staff at the Inn and they invited me to go on a hike with them down to this place called Swinging Bridge. You go over this excitingly treacherous, definitely swinging plank thing and up towards a peak called Scalplock. We stood by the bank of a river running through the center of a wide valley for a while. The water is this pure light blue and it keeps pummeling over the rocks so hard you wonder where all that water is actually coming from. If it’s all just melting snow pouring down from the peaks, how much fucking snow is there?

I looked around the valley. It swept out over a long stretch of rocks and dirt and bare trees. I told one of the girls who had invited me there that we didn’t have open land like that in New York.

She blinked at me. Glanced around the valley. I guess it looked relatively small to her because she said, “You think this is open?”

“Well...yeah.” Wasn’t it?

“Maybe I’m just spoiled,” she said, shaking her head. “But this is nothing.”

On our way back to the car, we came across the foreleg of a deer. It ended in a red and bone-white stump. It was bent just so, and lay directly in the middle of the path. No sign of blood or a struggle or anything else around. As if someone or something had carried it there and dropped it. Had left it exclusively for us to find.

“Must be bears nearby,” one of the staff members. But there was this edge to the way she said. This clipped tone of confidence and we all knew. Or felt it. That there was always the possibility for something more.

We moved quickly back to the car.

Because nothing makes you feel the devil like a mountain.

***

Since Glacier is so indescribable, let me describe instead an update on the Izaak Walton’s ghost.

The girl who invited me on the hike and told me I didn’t know what “open” meant is named Margie. When I asked Margie about the ghost on the third floor yesterday afternoon, she nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “We had a member of our house staff always refuse to go in room 25 because she said it freaked her out.”

I rubbed my hands together. Of course, I love a good ghost story. “Any specific reason?”

Margie shrugged. “Just a feeling she had. And one time, one of our security guys saw someone standing at the ATM downstairs way after the lounge down there was closed. So he went down to check it out. But nobody was there.”

“Excellent.” Yes, this was good.

“There’s a guy who stays in 25 every summer. He says he can see weird markings on the wall.”

My eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah. Like something’s in the wood.”

“Please let me go up there,” I said.

She gave me the key and I went up. Room 25 was at the end of the hall. I felt nervous opening the door, but in a fun haunted-house kind of way. Not a “I’m instinctively sensing my at-hand death right now” way.

Inside, it was just like all the other rooms. Except it was cold as death. For a second that got me. For a second, I went, “Ooohh!” But I figured they probably just didn’t have the heat on, since no one was staying in there. Dread gnawed at me as I opened the bathroom door but inside was just some dumb old bathroom.

No markings on the walls. Nothing.

I had expected symbols burned into the woodwork. Or maybe claw marks from some horrible nightmare-dwelling beast. Or demonic designs formed by the knots and warps of the very wood itself, indicating some demonic presence within the very beams of the hotel.

Nope.

I brought the key back down and said, essentially, “Well, that was all a nice little ghost story. Thanks.”

“Sure,” she said, obviously feeling the same way. And I would have mostly forgotten about it.

But then I met Bill.

Bill’s hairline is halfway up his head. The hair he does have is this white straw stuff that swishes around when he moves his head. He has thick glasses that magnify his eyes to insect-like proportions and the widest, most genuine smile I’ve ever seen.

Bill’s from the Midwest.

“Oh, sure,” he’ll say if you ask him a question. “Yeah, you bet.” As he bobs his head agreeably, grinning such a straight-up smile it’s almost off-putting. Almost. Then you realize he means it and you’re like, “Okay, right on, Bill.”

Bill was on the night shift last night, so it was just him and me and the darkness after about nine (when all the elderly couples curl up into their pods and unplug their alien brains...I assume). So in the dim light of the lobby, I asked him about the ghost.

“Oh!” he said. “I’ve never seen anything here. I’ve heard some things from people but I think it’s all bogus, you know. I used to own a bar, though, and we had some things happen there.”

“Like what?” I asked eagerly.

“Well, gosh. Let’s see. One time, I took this photo of the dance floor when there were all these people dancing. But in the middle of them, in the picture, was this very tall black man in a tweed suit. Like, seven or eight feet tall. And you could see right through him.”

“Spooky,” I said, intrigued.

Bill, encouraged by my enthusiasm, went on. “Another time, we snapped a picture of the stairs. And we saw three little orbs at the bottom of the staircase. So we took another picture. And they were closer. Another picture. Closer. Coming up the stairs. Until finally they were right in front of us. And, gosh, we got a chill, then, you know.” He laughed.

“That’s awesome,” I said. Bill had some good stuff.

“And this one time,” he said, really beaming widely now, “I was upstairs. And my wife was down in the bar. And I heard this bloodcurdling scream. So I stopped. And listened. And I heard another one. Just bloody murder, you know. So I run down and I ask, ‘Barb? You hear anything?’ And she goes, ‘No’. So that was pretty weird.” He laughed again.

I stared at him. In the darkness of the lobby, almost entirely alone, thinking about the notion of hearing anything out of the ordinary, let alone a bloodcurdling scream, I was not on board with this laughter. How is that your reaction? How do you hear a disembodied scream and go, “Say, that’s odd!”

“That’s nuts,” I said, less enthusiastic. My spine felt suddenly cold.

But Bill was on a roll. “Another time, somebody got stabbed in the hallway by the bathroom. But there was no one else there.”

Stabbed?!

“Okay, Bill.”

“Oh, and we had someone get pushed down the stairs.”

What?! My room was upstairs!

“Hey, that’s great, Bill.” I started backing away.

“Oh, and here people have seen figures walking around the lobby at night sometimes. I just remembered that.”

Sweet Christ! We were in the lobby! The very same lobby!

“Anyway,” said Bill, shrugging. “I’m about to close up. So good night!”

And he left me alone there, which was a terrible idea. I have a very good imagination.

Although, really, who’s to say Bill isn’t the ghost?

I mean, I’d buy that. I’d buy that in a second.

But it’s an old hotel. It creaks and groans all the time. The pipes clang and the wood snaps as it settles and warps. The floors scream and the walls ooze and the elk bust on the wall drools blood. Just normal old hotel stuff.

It’s got character, you know? It’s cozy. Super cozy. Not scary at all.

In fact, I’m sitting in the lobby right now! All alone, long after dark. And I love it! There’s this clattering sound that strikes up every few minutes somewhere by the bar that I’m seriously having trouble identifying and someone keeps walking around above me and I’m not 100% sure there’s anyone staying down that hallway because I haven’t seen anyone down there yet but there are people around and it is a cozy cozy old hotel. So what if I honestly can not shake the feeling that I’m not alone right now? Right? It’s just an old hotel!!!! RIGHT??!!

(Essex, MT)

#glacier national park #ghosts #thisisntforyoucarl

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serzhantkris · 8 years ago

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A Man Worth Fighting For- 17

Summary: Seventy years has passed and the world has changed. You thought you were moving on until Steve Rogers asks you for a favor which leads to a discovery that will change everything. So much for retirement. Sequel to “A Girl Worth Fighting For.” Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 2633 Warnings: Language, blood. Tags at the end

Part 16 Masterlist

Lacova, Romania. Two months later.

A cold wind swept through your hair as you stalked down the city streets, hands buried in your pockets. Your jacket rustled as you tugged the collar up to cover your neck and you glanced up at the slight traffic before crossing the street.

An ATM stood just outside of a convenience store, hooded by a rain guard. Shivering, you step under it, eyes flitting around in search of security cameras. There was one, pointed at the machine. Quietly, quickly, you tapped a few buttons before the machine began spitting out money. After counting it, you shoved it into your pocket and turned to look around before you spotted him, sitting on the bench at a bus stop.

He didn’t move as you crossed the street and dropped onto the bench beside him, crossing one leg over the other. “Fancy some pancakes?”

He smiles, a huff of air leaving his mouth in a visible cloud. “Where’s Bucky?”

“You know he’d be royally pissed if he even knew you were in the country, Steve.”

“I know you’re trying to protect him,” Steve sighed, leaning against the bench. “But you can’t keep running like this. Sooner or later Hydra or someone worse will find you. It’s bad enough the government wants to lock him up.”

“So do you, it’s just that you’re prison is fancier and has a lap pool,” you snort, crossing your arms over your chest. “I know you want him to be safe, but Bucky’s better where no one can find him.”

“He needs a place where people can protect him-”

“And you think Stark would do that?” You shoot Steve a glare and he closes his mouth, eyes dropping to his lap. “Lots of people want Bucky dead, you know Stark would be first in line if he knew what Bucky did.”

“Y/N,” Steve sighed, running his hand down his face. “He’s not gonna get better this way. How many cities have you two been through the past few weeks?”

“I’ll talk to him,” you groaned, stretching one arm over the back of the bench. “I will. Just, not while you’re here. I don’t want him thinking I’m going behind his back and making plans to go back to New York without his consent. I’ll call you next week after we’ve had time to talk and let you know, alright?”

Steve nodded, looking up and down the street. “What’s he doing?”

“Still asleep,” you said. “Last night was rough, he didn’t fall asleep ‘til after three. I put on the Wizard of Oz and he was out pretty quick after that.”

Steve laughed, “Sounds like you know how to handle things.”

“Bucky’s still in there, somewhere,” you answered. “He’s not the same as he used to be, but sometimes I can still see it. It’s rough, but he tries. He doesn’t remember a lot of things, but he remembers enough. He tells me the same jokes he used to tell, that sort of thing. It’s nice.” There’s a far off look in your eye and Steve shifts on the bench, weary of the sadness you’re carrying.

“The bullet, it heal alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine. He’s fine, Steve. Really.”

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, squinting down at you again. “So, uh, how are things, uh… In the relationship area?”

“Are you asking me if Bucky and I-”

“No,” Steve interjects. “God, no. I just mean…” He trails off for a second, huffing. “Does he still have feelings for you? Are you, y’know, like, in a relationship?”

“I think so,” you snort, rubbing the back of your neck. “There’s still something there. We haven’t talked much about it, or done anything about it. There’s more going on and I’ve been too distracted by not dying to worry about rather a boy likes me.”

“You love him though,” Steve said.

“Of course I do. And he loves me. But it’s sorta been on the back burners.”

“He’s said he loves you?”

You frown, shaking your head. “I mean, he alluded to it once? But that was really it. Like I said, too much going on. I’m not… I don’t need him to say anything or do anything. If he didn’t want me around, I’d be in New York already.”

“So you won’t be planning a wedding anytime soon?”

You and Steve share a laugh and continue sitting on the bench for nearly an hour, talking offhandedly about Bucky and about what was happening in Steve’s world. New threats came and went, with Steve and the rest of the Avengers barely stopping them in time. He said a few names you didn’t recognize, told you about things you’d read about in papers, and by the time you realized you’re hands were frozen, Steve was checking his watch and on his way to the airport back to the States.

The walk back to the apartment was chilly, and when you step into the hall you can feel heat rush to your hands. Climbing the steps two at a time, you rub your palms together and unlock the door, slipping inside without a sound. Bucky is still asleep when you enter, his back to you from his place on the mattress. Seconds tick by as you simply watch him sleep, tugging off your jacket and toeing out of your shoes. Bucky groans and his legs shift under the blankets, nose burying further into the pillow. Grinning, you brush a piece of his hair to the side. His eyes shoot open and he grabs your wrist, his grip loosening when he finds your face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Reflex.”

“A good one,” you said, crawling onto the bed. Bucky let go of your hand as you lay next to him, facing him with your hands tucked under your head. “Sorry I woke you.”

“I had a dream about you,” Bucky said. You bit down on your lip, inching closer. Bucky brought his right hand up, knuckles brushing under your chin. “Maybe it was a dream, but I think it might’ve been a memory too.”

“Wanna share?”

“We were standing on a hill. You were covered in dirt and wearing someone else’s clothes. Things were blowing up everywhere. At first I thought they were fireworks, but there were gunshots and fires and people screaming. We were yelling. Then you grabbed me and kissed me, and it all disappeared. Everything was dark and quiet and it was just us.”

You grinned and Bucky turned his hand, cupping your chin carefully between his forefinger and thumb. He eased forward, eyelids fluttering as he pressed his lips against yours, barely ghosting the surface. It took everything you had not to respond too harshly, still afraid of pushing his limits. He was in control of each and every kiss, seldom as they were, but you appreciate every single one like it would be the last. Bucky needed to be the initiator, to know that he could make choices and you knew there was part of him that was afraid to hurt you, too. It would never happen- nothing he could do would ever hurt you.

He pulled back just as slowly, not very far, thumb stroking your chin, just to feel a bit of your skin under his fingers.

“Do you still want to marry me?” Bucky’s voice was thick and he shifted a bit under the blanket, Adam’s apple bobbing as he leaned his head back to get a better look at your face.

“You ask me that at least once a week,” you laugh. “Do you really think I’ll ever say no?”

Bucky simply grins, propping himself up on his elbow and leaning down, pressing a soft kiss at your hairline. “We should get breakfast,” he said. Groaning, you begrudgingly prepare to go back out into the cold. Bucky simply shakes his head at you as you pull your boots on, this time grabbing a scarf as you follow him out into the city. He takes your hand, holding you close to him as you make your way to the same diner you’ve been having breakfast at for the past couple weeks.

The bell chimes as you and Bucky weave through tables toward your unofficial claimed booth, with Bucky sitting where he can see the front door. You order the same meals from the same waitress, and the monotony of it all isn’t nearly as boring as you’d imagined it would be. Instead, it offers you a sense of peace.

“I called Steve this morning,” you said, reaching for a spoon as the waitress brought coffee to your table. Bucky poured a strong cup, leaving out sugar and cream as he blew gently on the steaming surface. “He still wants us to come home.”

Bucky frowns, fingers tapping the cup as he stares across the table at you. “You called him?”

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. But you know Bucky can see right through you. “We talked for a bit after I went to the ATM.”

Bucky sighed, rubbing at the spot he’d been shot only a few weeks ago. Guilt immediately sits heavy in your head. “You sure you called him?”

Defeated, you grab your cup of coffee and sip at it, hoping for liquid courage. “No,” you admit. “But he doesn’t know where we’re staying-”

“Y/N,” Bucky chastises, shoving his cup aside. “Don’t you know how dangerous that is? Not only could Steve have found us-”

“Steve’s not the enemy, Bucky!”

“-But if someone was watching him, they’d have found us too,” he continues, leaning slightly over the table between you. “You can’t just go meeting up with people behind my back.”

“We aren’t conjoined twins, Bucky, why do you think I went without you?” You sit back, slouching into the booth. “I knew you wouldn’t like it, that’s why I didn’t say anything.”

“What if something happened to you while you were gone? I wouldn’t have been able to find you.”

“I left a note,” you growl, crossing your arms defensively and staring hard at him. “I fought my way through a World War, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Persian Gulf-”

“None of those wars were against you personally,” Bucky interrupted, tongue running over his lips. “This war, this is between me and Hydra.”

“And me! I’m a part of this too!”

“We don’t have an entire army behind us this time.”

“So Steve doesn’t count? The Avengers don’t count?”

“No,” Bucky groaned. “No, they don’t. Having ‘special abilities,’ or whatever the hell, doesn’t make up for the fact that Hydra has a one-up on us no matter what we do.”

“We’ve fought Hydra before, and we always win.”

“The Americans said that before the Vietnam War, too. You know how well that went. Like you said, you were there. Remember where I was?” Bucky’s comment cut like a knife and you stared, stunned, at him for a second longer before pushing out of your seat, pushing past the waitress toward the door. Bucky called after you, but remained rooted to the spot, and you didn’t look back.

By the time you reached the apartment, you were fuming. His refusal to get help was getting to you, and the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to call Steve and have him bring you and Bucky to New York regardless of rather he wanted to. You fumbled with the building keys, cursing under your breath as you stomped up the steps and into your apartment, practically throwing the keys on the kitchen counter before you realized you were not alone.

He was sitting on your bed, flipping through a notebook lined with colored tabs. Bucky’s notebook. You swallowed, backing up into the stove as he lifted his gaze and smiled at you.

“Mrs. Barnes,” he said, accent thick as he turned to a new page. “Your husband is quite the writer. Exquisite penmanship too.”

Breathing through your nose, you automatically find a Romanian dialect. Your mouth feels like cotton, but you do your best to speak clearly. “Barnes? I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong room.”

“Really?” The agent laughs, holding up the notebook. “The soldier writes a lot about you, Mrs. Barnes. He really enjoys your beautiful eyes.” He flips the notebook open again, this time reading aloud to you. “We watched the Wizard of Oz last night, and I fell asleep with my head in her lap. Her hands are soft and she knows exactly where to rub her fingertips to lull me to sleep.’ It’s very cute, your husband must love you dearly.”

Shifting, you carefully graze your fingers under the counter by the stove, tugging on a knife duct taped there. He drops the book on the bed and stands, stalking toward you around the counter.

“Where is the Asset?”

“Up your ass,” you answer.

The agent grins and then lunges at you, grabbing the back of your head and slamming your forehead into the counter before you have time to react. The world spins as you thrust the knife at him, barely skimming the outside of his arm as he drags you back to your feet. You struggle to fight back, your body and his slamming into counters and cabinets. He hurls you over the counter and you drop onto the floor at the other side, pushing yourself up as he hops over it and yanks you back up, forcing the knife from your grip and slamming it down on your hand. You scream as it pierces between bones, blood instantly streaming down your forearm as you kick back at him.

Ripping the knife out of your hand, you aim for his throat. The scuffle continues, both of you slamming each other into the walls and whatever else you can find, knocking things off the walls and shelves around the small studio. You nearly trip over the bed, tossing him over you and into the wall with thighs around his neck. He fights to get to his feet, grabbing at your arms, but you’re faster, and the knife goes in his chest with a dull thud before he falls to the ground in a heap.

Seconds pass as you cradle your bleeding hand against your chest, sinking onto the mattress. The door opens and you swivel, shoulders dropping as Bucky hustles into the apartment with a grim expression. He crosses to you quickly, checking that the man is dead before turning to look at you, crouching in front of you with his hands flying over your arms and face to make sure you’re okay. His expression when he holds your bleeding hand almost breaks your heart.

“What happened?”

“He was waiting,” you breathed, holding the hand in your lap. “Can’t we just get one fucking break?”

“That would be too easy,” Bucky mumbled, holding out his hand. You placed your hand in his, frowning. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been here-”

“For the last time, James Buchanan Barnes. I am not, nor have I ever been, a damsel in distress. I can take care of myself.”

Bucky shot you a look and exhaled through his nose, standing up. “We need to go, before they send backup or someone calls the police.”

“Can we take a cruise ship to the Bahamas,” you mumble, standing as Bucky pulls a duffle bag from under the bed, full of all the necessities for a quick escape. You’d learned after the last time. Bucky unzipped it to double check as you picked up his notebook, the pages slightly wrinkled as you passed it to him. He stuffed it inside and zipped the bag back up, giving you a curt nod. You looked behind you as you left the apartment, saying goodbye to yet another place you’d called home.

Part 18

TAGS @hunting-timetravelling-sociopath @namastay-in-bed-2002 @nikkitia7@parisispretty@dundaze@lbouvet@cassiopeiassky @colouredwater @buckybuchanan @i-love-bucky-barnes @danimuhle@snakesgoethe@scarlettsoldier@snow107 @coffeefueleddinosaurs @dellabellas @iamtal @johnmurphys-sass @spn-worm @the-hidden-seeker @bellejeunefillesansmerci@knittingknerdy@passiononfire @and-nevermore @obsessedwithatwell@itsjaynebird @survivingthroughthereality @theriumking@vaisabu @redstarstan@namelessdecoy@ancchor@agentraven007 @ipaintmelodies @lilasiannerd @imheretomarvel @lbug1025 @buckyywiththegoodhair @crapythings @mayasmedberg @abigrumple @pimpaladestiel @attentionseekingprincess @sebastianstanaa @parisss-lilli @emilykathrynb @captainsebstan @gh0stw-int @jamesbubuchananbarnes @your-worry-home @scoobertdoobert2 @thisisthelilith @caitsymichelle13 @stovehairington @avoidthoseeyes @barnesdeservestheworld @minervaem@hogwarts-the-history @wolfechildofslytherin @decemberftw @theloveablesociopath@avengersgirllorianna @captain--pikachu @barnesdeservestheworld @caitsymichelle13@scoobertdoobert2 @your-worry-home @gh0stw-int @emilykathrynb @crapythings

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