#I'd rather stay with my mother for a couple months if it means we find a good place.

[running-in-the-dark]

the apartment we looked at today was really bad - like, one room was missing half the flooring and they (the landlord) just put carpet over it. luckily it was only the current tenant there, though - she told us about the landlord and that she's... not great. so even if the apartment had been decent we wouldn't have been interested after that.

#it also helped us further narrow down which places/villages we'll consider from now on #it's basically just down to three places now. #and they're the same ones we would have preferred the last two times we moved. #but damn I'm just really not willing to go through all this work again just to end up in *another* shitty village that I know I won't #really like. #I'd rather stay with my mother for a couple months if it means we find a good place. #(it'd have to be my mother and not my in-laws because we're pretty sure they wouldn't want our cats in their house. so) #like it'd SUCK but I can. not. keep moving somewhere new every fucking year #especially since it takes me a year to start feeling sort of at home #we've been thinking we *might* be able to start thinking about maybe possibly mayyybe buying a house at some point. if I find a job and if #it's one that pays enough and so on. #and we would really rather not move again until we can do that. #(if we can. it's only a very vague idea at this point. but we've realised it's the *only* way we'd actually feel fully comfortable somewher #we're bad at living in a house with other people 🙃) #(and there are *no* houses for rent that aren't absolutely huge and/or way too expensive) #personal

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I listened to Elis James and John Robins on the Comedian’s Comedian podcast, as I somewhat recently passed the point in their radio show when they recorded it. It was a really good episode, even by the standards of that podcast, which are high. Very little messing around with basic explanations of stuff that we could find on their Wikipedia pages anyway, they jump straight in with analysis.

I cut out a few clips as I was listening. I meant to write a paragraph or so about each of them. I am coming back here after finishing the post to say I ended up writing a lot more than that. This one gets out of hand. It mainly stays on the topic of the podcast episode and the radio show, occasionally veers off into some personal stories of my own, makes tenuous connections between the two. That's what's below the cut that I'm adding because not everyone needs to be subjected to that.

I particularly liked this one, from the very beginning:

First of all, Elis James definitely has met another person who will start a radio episode by sighing and just saying whatever's actually in their mind instead of trying for slick broadcasting. Elis knows him very well, the mother of his children is frequently recording lines to put in that other broadcaster's shows. However, there is the key difference that Daniel Kitson's doing that on an obscure radio station (well, two obscure radio stations as he used to do Triple R in Melbourne, but hasn't for a long time, so I mainly mean Resonance FM in London) that doesn't pay him any money, while John Robins is doing it on a commercial radio station that was presumably a significant source of his income and is definitely the main source of his career success. It's definitely more a risk to try in that context.

Anyway, I'd like to put the above clip next to this one:

I'm now three years into following this radio show/listening to various podcasts and other things they've done alongside it, trying to go mostly in chronological order, and I would say they do this in one form or another approximately every six months. Just explicitly state the status dynamic between them, which is that Elis is more successful but John is funnier, this creates a couple of sources of mild tension that can be funny to listen to and give them something to play into as a double act, but it also balances out enough so their entire relationship isn't going to implode like Jon Richardson and Russell Howard. It's always a bit weird when they actually say that out loud, comedians aren't really supposed to tell us what level of status they've decided to assign themselves/each other for any given moment.

Elis James frequently says John Robins is a better comedian than him, which also a bit weird because it's the sort of thing you'd say as a joke, but he never sounds like he's joking, and it's... I mean, I was going to say it's objectively true, I guess it can't be given how subjective comedy is, but it is pretty clear cut. And it seems to genuinely not bother Elis James, which I used to think was odd, but I guess it makes sense. I've been teammates with people whom I know are better athletes than me, and we can still be friends, and if anyone asks who's better I can be honest about that. It sure would make that easier if I also somehow won more medals than they did (to continue the somewhat stretched analogy of Elis James having more TV work so that balances the scales), though sports tend to be more of a meritocracy than arts so that doesn't really happen.

There's also truth in the thing John said about how one of them has to come up with content for the radio show - they're on the same official footing, co-hosts rather than calling anyone a sidekick or whatever, but the vast majority of the funniest stuff gets said by John, and more than that, John drives most of the discussions. He usually comes in with more features and stuff prepared, he establishes a lot of the running jokes and keeps them going, he's the one who will lead most of their offshoots into weird little sketches and characters. His timing is incredible sometimes, every once in a while he'll have an episode where he's got Lee Mack levels of being able to jump on everything that gets said almost immediately and be funny every time. He seems like he can decide, pretty much based on how he's feeling at the moment but possibly also based on a sense for how much potential something has, whether to wrap up a thread in one incisive sentence or to draw it out. And it's almost always John making that decision (if it isn't the producer telling them to get on with it, that is, but it's rarely Elis' decision). Sometimes I can hear John work out the comedic potential in something they're talking about before Elis does, and Elis will start to move on but John will bring it back and guide him toward it, and eventually manage to push Elis into whatever joke John had figure out would be funny but only if Elis said it.

Having said that, and this is a tangent but discussing whether Elis James is funny just made me think of it, I've been wanting to give him credit for something. At some episode sometime in 2016, Elis James was telling a story about someone he admired, and the story was about something fairly serious, and at the end of it, John asked "Is he a laugh?", which was quite a funny thing to say in the context, it's annoying me that I can't remember the exact story but it was something like that. And it was funny to hear John be so efficiently dismissive of the sort of weird story. But later in the episode, John told one of his stories about one of those vaguely depressing things he does, like obsessively do his taxes four months in advance or drink rum alone at 2 AM and get sad while watching Queen documentaries - one of those types of stories - and at the end of it, Elis asked "Are you a laugh?" And after that, for several months, Elis James brought that back the exactly perfect number of times. I don't know how he did it, how he got it so perfect every time. He didn't drop it for long enough for regular listeners to forget that he'd made this a running joke, so it would lose its power as a callback. But he didn't say it often enough for it to start to get overused and less funny (not that those guys would ever try to milk more from one bit than it should be expected to bear... but of course we're all on email). There is such a small sweet spot, such little room for error in the frequency with which you can bring back a joke and not fall into either of those traps, and he got it perfect every time. Every time he'd said it, I'd have a moment of surprise because he'd left it just barely past the point at which it had been long enough since I'd heard it for it to get really funny again, and every time, I'd take a moment to admire his timing. He kept it going for quite a while, occasionally responding to John's depressing anecdotes from his own life with "Are you a laugh?" So, well done to Elis James, he can be funny too. Also, I mean, obviously he is regularly quite funny on the radio show, just not as funny as John Robins. It's fine, most people aren't as funny as John Robins. I'm not as good at underhook setups as my friend I hung out with the other night, but it's fine, we manage to get on with our lives.

Anyway, that was only very tenuously related to the topic of this post, let me see if I can find my way back. John Robins and Elis James having an odd balance of tensions created by John being funnier but Elis being more successful. I'm not sure that's as true now as it was in early 2014 to early 2017, which covers the period of radio episodes I've heard so far. At that time, Elis had recently had major roles in two sitcoms (Crims and Josh). He'd had one Welsh-language stand-up special released on the BBC and I think was working on recording another one. He'd done some panel show spots, more than John I think. I think he's started on his BBC television travel show with Miles Jupp. He'd gone to Europe to do TV and radio things about the Welsh football team. John Robins, meanwhile, had released the audio from a couple of his stand-up shows himself on Bandcamp, had been on Mock the Week twice and one of those times was a fucking disaster, a couple appearances on As Yet Untitled, and I think he occasionally got on things like The News Quiz but less often than Elis James did. I think he had a pretty good stand-up career going by then, but it hadn't really translated to other stuff. And John complained at times that he didn't get as many reviews and publicity as his stand-up profile deserved, though it's hard to tell if that's true or just his bias. He had a job for a while doing TV warm-up gigs, but then he got fired for what sounds like a combination of drinking too much and being too harsh for the "keep it light" atmosphere. The disparity between his profile and Elis' was probably for two main reasons: 1) Elis has the significant USP of being one of the only comedians who's fluent in the Welsh language so that gets him some stuff, and 2) the reasons outlined in that second audio clip about John having pissed everyone off.

I think their positions are different these days, though. I'm into the March 2017 episodes right now, in a few months John Robins is going to win a Perrier Award, so he can't keep complaining about not having a significant enough stand-up profile after that. That turned into a Netflix special, a significantly bigger deal than Elis' Welsh-language BBC iPlayer special. And then in 2018 he hosts a panel show, which I have downloaded but haven't watched yet, I'll wait until I get there chronologically. To be honest I'm slightly dreading getting there because I have a feeling it might be terrible. I don't think it was hugely successful because I'd never heard of it before I started looking up John Robins things this year, and I went really deep down the panel show rabbit hole in the last few years, I watched some quite obscure ones but never came across this. It also only lasted one season. But still, he hosted a panel show on Dave. That's a TV career.

And now, obviously, he's on Taskmaster. And seems to be playing large rooms in his latest stand-up tour. A tour that I'd assumed would get filmed for another TV special, though he's mentioned recently that he's planning to put it on Bandcamp like his earlier shows, and I do appreciate him keeping it real for us despite now being a Taskmaster star with a huge tour (as much as this shouldn't make sense because there can be visual humour in stand-up, I tend to prefer audio-only stand-up that's usually closer to how it actually sounded in the room, over filmed versions that get more edits). On the other hand, Elis had a TV series about Welsh comedy a few years ago. A podcast with some football players. I've just looked it up and apparently he hosts a football-based TV show on Sky, so that's nice. But the gap in TV-based success has probably closed.

But that discussion they had in that second audio clip - about John Robins not getting stuff because he's (rightly and justifiably) reaping the consequences of being a dick with a substance abuse problem, and Elis James valiantly taking on the role of Robins Apologist - that really nails, for me, what I enjoy so much about their dynamic. I think that my favourite dynamic. I fucking love anywhere where two people get that one going. That dynamic that's summed up by this post htat I remember from ages ago and have somehow just managed to find because Tumblr's terrible search function decided to work for me today:

It was about a year ago that I had the extremely clever idea of adding that Taskmaster screenshot to that other person's text post, but I maintain that it's hilarious. Guy Montgomery and David Correos were so much fun because of this. At the time, I considered instead using a screenshot from Taskmaster UK season 5, with the speech bubble pointing at Mark Watson looking at Nish Kumar. There are so many example of two people whose comedy show interactions have been hilarious because they're based on one person making terrible decisions and the other person looking at them like "I'd follow him to hell and back but I wish he'd just stop going there." And not always a him, it doesn't have to be a him! Danielle Ward and Margaret Cabourn-Smith had some good "I'd follow her to hell and back but I wish she'd just stop going there" energy on Do the Right Thing (with Danielle Ward, of course, in the Correos/Kumar/Robins position).

I'm sure I realized until right now, as I write this, how much this might be my favourite dynamic in comedy because it also characterizes my favourite relationships in my own life. And I am genuinely not sure whether that's a me thing or whether most people can slot most of their relationships into one where someone's the David and someone's the Guy, in terms of who keeps driving things to hell and who follows out of loyalty but also apologizes. When I was in high school, and also for most of my twenties, my nickname among my friends was "loose cannon" because when they were trying to be careful and diplomatic in the political battles within the increasingly high levels that we reached in the sporting world, I was the person who once yelled at my coach in a hallway because I was so angry at the way he treated the athletes, and had a letter in my coaching file by age 22 that accused me of not caring about common courtesy. A letter from a coach who refused to work with me anymore because I was insufficiently courteous, so my best friend had to liaise with him on everything while asking me to please not upset more people and further alienate our team. And I have wonderful friends who tell other people that I don't hate them, really, I just seem standoffish because I'm shy, and later on they tell me that I really need to work on my poker face/ability to be around people I hate without making it incredibly obvious that I hate them. In addition to being genuinely shy. When we tried to get someone from my team elected to the provincial board, we knew from the beginning that 1) I would do all the actual work for both the election campaign and, if successful, the role itself, because I know and care the most about the issues and am good at admin stuff, and 2) I could not be the candidate because I hate most people and everyone I hate knows I hate them because I have no diplomacy skills.

Though I do also have one friend who coaches a team in another city and he knows he can call me pretty much any time and ask me for pretty much any favour and I will do it, and I will edit his emails and do his research for him to help him fight his stupid pointless battles and to try to keep him on top of things even though he can't keep track of anything and keeps making wild badly planned decisions, and people ask me why I don't just let him fail and walk away, and I say I know he seems like a brash asshole with no ability to think ahead, but he's a really good guy, really, once you get to know him. It's got back to me that most people in our sports community assume I am or was sleeping with him, as that seems like the only explanation for why I would stick by a guy who's clearly an idiot. The truth is much weirder, he was my university teammate in 2013 and one time he was in my corner when I had a panic attack in the middle of a match at the university national championships, and he saved me and got me through it and I managed to go back and win, and that's why I had to do things like sleep on a hotel room floor for a week in Atlantic City because he'd talked me into going on a provincial team trip where he hadn't booked enough rooms (or planned anything), because he'd earned my eternal loyalty. Oh God, I just remembered how during that trip he stopped to gamble in front of children, and I ended up yelling at him in the middle of the street in Atlantic City, "You know, I argue with people about you!" And he said, "What people?" And I said "People who think you're not responsible enough to run a provincial team trip! Which is everyone! I get into big arguments with them and you make it hard when you do shit like this!" But a few years later he was the first person I called when our mutual friend died because I realized in that moment, that's the person I trust most in the world.

Anyway. What was I talking about? Elis James and John Robins. I think I was talking about Elis James and John Robins. Okay, turns out listening to people talk about the friendships that you base on blind loyalty and apologism brought some stuff up for me. I think I have, in recent weeks, at times blamed my overly emotional posting - my posts that start out as comedy analysis but then go into oversharing about my person life - on the fact that I'm going through some emotionally difficult stuff as I'm trying to avoid drinking. But that's not the case here, I think I was always going to go on that tangent. I haven't seen my friend from out of town in a while, I'm a bit worried about him. I think he might be ruining his own life again. Something was going to connect to that. Rhod Gilbert reminds me of him.

Anyway. Anyway. Elis James and John Robins. Solid double act dynamic. Weird balance of status and tensions, enjoyable running thread of loyalty and apologism. Amazingly, I'm not done, here's another clip I cut out of that ComCom interview:

This is the second time I've heard John Robins tell this story, and I had the same reaction as the first time, which was: Oh my God oh my God oh my God, how were you ever able to sleep again? The horrible sharp pain of this story keeps me awake at night, just imagining what it would be like if that happened to me, and it didn't even happen to me. How could you ever sleep if it did? John Robins frequently tells stories from what he calls the "shame well", those things that happen where you obsess over how you did something wrong and regret it. John is constantly making jokes (or just statements) about how he lives a life mired in shame and regret. But still, I don't see how he can just casually throw this one out there like it's just another shame well story. It's so much worse. It's the worst one I've heard. I would hide under my bed for the rest of my life.

John Robins went on Adam Buxton's podcast in 2016, I have listened to that episode and it's not great. You want to talk about dynamics created by a differential in status - I think that one went way too far, to the point where nothing could really happen. There was this huge discrepancy of John Robins meeting his hero, which will often make someone sort of adorably giddy but not in this case, he just seemed a bit out of it and subdued. While on the other side, Adam Buxton appeared to have no idea who John Robins was, so not much discussion got generated. It wasn't a complete disaster, but I could understand why John didn't plug that one on his radio show, despite plugging most of his podcast appearances.

Anyway though, if I can manage to get past the sheer horror of the first part of that clip, the second part was sort of nicely validating. Because I am slightly weary of how much my trip down the Elis and John rabbit hole has got quite intense quite quickly, even by my standards of comedy obsession, and possibly taken a turn for the parasocial. I mean, I am currently writing a multi-page post about an interview they gave and it includes several paragraphs about my own life that are only tenuously related, in a way that I can say "Look I do the same thing as these guys I've never met."

The intensity of that has definitely been accelerated by the fact that I happened to, by a genuine coincidence, get into this show at the same time as I decided to try to slow down and/or stop drinking, and God, a lot of the ways in which John Robins talks about alcohol and anxiety resonates. And yep, I'd feel weird admitting it because I know it's sort of inherently creepy to say "they feel like my friends" about some people you've never met, but since John Robins said it first I think I can admit those headphones do make a difference. Might be another reason why I prefer the Bandcamp comedy to a Netflix special.

They touch on this throughout the ComCom interview - not so much in the clips I cut out but throughout the whole thing, it really is worth a listen if you're interested in this - the way their radio show gets so many letters from people who thank them for talking so honestly about mental health issues, people who say they've dealt with their own difficult shit and find this radio show has helped. Probably lots of shows get similar letters, but I think it's safe to say this one gets more than most. The Bugle used to read out their correspondence and Andy Zaltzman wasn't getting people every day saying "Thank you for making me feel less alone in my depression."

They really are good at that, at hitting the exact right balance of honest without being overbearing about it. For a show that spends so much time talking about symptoms of mental health problems, they almost never use the words "mental health". They never sit down and say "let's have a talk about what it's like to live with anxiety." They just describe their week, in more honest detail than you would normally hear on commercial radio. And leave in the parts where they panic about every decision they've ever made and get drunk alone in the middle of the night and cry because they think they've done everything wrong. And by "they", I mostly mean John.

I do like their word, "darkness". I didn't realize, when I first watched The Darkness of Robins in 2022 (a show John first performed in 2017, won a large award for it, released as a Netflix special in 2018, but I watched it in 2022), that that title's been around for ages. Elis James made a joke in an early radio episode, from 2014, about how someday, John should do a show called The Darkness of Robins, where he just lays bare all his anxieties, all his weird toxic quirks and control freak tendencies and oceans of shame and regret and various addictions/self-medication and cynicism and bitterness and anger and deep self-loathing. Elis said this as a joke, the joke being that you can't just put all that in a comedy show. But they kept the joke going for years. John did the Richard Herring podcast, in which he talked a bit about some of the more difficult mental health struggles he's had, and when he plugged it on the radio show, instead of saying "I talk about some of my more difficult mental health struggles", he said, "There's a fair bit of the darkness of Robins in it." And then he started casually referencing it on the show, describing a night when he might have drank too much and had a panic attack with a causal and sort of joke-y "I got overcome by the darkness for a little while." And then they started describing those emails from listeners who say it resonated with "[Person] has emailed in to say they've been afflicted by a touch of the darkness, sorry to hear that." And I just love that word. It's used with enough genuineness to make it clear that they're not making fun of mental health problems, they really do have them and it does feel dark. But also with enough irony - obviously there is irony in using a term as grandiose as "The Darkness of Robins" to describe panicking at 3 AM about something bad you said in school - to make it feel like it's not an after school special. I also like that they found a way to let that word mean no one has to name a diagnosis, to narrow their issue down to a loaded term like "I suffer from clinical depression", when not everyone who has that is diagnosed, not everyone is comfortable naming it, not everyone finds it easy to separate their symptoms into clear-cut causes. They can just use a shorthand like "the darkness".

It has been good, to have this radio show for the last couple of months that have brought some darkness into particularly sharp focus, as I decided to quickly remove the maladaptive self-medication. I've tried to stop writing about it so often the way I did earlier in the year, but as a little update on how that's going, still bad. Not enjoying it. Getting mildly parasocial about some guys on the radio might not be hugely healthy, but it's a healthier coping mechanism than whiskey, I guess. I'd really like some whiskey. Anyway I'm fine.

I do think that's why I find that Adam and Joe story so incredibly painful, though. I get paranoid about whether I get too parasocial about the comedians I like, I try really hard to be self-aware about it and be super clear that I know what I'm getting is a curated public persona and I do not actually know these people, and I am mortified at the thought of being one of those fans who thinks they actually are my friends and therefore they should know something about me. No one should know me. I hang out on Tumblr because it's the one social media platform where I know no famous people are searching their own name or anything, everyone's just an anonymous nerd. The thought of anyone knowing me makes me want to hide under my bed for the rest of my life. Though having said that, John Robins and Elis James are always very nice about people who write in with darkness emails.

Amazingly, I'm still not done this post:

Throwing this in just to say, once again, that I'm sorry for having also thought this but in my defense it's not just me. I am truly sorry that when I first heard John Robins got sober, my first thought was... but he's still going to be bitter and angry and annoying and plagued by regret and self-loathing, right? Because that's kind of the cornerstone of his comedy and is what I love so much about it. I mean obviously I want him to be happy, but could he release a couple more stand-up hours first?

I feel genuinely guilty for having thought that, especially because I do hold the sort of political belief that it's bullshit to say one must suffer to make great art, van Gogh did his best work once his mental illness was being treated, and all that. I do believe it applies to more contemporary things too. Jason Isbell made his best music after getting sober. I think James Acaster's best stand-up show might be his current ones, and it's a "let me tell you how therapy has made me healthier" show. But John Robins did base a lot of his comedy on being bitter and angry and annoying and plagued by regret and self-loathing. That's sort of my favourite thing about it.

I felt slightly better when I re-listened to his 2014 show (recorded in 2015) This Tornado Loves You, and was reminded that he admitted that himself:

That's John Robins talking about how his comedy has suffered because he's too happy in his relationship with Sara Pascoe, a relationship that has ended a 20-year search for happiness. And it goes with the clip I posted before that from the ComCom episode, of Elis James saying it's nice that John's relationship with Sara Pascoe recently ended, because it's given the quality of his comedy a real boost. And maybe they should just ruin John's life regularly to keep it that way. So it's not just me who had that horrible thought.

I'm feeling the need to clarify, once again, that of course I don't genuinely think that's a good thing. Obviously it's good that he got sober, for his sake but also, reports suggest his latest show Howl is excellent. I think Howl was written partly while he was drinking and partly while he wasn't, but performed after he'd quit, and the fact that it's done so well suggests that people can, in fact, make their best stuff after getting their shit together (I haven't actually heard the show, he's said he'll release it on Bandcamp sometime soon-ish, probably). And even if his comedy did get worse, which it clearly hasn't, it would still be best that he quit drinking because suffering wouldn't be worth great art, even if it were required for it. That's how it works. Drinking is bad for you. I definitely don't want to drink any whiskey right now. It's fine.

But. But. I recently re-listened to John Robins' episode of Isy Suttie's podcast, The Things We Do For Love. This is a rare instance that I've heard of a comedian being genuinely drunk while recording something. It's happened before that comedians will claim to be a bit loose and tipsy, but not usually so drunk that they're slurring their words. John Robins on Isy Suttie's podcast was slurring his words. He kept losing track of the question and interrupting at inappropriate moments. It's one of those things that makes me say "Oh, yeah, you really needed to quit drinking. This really was affecting your career, that's just a guy who showed up to work too drunk to effectively do his job."

But it was really funny. It made me laugh so many times. At one point he gets furious because Isy Suttie asked him whether he knows how to drive a car. Later on he threatens to murder her and Elis for their sitcom money, which would have been an okay joke but tbere was a bit of a sense of line crossing when he also threatened their child. (Fun side note that has nothing to do with John being drunk: at one point Isy tells a story about her ex-boyfriend, John Robins asks what the ex's name is but she refuses to say, which is weird because I know. It's weird that I know something about Isy Suttie that John Robins didn't, at least on that day.) It's a mess. It's hilarious. I feel vaguely guilty for finding that so funny, the same way I do about the episodes of No More Jockeys where Mark Watson gets properly drunk - that guy's probably got a problem too, I probably shouldn't laugh at it so much, but I also find those the funniest episodes. I have the say, the episode of Adam Buxton's podcast where John Robins was sort of awkwardly reserved would probably have been funnier if John had gotten drunk before it.

My best defense for that is I would not want John Robins to actually be drunk when he performs stand-up, or certainly when he writes it. Being drunk made him funnier on a podcast interview where he's supposed to tell off-the-cuff stories, because off-the-cuff stories get better when someone's filter has been broken down. But also, in his actual stand-up, or even his actual radio broadcasting, John Robins is doing a thousand little things at once to make what he's saying funnier. He's the master of the well-timed pause and the carefully chosen word. None of that would be any good drunk. So I maintain that you don't need to suffer addiction to make great art. It might help a bit to make funny tangents on an interview podcast, but not the actual substance. Also, however funny I found it, I don't think he was proud of that one. On the radio show, John plugged his appearance on Isy Suttie's podcast before he did it, but not one word about it on the radio after it had been recorded, even though most of those things he'll plug both before and once they're released. Though in a later episode of her podcast, Isy mentioned that the first guest she'd had on was a very drunk John Robins, who called her the next day desperately asking her to cut out the sexually explicit story he'd told using an old girlfriend's real name.

And she did cut it out, it's not in the podcast, as it shouldn't be, because it's not responsible to tell sexually explicit stories in something that's being recorded and will be published, if the audience knows the real name of the person you're talking about. Having said that, I've finally reached the point in the radio show where John's doing WIPs of The Darkness of Robins, where he does just that about Sara Pascoe, and I'm having a bit of trouble morally justifying how much I like the show in spite of that. I think I'll re-watch that show tomorrow, for the first time in nearly a year and a half. I'll see how that goes. I remember it as being very, very good. But also, in the last few weeks, I've had three different people watch it because of my posts about John Robins, and all of them came back to me to point out that the stories about Sara Pascoe are pretty inappropriate to tell on stage. I'm still holding out hope that I'll hear him clarify on the radio show that he did run that stuff by her before saying it publicly, or at least before recording it for Netflix.

Anyway, this post got a bit out of hand. I've tried for the last couple of weeks to slow down on my posting about the Elis/John radio show, and the posting about my personal life, but I seemed to have built up a lot to say and put it all in this one. I'm doing fine.

[miyuhpapayuh]

7. daydreamin'

Stevie officially has a month left before she turns twenty one. The final step to being fully legal.

She flips the page in her poetry notebook, starting another lovey dovey one.

It isn't love,

But it damn sure isn't too far off.

Maybe, this is the biggest crush I've ever had.

Maybe...

I see that look in your eyes.

The one that everybody was pointing out.

The heaven look.

I'm starting to look at you like that, too.

You're my favorite.

She's been feeling this way for almost two weeks; the same amount of time that it's been, since their last date and what could've been the wildest night of her life.

Rod's been getting more hours at his job, Lee's. He works at a hardware store.

She hasn't been able to see him like usual, which is honestly starting to bother her.

She’d had a conversation with her father yesterday. He apologized like ten thousand times, also tossing in that her mother was also very sorry, but she wasn't budging on her just yet.

If she's sorry, she knows my number.

She told him that she was dating someone and he's very happy for her, surprisingly.

Of course, he won't be meeting him or anything, any time soon, with everything that took place just a couple months ago.

He's got a long way to go. They both do.

"Babe," Rod calls from downstairs.

She hops up from the bed and heads out into the hallway and leans over the railing to find him standing by the door with two bags of food, beside a smiling Tyler.

"Hey boo, your boyfriend bought food and I possibly ate a couple of your shrimp. Sorry." She tosses her keys on the counter and heads up the stairs, still smiling at her.

"You're not sorry." Stevie squints.

She shrugs her shoulders and heads into her room, closing the door behind her.

She heads downstairs and watches him sit the bags on the table in the dining room. He pulls her to him by one of the loops on her jeans, kissing her cheek.

"I know we were supposed to catch a movie later, but I figured we could chill here. I can actually talk to you," he chuckles to himself.

"That's fine, babe. I'd rather stay in, anyway." She says, turning around in his hold and kissing his lips. He pulls her in for another one.

"Good, cause I got your favorite."

He releases her and pulls a container out the bag and opens it, revealing shrimp alfredo with two pieces of garlic bread.

Her stomach rumbles at the sight.

"Ooh, that looks so good! Thank you, baby."

She heads into the kitchen and grabs two forks. He pulls out the other container, grabs the bags and heads into the living room to throw them away, while she also grabs two wine glasses and the red wine that was left over from last time.

He smirks at her, while she sits everything down on the coffee table.

She rolls her eyes and plops down on the sofa, tucking her left foot underneath her right leg.

"You gonna finish your wine, this time?" He teases, while reopens her container and begins twirling her noodles around her fork.

"Says the person that barely touched his." She quips, grabs the remote and begins flipping through the channels.

"You're right. I was too busy touchin' on somethin' else." She side-eyes him and goes back to eating her food.

She reaches for the bottle, but he grabs it a second early.

"I got it. Reach me your glass."

She slides her glass across the table and stuffs another forkful into her mouth.

"What do you want for your birthday?" He slides her now, semi full glass back towards her.

"Thank you," she says, "I haven't really thought about it. I usually buy my own presents or get something from my parents or Tyler."

"You don't want me to buy you anything?" There's a hint of hurt laced in his words, making her feel bad.

"I mean, if you want to— I just don't want you spending your money on me. I'm a pretty expensive person."

"That's not a problem, babygirl." She sighs.

"How's that not a problem?"

"Because, you're my girl. I'm not saying that ima go buy you something extremely expensive, but I want to make sure your birthday is a special one."

"Okay— you're right." He nods, but his gaze doesn't leave her face.

"If I hurt your feelings, I'm sorry. I appreciate you." He slides his hand across the couch and underneath hers.

"I mean, you bruised me a lil bit, but it's all good." He winks, causing her cheeks to heat up.

"So... y'all haven't done anything??"

Stevie sits across from Tyler on her bed, jotting down stuff in her mini planner.

"I mean, we got pretty close to actually having sex, a couple weeks ago. I just don't know why I'm hesitating." She clicked her pen, closing the planner and sitting it down beside her.

"Hm... are you nervous?" She asks, getting a shrug.

"I was. I think I'm just anxious, now. But, I don't wanna come off as being too anxious, ya know?" She nods, while a smirk pulls at the corners of her mouth.

"What are you smirking for?"

She hops off her bed and heads over to her closet, beginning to rummage through her clothes.

"When's the next date night?"

"Uh, probably the end of the week. Why?"

She steps away from her closet, holding a crème off the shoulder crop top sweater, a tight black skirt that doesn't even look like it'll cover her vagina and some strappy black heels.

"You want me to wear that??"

She scoffs and tosses the stuff on the bed, pulling Stevie up in the process.

"At least, try the stuff on."

She rolled her eyes and pulled her T-shirt over her head and stepped out of her shorts, turning her back to her, unhooking her bra, before grabbing the shirt.

"Stop acting like I've never seen your itty bitties before, Alaina." She laughs.

Stevie waves her off and stares at the shirt, trying to figure just how the hell she's going to get this on her body.

"Pull it over your head."

She pulls the thin material over her head and tries sticking both arms through the sleeves. She hears Tyler snicker behind her.

"One at a time, child."

She huffs and tries to work with the shirt, while it works against her. She finally gets it on and smooths it out. It's a bit longer than she thought it'd be.

Next, she grabs the skirt and shimmies into it.

I was right— it barely covers anything!

"Okay.... I like the top, but this skirt is a no. A hell no." She says, turning around to see her smiling.

"Girl, you look fucking hot!" She claps. Stevie rolls her eyes and pulls the skirt off and hands it back to her.

"Only you can pull that off. I'll be right back."

She heads into her own closet and pulls out the only pair of jeans that fit kinda tight on her and puts them on.

She walks back into the room and twirls around. "Now this is more like it."

Tyler sits down and blinks at her friend, completely unamused.

"Your outfits are so.... safe."

Stevie's mouth drops open.

"Well excuse me, if I don't wanna be out here with my vagina exposed and my boobs pushed together to create some damn cleavage."

"Are you throwin' shade?"

"Yes. You literally only dress appropriately when you go to class, and even then, do you push it. But that's you! That's not me, and I'm not about to make Rod drool over a girl that you've created. It wouldn't be real."

She sighs and picks at her lavender stiletto nails.

"I was just trying to help..."

"I know. But, that was a little too much."

She throws her hands up and sighs heavily. She rolls her eyes.

"Guess that's what I get for trying to spice up your wardrobe!" She falls back into her pillows.

"Bitch, shut up. I know how to put an appropriate outfit together. I could even put a slutty one together, but this isn't the conversation nor the time for that." She says, grabbing her pen and planner off her bed and heading back into her room.

"You know you want that dick, Stevie! Quit playin'!"

She closes her door and tries her best to ignore her comment.

Pulling the outfit off and sitting it back in her closet, she pulls on a t-shirt.

"She really did the opposite of helping me,” she laughs to herself. "I said I don't wanna come off as anxious and what does she do? Make me look like I'm ready to get fucked at any given moment!"

She huffs and searches for her remote, turning the tv on and flipping through a couple of channels; the usual black and white movies from the 40s, waiting to exhale, which has been on all week, and talk shows.

She sighs and turns it on Rugrats, turning the volume down and laying back on her pillows.

Her mind starts to wander off to that place, where it doesn't need to.

Ugh.

"I've always dreamt of this moment, babygirl..." he mumbles above, her legs resting on either side of his waist, while his noticeable erection is pressed against her. She keeps a grip on his shoulders.

"So have I. I don't wanna wait anymore."

His lips press against hers, making her see sparks again.

His tongue glides across her sweet spot, causing my inner thighs to tremble.

She slides her hand down between them and reaches for the waistband of his sweats. He smirks against her skin.

"You ready, huh?" He smiles and then everything fades into a blur…

"Mm... mmmh." She rolled over and opened her eyes, sighing before pulling the covers up over her face.

Another wet dream.

"If you're done moaning in your sleep," Tyler's voice makes her jump up, "it'd be a great time to get out of bed."

"First of all, you're rude. Second, you should learn how to knock instead of just standing there like a fucking creep and third... why?"

"Because, your birthday is in less than twenty three days and you need an outfit! Get up, cause I'm not taking no for an answer."

She sighs and sits up, running her hands through the mess that is her hair. She looks over at the clock, it reads twenty-five minutes after one.

Pulling the sweaty covers back, she quickly rushes past Tyler and towards the bathroom.

She snickers before heading back into her room, closing the door behind her, while Stevie closes the bathroom door and locks it.

She strips out her clothes and turns the water on making sure it's really hot, before stepping directly underneath it, letting it drench her hair and body.

The "forbidden" thoughts return, this time completely clouding her brain.

She huffs and leans against the wall. 

I keep feeling his rough hands caress my skin. His plump lips all over my neck... those broad shoulders flexing while he's deep insi—

Her hand wanders in between her legs and rubs at the most sensitive part, until her knees start to buckle.

"Mmm..." she whimpers, that tingly feeling spreads throughout her body, making her back arch.

 A squeal flies past her lips, she covers her mouth and keeps going.

Something swells inside of her, causing her hand to involuntarily smash against her clit. Her chest caves as the heat rushes through her body.

"Fuck.... fuck!" She moans, biting her bottom lip roughly, gyrating against her palm until the feeling becomes overwhelming and her mind goes blank for like five seconds.

"Stevie," Tyler knocks on the door, pulling her out of my clouded world. "Hurry up, girl!"

She pulls herself together and grabs her soap and puff, beginning to scrub away her impure thoughts and actions.

She steps out and wraps a towel around her body and another one around her hair. She grabs her toothbrush and toothpaste and does her hygiene routine.

Another round of knocks sound on the door. She unlocked and opened it.

Tyler comes in and reaches inside the bottom cabinet for her flat iron.

"Damn, it took you long enough." She plugs it in and looks at her through the mirror.

She rolls her eyes and continues brushing her teeth.

"You look flushed."

She ignores her and spits the minty contents out and rinses her mouth out.

"So, where are we going?" She asks, changing the subject and grabbing one of her fluffy rags to dry her face off, squatting down and grabbing her blow dryer from underneath the sink.

She's still staring at her, while pulling the iron through her hair. Stevie stares back at her and plugs the blow dryer in and grabs her wide-tooth comb.

"I don't know yet. But what I wanna know is why do you look like you've done something you weren't supposed to?" She actually turns to the side and looks at her, now.

"How? I'm literally just looking at you. What are you talking about?"

"Stevie Alaina, I know when you're lying to me. You're terrible at it."

She focuses her eyes on the mirror and turns the dryer on.

"Stevie," she yells over the heavy noise, "you know I'm gonna pull it out of you!"

She pulls the comb through her hair until it becomes dry and poofy. She places the dryer back underneath the sink and grabs her shea butter oil, running it evenly through her hair to give it some shine and moisture.

She reaches inside the top drawer for her own flat iron and plugs it in. Tyler still hasn't stopped staring at her, causing her to sigh heavily.

"Why won't you just tell me?"

She defines her middle part and sits the comb back down, leaning against the wall.

"Because, I'm embarrassed that I'm not embarrassed."

"Hm. You had a wet dream or something?" I suck my teeth.

"Well, you pointed that out when I got out of bed! That's not it."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What... you in here masturbating or something?"

She laughs, hearing the ugly word leave her mouth.

"I hate that word, but yes."

Her mouth drops open.

"I'm a little shocked! I don't see why you'd be embarrassed, though."

"Well, I thought you heard me or something. I didn't even realize what I was doing."

She says, as they go back to doing their hair.

"What do you mean?"

"I zoned out and started thinking about Rod, and then..." her face starts to heat up, so she trails off.

"Aww shit," she pokes her side, "I bet he be strokin' himself thinkin' bout your fine ass, too."

Stevie laughs, now wondering if he felt the same way.

Now standing inside Bloomingdale's, she skims through a couple of dresses; all overpriced and not cute.

Tyler, however, has managed to find two dresses, and of course they both look like they consist of a single thread.

"Aren't these cute?! Ima go try them on!" She scurries towards a dressing room, while Stevie continues her search for something— anything!

"K, look at me." She steps out of the dressing room in the first black and lace ensemble. It actually looks really good on her.

"You should buy it! It looks really good on you."

She flips her hair over her shoulder and thanks her, before heading back inside.

She gets almost towards the end of the rack and finds a dark red mini dress. It has a plunging v-line that stops just below her breasts.

She grabs it off the rack and heads into a dressing room.

"Did you find something?" Tyler yells from behind the door.

"I'm trying something on, right now. Hold on."

She pulls her clothes off and slips into the velvety fabric, before facing the mirror and instantly falling in love.

"Oh my gosh!" She flips her hair over her shoulder and twirls around.

"Lemme see! Lemme see!" I step out of the dressing room and Tyler's mouth falls open. I giggle and reach out to close it.

"Girl! You look amazing!" She runs her finger along the fabric, smirking to herself.

"If you don't buy this, ima be really upset."

"Well, it's your lucky day! I'm definitely buying it." She squeals and rushes back into her dressing room, with Stevie doing the same.

She pulls the dress off and puts her clothes back on. They head up to the counter to checkout.

"Well well well... if it isn't ghetto barbie."

She looks up and sees the same white girl from the club and the coffeehouse, heading towards them. Tyler changes her stance, glaring at her.

"Ghetto? Becky, you better back the fuck up."

The girl scoffs.

"It's actually Darla, but that was cute."

Stevie rolls her eyes. Of course her name is Darla.

"Anyway," she looks back at Stevie. “Nice dress. Special occasion?"

She tilts her head to the side. “What's your obsession with me, love?"

She smirks.

"Oh, it's not with you. I just don't understand how a guy like that would want a girl like you."

She gives her a blank stare and hands Tyler her dress, which she gladly takes.

"Obviously, you're hard of hearing." She says, stepping closer to her, keeping her hands at her sides.

“So, I'm gonna tell you one more time.... stay away from my man or I'll beat your ass."

Darla smirks.

"Oh bitch, I'm not playing." She pushes the middle of her chest roughly, making her stumble backwards.

"You keep it up, though." She smiles.

Tyler laughs and bumps past her as they walk to the register and purchase our dresses.

"She a bold bitch, ain't she?" Tyler nudges her.

"Yeah, but she ain't stupid."

“Ion know,” Tyler says.

Back at home now, Stevie's been on the phone with her mom for the past hour, and it's been everything but easy.

She went from apologizing, to Stevie telling her how she felt that day and how she feels about her currently, to her yelling at Stevie and trying to reclaim her parental right over her and Stevie shutting her up.

Now, she's just rambling on about how her mother treated her and how she feels terrible about doing the same thing to Stevie. She sits down in her chair and sighs.

"Okay.... I honestly don't care about it, anymore. But that doesn't mean that what you did wasn't wrong. I don't care if you are my mom, you had no right to do that to me. Period."

"I know that. I'm trying to make it up to you—"

"–You're doing a fantastic job."

She sighs.

"Alright, Alaina. You'll be twenty one in a couple weeks. I've got something for you, but I wanna know if you'll allow me to send it to you?"

"Yeah.”

"Alright, I'll call you next week."

"Alright."

"I love you."

She rolls her eyes, before saying “yeah, I know” and hanging up.

"She blows me." She says, standing up and walking towards her closet, beginning to find an outfit for her date, this evening.

They're meeting up at the mall.

She rummages through the hangers, finding a dark red, off the shoulder crop top and her high waisted jeans. Having already showered, she slips her clothes on.

Pulling half of her hair into a ponytail and leaving the rest down, she slides her feet into her black sandals, applying lip gloss and spraying perfume all over.

She walks out of her room and into Tyler's to tell her that she's leaving. Her door is cracked open so she pushes it open.

"Hey Tyler, I'm about to— oh my God!" She jumps back into the hallway and almost falls on her ass.

Tyler screams and jumps up, covering her body with her clothes. Whoever she's in there with starts laughing

Stevie heads towards the stairs with her hand over her chest.

"Stevie! Wait!"

She continues heading downstairs and ignores her, starts looking for her keys to get out of here as fast as she can.

"I'm sorry, girl. I thought I closed the door."  Tyler runs her hands down her face in distress.

She huffs and continues looking for her keys.

"It's cool. I was just letting you know that I'm leaving."

"Where the fuck are my keys??"

Tyler heads into the living room and grabs them off the table, handing them to her.

"Calm down, girl.”

She gives her a small smile and thanks her, before leaving.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She sucks her milkshake obnoxiously through her straw, while glancing up at Rod.

"Mhm." His thumb rubs circles into the exposed skin underneath her crop top, sending a chill through her.

“Yeah,” she shifts in the booth and he sighs, removing his hand from around her.

"Seriously... tell me what's goin' on." He turns to face her, while she sits her cup down and nervously stares at the table.

"I uh.... I've been having these dreams about you." She glances at him and sees the stone expression still plastered on and looks back down.

"What kinda dreams?" He asks.

"What kind do you think?" She spat, growing kinda irritated for even having to explain how she's feeling.

He rubs his hand down his face, before that famous smirk spreads across his plump lips.

She bites her bottom one and looks away, again.

"Why you ain't tell me?"

She rolls her eyes and keeps her gaze focused on the window beside her.

"Aye girl," his thumb and pointer finger grasps her chin and turns it in his direction, "I'm talking to you."

"I didn't tell you, cause I was embarrassed." She whispers the last part.

He shakes his head and moves his face closer to hers. She breathes through her nose, while his dark brown orbs make it hard for her to focus on her surroundings.

"Ain't no reason to be embarrassed, babygirl..." His soft lips peck hers.

"Especially, since I been havin' them about you, too." He admits, kissing her again, this  time, lingering behind.

She places her hand on his chest, reluctantly pulling away.

"You have?”

 He nods, licking his half glossy bottom lip, making her insides flip.

"Hell yeah. I'd be lying to you, if I said I wasn't feenin'."

The thud that's usually felt inside her chest is being felt in so many other places.

Closing the door behind them, he picks her up and sits her on the kitchen counter, her nails raking against the back of his neck as his tongue glides over her sweet spot.

"Mm— wait... wait," he moves away from her neck and stares at her, something in his eyes has shifted.

"Not here."

He picks her back up and heads toward the stairs. Her legs tighten around his waist.

"Which room is yours?" He resumes kissing and sucking on her neck.

"Second door on your left." His teeth tug on her earlobe, causing her to yelp. He chuckles and pushes her door open.

Closing the door behind himself, he tosses her on the bed.

He takes her sandals off and reaches for the button on her jeans, peeling them off, smirking at her eagerness to help as she kicks her feet.

"Mm," he runs his finger over the wet spot on her lace panties, making her jump from such close contact.

He looks up at her. "Can I taste you, babygirl?"

Her mouth drops open as she tries to form words, but hearing those words come from his lips just has her stuck.

All she can do is nod.

He chuckles and plays with the soft flesh of her thigh. She lets out a shallow breath.

"I need words, vie."

"Yes."

He tucks his fingers into the waistband and pulls them down, revealing her wet lips. His thumb immediately finds her clit and starts rubbing it in the slowest circles.

Her head lolls back. A jolt rushes through her making her close her legs, only for them to be pried back open.

"Keep your eyes on me, okay?"

She nods, again.

He sinks down on his knees and pulls her towards the edge of the bed, placing both legs on his shoulders. His eyes lock with hers, as his tongue swipes along her slit.

Her mouth falls open and she reaches out to palm his head. His hands reach up underneath her shirt and caress her breasts.

He continues to drag his tongue from top to bottom, then suckling her clit into his mouth. Her eyes threaten to flutter closed.

"Oh my God..." she moans, the feeling that's growing in her stomach feels ten times better with him being the cause.

Her back arches away from the bed once he replaces his tongue with his fingers, bringing her close to her breaking point.

"Does it feel good?" He has the nerve to ask.

“Yes,” she gasps, gripping his arm tighter and grinding against his hand. He adds another finger and begins flicking his tongue against her clit.

"I'm so close, baby!" She whimpers, biting her bottom lip as her body trembles.

“Give it to me, baby.” He mumbles against her.

"Ugh! Right there! Right there!” She begins to push him away, as the pleasure becomes too much.

"It's coming! Ooo fuck! Oh fuck!" The knot in her stomach tightens, until it bursts and she sees stars.

Her thighs tremble against the sides of his face as she comes down from her high. His sweet kisses on her inner thighs help.

He crawls on top of her and kisses all over her breasts, leaving little hickeys behind. She cradles his head and places kisses all over his face.

His lips meet hers, their tongues wrestling as she tastes herself on his. She moans and pulls him closer.

His lips move back to her neck, this time sucking roughly. She moans and grips the back of his shirt into her hands.

"You taste so fuckin' good." 

"Mmm... your mouth feels so good on me."

@soufcakmistress @504queen @ghostfacekill-monger @hearteyes-for-killmonger @uzumaki-rebellion @blowmymbackout @supersizemeplz @chaneajoyyy @cocoa-puffs @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @daddy-killmonger @twistedcharismaaa @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @headcannonxgalore @quietstorm-thundathighs @sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @blackerthings @becauseimswagman1 @cecereads209 @nayaxwrites @xsweetdellzx @blackburnbook @darqchilddaydreamz @killmongerdispussy @trippyscotch @emjayewrites @unfriendlyblkhotti3 @blackpinup22 

#soulff #rod x stevie #90s romance #drama #poc writers #blackwriters #smut #miyuhpapayuh #black romance #joey badass fic #joey bada$$ #black!reader

[movingwine]

So I decided to end @ask-lana-star-a-night.

And I honestly don't wanna pretend like this is a big loss.. Let's be honest here: I am a mess of a person. Never got to fully get used to having a schedule like everyone else. And if having a schedule means I gotta force my ADHD/Autistic ass to do the same thing even if I've grown out of drawing said thing, then I'd rather just take my own time. This isn't working. I believe the blog actually never worked in the first place..

But, for the very few 27 people who used to view it, here's some lore dump:

Lana Star-A Night is the lost daughter of Dalia Night and Galacta Knight. She was born 23 years ago in Warrior Memorial before her parents were forced to send her to Star Grass (a town on the South frontier of Whispy's Woods inhabited by humanoid lizards) to protect her from Dalia's abusive family. Her mother unfortunately died after sending her away, and her father was resealed before he could solve any more of this problem.

She was adopted by Janice Treeko and Randy Poker, a married couple of old lizards who used to be gardeners. 5 years after being adopted an outbreak of mysterious goo creatures began to devour every single citizen in that town with only Lana remaining. This brought her to start learning how to survive on her own by a very young age, and thankfully she didn't need to do it all alone for long.

A few months after turning 16 years old, she met Billy, a piece of Dark Matter who was taken care of by Dalia's spirit and sent to accompany Lana on her time in Star Grass. The only reason Lana didn't leave is that because at the same time that she could just run away, the problem in the town would still be around, so she promised to stay until all those creatures were exterminated.

Meanwhile Dalia, refusing to give up her efforts to protect her daughter from the cruelties of her family, stayed around as an invisible spirit to protect Lana despite the gods of death also being on her tail for going against their laws. Her objective is to not only protect Lana, but also to find Galacta Knight and take revenge on her mother: Tourmaline Night, the leader of the Night's Mansion and its cult of Puffball Supremacy.

A few months after meeting Billy, she met Cherry Pastelle Dee, a girl coming from a town of pink-colored Waddle Dees called Rosé Town. Both her and Lana became girlfriends in quite a short time, and even despite that they were really close to each other, even if Cherry's parents weren't accepting of their relationship. However one night Cherry almost died to one of those creatures, making Lana so guilty and confused she decided to break their romantic relationship. Even after that, Cherry Dee vows to help Lana when she needs the most. Now she sells natural goods while frequently visiting Lana.

Finally, after several years, the creatures were exterminated and Lana got the means to move out of Star Grass and pursue a better life. It didn't matter if Billy followed her. She moved to Cappy Town and began to live her so awaited comfortable life, striving to become a musician and a DJ. Her adventures include meeting Meta Knight, Kirby, Tiff, Tuff and her family, and many other people we all know and love.

A little bit about Dalia and The Night's:

Dalia is the daughter of Tourmaline Tekko Night and Taurus Kint Night. Ever since she was very young, she strove to fight against the problematic and dangerous beliefs of the Night's family cult, said beliefs being that Puffballs are the superior race, and should take their place as leaders of Popstar. Dalia is known to be the most rebellious of the mansion, rarely being followed by her older cousin Martha Oville Night due to said cousin's strength and perseverance not being as great as Dalia's. One night after becoming an adult, Dalia planned on summoning and fighting Galacta Knight so she would be worthy of leaving the mansion's territory and perform a plan to fight against Tourmaline. However, that plan strikes back and both her and Galacta Knight are forced to fly away to avoid being caught by the cultists.

During the time they spent together, they built a relationship of trust and love, leading to them having Lana. But as said before, they were found by Tourmaline and were forced to escape again. Lana was sent to Star Grass, Dalia was burned ablaze, and Galacta Knight was resealed.

If you have anything else you'd like to know, leave an ask to this blog, for the official ask blog will be deleted once this post is made. Thank you for enjoying what I made, but it wasn't working for me. I apologize.

#oc #kirby #oc blog #oc ask blog #ask blog #announcement #kirby ask blog #kirby oc #kirby oc ask blog

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.10

Ch1 ch2 ch3 ch4 ch5 ch6 ch7 ch8 ch9

Summary: scary moms are scary

---

Nicole stilled.

Moms.

Well this just got a million times worse.

Surprisingly enough, Nicole could count on her fingers the times she had crossed paths with either of the Ladies. Lady Dimitrescu was often busy and not bothering with the staff. Most things that needed communicated went through the Steward. Mistress Esteria was, as some would call her, a ghost. She preferred her solitude or time with family so it wasn't unheard of for new staff members to take months before they even see her around the castle. Paired with Nicole's job that had her in the dungeons almost all the time, she never got an actual introduction to either of them.

Not that she complained. It didn't take a genius to realize that both women were to be feared.

I think I'd like to bleed out now.

"What about?" Her voice was barely audible, due to fear or pain was anyone's guess.

"... I don't know." Cassandra's quiet voice mimicked her own.

"Should I assume it is about your um… choice of partners?"

The realization that, to anyone outside Cassandra, she was little more than a maid turned butcher hit Nicole almost as much as the bullet that until not long ago was wedged into her flesh. Would they forbid Cassandra from seeing her? Or perhaps decide that Nicole has committed an unspeakable offense to their family and punish her? She gulped and Cassandra's reply wasn't of much help either.

"I don't know," she repeated.

Nicole sighed, a slow drawn out exhale, all too aware of the pain it would cause otherwise. "When?"

"Soon. They told me to let them know when you wake up."

Nicole just nodded and laid back into the cushions. May as well be comfortable before facing death. But Cassandra didn't move. Instead, she interlocked their fingers and brought Nicole's hand to her lips, leaving a kiss on bony knuckles. They stayed like that, silently, for a full minute before Cassandra got up and, with a be right back, exited the room.

Left alone, Nicole looked down at herself once more. To say she looked awful was an understatement. Definitely not going to rely on appearance to make a good impression. The painkiller was also yet to do its job and any movement still shot jolts of pain through her body. Wonderful.

It wasn't long before the door opened again and Cassandra came in followed by Lady Dimitrescu, her trademark hat making her look even taller and more intimidating than she already was. Immediately behind, Mistress Esteria took light steps, her long white hair flowing behind her like a silky mantle.

They looked so in contrast with each other, and it went beyond the almost opposite color schemes. While the Lady had the expression of a mother about to scold her child for carelessly running up the stairs and scraping a knee, the Mistress looked about to take out the bandaids. Her eyes, blue and gray, looked at her with something akin to kindness.

"What's your name dear?"

God her voice sounded like rivers deep in the forest. Flowing and ancient and just as powerful as she probably was.

"Nicole," she gulped.

The Mistress came to a stop right by the bed, tall frame bending down and grabbing Nicole's chin between two fingers. She moved her head from one side to the other and hummed.

"My my, what a pretty face. You've always had quite the taste in women, love." She looked at Cassandra who only nodded stiffly.

Then, she was up again and moving towards the other matriarch, who by now was sitting in an armchair. The Mistress leaned on the armrest, opting to ignore the many other places to sit and Nicole had to wonder for a moment if they were the clingy type. What an oddly human trait.

A long drag of a cigarette was drawn out before golden eyes finally fell on Nicole and the Lady spoke.

"I was actually surprised to learn about how… deeply Cassandra cares about you. To actually come to me and ask for help saving your life." She narrowed her eyes slightly, just enough for it to be a clear warning. "I sure hope such kindness was not wasted on you."

Sensing where this conversation was going, Nicole groaned internally. Of all things, she would rather not have the break my daughter's heart and I'll break your legs conversation with Cassandra's mothers while a damn hole in her abdomen was still sending waves of pain through her body if she didn't move just right. In her defense, the painkiller was yet to kick in and there's only so much holding her tongue she can do while in pain.

"With all due respect my Ladies, I'd rather throw myself off the highest tower in this castle than pretend to love Cassandra. Have you met her."

That got a snort from the brunette, who quickly masked it with a cough. The Mistress however laughed. A melodic laugh that, in another situation, would be the most soothing thing.

"Oh dear. While the reassurance is appreciated, we do trust Cassandra's judgement."

"For the most part," Lady Dimitrescu added, eyes still narrowed.

"And we would love to have you for dinner soon," the Mistress went on, ignoring the small glare from her wife.

Another drag of the cigarette. "Well anyways. We didn't come here for a welcoming party. We'd like to make you a proposal."

Judging by Cassandra's furrowed brows, she probably knew as little about this as Nicole did. A proposal from Lady Dimitrescu could either be wonderful news or a death sentence. She couldn't help a gulp when the Lady continued.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do care about my staff. At least those who prove themselves useful." The cigarette was finally done and now Nicole had the luck of having her full attention. "And, as you may have guessed, medical training is not particularly common around here. I do happen to want a castle physician, a position that could be filled by someone skilled that also has a good reason to do a good job and be loyal to my family."

Wait what-

Nicole blinked in confusion, an expression mimicked by Cassandra. Did she mean…?

Lady Dimitrescu raised an eyebrow. "Do you accept?"

"Y- yes." The words spilled from her mouth without a second thought. And why would she have second thoughts after all?

Lady Dimitrescu watched her for a long moment. Then, when she seemed pleased with her findings, she rose to her feet.

"Very well. We will discuss the technicalities once you're in a better state. Now try not to bleed out before you even start your job. And," she sighed, "you are expected at dinner as soon as you're able to join us."

The last part caused her wife's lips to turn into a warm smile. The Lady simply turned around and ducked out of the room while Mistress Esteria lingered by Cassandra. She whispered something only the brunette could hear and then leaned in to kiss her forehead. The Mistress had a couple inches on Cassandra, which meant she was towering over Nicole. Then, with a smile in her direction, she too was out of the room, leaving only the two of them to stare at the door in disbelief.

"Well that went… well."

"Oh for the love of Mother Miranda," Cassandra sighed in relief, hands running through her hair.

Her shoulders lost their tension when she came to sit by Nicole's side, a smile now present on thin black lips.

"Your mothers seem… lovely women."

"Shut up you were scared shitless."

There goes Nicole's attempt at being polite. Not that Cassandra was wrong by all means, but part of her wanted to be on good terms with her lover's family. Maybe it was simply due to her relationship with the brunette, maybe it was due to how her own family never seemed to care much for each other. Not the way the Dimitrescus did, despite how they were seen as monsters by most outside eyes. She didn't let herself dwell on it, instead she took one of Cassandra's hands and started to play with slender fingers.

"Are you hungry? I can ask Cynthia to fix something for you."

Nicole smiled at the effort to make her feel better. She would never get tired of seeing Cassandra's caring and gentle side, especially when she knew how ruthless she could be otherwise.

"In a bit. I'm waiting for the painkiller to fully kick in so I can actually sit up."

Cassandra nodded and looked to the side, seemingly lost in some kind of thought. Nicole wanted to ask what got the brunette pensive all of a sudden, but before she could, golden eyes snapped back to her.

"Also. Don't you dare jump in front of a bullet for me ever again. It wouldn't have hurt me anywhere near as much as it hurt you."

There was a subtle growl in her voice that would have scared any other person. But Nicole recognized how the anger was just veiled worry at how much worse their situation could’ve gotten.

"Sorry. I just saw him with the gun and panicked." There was a reason she didn't pursue her father's idea of becoming a surgeon after all, and pissing him off was only part of it. "And I'm glad you didn't get hurt at all."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, but her expression quickly softened. The big bad sadist couldn’t stay mad at her lover and Nicole almost teased her about it, but a gloved hand slowly caressing her cheek stopped her.

“I’m just happy you’re alive.”

#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x maiden #fanfic #double edged scalpel

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #34

Victor

It's been an unusual week.

I feel like I say that a lot, but maybe it's because over the last several months we've had a ton of stuff going on in our lives, and sometimes it can be hard to take in. Maybe some of it isn't that unusual, but it seems like we have times when multiple events, good and bad, are all happening at once. It's a little overwhelming, to be honest.

Yuri and I have been getting along better since our unexpected overnight stay in the Hideout. We really needed to get some issues out in the open, and the fact that we sort of got stuck there might've been a blessing in disguise. It gave us a chance to talk in private, without worrying about any interruptions.

Unfortunately, though, despite our progress, it really hadn't been a great night. Yuri was a lot more ill than he wanted to admit, and I'm certain the accommodations weren't all that comfortable for him. His pain was making him restless, and he kept waking up through the night. I didn't get much sleep either. I was too worried about him.

In the morning, he insisted he could climb down from the Hideout by himself. I didn't like the idea, but I didn't argue. I just told him to take his time. Getting down felt like it took ages, but we both made it to the ground without incident, although Yuri did sort of fall over once his feet hit solid earth. I sat on the leaf-covered dirt and held him on my lap, and he rested for a while before we started making the short journey back to Mom's house.

Mom was none too pleased when when we finally showed up. Apparently, she'd been texting both of us like crazy since the previous night, but since we'd both left our phones at the house, we hadn't replied. She said she was about to go out looking for us, so it was lucky for everyone that we came back when we did.

I think Mom probably would've given us a lecture, but considering the state Yuri was obviously in, it seemed she thought better of it. She hugged me and made a sort of air-hugging gesture in front of Yuri, and then told us to get cleaned up. She mentioned that she and Julian had intended to go to the farmers' market, and with our return, the plan was back on the agenda. She'd see us when she got back, she said, and she extracted a promise from me that I'd give her a full explanation later.

I had absolutely no intention of telling her everything, but I figured I could explain in sufficient detail to satisfy her. There are some things a guy's mother doesn't need to know about what goes on between him and his husband, you know? I used to tell her almost literally everything, but I'm finding that, since she visited us this summer, I'm less inclined to share every little detail with her.

Anyway, after that, we went downstairs and I helped Yuri in the bath. Then I got him dressed in the warmest PJs he had with him, made sure he took his medication, and tucked him into bed with his hot water bottle. I asked him if he wanted me to stay with him for a while, but he said no, so I gave him a little kiss on the forehead and promised to check on him in an hour or so.

He was curled up and crying quietly as I was leaving the room. Yuri hardly ever cries, so I knew he was feeling really bad. I guessed that we were in for a rough couple of days.

That was Sunday. By Tuesday, which was the day before yesterday, he was doing better, much to my relief. He got out of bed when I did, and even had a few bites of my fruit salad at breakfast.

I've just kind of gotten used to him picking food off my plate rather than always having a plate of his own. When it comes to eating, whatever is least stressful for him works for me. I've even been known to feed him when he's really ill, as bad as I’m sure that may sound to some people. But I mean, needs must, right? I'm willing to go with anything that keeps him from becoming undernourished, and if that sometimes involves me holding the spoon, so be it. I think he likes the attention in the moment too, even though I know he worries about it in hindsight.

Actually, the topic of me feeding Yuri brings me around to the really interesting thing that happened on Tuesday afternoon. Thinking that the fresh air would do him good, I coaxed him to come outside with me. It was overcast, but it was warm enough not to need jackets. We sat at the picnic table in the back yard, and I patiently fed him oatmeal sweetened with maple syrup while we watched the comings and goings of several blue jays from the nearby bird feeder.

That's when we met the neighbours from across the street.

Even if I didn't know everyone, I'd thought I could at least recognize all the people who live on this block of Canal Street and the intersecting street, Foundry Lane. It was slightly disconcerting to realize I had no idea who the elder couple puttering away in their front garden were. I don't know how they knew I was watching them, but at some point, they started watching Yuri and me as well. Every so often, I caught them looking our way. Eventually, their inquisitiveness must've got the best of them, because they dusted themselves off and meandered across the street.

I guessed they were probably in their late sixties or early seventies; old enough to be elders but not too old to have plenty of energy left in them. The man was thin and had a leathery, deeply lined face, like he'd spent a lot of time outdoors without sunscreen. The woman had delicate facial features that reminded me a lot of Yuri's grandmother, who I'd met a handful of times at family gatherings I'd been compelled to go to. She carried herself with the same type of grace and economy of movement as Yuri's mom and grandmother, too. I could easily imagine this lady had been a stunning beauty when she was young.

More than anything else I could say, I'll say this; they aren't the least bit shy. Most people would start with hello. They started with a question.

"I hope you don't think we're being nosy," the man said. "But we haven't seen you around here before. Are you new to the neighbourhood?"

I had to smile at that. "No," I told him. "I grew up here in this house, actually, but we don't live here now. We're just visiting. I'm Grace Nelson's son. Do you know her?"

"Of course," said the woman. "Dr. Grace and Dr. Julian are lovely people. They take excellent care of our cats. If you're her son, then you're Victor. Correct?"

"Yeah," I said. "You have us at a disadvantage, though."

"My apologies. I'm Kimiko Miyazaki, and this is my husband, Robert MacAllister. You can call me Kim if you like. Everyone does."

Her English was flawless, and I guessed that she'd either been born here or that she'd been here a very long time. Yuri and I exchanged a look at hearing her name, and I immediately thought of our former neighbour, Kimiko Ishida, from Wakabamori. Yuri seemed to brighten a little. Somehow I doubted he would be calling her by the very English-sounding nickname of Kim.

"Pleased to meet you, Miyazaki-san," Yuri said, and I don't think he even recognized the fact that he'd slipped fluidly from English to Japanese.

Kim's face registered mild surprise. "Well... it's been a long time since I've heard anyone but my children speak to me in my first language. And you are...?"

"I'm Yuri," he said, blushing and suddenly looking shy and embarrassed. He slid closer to me on the bench and leaned against me. I put my arm around him and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Yuri's my husband," I clarified.

"Sorry," Yuri said meekly. "I should've said."

"It's okay," I said. "Don't worry."

Both elders were peering at us with a combination of curiosity and concern, and I couldn't help wondering what they were thinking. Kim's gaze seemed to drift to the half-empty bowl behind us on the table, and I wondered if she'd been able to see exactly what we'd been doing before they came over.

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long to find out what was going through Robert's mind.

"Not to pry, but are you all right?" he asked. I'm sure he meant Yuri, but he was making eye contact with me.

"He's not feeling well today," I said.

"We're sorry to hear that," said Kim. "It's good that you're able to get outside, though. Fresh air and a change of scenery are important for the mental health, especially if you've been ill for a long time."

"How do you know—“ I started.

Almost at the same time, Yuri said, "Excuse me?"

It was Kim's turn to look embarrassed. "I really don't mean to overstep. I was a nurse for thirty-five years, and I spent over half my career as a clinical specialist. I've seen a lot of people with long-term and chronic illnesses. But, I realize it's none of my business. It's just that I notice things, and these days, my mouth sometimes gets ahead of my brain." She smiled sheepishly. "I'm going to blame old age."

"Perhaps we ought to change the subject," said Robert.

"Yes," his wife replied. "That might be best. My apologies."

"It's fine," I said. I glanced down at my husband. "Yuri?"

He nodded. "Yes, it's okay. You're right. I do have a chronic illness, but I'd rather not discuss it."

"Certainly," Kim said. "We can talk about something else. Where are you visiting from?"

"Mt. Komorebi,” he told her.

"Now, there's a coincidence," she said. "That's where I'm from, as it happens. I left when I was in my twenties, but I still have family that we visit every few years, and Robert and I are thinking of making a permanent move there as soon as we sell our house."

"How long have you lived in that house?" I asked.

"We bought it about five years ago.”

"If you moved here five years ago, that's why we didn't recognize each other ," I said. "I moved out around that time, and my cousin and I had a flat over by the college. Then I had a place in that big apartment complex across town. You know Sage Estates? I was there until I moved to Mt. Komorebi.”

“We know Sage Estates. Our son lives there."

"The house was supposed to be our retirement home," Robert explained. "We were going to live here with our daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren. But, we'd only been in the place for a year and a half before our daughter got offered an important job opportunity in San Myshuno that she couldn't pass up. Life in a big city isn't for us, so off they all went and left us here."

"Us and the cats," Kim amended.

"Yes, us and the cats, and the ghost."

I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly. "The ghost?"

"A lovely Japanese lady. We think we may have accidentally brought her here from Mt. Komorebi in an antique vase," he said. "She likes to arrange flowers, so we try to cut some from the garden for her and set them in her vase as often as we can."

Despite myself, I found that I was starting to like these nosy, quirky old people. I said, "Are you going to leave her in the house for the new owners, or are you going to take her home?"

"That depends on what she wants, doesn't it?" he said. "She seems to like it here, but she only speaks Japanese, so she might not be happy to stay with the new owner if they can't communicate with her."

"You talk to her?"

"Yes. She doesn't understand me very well, unfortunately, but she talks up a storm with Kim."

"Maybe Yuri and I should try to speak to her," I suggested.

At that, Yuri gave me the look he always gives me when he thinks I'm talking nonsense. It was like, Please don't encourage them. Personally, I didn't see any harm. If they seriously thought there was a flower-arranging ghost lady in their house, who was I to argue?

"You're welcome to come over any time," Kim said. "We can't guarantee Sachiko will be around, though. She doesn't show herself every day. But, we can at least promise we'll chat with you, and offer you tea and a snack."

“And you’re welcome to use our pool,” Robert offered. “It’s heated. It’s very therapeutic.”

"Thanks. That sounds great," I said.

We chatted for a few more minutes before Kim and Robert decided they'd better get back to their landscaping project. We said goodbye and promised that we'd come over to see them in the next day or two.

For the rest of the day, I was kind of preoccupied with thoughts of the neighbours across the street and their allegedly haunted house. They seemed like intelligent, mentally sound people, and there was no hint of joking or irony when they mentioned their ghost. Clearly, they believed she was real. As for me, I couldn't decide if I believed in ghosts or not. Part of me wanted to, but another part was content to accept that existence ends when life does.

That night, as Yuri and I were getting ready for bed, I asked him what he thought about it, even though I knew what he'd likely say.

"Do you think she's real?" I said. "Sachiko, I mean. The ghost across the street."

"About as real as mermaids and vampires," Yuri said.

"Mermaids are real."

"I know what you think you saw on Sulani."

"I know you don't believe me about that," I said. "But, regardless of whether mermaids and vampires are real or not, ghosts still could be. They're humans, not mythical creatures."

"Once people pass away, that's it," he said. "They don't linger in suburban houses and make flower arrangements."

"So, do you think Robert and Kim are hallucinating or something, then? Or that they're just making it up?"

"What I think is, they might've lost somebody very important to them, and that it's comforting for them to imagine she's still with them in some way." Yuri gave me a soft, indulgent smile. "Maybe that's what you want to believe, too. That it's possible somehow for people you loved to still be with you."

I shook my head. "No, that's not it."

"If it helps you, it's okay to believe it,” he said. "I don't know what it's like to lose someone close to me, but I think any way that helps a person cope is fine, as long as it isn't harming anyone."

"I don't think believing in ghosts is a good way to cope," I said. "Not for me, anyway. I wouldn't want to think of Dad and Caroline as ghosts. That'd be horrible, hanging around forever and constantly reliving the memory of how they died." The idea of ghost baby Caroline being terrified and confused for eternity as she tried to make sense of her senseless death made me want to cry. "Something like that would definitely be harmful."

"I suppose so," Yuri said.

"I've probably got a lot of stuff in my head that I still haven't resolved about Dad and Caroline," I said. "You're not wrong about me wanting to believe they're still with me somehow too, but I feel like it's more emotional than supernatural or whatever. It's just... I don't know. I find the whole ghost thing fascinating and I want to see for myself if it's true or not."

Yuri was quiet for a few seconds, but finally he said, "We can go over there and visit, so you can see."

"Wouldn't that be weird, though?"

"Why would it? They did invite us after all, and they sounded sincere about it," he said. "I'd like to see the house too, although for different reasons than you."

"Really?" I said. "Why do you want to see it?"

"Didn't they say they're thinking of selling it?"

"Yeah, but..." I trailed off for a moment, unsure as to where the conversation might be going. "Why do you care if it's going to be for sale?"

"I was thinking," he said, but he didn't elaborate.

"About a house in Willow Creek?"

"It's just a crazy idea I suddenly had."

"What would we do with a house here, even if we could afford it? Our lives are in Mt. Komorebi."

"Are they?" he said. "I think I've seen enough since we've been here to know that most of your life isn't in Mt. Komorebi at all. I might be wrong, but my guess is, the only really important parts of your life in Mt. Komorebi are me and the mountain. Yukimatsu has to stay where it is, obviously, but I don't."

I frowned. "Are you saying you want to move?"

"No, not exactly," he said. "I'm not sure what I'm saying at this point, but I think we should think about our options, and talk it over when we're both ready."

"You think a possibly haunted house is an option?"

"It's not haunted," he said. "Although, if people believe it is, maybe that'll lower the property value and make it affordable."

"That's an angle probably no one thought of."

He looked amused. "Let's have a look at it and satisfy our curiosity, okay? It’s not even for sale yet anyway, and we're not in a position to decide anything right now, if it was."

"Okay," I said.

"In the meantime, the least we can do is be friendly. I don't think I made a very good first impression today. I'd like to redeem myself, if I can."

"I'm sure you can," I told him. "Let's see how you're feeling tomorrow, and maybe we can go over there."

So, that's exactly what we did. Yuri was feeling well enough to venture out on Wednesday afternoon, so we took some of the strawberry cupcakes I'd baked in the morning, and made our way across the street. Kim and Robert happily gave us a tour of the house, and then we all sat in the living room and enjoyed a snack and some good conversation.

There was no sign of Sachiko the ghost, but we did notice the smell of flowers in a couple of rooms where there weren't any plants at all. Robert said the scent was plum blossoms, and he told us that meant Sachiko was there, even if we couldn't see her. He showed us her vase, and explained how they'd bought it from an antiques dealer in Senbamachi district about four years ago. He said Sachiko had appeared not long after they got back to Willow Creek.

Yuri said he thought he knew the antique shop in question. Apparently, it's notorious for having purported occult objects for sale on a semi-regular basis, and is the subject of a sort of urban legend that says it's a hot spot for paranormal activity. Even I was reluctant to believe that last bit was true, but I'll admit the notion intrigued me.

"Maybe we should go there when we get home," I said.

"See if you can get Takahiro to go there with you," Yuri said. "His reaction will be worth it."

"Oh?"

"He never wanted to walk past there when we were younger. Seiji and I kept daring him to go in, but he never would."

"Have you been inside the shop?" Robert wanted to know.

"I have," Yuri said. 'It didn't seem all that unusual to me, other than some of the weird stuff the owner was selling. I saw a necklace that I thought my mother would like, but my friend Seiji talked me out of buying it for her because he thought it was cursed."

"We're definitely going there when we get back," I said. "Haunted vases and cursed jewelry? I need to check that out."

Yuri sighed. He didn't come right out and say I was trying his patience, but I got the sense that he wanted to. I gave up the subject of the supernatural after that, and our conversation moved along to other topics. We enjoyed the rest of our visit, and left with an open invitation to swim in the pool whenever we liked.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit disappointed about not being able to confirm the existence of the ghost, but I guess I shouldn't have expected to. We came back in the evening to use the pool, and we smelled the plum blossom scent again. Yuri said it was likely some late-blooming plant in the garden or maybe some sort of air freshener or cleaning product.

If it was a cleaning product, I wanted to know what it was so we could use it at home, because it smelled exactly like early spring in the Mt. Komorebi valley. It was sweet and soothing, and it made me feel calm and peaceful.

We didn't do much swimming. The pool water was indeed heated, and that, combined with the mysterious plum blossom aromatherapy, relaxed us to the point where we weren't much interested in exercise. Yuri took a nap on the pool float, and I just drifted around on my back, thinking about not much of anything.

We both had an excellent night's rest after that.

In other, completely unrelated news, we're heading to Granite Falls tomorrow afternoon. We'll be staying there tomorrow night and Saturday night, and then coming back to Willow Creek sometime on Sunday.

I was worried that Yuri wouldn't be up to it, but he says he's well enough to go. I can tell he isn't completely fine, but he's improved a lot since this past Sunday, so as long as he thinks he's going to be okay, I'm not about to question it. The fact that he's still interested at all is a surprise, I'm not questioning that, either.

I took him shopping for camping stuff today. He wasn't into the Canadian Tire aesthetic at first, but once he tried on a few plaid shirts and realized how cute he looked in them, I think his shopping spirit was revived.

He got a fleece-lined flannel jacket, a plaid flannel shirt, a quilted vest, and hiking boots, and of course he had to have accessories. In this case, his accessories of choice were two hats and a scarf. I convinced him to get thermal socks as well, despite his protests that they were ugly. Nobody was going to see them inside his boots, I reasoned, and he probably wouldn't want to sleep barefoot, especially considering that his feet are often cold at the best of times. He decided that the jeans and turtlenecks he already had with him would be sufficient, so I was spared having to answer the inevitable question as to whether or not he looked too skinny in any potential new pants.

Shopping for a sleeping bag was a bit more challenging. I wanted to make sure he got one that was both lightweight and rated for below-freezing temperatures, just in case we decided to camp on Yukimatsu at some future point. I also thought he should have one with a built-in pillow, like mine, since that'd eliminate the need to carry along an extra item. Yuri, however, was more concerned about the colour, and whether or not it'd look good in our tent. He opted for black because, apparently, it goes with everything.

We chose a proper hiking pack for him, in a shade of orange that made him happy because it reminded him of sunset, and that made me happy because of how visible it would be on a wooded trail. I liked it for the fact that it had an optional chest strap in addition to the shoulder straps, which would help balance the weight of it and make it easier and more comfortable for him to carry. He liked it because it had a ton of pockets to help him organize all his items.

Yeah, if it wasn't already obvious, we have different priorities.

I let him pick out a few odds and ends, like a flashlight, a small pocket knife, and an insulated drinking bottle for tea. Honestly, I had a hard time imagining Yuri doing anything with a pocket knife, but he seemed to think it was a vital piece of outdoorsy equipment to have, so I didn't protest.

The last things we bought were small waterproof bags for each of us to keep our phones, wallets and other important stuff in. I'd learned the value of waterproof bags from my friend Mitchell, who I'd met on Sulani. We might not need the bags during our weekend in Granite Falls, but I anticipated they might come in handy in Selvadorada.

Yuri could hardly wait to show off all his new things to my mom when she got home from work. He put on a mini fashion show for her, and she played into it by telling him how rugged and handsome he looked, and taking a bunch of pictures of him. He didn't seem to notice or care that she was treating him as if he was a little kid getting ready for his first outdoor adventure.

Sometimes Yuri is so adorable, I can't even handle it.

I'm glad he seems to have some genuine enthusiasm for camping now, because I spent a disproportionate amount of brain power in worrying that he was forcing himself to go despite how scared he was, just because he thought he should. I'm not under any illusions that he's suddenly lost all his anxiety and fear about spending a couple of days and nights in the forest, and I'm not deluding myself that it'll be an easy weekend for either of us, but I'm more confident than I was before.

I think we'll be able to have fun, and I'm looking forward to teaching him some of the wilderness skills I learned from Mom and Uncle Stephen, and from our Llama Scout leader when I was a kid. Leo said he's bringing his guitar, so maybe we'll even get to teach Yuri some of the camp songs we learned when we were in Llama Scouts. Almost every scout camp song is ridiculous, which automatically makes them the best.

Oh, and we even have a new ghost story to share around the campfire now. I'm already picturing Ellie's and Leo's reactions when we tell them about Sachiko.

We'll let you know how the camping trip goes. See you soon!

#ts4 #sims 4 #eagames #Willow Creek #victorandyuri #stargazersims #victorsworldadventures

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Californian Dream (Pt. 05 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

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Rebel

On the next morning, you're still feeling a little anxious, afraid of what he said last night was just to keep you from moving out. But, since you were sleeping on the couch, you woke up just when he was leaving for work, and you were so relieved when he didn't just say ‘good morning’ and left. He asked if you slept well, and said that you can try and sleep a little more on the bed now. It's just a little thing, but it's different from before. And you hope it lasts. You also got the chance to tell him not to bring anything for dinner. He has been spending too much money with that, so you told him you'd cook something yourself.

And that's what you doing now. The chicken breasts are in the oven, almost ready and you focus on finishing the potato salad, adding mayo, a drizzle of olive oil, and seasoning it, mixing everything together. You're happy with what you could come up with, and it did help you pass the time since there's nothing to do here other then watch the news, and that only makes you anxious. After checking the chicken once again, you sit on the table, pinning your hair up on a ponytail, and that's when Billy comes back, your eyes immediately finding him on the door as he closes it shut.

“Hey.” You mumble, running your fingers through the ponytail. For the first time, you notice the uniform he has to use. A nice, black polo shirt with the logo of the company on the left side. On all of those days, you were avoiding looking at him, since he seemed like he didn't want anything to do with you. “You look like such a good boy in this shirt.” You know he doesn't usually wear stuff like that. Billy doesn't know it, but you went through his wardrobe a couple of times, and there is nothing like that that shirt in it.

“That's company policy.” He sounds a little annoyed, and you can tell he doesn't like to wear it. “It smells nice in here. What are you doing?”

“Lemon roasted chicken with potato salad.” You gesture at the oven. “It's almost done.”

“You... Can cook?” Furrowing his eyebrows, Billy comes near the table, giving the oven a look. “Like, actually cook?”

You get what he means. The girls don't usually know how to cook since they'll always have someone to do that for them. “Well, in my house, my parents always choose what we'll have for the meals. So I figured out if I wanted something different, I'd have to cook it myself.” Shrugging your shoulders, you stand up to check the oven again. “So Amelia taught me everything I know.”

“You're a box full of surprises,” Billy mutters, so low it makes you wonder if he wanted you to hear it. “I'll shower. If you wait we can eat together.”

“If it's not in an uncomfortable silence, I'll accept the invitation.” Leaning on the countertop, you give him a look.

“Good.” He stands there for a few seconds before moving away, and you can't help but try to understand why he always does that. It feels like he wants to say something, but he never does.

You patiently wait, and when he comes back, hair still damp, you both serve yourselves and take the usual seats on the table, across from each other. Billy takes a look at his place and squints his eyes, right before staring at you. “(Y/N)?”

“Huh?”

“Where did you get these peas?”

You didn't think he'd notice. “Uhm... There's a nice grocery store just around the corner.” It sounds like a question, but before he can say anything you raise a hand. “I know, I know. But I do look different and I borrowed your sunglasses just to be sure. I didn't speak to anyone... Well, I did chat with this old lady, but that was it.”

“You gotta be careful. I know it's far from your neighborhood, but even so.”

“I was careful, I just... It sucks being in here all day doing absolutely nothing.” You didn't want to rant about it, but it just comes out. “And, inevitably, I will watch the news channel.” Then, you're not hungry anymore... Despite skipping lunch again.

“Did they find anything yet?” Silently, you just shake your head no, deciding to push the food in, even though the heavy sensation on your stomach. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologize, it's not your fault.”

Then the silence hits again, and it goes on for way too long for your taste, a leg bouncing nervously. “It's really good, by the way. Much better than what I can come up with.”

“Thanks,” you mutter with a smile.

“I've been meaning to tell you. I usually go to the gym with some friends a couple of times a week. I've been coming straight back because–”

“No, no. Please, go. I don't want to mess with your routine. More than I already did.” Reassuring him, you feel relieved when he nods. “Oh, you mentioned something about college. What do you study?”

“Marine Biology.”

“That's so cool.” You exclaim, imagining what Billy could work with. California has a lot of opportunities for marine biologists. “I bet it's amazing.”

“It is. What about you?”

“It's not that cool.” Warning him, you can't help but feel bored just to think about it. “Law. At Cali's Elite Academy, obviously.”

“It doesn't sound like you enjoy it very much.”

“I don't.”

“Then why do you do it?” As he speaks, Billy moves to the fridge, muttering something when he opens it. And you know why. “You also bought soda.”

“Yup.” Turning towards him, you take the can he offers you, cracking it open and taking a sip. “You know why I do it. Mom wanted me to, father is a lawyer already, so you get the picture.”

“I hope to be around on the day you decide you had enough of this shit and rebel against everyone who tells you what to do,” Billy says as he goes back to his chair, his eyes focused on you. Sometimes it feels his eyes can see right through you, even the parts you try to hide from yourself. The places you rather keep secret, locked deep inside. He also brings to life things you didn't even know existed. A true need to break free from everything you can't take anymore, everything that has been drowning you, suffocating you.

“Maybe it won't happen.” You burst out, pushing your plate away, still half full. “You said it yourself on the night I came here. I'll probably just slip into anything my mother wants me to do and be as frustrated as she is. With nothing in life but some millions in the bank.” There's a lump in your throat, a cry you're holding back. You don't want to be like your mother. Or like anyone else from her circle. But would you be able to shake this away? You're so used to doing this, avoiding conflicts and being the good, obedient daughter... Could you be more?

“Don't you remember what you said after?” Billy leans forward, elbows on the table, those ocean blue eyes burning through your skin. “That you'd leave California before she forced you into being another stupid girl pushed into a loveless marriage just to add up to the family's fortune.”

“I remember.” Whispering, you look down at your hands, hoping he can't see your teary eyes. “I get brave when I'm sleepy, that's why I say those things but... I'm not sure I'd be brave enough to just leave like that.”

“I came back here a year ago. My father forced me to move to Hawkins, Indiana, a dipshit small town that I hated more than anything.” His words and the weight behind them makes you raise your eyes again, meeting his stare. Billy never told you anything about his past, and you want to hear it. “I have no good memories of that place, and the moment I turned eighteen and got my High School diploma, I got into my car and left.” There's power in him, courage. You know there's more to the story, but you won't push him into sharing it if he doesn't want to. But you can picture it, Billy running away from somewhere he hated, hitting the road and leaving it all behind. You're mesmerized by it, you're not sure why. “And I came back here. I came back home.”

“California never felt like home to me.” That you remember saying. “I... I really wish I had a place where I could feel–”

“Free?” Billy finishes off for you, and you nod. “I don't think California is the problem. I think–”

“Me. I'm the problem.” Crossing your arms, you sigh. You have no idea why you're telling him all this, or how he so skillfully stormed through your walls, but you feel like Billy is the only person who can understand. Who won't think you're stupid or crazy. “I feel so... Lonely and desolated, even when I'm in my bedroom. I feel better when I'm at the beach, all alone than when I'm in the comfort of my bed. I know it's insane, but it just... It's just what it is. Of course I wish I could run away like you, but maybe I can't.”

“It's not from California you have to run away, it's from this person you pretend to be just to please everyone.” Billy stands up, taking both your plates and moving to the sink. But you stay there, motionless, thinking how you could do that.

“Tell me how and I'll do it.”

“Be the girl you were at the party.” He says, and you decide to stand up as well to help him with the dishes... But also because you want to be near him as if he's the only one who could help you do this. What exactly, you don't know. But Billy was brave enough to do something you wish you could. “The girl who doesn't care if her company is just the pool guy, who doesn't care if she almost hits a waiter, and doesn't mind having to suck some chocolate off her thumb.” Billy glances at you, and you start taking the dishes and drying them with a dishcloth. “The girl who ran from a very important beneficial gala and was very happy about it.”

“Yeah, but if you weren't there, I would never do that.”

“I might have given you a little push, but you made the decision.”

You'd never take Billy for the guy who would say these things. By what people told you about his behavior, you'd never think he'd be this... Kind. “Are you always this nice with girls?” Trying to light up the mood after the emotional conversation, you ask him, chuckling.

“No, I'm not.” He passes you the last fork, and you dry it and put it on the drawer. “Definitely not.”

“I get it.” Lying the dishcloth down, you shrug your shoulders. “Guess some girls like the bad boy.”

Billy giggles, taking the dishcloth to dry his hands. “What about you? Good boy or bad boy?”

“A guy like you would be nice.” Wait. What? It takes a couple of seconds for you to process what you just said, and what it means. “Uhm... I'll... I'll organize some of my stuff.” You quickly manage to say, turning your back at him and leaving the kitchen.

When you reach the bedroom, you shut the door behind your back, wondering what the hell just happened to you. It's completely out of question to start liking Billy. You're literally living with him for who knows how long, it would complicate things to such a high level that you would really have to move out. You're already too lucky he doesn't bring girls here, but out there... Suddenly, the names Gisele gave you start flashing through your mind, and you groan, throwing yourself on the bed.

“Don't be stupid.” You mutter, pulling the sheets over your head and expecting a calm, dreamless night.

• • •

Before, you were anxious. Worried. Now, you're just angry. Another week has passed, and nobody knows anything. A bunch of people were abducted, in huge black vans, and nobody knows where they went. It's plain stupid by now. You're already up when Billy opens the bedroom door to shower and change for the day, and you move to the living room, putting on the news channel again and letting yourself fall on the couch. The boredom won't help either. Besides going to the grocery store, you're locked in here, doing absolutely nothing other than housework.

You're by the window when Billy comes out, already in the company uniform. Turning around with your arms crossed, you stare at him. “We gotta talk because I'm losing my mind.”

“Does it has to be now? Because if I don't leave in five minutes I'll be late.”

Then, the best idea you ever had in days comes to your mind. “Take me with you.”

“What?” He bursts out, eyebrows furrowed.

“Take me with you. Where are you going today?”

“William's. The mansion by the cliff.”

“They don't know me very much, my parents hate them. Please, take me with you. I can't stand being in here all day.” Walking over him, you grab his hand. “C'mon, Billy. I can help with something.”

“I don't think it's a good idea.” He looks down at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. “If anyone recognizes you it could be dangerous. Everyone thinks you were taken too.”

“See? Nobody will hope to see me hanging around.”

“(Y/N)...”

“I swear to God if you don't take me I'll head to the beach and stay there until sunset.” It wasn't a plan, but now it is. Stepping back, with both your hands on your hips, you wait for Billy's reaction.

“Is it a threat?”

“I don't make threats, only promises.” Shrugging your shoulders, you cross your arms. “So?”

“You have three minutes to change out of these sweatpants.” He's still speaking when you're moving, quickly taking your pj's off and putting the first thing you find. Short jeans and a black T-shirt that's a little bit similar to Billy's. Not so much, but it's the best you can do.

When you're back in the living room, dramatically putting Billy's sunglasses on, you rush through the door when he opens it, more than eager to spend the day somewhere other than in the apartment.

And, as if on purpose, Billy takes one of the most beautiful roads of California. At least in your opinion. On your side, you can see the ocean, and since the waves here are more violent, the beach is empty, except for some surfers. Billy has the windows open, and the wind messes with your hair. But you like it. Closing your eyes, you stretch your arm out, feeling the wind brushing in between your fingers. Maybe it's the speed, or the daylight, or the fact that you're finally outside after weeks of confinement. Maybe it's the company... But this feels good. Almost overwhelming. There's a smile on your face that doesn't look like it's leaving anytime soon, and for the first time in... Since you can remember, you have no worries. You allowed the wind to carry them all away.

“I forgot how beautiful this place is.” You tell Billy, holding your hair out of your face so you can look at him.

“Beautiful.” He says, his eyes on you instead of on the ocean outside the window. You squint your eyes, just about to ask what he's looking at when he clears his throat, eyes on the road again. “But we're almost there. Look.”

Some miles away you see the William's house. Huge, way bigger than yours, built by the cliff, which gives them an amazing view of the ocean.

A few minutes later, you're being guided inside by one of their employees. There's nobody home, and by what the old man said, they'll only be back by nightfall, when you and Billy will be far away. So there's no danger. You're taken to the pool, and Billy starts moving around.

“What do I do?” You ask, taking a look at the enormous pool. It's so big it has an isle in the middle. The last time you came here, you were a kid, and you didn't remember it to be so big.

“I'll start with emptying the pool skimmer.” He looks around and then points at the skimmer net. “Think you can get rid of those leaves floating?”

“Yup.” Moving to get the skimmer, you start with your task.

As you move around the pool, catching the leaves and placing them on a plastic canvas Billy lied on the deck, you notice him giving you a few glances. But you only know that because you're also staring every now and then, as he comes and goes from the supply closet. Soon enough, you get so nervous about it that you can't help but giggle as you walk to the plastic canvas, dropping some more brown leaves on it. Since he's coming your way, you wait there, using the pole to sustain some of your weight, your free hand on your hip.

“Getting tired, princess?” Billy mutters in a mocking tone, and you roll your eyes. “Still half of the pool to clean.”

There's that pet name again, and at the very mention of it, you feel something on your stomach, like tickles. “I'm alright so far.” You mumble, hoping you're not blushing. As soon as he walks by, you resume your task.

The truth is that you're very tired already, and the skimmer is heavy. And the wind starts blowing the leaves all around, which makes you walk around the pool too many times. It's past 1 pm when Billy is over, and you decide not to get the four leaves left in the water.

“Let's go.” He says, and you get up from the wooden bench you've been seated for the last five minutes after he locked the supply closet, following him.

“I'm starving.” You mumble, letting your hair down from the ponytail as you get into the car again. “Where do you usually have lunch?”

“In a restaurant associated with the company. Which means employees don't pay.” He glances at you. “And I guess you didn't bring any money, so...”

“I would have if you told me that.” Pulling the door close, you take a deep breath. “Just buy me an ice cream and I'll be fine.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I'm fine. You did the hard work.” You buckle up when he speeds away, once again hitting the road. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath when you feel the fresh wind on your face. “What are you doing next?”

“Got a fancy car to fix.”

“Uhm...” Opening your eyes again, you look at Billy's side, taking in the beach. It's completely empty now. But your eyes wander to Billy. In this perfect light, he looks amazing. Breathtaking. His grip on the wheel is loose, and he has a hand out the window, looking carefree. Billy loves this place, you can see it on his eyes, on his posture. He's home. “Do you think we have a few minutes to spare?”

“What for?”

“I just wanted to take a walk on the beach. But it's ok if you can't.” Looking away, you focus on the road ahead. But Billy is slowing down, pulling over to the side of the road. Biting your lip, you wait for him to stop before stepping out of the car. You're already crossing the road when you notice Billy is still in the car. So you stop, turning to look at him from the middle of the road. “Hey! Aren't you coming?”

“It sounded like you wanted some alone time.”

“I had plenty of alone time in the apartment.” Rolling your eyes, you gesture for him to come. “Let's go.” Reaching out your hand, you smile when he leaves the car, patiently waiting for him. You were just about to put your hand away when he takes it, rushing you to move since there was a car coming that you didn't see. It makes you giggle a little, your other hand coming to hold on to his forearm. “Seriously, you have to stop saving my life.”

“Then stop putting your life in danger.” It takes a little too long for him to let go of your hand, your fingers brushing against each other.

“I'll try.” When you get to the edge of the road, you don't see any steps leading to the sand. Only a rock that someone placed here to offer some help, but it's still a little too high for you. “Isn't it a buzz killer?”

“I'll help you.” Billy easily jumps to the sand, not even using the rock. “Come.”

“If I fall, I swear to God...” Sitting on the edge, you try calculating if you could just jump to the ground.

“You won't fall. C'mon.” Billy comes to stand right in front of you, both his arms raised to catch your fall.

Taking a deep breath, you push yourself forward, closing your eyes on the process, so you only feel when you collide with Billy. His hands are quick to hold your waist, sustaining your weight, and not allowing you to reach the ground. The sudden change makes you open your eyes, and you immediately take in how close you stand. His face is only three inches apart, and as he pulls you down, you hold tightly on his biceps. Billy's eyes are locked on yours, and even after you're safe on the ground, he doesn't move. His hands remain on your waist, his face still close enough to kiss, if only you were brave enough to stand on your toes. Your stomach feels funny, and your heart is trying to beat its way out of your chest.

But a car passing by snaps you out of it, and you both move at the same time, stepping back.

“Sorry.” You mutter, clearing your throat. “But thanks for not letting me fall.”

“I told you I wouldn't.”

×

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @clockworkballerina @infinitelycharmed23

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy stranger things #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction

[lovelyirony]

Hi! “If I fail, I’ll fall apart/Maybe it is all a test/because I feel like I’m the worst / so I always act like I’m the best” -Oh No! This is one of my favorite lyrics ever, and I'd really like to see what you bring out of it :) You're amazing, ily! 💞

what if maria had more of an effect on tony’s upbringing than most? howard’s still a dick but make it funny

Tony has known he was probably not the best human on earth ever since he was five and his dad made a bigger deal out of a dead man’s birthday than his own. 

At age five, you don’t really know a lot about the world yet. There were about two things that Tony didn’t know that he wishes he did know: 

1.) The word “fuck.” It would have helped with a lot of his situations. 

2.) The concept of jealousy. He probably could have gone to a child therapist or some shit, he’s not sure if those even existed back then, or if his parents would have even let him go. 

(After all, he’s supposed to be their perfect little boy, just the right amount of precocious and the other amount being something like genius or respectability.) 

It is actually his mother who takes the reins on his life. Howard has effect, he has huge effects. 

Maria is a socialite who absolutely refuses to let her son succumb to Howard’s devil-may-care attitude that he’s so infamous for. Her son is going to be well-mannered, respectable, and know exactly how to treat a lady of high social standing. 

This involves training at a young age. Six would be a fine age. 

It’s not Howard who sends him to boarding schools, it’s Maria. She ensures that he goes to the finest schools available, most abroad in Europe. She trains him out of the American accent, into something a bit more refined. 

He spends summers learning different languages and different skills. He learns how to fence by the time he’s ten, and becomes quite proficient at it. 

She quizzes him on established families, up-and-coming families, and never keeps him far from her sight. 

Anthony Stark is not going to be a wild-child, she decides. 

-

Anthony isn’t, for the most part. Sure, he usually stays up past what is acceptable for the night to work on some mechanic stuff and uses the word “damn” a bit too much for his mother’s liking, but that’s the reason make-up and apologies were invented. 

He follows rules and is known to smile like his mother and enjoy listening to quartets play out in the open air during the summer months. He travels to Europe and participates in various activities and is the talk of many socialites who eagerly await his arrival. 

He’s a portrait, holding still for all’s approval, and he’s not quite sure how to move. 

That’s troublesome, he thinks. 

The problem is this: Anthony Stark doesn’t have any interests outside what is required. He loves working on inventions, and they are necessary for the company to survive, but his father hates any robotic invention he pushes for, and mother thinks that if he tells people he’s rather fond of AC/DC then he’s a plague to society and will be shunned. 

(He doesn’t say it to her face but they haven’t shunned Sunset yet, and she’s a whole world of problems, so rock music is the least of their problems.) 

There is one thing that he pushes for: university in the United States. He’s been traveling to Europe since he was a child, and he honestly needs to do something for himself. 

Maria is not pleased. 

“So after I sacrifice so much for you, this is how you repay me?” she asks him over dinner. 

He places his fork to the correct side. 

“Yes. This is how I am repaying you. By getting a perfectly respectable college degree from a critically-acclaimed university that anyone would be lucky to attend. Not to mention it might reflect badly on Stark Industries if I don’t go to an American college. Do I not trust American institutions to run an American business?” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

Anthony laughs. 

“Mother, they cannot teach me anything that Europe can’t. Let me go to college in the United States. Please.” 

“No.” 

- 

It takes Howard to convince her, and a.) Howard doesn’t even like Anthony that much, and b.) he also doesn’t like his wife that much. 

“He’s going to a damned college here, Maria. We don’t need him to go to any more of that fancy bullshit you call school over there.” 

“Fancy bullshit, Howard?! Bullshit?! You mean what has gotten him this far in life and will make him a better man of social standing than you?” 

“My god, is social standing all that matters to you? What are your little friends going to do, choke on their silver spoons when they find out that your son is going to an American college?” 

- 

Jarvis also convinces her. 

“It will be easier to monitor his progress from a shorter distance,” he advises. “And you can visit frequently.” 

Anthony gives him a very dirty look. Apparently, he wasn’t supposed to mention that. 

Oops. 

-

But, Anthony gets his way. He’s going to MIT, and he has a roommate. 

(Okay, so mother doesn’t know that. But he supposes she will if she ever visits. Or maybe not considering if Tony can successfully convince his roommate to “disappear” for at least a day.) 

-

Rhodey does not give a singular shit about high society anything or anyone. Anthony Stark is a name he registers, but doesn’t recognize. 

“Anthony’s a mouthful,” he says a week into their cohabitation. “You have a nickname or something?” 

“Ah...no? I mean, not yet,” Anthony says. 

“How do you feel about Tony?” 

“I...I suppose that that is alright.” 

“Are you from Europe?” 

“No, from New York.” 

“Well holy shit, you sure as fuck don’t sound like it.” 

- 

Anthony--well, Tony now--learns quite a bit about American schooling and what he’s actually supposed to be doing to pass off as normal. 

Rhodey (yeah he got a nickname that ended in ‘y’ too, Tony said he wouldn’t be the only one) takes him to the thrift store and tells him to pick out some clothes. 

“...there’s a shirt that’s advertising a restaurant from Montana.” 

“And? Does it look hilarious?” 

“Is that the point of this?” 

“Fashion is supposed to make you like what you’re wearing or like yourself. I swear if you say that those boring black suits make you feel better about yourself, I will be dragging you to any therapist that will take us for at least five dollars.” 

“Five dollars?” 

“Maybe less if I can negotiate.” 

“Hey!” 

- 

Tony learns how to have fun. He loves it. 

Rhodey makes him go to record stores and find the bargain bin, and they play the warped records and laugh as voices go up and down in pitch. Tony blasts Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden until the RA begs him to go to bed and Rhodey throws all of his pillows off of his bed. 

In return, Tony teaches Rhodey how to read other’s facial expressions, dress for any occasion and be the best-looking there, as well as avoiding any sort of conflict by bringing up past embarrassments. 

“Are you serious about the color of my shoe affecting my social standing?” Rhodey asks, trying to shove his foot into a shoe that was a brown color that Tony had described as a “golden mahogany.” 

“Yes, I’m dead serious.” 

“No fucking wonder everyone says eat the rich all of you are so fucking pretentious. It’s brown, Tony.” 

“Tell that to any high society woman over fifty.” 

“I will.” 

- 

As it turns out, he ends up doing it much sooner than anticipated. 

Tony’s parents come to visit. 

They call him Anthony. Which is gross. Rhodey hasn’t used the name “Anthony” in about six months. 

“I wasn’t aware that you were his roommate,” his mother says. 

“Well, here I am,” Rhodey says. “Name’s also on the information they sent out to the parents about the living situations.” 

Tony tenses as his parents brush off the obvious comment on how little they actually know about his situation and move right into the room. 

Maria stops at the huge poster of a rock band. 

“I assume that this is...James’?” 

“No,” he says timidly. “It’s...it’s mine. Their use of movement on the guitar strings-” 

“Take it down,” Maria demands. “It’s unsightly.” 

“Oh give the kid a break,” Howard says tiredly. “For once he’s not listening to you talk about the merits of paisley prints.” 

“I’m training our son for a more successful life than yours,” Maria hisses. “Of course, you’d have to stay away from your friend Jack to understand that.” 

“Rhodey, leave,” Tony says. “Trust me, it gets messier from here.” 

He does think about it. How easy it would be to walk out and check in with a couple of his other friends and talk about how crazy Tony’s parents are. How he could check back in near dinner time and then Tony could tell him all about how terribly it went. 

But Tony already looks terrible, and he’s doing that weird thing with his hands where he wrings them and then remembers he’s not supposed to wring them and makes it worse. 

“No,” Rhodey says. “I am staying until the bitter end. Who knows? Maybe I can give your mom a heart attack when I ask her the difference between kelly and forest green.” 

Tony grins. 

“You can leave any time, it’s about to get...interesting.” 

- 

Tony’s family is quite dysfunctional. They can put on a good front in public, for what it’s worth. 

Howard is impressed that Rhodey’s planning on going into the Air Force and then talks about Captain America for a lot of the dinner. Rhodey is very uncomfortable and then asks about business and Maria rolls her eyes and orders another glass of wine. 

After Howard finishes up talking about some contract and making vague threats against businesses that Rhodey thinks might actually be in trouble, it’s Maria’s turn. 

“So, Rhodey, where is your family from?” 

“We live in the Boston area,” Rhodey answers. 

“And what do your parents do?” 

“Dad works as a consultant for a local construction company, and my mom works as a high school history teacher. They both like their jobs.” 

“Hm,” Maria remarks, and it’s so light and casual and yet so cutting. Tony can see how Rhodey squirms, and he can’t just let it stand. 

It’s one thing for Maria to cut her own son down until he’s nothing. Still fucked up, but Tony can handle it. He’s been handling it for years. 

“Rhodey, how did your mom come to want to know she liked teaching?” Tony asks. “That sounds like it could be really hard to figure out.” 

“Oh, well it all started when she was in high school and wanted to change how one of her teachers treated students. It was a really inspiring moment for her.” 

“That sounds really cool,” Tony says. “What does she like most about her job?” 

“Probably the kids,” Rhodey says. 

The conversation carries on about Rhodey’s family until their dinner arrives and his mother manages to cut in with more questions. 

“So, what else does your mother do?” 

“She volunteers at the local food kitchen and helps some of the younger kids at the after-school program,” Rhodey answers. “She also makes a mean Thanksgiving turkey.” 

“Would you look at that,” Tony says. “Mrs. Rhodes sounds like a fine cook, I wish I could say the same for you, mother.” 

“Oh?” 

Howard actually laughs at that as he signs for the bill. 

“The kid is right, Maria. At some points I think your kitchen is only used for decoration.” 

“Oh, and you know how to cook, Mr. Stark?” Maria asks, raising her eyebrows. “I’d love to see you make anything other than coffee.” 

“I’ll make toast.” 

Rhodey laughs, and so does Tony. 

“Ready to go?” Tony asks, and part of it is a way to get away from an isolated conversation, and part of it is to make his parents leave for their hotel room sooner. 

“Tony, I want to have a talk with you before we retire for the night,” Maria says, and Tony tenses up. 

Rhodey can’t protect him from that, and he squeezes Tony’s hand as they walk behind his parents. 

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers. 

“Maybe,” Tony says. “Maybe.” 

- 

Rhodey goes into their building, and Howard waits in the car. He nods to Tony on his way out. 

“You’ve...changed,” mother says. 

“Well, that’s how humanity goes,” Tony says dryly, looking anywhere but her eyes. 

“Rock music? These snappish remarks towards your own mother? I don’t know if this college was such a good idea.” 

“It is,” Tony says. “I just...learned new things and incorporated it into my life. Nothing the matter with that.” 

“Nothing wrong with that?” Maria reiterates, surprised look on her face. “Rock music is for other people, you know things that others don’t know! You can perform violin and piano, you don’t have to listen to the personal manifestation of a headache!” 

“And if I like that headache?!” Tony asks. “If I like something that’s outside of what you approve, why so angry about it? Is it because you finally can’t control every single aspect about my identity? Is it because I’m not like your perfect little toy that you can make walk and talk how you like?” 

“You know it’s not that.” 

“Isn’t it?” Tony asks. “Because you want me to change every single interest that I’ve found I like by myself. I bet you want me to listen to Bach for fun.” 

“I do not want you to change from who you are,” Maria says. “You have eaten at the finest restaurants in the world and now you brag about making something called ramen in a microwave. A microwave?!” 

“A surprising amount of families in America have them,” Tony says. “And I’m a college student! I’m supposed to eat crappy food and then laugh about it in twenty years!” 

Maria turns red, and her lips screw up into a tight line. 

“I don’t think you should be here,” Maria says. “You’re forgetting your place. Your roommate is...” 

“My roommate is what,” Tony starts, glaring at her. “My roommate is what, mother? You want to honestly finish that sentence?” 

“He’s not good enough!” she yells at him. “You are a Stark!” 

Tony stares at her for a moment. And then another moment. 

“Leave,” he says. “Get the hell out of here.” 

“You don’t tell me-” 

“I do,” Tony says, using his full height to his advantage. “You can tell me how many times I’ve fucked up as many times as you want, but you never talk about James that way ever again.” 

He twists on his heel, forcefully opening the door to the dormitory and not once looking back. 

- 

Rhodey finds Tony back in his room when he gets back from getting ready for the night, and Tony is clutching a pillow and laying face down on the bed. 

“You know, you’ll have to turn over eventually to get some fresh air.” 

“Leave me to die, Rhodey. Oh my god.” 

“That bad?” 

“That bad. She’s probably going to try and put me in a prestigious college or some shit.” 

“Oof. Wanna fake your death and run away?” 

“Please.” 

“Well, too bad. I have a test next week, and you need to do your poetry notes.” 

“But poetry sucks.” 

“It only sucks because you don’t like modern poetry, suck it up and pull it out of your ass or something.” 

“Ugh, fine.” 

- 

Maria is trying very hard to get her son away from MIT and towards a fancy school in Europe. She doesn’t even care where, just away from his roommate and his classic rock posters and the dormitory. Anthony needs an environment where he can focus on networking, meeting more people. 

Howard says no. 

He can’t even bother to remember her son’s birthday, and he says “no.” 

“We need Anthony to go to an American school, and nothing is better besides maybe Cal Tech, and he’ll have to finish another year of college and Hammer Industries can use that as a sign of an unsteady heir.” 

“Well then get rid of his roommate.” 

“I’m not doing that, you’re asking for a PR death sentence.” 

“He’s a bad influence.” 

“No he’s not,” Howard says tiredly. “The kid is finally standing up for himself, and you hate that.” 

“I don’t hate that he can be his own person.” 

“You just wish he were his own person under your specifications,” Howard drawls. “He’s staying at MIT, that’s final.” 

“Hmph.” 

Howard rolls his eyes. 

“Go back to planning whatever charity gala you’re hosting this week, honey. I’m sure things will be fine.” 

Maria doesn’t speak against her husband, just fumes and decides she’s going to try to get Jarvis’ opinion. 

-

Edwin is also a flat no. 

“He will not forgive you if you do this,” he says, pouring her tea and adding in one sugar cube. “He loves his school, he talks about it all the time.” 

“And what, he calls you?” 

Edwin Jarvis realizes he shouldn’t have mentioned this. 

“At times, madam. At times. Will that be all?” 

“...that will be all.” 

Jarvis does bring up a good point. Besides her, of course, he knows Anthony best, even if he does keep calling him Tony. Anthony will grow out of that nickname soon enough. 

She has hope for her boy. He will most likely grow out of this silly little phase in life and finally appreciate her lessons. 

- 

Tony Stark doesn’t. 

Well, he learns her lessons. Can appreciate some of them and how much he hates that he uses them. 

But he learns a far more important lesson from Rhodey, and it shapes everything: 

“You’re your own person, and you’re far better as your own person,” Rhodey says. “I wanted to kick the shit out of you when we first lived together.” 

“You did?” 

“Of course I did!” Rhodey explains, gesturing with his coffee mug and getting yet another stain on the pillow. (Laundry again. Ugh.) “You talked like you were from a movie from the forties, it sucked.” 

“Oh, you mean the transatlantic accent?” 

“It’s pretentious, just ditch it. You’re interesting enough to listen to on your own. I listen to you talk about how much you hate Picasso sculpture, don’t I?” 

“You do,” Tony admits. 

“So then be yourself. Use what your mom taught you sometimes, but otherwise don’t.” 

“You sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure, I’m a fucking genius.” 

Tony snorts. 

“Okay, Mr. ‘I Forgot to Run the Dishes Again.’”

“I already said I was sorry!” 

-

Tony takes Rhodey’s advice into account when he walks into any board room. He wears the worst possible shoes with every single suit, usually uses all sorts of cultural references that fly over the old board members’ heads. 

He does things his way. It’s unconventional, it’s unpredictable, and it earns him a reputation. 

He’s in an interview in a suit and patterned tie (patterned with tiny robots), and the woman is smiling in a plastic way on the other side. 

“Now, a lot of people are saying you’re taking the business world by storm with your unconventional methods and personality. What helped you formulate this, your father?” 

“Oh god no,” Tony says, laughing. “He’d probably curse me to hell and back for even wearing this tie. My mother would drag me back down to hell again for this.” 

“Then who helped you with this?” 

“Rhodey, who else?” Tony asks. “He always gives the best advice, even if I’ll deny that about fifteen minutes later. He really is the reason that I’m who I am today.” 

“Seems like a great guy.” 

“He is. He always is,” Tony says with a grin. “Except, of course, when he doesn’t fold his laundry, that bastard.” 

The interviewer laughs and moves on, but Tony smiles to himself. 

He doesn’t have to be the best, he just has to be Rhodey’s. That’s all that matters. 

#lovelyirony writes #maria stark #howard stark #tony stark #rhodey #ironhusbands #kind of #i'm hinting at it and i didn't outright rlly say shit but y'all know me so you should know this #anyways tony DOES develop his own personality and rhodey hates him for like three months

[one-boring-person]

Six Bodies In An Alley.

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: pretty graphic descriptions of gore, death, blood imagery

Context: the reader lives in Santa Carla, and has befriended the boys, but still has no idea what they are, so is in for a surprise when they go looking for their brother one night, only to find them in the middle of business they'd rather the reader didn't see.

A/N: I reckon I'll turn this into a two-part story, seeing as it is a bit inconclusive, and the boys don't play a massive part just yet, so I'd better get down to that😂💛

Masterlist

"Three hours late. How on earth is anyone ever three hours late to anything?" I mutter irritably to myself as I push through the crowd, aiming to get off the Boardwalk as quickly as possible, my confused yet annoyed mood giving me the confidence to actively shove people out of my way, choosing to ignore any protests as I move past them. Two or three of them try to grab my arm, but I don't give them the time of day, pulling myself from their grip without even turning to them, worry starting to creep into me as I glance back down at my watch, knowing how late it now is.

A couple of days ago, my younger brother got in contact, telling me that he'll be in Santa Carla for a few days, and would like to meet up, having taken a couple of weeks off from his job in New York, where he's been holed up for months. Naturally, I'd jumped at the opportunity, glad to finally be able to show him around the little coastal town, and to be able to introduce him to the friends I've made in my time living here, seeing as he has not seen me since we both left our hometown, back when our mother passed away. We arranged to meet up on the Boardwalk around seven, but he never turned up, leaving me to wait in the bustling area with no clue as to his whereabouts. The hours dragged on, three of them passing before I finally had enough of worrying, deciding to go looking for him as my curiosity spiked, which is where I find myself now, a frown etched onto my face as I push through the writhing bodies around me.

After a good ten minutes of wrestling with the crowd, I manage to reach a main road, where the pedestrian traffic is a lot thinner, allowing me to see the surroundings with more ease. Still unable to spot either him or his recognizable car, I start to walk towards the outskirts of the town, where it is likely he may have gotten lost, pulling my jacket tighter around me as the air becomes cooler, the lack of people around me making the cold breeze more noticeable. Biting my lip, I try to suppress the urge to turn back and get somewhere warmer, continuing on into the dimly lit back roads looping around the town, an odd feeling starting to grow in the back of my mind, an inbuilt instinct telling me something is wrong, and that I'm not safe. Ignoring it, I start to observe the few cars parked here and there, struggling to see in the strangely foggy light, aware that the streetlights don't illuminate everything around me, meaning there are a lot of blindspots surrounding me.

At first, I don't recognise any of the vehicles lingering by the side of the road, my hopes briefly flaring up as I see a similar car, only to realise it is the wrong model and is, in fact, not the gaudy crimson colour I thought it was, a realisation that draws a curse from me. It takes another twenty minutes of searching before I finally find the right one, my suspicions having been confirmed when I see the scarlet car parked on the curb, the engine idling in the now-freezing night air. Relieved, I go over to it, knocking on the window of the driver's side, waiting for him to roll it down, or get out of the car. When neither happens, I bend over to look into the interior, my brow furrowing when I find it empty, the keys still in the ignition despite the fact that the driver is clearly missing. Straightening, I look over the exterior of the car, noticing that the back left tyre is flat, my eyes wandering to the back windows, though there is nothing behind them when I check, expecting to see the familiar sight of my brother sleeping on the backseats.

Frowning, I step away from the car, trying to think where he may have gone, going over all the possible places he could've walked to in the area, though I don't know this particular area as well as I'd like, my knowledge of the surrounding streets slightly limited. Chewing my lip, I go back to the car and switch off the engine, taking the keys with me as I decide to check if there are any garages anywhere nearby, knowing my brother is unlikely to leave the car running unless he is going to return to it relatively quickly. Locking the vehicle, I start back up the road, cursing myself for not checking up on him sooner, worry still biting at the back of my mind as I try to focus on finding him again.

I don't go far, expecting him to have stayed in the area, stopping and turning back when I reach another badly lit junction, at which point I finally acknowledge something off about the last half an hour: the streets are deserted, not a living soul passing me as I traipse the dark pavements. At this realisation, the instinctual feeling from before returns, the hairs at the back of my neck standing on end as goosebumps appear on my skin, an irrational fear clouding my judgement as I turn and start walking hurriedly back the way I came, intending to reach the car again so that I can at least memorize it's whereabouts and collect it in the morning. My brother must've found his way into town or something, though it is odd that he left his prized car alone, with the engine still idling, something he's never really done. I try to reassure myself of this fact as my mind becomes ever more convinced that I'm not safe, my pace inadvertently picking up at the thought of something happening to me. It's only when I pass close to an alley that I slow, halting in my step as something catches my attention.

Taking a breath, I approach the alley, my instincts telling me to run and get away from here, still fully aware that I can't see every inch of the area around me, due to the bad coverage of the streetlights. Despite this, I still manage to make out the shape that caught my eye, instantly recognising it as human, though it isn't moving, not even to breathe, which is odd. As I move closer to the person, I become aware of the other people lying a little way away, one of them separate from the rest, a putrid stench floating up from them all, making my eyes water slightly at the strength of it. Wrinkling my nose, I crouch down beside the first person, intending to ask them where I am and if they've seen my brother pass them, only to let out a half scream when her head rolls forwards, a thick liquid rushing down her front as it does.

In the dim light, her eyes stare up at me, glassy and unseeing, her face mutilated and caked with dark blood, bone and muscle visible under the torn skin. Her hair hangs in filthy strands over her shoulders, though it moves out of the way to reveal a deep hole in her chest, as if her ribs caved in over her heart, puncturing her lungs and heart, which are just visible under the slick covering of blood, all the skin that would normally cover her torso torn into shreds and peeled away to reveal the musculature beneath. Flies are already gathering around the reeking corpse, a few rats even starting to crawl up her slashed arms, eager to get hold of this new meal, the whole sight making me want to throw up, bile starting to rise in my throat, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth as I stand, tearing my gaze away from her.

A quick glance proves to me that the rest are all similarly mangled, their blood black in the dusky lighting, pools of the stuff gathering in the dips in the pavement around their corpses, the stench emanating from these vile puddles. Horror and fear, as well as panic, well up in me, my body starting to shake as I remain rigid, standing there for a good few minutes before I manage to collect my thoughts again, thinking through what could possibly have happened. Was it a freak animal attack? Are there rabid creatures waiting in the shadows to tear me apart, as they have done to these people?

As I think this through, one thought surfaces, a pang of deep fear striking me as I quickly go to each body, frantically checking their faces for a familiar one, gagging and wincing as I see the bloodied scraps that are left of their visages, their blood soon coating my hands and shirt from where I've handled their lifeless cadavers. In total, there are six bodies, and five of them are unfamiliar to me, so I approach the sixth with some hesitation, my steps slow and cautious, as if to delay the inevitable, though it isn't long until the face of the person comes into view, the unmistakable shape of his jaw and bone structure sending an icy bolt of horror through me.

It's my brother.

Gasping, I trace to his side and collapse to the floor, eyes finding the wounds littering his body, widening as they take in the gory mess that is the remains of his throat, as well as the mangled stump where his right arm used to be. A wave of nausea threatens to crash over me as I try to concentrate, unsure of whether this is really happening, my hands reaching out, gingerly, to trace a clean patch of his skin, a strangled sob leaving me at the feeling of his frigid skin beneath mine. Just in time, I turn to the side and allow the contents of my stomach to empty themselves onto the pavement, my stomach unable to hold itself together as I try not to break down completely; I continue to throw up for a good five minutes, a painful cramp setting in as I am reduced to dry-heaving.

I barely register the sounds of a group of people rounding the corner, their voices familiar to me as they joke with each other, laughter accompanying the cynical words of their leader. It's only when they stop a few metres away, voices fading into shocked silence, that I look up, terror filling me as I take in their appearance, identifying them immediately: Paul, Marko, Dwayne and David.

My eyes take their forms, horror and panic building up in me as I take in their bloodied appearances, discomposure filling me as I notice the concentration of the brackish fluid around their chins and mouth, before my eyes lift to their other features. Upon seeing them, I back away, confusion and fear evident on my face as I slowly get to my feet, continuing to edge away from them as they start to come closer - their features are distorted, their brows pulled into longer, grotesque caricatures of their usually handsome faces, blazing yellow eyes ringed with crimson following my every move, razor sharp fangs poking out from under their top lips as they go to speak, each pale tooth stained scarlet.

Without a second thought, I turn and run.

Adrenaline gives me speed, my pulse pounding in my ears as I race back onto the street I was on before, my breathing becoming harsh and ragged as I push myself into my fastest pace. Behind me, I hear a couple of deep chuckles, as well as a maniac laugh as footsteps start to follow me, a horribly familiar voice calling after me. I ignore it, focusing on staying ahead of my pursuers, doing my best to avoid the stones littering the pavement, my hand scrabbling in my pocket for the keys to my brother's car, thinking I could use it to get away, even if the tyre is flat. Finding them, I pull them out and continue sprinting down the road, a relieved gasp escaping me as I catch sight of the vehicle ahead, a new burst of energy exploding in me as I give one final push, reaching it swiftly.

Tremors wrack my hands as I attempt to get the key into the door, aware of the ever-approaching boys behind me, my breath held as I struggle to remain calm, adrenaline still pumping through me, a curse escaping me as I fight with the stuff turning mechanism. It finally opens, allowing me to climb into the car and slam the door behind me, quickly sticking the key into the ignition and turning it, only for the engine to stall. Going to try again, I growl in frustration as the same thing happens, the car refusing to let me put it into drive as I wrestle with the key. Panic starts to resurface within me, my actions becoming more and more frenzied, until I give up, punching the steering wheel in front of me in anger, wincing when my fist smarts afterwards.

A dent suddenly appears in the roof of the car, as if a heavy weight was dropped on it, a blood-curdling screeching noise following, as if someone was tearing through rusted metal, or trying to bend it out of shape. Looking out of the window, I notice a pair of hands digging into the weak spot just above the window, the metal coming away from the base as they continue to pull at it, opening me up to them, whatever they are. Petrified, I remain still for a couple of seconds, before jumping back into action, moving so that I'm forcing myself through the gap between the driver and passenger seats, crushing myself through the space into the backseats, collecting myself before I throw open the back door, stumbling briefly as I try to regain my balance, racing off towards the main road. I must look a sight - wearing a bloodied shirt and sporting similarly stained hands, tears streaking my cheeks, my breath coming out in rasping pants as I try to stay ahead of a group of who I assume to be killers. Hope fills me as I see a brighter light appear at the end of the road, clearly the beginning of the main road leading into Santa Carla, my pace remaining steady as I aim for it, careful not to get too excited, knowing I'm not quite in the clear yet.

A pair of arms suddenly appear around my waist, their owner easily lifting me off the ground and into the air, a scream of terror ripping itself from me as my attacker somehow floats upwards, holding me against a muscular chest, the smell of their black coat very familiar to me. Instantly, I start to writhe in his grip, kicking and wriggling as much as I can in his tight grasp.

"Calm down, (Y/n)! I'm not going to hurt you!" David commands, tightening his arms around me as I pay him no attention, trying to get out using any possible technique, "If you keep this up, I'll have to drop you, and we're a long way from the ground!"

At his words, I look down, freezing up as I see how far away we are from the pavement below, my eyes widening in fear, a pathetic whimper escaping me. I look up to see the other three sort of hovering around David and I, all of them looking serious for once, not just Dwayne, Marko chewing on his thumb as Paul struggles to stay still, somehow managing to fidget in mid air.

"What do you want? What are you?" I ask them, despair lacing my tone as I address them, knowing I'll probably end up like my brother, another corpse my supposed friends have left behind for others to find.

"We'll explain soon enough, but for now, we're going home. Hang on tight." The platinum blonde confirms, shifting me around so that I'm facing him, his icy blue eyes boring into mine as he repositions my arms around his neck, encouraging me to hold on tight. Gritting my teeth, I swallow and hold on, linking my legs around his waist as he starts to move, burying my face into his chest in pure fear, unsure of what will happen.

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys) #kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys) #dwayne(the lost boys) #marko(the lost boys) #santa carla #star(the lost boys) #slight trigger warning #slight tw #blood #Gore #mild gore #one-boring-person

[whookami]

Whats your opinion on Steve's apparently strained relationship with his dad? And how this could've possibly shaped his former bully persona and the facade he used to put on in S1? I know theres very little to go on in canon about his dad but i'd love to hear your thoughts...

Okay, I’ve been sitting on this for a while because I was trying to think honestly about this and separate what I think is likely from what my own personal headcanons are, as well as the common headcanons a lot of the fandom shares for Steve.

I think Steve’s dad isn’t a bad guy, at least, not openly abusive. I don’t even think he’s all that emotionally abusive. I think he’s a very traditional man, very much entrenched in the idea that the husband goes out and earns the money while the wife stays home and raises the children, and those children are expected to be well behaved, obedient, and good at both academics and sports. A very proper 1950s family. The problem is that this is the 80s, a time of rampant greed and pro-capitalist propaganda. Greed is good! The 80s were a very image-conscious era, very much concerned with making as much money as possible and projecting out an image of wealth and success, and Mr. Harrington was ALL ABOUT THIS.

I think the first problem comes in when Mrs. Harrington is not well suited to this life. I don’t think she would like being in a small town like Hawkins. I think she would desire more of a social atmosphere, a place where she could be involved in charities and auxiliaries and womens’ social clubs. I think in Hawkins she finds herself bored and unoccupied. I think she loves Steve, but isn’t great at motherhood. She more or less leaves him to his own devices and doesn’t much understand her son. She feels alienated and alone and subconsciously she is perhaps resentful. When Steve is finally old enough to be left alone she travels with her husband on business trips to keep him in line. This shows that there is no trust in this marriage and it’s an openly known fact that Mr. Harrington cheats.

The next problem is that Steve isn’t at all academically inclined. Now, I admit that I think it’s partially due to an undiagnosed learning disorder, but ultimately that doesn’t matter. His father has his own ideas as to why Steve isn’t pulling the grades he thinks his son should be, and they mostly boil down to laziness. A learning disorder doesn’t fit with his view of a perfect family, so he can’t even conceptualize that Steve might have one. He can see Steve as just not trying hard enough to live up to his potential though. From Mr. Harrington’s point of view he’s given Steve everything he needs to succeed: a nice home, all the best school supplies, nutritious food, the best clothes, and anything else that has a clear monetary cost attached to it. Love and attention don’t fit his idea of being a father, he’s only there to provide and discipline. His role is to be the one to mold his son into a man, and that means he has to force Steve to act and behave certain ways.

This is where we get King Steve from. I have written extensively that I don’t actually see Steve as having been a bully, he was more of that rich douche, the clueless trendsetter that others flock to because of his wealth and ability to raise their positions in the social hierarchy. Steve also possesses a natural charisma (or rather, Joe does, and Steve got the benefit of that) that draws people in. Unfortunately this has the problem of drawing in the type of people who want to use others to their own benefit, to advance themselves. Steve is desperate for meaningful connections with people due to his lack of parental attention, and as such willingly goes along with people who aren’t a good influence on him but who make him feel validated and appreciated. He basically lets Tommy and Carol call the shots and only gives token protests when they’re making hurtful or bullying statements. He doesn’t want to rock the boat too much and find out that he doesn’t have as much power as it would appear from the outside. He acts in the confident, self-aggrandizing manner that further projects the image his father wants the family to be seen as. To this length he even bought his sixteen year old son a super super expensive car, an ultimate demonstration that they have so much money he can waste it like this on his kid who is only learning to drive. I can’t even begin to imagine what Steve’s insurance must cost per month!

So yes, ultimately most of who we first see Steve as is a reflection of his highly successful, but emotionally absent father. It’s about portraying that image to the best of his ability when in public. In the very first episode we see that when Steve is in private with Nancy he’s actually a big ol’ dork. He’s also pretty respectful for a horny teenage boy, not too pushy about the making out. When Nancy seriously tells him to stop he picks the flashcards back up and gets back on task. He’s a good kid on the inside, but is being pressured by his family and his ‘friends’ into the image of a slick, womanizing, jock, one who only cares about himself. Not to say that Steve can’t be selfish, as he definitely is at times, but that also comes from his unbringing and problems relating to his father. He is legitimately worried about his father finding out about his party, despite said party being four kids and a couple of beers. Like, that...that isn’t a party?? I get why any kid would be worried, but ultimately it’s not like he threw a giant shindig and destroyed his house.

I think after his fight with Jonathan, Steve realizes something. I think the words he threw at Jonathan are the sort of words he’s heard from his father before, the type of disapproving gossip the elder Harringtons would talk derisively about at the dinner table, the one time of day the family is actually together. I think Steve suddenly realizes that he’s being a version of his dad, that he’s on a path that leads to becoming him for real. He realizes his friends are actively encouraging this transformation. I honestly think Steve really dislikes his dad, not just for neglecting Steve and never trying to forge a connection with him, but also for how the man’s treatment has affected his wife, how his infidelities have turned her bitter and untrusting. Steve got upset at Jonathan and Nancy because he thought they were cheating, and that’s something Steve can’t tolerate. It’s pretty much the ultimate betrayal and I think it’s probably where most of his derision for his father comes from. He’s more easily upset on the behalf of others than on his own behalf. He resents his father for not loving his mother enough to be faithful to her. So he lashes out when he thinks he’s been treated the same way, only to realize that it made him act more like his father than ever. This took him aback to the point that he turned his back on the people who had been his ‘friends’, and caused him to make the most impressive and nature decision that he ever has: he apologized. Like, that legitimately awed me. It is so hard to admit when we’re wrong, even privately to ourselves. For Steve to admit that and want to actually fix it, to go to the person he’d hurt and tell them he was wrong? That really shows the kind of person that Steve is on the inside. Who he is when stripped of his artifices. A person with a huge heart that truly cares what others think of him and who wants to be liked for the right reasons, but who sometimes fucks up because he was never given positive demonstrations of how to be that person.

Tl;dr Steve’s dad is a emotionally absent traditionalist who resents his dumb son, and his mom is a bored housewife who takes any opportunity to find something to distract her from her dull day to day existence. His father’s cheating greatly affected Steve and built a wedge of resentment between them, further destroying their chances at a meaningful relationship. Somehow they produced a son who has a huge heart and a desire to be loved, but who never had the encouragement or tools to express this and was instead led down a path of bad behaviour by those who wanted to exploit the Harringtons’ ‘perfect’ image.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington’s parents #i did my best to keep it grounded in fact but honestly? #the show has given us so little information about Steve that it’s hard #most of what i present here i extrapolate from his behaviour towards cheating #Stranger Things #my meta #this was a looong one sorry!! #but like i can go on and on about Steve for a while

[beetlegoose01]

stolen whispers: chapter 1

AN: this fic isn’t a request, it’s a story i’ve been preparing for a lil while and I’m so excited to share this with you all <3

I’ll link it on my Archive if you prefer to read it there. Also warning, there’s quite a few OCs.

Time: 2028 (Scorbus have been married for two years)

Summary: When a new generation of Death Eaters kidnap Scorpius, Albus and Rose put aside their differences to rescue him.

TW: Kidnapping/Language/minor violence

~~~~

Two witches wearing shadowy black robes entered the tavern, finding a table near the back. They ordered their mead, waiting for their third partner impatiently. It was a crowded area, so thankfully there was a small chance they would be overheard.

"We don't want more mead." The first woman growled, tapping her long nails at the table. The bartender, a tall man with a mustache put the drinks down.

"I didn't think so." He lips curled into a grin as he morphed into a younger man with wild dusty brown hair, wearing matching robes. He was handsome, but had an eerie presence to him. Any reasonable person would have at least flinched at the transformation, though neither witch did. "Hello ladies." He grinned cheekily.

"Soren, enough playing games." The second woman said, though she was smirking.

Soren barked out a laugh. "It was funny, Mara. And you know it."

The first woman, Lilith narrowed her eyes. She pulled down her hood, revealing cascading inky black hair down her shoulders. A scar that showed no sign of mending was down her cheek. "Your skills are impressive, but useless if you don't use them for our own gain. Don't forget that." She pulled her hood back.

"Understood." He murmured, taking a seat.

"We have much to discuss," She continued, flicking her wand idly. "Our current plan in action. Our...act of revenge. It's been thirty years since The Tenebris was wrongfully killed. I am sick and tired of his name being tossed around in history like he was some monster. He was on the right side."

"Are you certain we want to call the Dark Lord that?" Mara asked suspiciously.

"Shh! You know if anyone hears us, they'll lock us up for good. For speaking our minds." Lilith said. "It's safer we call him by his code name."

Her companions nodded.

"Because of his loss, we have mudbloods in positions of power. Our siblings that fought for his cause are locked up. Or worse, dead."

Mara and Soren looked grim.

"If we had more allies, perhaps we would have had a chance." Soren noted. "We weren't even alive then but...I have a feeling if we were..."

"Just because we weren't alive then, doesn't mean we don't have opinions over the lives stolen!" Mara argued. "That damn Harry Potter."

"Correct. And Soren is right too. For once. If we had more allies, or better yet...certain allies didn't betray us. The Malfoys for instance." She took a sip of her drink.

"Are you suggesting something?" Mara asked.

"Of course I am, don't be so daft." Lilian said, deadly calm. "I want to make that family suffer for what they did. My uncle Vincent Crabbe died for their selfishness. Draco Malfoy had a chance to save him, and he refused like the coward he is. His mother Narcissa lied to Tenebris' face. They are backstabbing filth that besmirched the Sacred 28. No, it isn't just about their betrayal or avenging those we lost in the war. Think of the big picture. They have the capabilities to join our side. To...respawn a new generation of Death Eaters. But that's not all...

"The Malfoys have lots of gold." She drawled. "Surely, they'll spare a few for us in exchange for something important. Or rather...someone."

"Someone?" Soren paused. "What are you suggesting?"

"Regretfully, Astoria Malfoy has passed on." Mara didn't sound the least bit sympathetic, instead stated it blandly. "So using her as a ransom for Draco is a no go."

"Ah, but there is still someone left." Lillian said, removing a small photograph from her cloak, she slid it across the table.

A young man with platinum hair was pictured, beaming brightly in Healer Robes.

"Scorpius Malfoy."

Soren and Mara exchanged a look of satisfaction.

"Bring him to me."

~~~~~~~~~~

The best thing about mornings, at least to Albus, was waking up beside his husband. The sun's bright rays peaked through the window of their cream colored bedroom, slowly stirring them both awake. If it was up to him, he would stay in their warm bed, arms wrapped around Scorpius until noon.

Scorpius rolled over, so that they were facing each other. His eyes fluttered open, and Albus felt his heart melt at his sapphire eyes.

"Hi." He yawned. His voice was slightly croaky, no doubt from the morning.

Albus replied by nuzzling his nose, then kissed his cheek. "Hi honey."

Scorpius laughed lightly. "Let's get up then. Start the day? It's a Saturday. We have the whole weekend to spend together."

"I'd rather spend it here with you."

Bathilda mewed from the kitchen.

"But our child is hungry." Scorpius teased, stretching as he slid out of bed. Albus begrudgingly slumped after him, not eager to wake up before ten am. But his own stomach was growling too.

"Speaking of children," Albus said, starting to work on their breakfast as Scorpius poured Bathilda's food. "Iris is pregnant again. James told me through a Howler yesterday."

"Really?" Scorpius' eyes widened. "That's great news!"

"Yeah, not for my ears." He commented dryly, still traumatized by James' excited screeching in his ear. "Baby number three." He whistled. "Do you think they're trying to make an entire quidditch team? With Teddy and Vic's lot included, they're on their way."

Though he was joking, Scorpius noticed that Albus was glowing, happy for his brother and sister in law. That was one of the many reasons he loved Albus. His love for his siblings.

"Perhaps. When are they due?"

"September. Which means...that's where they scurried off to last Christmas party." Albus quipped. "To have a little fun."

"Albus!" Scorpius scolded. "Honestly, only you would make a beautiful moment gross."

"It's life, Scorp!" He chuckled. "You're a Healer, you should know these things."

"We'll have to visit. Maybe bring a gift basket to congratulate them." He mused, smiling fondly. "I can't wait to meet our new niece or nephew." There was a wistful look in his eye that Albus caught.

"You've got that look on your face." He noted, amused. He served the plates of bacon sandwiches on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"That Scorpius 'I want something but I'm not going to spell it out for you' face."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." Albus said, forest green eyes brightening in amusement. "What's up?" He took a seat, tucking into breakfast.

"Well," Scorpius started, staring at his food. "I was thinking..." He stopped himself, hesitant to continue his train of thoughts.

"Yeah?" Albus nudged him gently.

"I want a child." He said, his voice quiet, but firm. "I love my nieces and nephews so much, but they aren't...ours. I want to start a family with you, Albus. Raise a little one of our own to be bright and wonderful and brave and..."

Albus' expression softened. "I do too. You know I do, Scorpius. It's just...difficult right now." He stared at his wedding band. "You know it's harder for us than any hetero couple." He waved his hand vaguely. "Adoption is hard, surrogacy is expensive. Maybe once we settled into our careers more, we can talk about it."

"I think we're ready to go beyond just talking about it, Al."

"We're still young. We've still got time. But...I definitely want to work it out. Somehow, we will. We always do."

Scorpius beamed, reaching to kiss Albus' knuckle. "Thank you." He sat up abruptly. "Oh, I almost forgot- it's the farmer's market today."

Albus snorted. "You're exactly like your dad, you know?"

"Yes yes yes, but we should go!" Scorpius said, levitating the plates to the sink and it automatically was clean due to the floating sponges.

"We? I've got some work to do. I'm not very fond of small talk with old people selling fruit."

"Al, it's really good fruit." Scorpius said seriously. "And it's not all old people. I've seen some of our old schoolmates there."

Albus cringed. "That's even worse."

"Don't be so dramatic. Are you still coming?"

"Mm, but I should really finish this article. Go on without me."

"If you're sure...do you want me to bring anything back?"

Albus thought for a moment. "Those strawberries Ms. Beaker sells. Please? Strawberries and cream sounds so good right now."

"Brilliant, I'm on it." Scorpius did a mock salute.

"Have fun." Al waved as Scorpius appatered, leaving the kitchen empty. Albus went straight to work on his article.

~•~

The market was lively and merry, despite the early hour. Scorpius had stopped by the strawberry stand first, in case he forgot.

Ever since they had moved two years ago, Scorpius had found himself drawn to the quaint farmer's market. Not because of the delicious, fresh food, but to socialize. He made quite a few friends with the muggles who lived around there...mostly old ladies. The early days of their marriage, Albus would join him. Before life got in the way, and work had to be done.

Not that he wasn't busy himself. He only had two days off as a Healer, sometimes less. He didn't know how they would manage childcare, but like Al had said, it was best not to dwell on the future.

"Scorpius? Is that you?"

He turned around, following the voice from behind him. "Polly ...Chapman?" He uttered blandly, praying he wasn't mistaken. He didn't have the best memory- even with old schoolmates who bullied him.

"Yep." Polly said, laughing lightly. "It's me. Been a while."

"It has." Scorpius shifted his weight. "How are things?"

"Great!" She smiled, swishing her blonde ponytail, the same air of confidence from when she was a teenager. "Yann and I are engaged."

"Oh! That's wonderful." Scorpius said, pretending to sound pleased. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you. I proposed to them last month. It was just as I had dreamed."

"How is...Yann?" Scorpius did not actually care how Yann was.

"They're good! Brilliant actually, since they passed Auror training." Polly looked genuinely proud of them, which he had to admit was adorable. "Are you and Albus still..."

"Yes, yes. We um, er- we've been married almost two years actually." He added.

"Aw, that's very sweet. You two were always very close, yeah?" Polly looked at him, and Scorpius nearly walked backwards, intimidated by her stance. She still was extremely scary, like a lioness but with a great sense of fashion. "I know...Yann, Karl and I weren't the best to you two but perhaps we could..." She trailed off. "I'd like you both to come. To the wedding. If you'd like."

That...wasn't what he was expecting. He half expected her to invite him to another Blood Ball.

"Pardon?" Scorpius asked, dumbfounded. "I mean- yeah, that sounds great! Fun! Yes. That sounds nice. I'll bring it up to Al."

Polly was glowing. "Brill! I've got to go, but we should all hang out sometime. Like old times."

Like old times? Scorpius thought. When did they ever hang out?

Nodding mutely, he walked away from Polly with a puzzled, but cheerful expression. He hadn't completely fucked up the conversation, which was always a plus. It still felt odd that Polly Chapman of all people was talking to him, let alone inviting him to her wedding. It was bizarre.

He passed the final vendor, and was surprised and amused to see a tiny girl, no more than seven standing behind it. She had a Brownie uniform on, bright rosy cheeks and pigtails included.

"Would you like a biscuit?" She squealed.

It had taken him a moment to respond, he was still thinking of Polly being kind to him "Oh erm- of course." It was impossible to say no to an adorable small child. He reached for some muggle money, handing her the pound notes. "Just the one box please."

"Okie dokie!" She said, handing him the box. She waited a moment, pouting. "Go on, try it." She urged.

"I really shouldn't I-"

"Please?" The little girl gave him the most pitiful expression. "It's for a good cause, mister. We're helping orphaned puppies find homes."

"Well, alright. For the puppies." He fumbled open the box, taking a polite bite out of the cookie. It was a classic lemon cookie with powdered sugar, one of his favorites. But the second he swallowed, he felt dizzy all of a sudden. "What..." He stumbled back. "Oh my," He gulped, the entire market swirling around him. Something wasn’t right. "is there something in..." 

He would be damned if he let this happen without some sort of fight. Throwing his basket aside, he collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness.

"We've got him."

#Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy #Albus Severus Potter #Char Fanfics #Scorbus #Married Scorbus #LOTS of OCs #James Sirius Potter #Polly Chapman #Yann Fredericks #Scorpius Malfoy #Albus Potter #Fanfic #Writing #Kidnapping

[lareinenoir]

∆ The Unwanted Marriage ∆

Loki × Reader

Request:Hey dear! I loved your fic Monster. Could you please do some Loki x reader where they are in arranged marriage and Loki doesn't like her. But one day she got hurt by someone and he got in his super protective mode. And then some fluff. Please!!!!

Authors Note; HAD A BLAST writing this!!! Hope you all enjoy this Loki fluff! 💛

*****

"You don't have to kiss me when he says, 'you may now kiss the bride'. I don't want you to think you have to do that." Said Y/N

"Your attempting to make it sound like it was a requirement to begin with." He scoffs looking up from his pedistol. "I never planned on kissing you..."

Y/N continued to look straight ahead as the servants continued to hem and fix her dress. Her eyes watered a bit and her heart beat a little faster. He was angry with Y/N. Always had been. She never knew why, though. Their were rumors around the palace that he was broken. Still broken after the loss of his first love, two years ago.

Then his mother to the dark elves.

Loki made it clear that her (his former lover) name was to never be spoken. He was left to father their son, alone. The fact that she was forced to marry Loki, but now forced to be a mother as well. She hoped that for however long the marriage lasted, which was forever, that they could overcome their differences and practice raising his son together.

So, the day came to where Y/N and Loki, arm in arm walked down the isle. Y/N looked ahead because if she dare looked back she'd run. And when they stood hands held, she gave him a gentle smile. Maybe hoping he'd return it and give her a reason to look forward to this marriage. He did smile, but it was a forced one. His lips parted as he said, "I do." and Y/N did the same. "I do."

"You may now kiss the bride."

Everyone was cheering and Loki looked to Odin with a sly grin. "I think we'll save that for the consumation."

"Now introducing Lady, Y/N and Prince Loki of Asgard!" Shouted Odin.

And so it was. Or, so to speak. Loki and Y/N were walked to the room, maids, servants, ladies in waiting, lined up at their door with flowers and gifts for "after."

Y/N and Loki separated to opposite sides of the room. She sat at the vanity and he stood near the bay window staring outside with his hand behind his back. Y/N began to take down her hair, all the hair pins and needles.

"So, what do they expect us to do." She asked quietly, finger combing her hair.

"Wrong question." He stated "You," he habe her a sideways glance with emphasis on 'you' "want to know what were going to do. Because outside those doors they want to hear lavish moaning and witness me take your virginity. Usually their are people in the room to see it for themselves, but I convinced my father to give us our 'alone' time." He said bitterly

"What does the consumation symbolize? I've heard of it and I was promised my virginity to be taken when I was to be wed. My sister went on and on"

"Get to the point." He said coldy as he continued to stare outside down below.

"I mean...if it means nothing to you then...what does it mean, Loki?" Y/N asked

"To them, we are married. Under the Gods name we are married. The consumation means, that to us, we are one. When we consumate a marriage it means we are truly in love and in it for the long run..." He said. The his eye snap towarda her and a little smirk appeara on his face as he scoffs. "I will not be sleeping with you, sharing a bed with you, because I do not love you. I have no love for you and I will never have love for you."

"You don't have to be so cruel. I see how you are with your son and I know how much he means to you. I see the way you look at him, you love him-"

"And because of him I chose to marry you! I agreed to this ridiculous marriage because of him! Because every boy...every boy deserves a mother. Every boy needs a mother. So that is your job. Be a mother to him." He said with a glare, his fingers pointed directly at her and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Nothing." She nodded "That's what we do, nothing? And what do we tell those people outside our doors?"

"Our marriage is none of their business." Loki said "If you find any opportunity to take on a lover then I may remind you to help discreet. Whispers around the palace about how my wife decided to be an idiot and-"

"I know the rules, Loki." Y/N spoke up rolling her eyes. She was getting a bit fed up with his attitude. "If the sides were swapped and you took on a lover...a mistress, you'd be commemorated. In the last thousand years Asgard has been a place where men can do as they please in regards to marriage." Y/N made clear standing to her feet and pushing her hair to the otherside of her shoulder. "You'd think they'd change that law for the many of women who were forced to give everything they have into a relationship that clearly wasn't wanted."

"You think I wanted this?" Loki scoffed walking closer to her and she sfiffed her neck and stood taller as he peered down at her with a scoff.

"We both don't want this!" She exclaimed her jaw tightening. "You...you clearly didn't have any hopes or dreams of the day you were to be wed. I was promised a life of love and happiness with someone who respects me-"

"You know nothing of what I dreamed!" Loki says between his teeth. "You don't know me at all." His finger now at her chest as she backed into the vanity with her hands on the counter.

"Don't hate me. That's all I ask." Y/N protested softly. Her lip began to quiver and her voice getting tighter as she held in her tears.

And so, that night they did nothing. They went to their respective corners and didn't speak for the rest of the night. Y/N and Loki didn't have a relationship really. At least in her opinion. Three months into their marriage, Loki would bid her a "good morning" followed by a "How did you sleep."

In which Y/N would reply, "Well. And you?"

"Same as it is every night."

Occasionally Loki would ask, "What brought you joy, today" And that was every once and a while when he was feeling friendly. Y/N didn't mind it. She sort of liked it. Loki was beginning to feel it too a bit.

They slept in separate rooms and sometimes on occasion Y/N would fall asleep in her new son's bed with a book on her chest and him in her arms. Loki would walk in to bid his son a goodnight and catch her asleep. He would smile to himself and then tuck them both in. Gently placing the covers over them and walking out the room.

****

"I won't be here for bed time." Y/N explains as she sipped her tea.

"And why do you feel the need to express that in my direction?" He asked sarcastically as they continued to eat breakfast.

"For once Loki, at least attempt to listen before opening your mouth to speak." Y/N challenged making Loki clear his throat and set his fork down, giving her his full attention.

"Pardon me...I'm all ears." He grinned with a roll of his eyes.

"I won't be here because a few of the ladies and I are going out." She says appearing from behind the little divider. Loki gulped and stared at her. His wife was wearing a very revealing outfit.

"You look like one of the women at the Brothel." He commented taking his eyes off Y/N and looking to the side.

"For one night I am going to enjoy myself. You aren't going to take my joy, Loki." Y/N stated taking off the little crown and grabbing her cloak. "Read a story to him tonight and warm Goats milk. He likes it better than the cow." She giggled

He rolled his eyes and sighed as she walked out. "Just...just be careful. The dance festivals can get out of hand. I wouldn't...um- well- I just want you to safe." He warned.

As if he cared and Y/N sort of loved that. In his bitter way, Loki had been issuing sweet and concerned little comments here and there. The kind that would make a girl blush and her eyes dart to the deck so she didn't have to look him in the eye. And sometimes she'd catch a little smile on the corner of his mouth, so Y/N didn't hate him as much. There was still a warm spot in his heart no matter how much he tried to push it down.

Last week, Y/N put her hair in a different style. A nice half up half down with gold beads and it grabbed his attention. "The hair jewelry suits you, Y/N."

Then a couple more times later on in the week, Loki told Y/N "Thank you for telling my son stories. He has sweet dreams when he sleeps."

Loki laid his son to sleep and decided since he wasn't tired, he'd stay awake with a book of his own. It was only reading...reading the history of Asgard. The thickest book in the library, besides his mothers spell books. He knew the history. Page to page, but maybe just once more. At least that's what he told himself. Loki was waiting for Y/N to return home. He sat in her bedroom on the chair near the fire place waiting to hear those lovely footsteps enter the door.

"What are you doing in my room?" Y/N asked, stumbling across Loki's head resting in his hand as he blinked his eyes open.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed trying to get the sleep out of his eyes. The book is shut and he rushed to his feet. "You're back."

"I am." She said with the hood of her cloak on her head. She spoke in a low voice and faced somewhat in the opposite direction. "Could you leave? I'd really like to get some rest. It's rather late...or early in the morning." She said walking to the door as if to lead him out.

He narrowed his brow at Y/N and reached out to touch her face. "Y/N...your face..." He was referring to the bit of red near her lip and cheek as it began to turn purple.

Y/N grabbed onto his hand to stop him, revealing scratches and burns on her knuckles and palms. "Stop!" She said still attempting to kick him out.

"Y/N, what the hell-"

"Please...get out." She says walking away from him hiding her hands a bit. "I'm fine, please just go."

"Who hurt you?" He asked, jaw clenching tight as she continued to ignore him. "I said, who. Hurt. You."

Y/N was too tired to explain. She really did just want to rest. The constant nagging about what happened during the festival, by Loki, was driving her crazy. "It was an accident." She almost shouts spinning on her heel to give him an aggravated glare.

He rushed at her, his hand, yet again, reaching to touch her bruises. "What kind of accident!" He roars, looking at her injuries with dismay. Y/N saw the fire in his eyes and he began to shutter.

"It was my fault. OK? I wasn't watching where I was going and I ran into his cart. I fell and that's it"

"Name! I want his name!" Loki said pacing back and forth. "What's his name"

"I don't know." She said with a little giggle. Y/N was more amused at how upset he was than anything. "Calm down"

"No! If you don't know his name, then I'll find him myself. I'll search-"

"Don't you think you're being a wee bit dramatic?" Asks Y/N with a sarcastic smile, still in disbelief. "I said it was an accident. Why all if a sudden-"

"Because!" He shouted and she tensed up a bit as her eyes widens. Loki finally took in a few breaths and closed his eyes to try and find the right words. "Because, I need you."

It echoed through her ears rapidly. Why? She wanted to ask, but she sort of knew. Y/N just wanted to hear him say it. Her legs shifted position and Loki bit his lip.

"I need you because I have no one." He shook his head. "I have no one left, Y/N. Besides my brother...you are all I have left."

She waltzed toward him with a bit of a gentle smile on her lips. She felt his pain and reached out to touch him as if to take some of it away. Y/N felt his arms creep around her waist, pulling her close and Loki bit his lip. He knew she understood.

"I'm not going anywhere." She whispers as their noses touch and her eyes close as she put her hands on either side of his face. Loki felt his grin radiating off him and nodded.

"I'll be forgiving this time." he said to her, eyes staring at her bruises and he brought Y/N hand to his lips, kissing her palm gently with his eyes still fixated on her. She got goosebumps and looked down. "Don't let anyone else hurt you, for as next time, I won't be so forgiving."

The End

@hookedinto-fictionalworlds @heartislubbingdubbing @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @nayr9e @kybaeza @multifacetedscorpio @naega-ooooooolf @schizonephilim @thatweirdwalangpake @grahoundart @kybaeza @nayrael @multifacetedscorpio @naega-ooooooolf @nirvanaslovechild @hisparadox @naughtybaroness30 @empressoftheundergroundsun @inlovewith3 @smartiedork @gerli49 @spookytyphoonbouquetsblog @angelicvixenn @wtfcantfindusernam

#loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki imagine #loki #hot loki #marvel fans #marvel fanfiction #marvel #loki of asgard #asgard #loki romance #marvel requests #requests are open #requests #loki requests #loki reader insert #loki x reader #loki fluff #fluff #marvel fluff #x reader

[hardforbenhardy]

the perfect gift | benxfem!reader

summary: the first time ben is meeting your parents, and you are nervous. but not as nervous as you are to give ben his present

warnings: intense fluff so prepare yourself coz ben is a d o r a b l e in this

based on two prompts: "that's what your wearing?" and "i tested positive"

word count: 4.5k

thought i'd do a little christmassy themed oneshot considering it was ... yakno... christmas; it’s been in my drafts for a while so there’s no better time than the present (no pun intended😊) i had fun writing this so i hope you have fun reading it! :)

Christmas had always been the same; through the 27 years of your life, you stuck to your traditions. You would always spend the time with your whole family, with the traditional Christmas roast and gift-giving. You loved it; you were extremely close with all your family, and spending time with them was always cherished since it only happened twice a year. However, there was one part that you couldn't stand. The worst part of it all was the fact that every year you were the only adult who was yet to find a relationship. All your siblings, your parents, aunt and uncles, grandma and grandpa, even some of your older cousins; they were all coupled up. You had even tried to convince them one year that you had finally found yourself a man; of course, you had simply bribed your best friend to pretend to be your boyfriend for the one day. He, however, was not as good of an actor as you thought he would be - caving in after only 3 hours in the household by accidentally spilling that he was in fact gay.

Though, this year you didn't have to pretend; you had finally found a man who you truly loved. He was the spitting image of what you considered perfection and you were sure he was the one. You and Ben had taken your relationship quite quickly, you had only been together for 10 months and yet you had already moved into a house together and adopted a small puppy. Though, you didn't see it as a particularly bad thing; you knew for certain that he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, the man you wanted to start a family with, grow old with. And you were also pretty certain that you were that woman for him; I mean, that's what he told you every single day. Every morning as you sat around the table to eat your breakfast; every lunch time when you'd facetime him from the office; every evening when you were snuggling in bed and he just had to mention it, which of course often led to more. You were absolutely hooked onto him, like a baby to a bottle; you simply couldn't resist him. So showing him off to your family was assuredly what you were most looking forward to this Christmas. You had already met Ben's family, and so it was now his time.

The two of you were about to leave to drive down for Christmas Eve, and the nerves were beginning to set in; what if they didn't like Ben? What if they thought you were both moving too fast? What if the nieces and nephews didn't want to play with him? What if they all took one glance at Ben and thought he could do better? You saw Ben as an angel, but you didn't know about them; after all, your mother had always wanted the perfect step-son.  She had been pretty adamant about it from the start. Nevertheless, you brushed the nerves off and paid attention to curling your hair. Your concentration was broken, however, by the sight of Ben entering the bedroom in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. You grinned widely at the sight before you, or rather behind you, as the strapping blonde man strode in wearing what you noticed to be a rather formal suit considering the fact you were only attending a Christmas dinner with your family. In fact, it was extremely formal considering the fact you were only attending a Christmas dinner with your family; meaning you couldn't help but giggle.

"That's what your wearing? Baby, we're going to my parents for Christmas, not a wedding!"

"What? I wanted to impress them!" He exclaimed rather seriously, which made you chuckle before standing up off the little stool to walk towards him to give him a small peck on the cheek; which funnily made him blush like a madman. That was something you loved about Ben; he seemed like every day he saw you was as if he was seeing you for the first time again. Somedays, he acted like a horny teenager who couldn't resist your touch. Other days, he acted like you were made of glass, as if you were the most precious, fragile thing on the earth which led to being peppered with little kisses and hugs of every form whenever he saw you. And other days, he acted like he was made of glass, and would blush or smile every time you even placed a gentle finger on him; and you had a strong feeling, this was one of those days. "I mean, what if they don't like me, or they don't think I'm good enough for their daughter? What do we do then? Because I love you, I really really love you and I want to spend my whole life with you but I can't do that if your family doesn't like me because-“

"Baby, I know they're going to love you, okay. Maybe not as much as I do, but trust me; my mum is going to take one look at you and she'll treat you like the son she never had. You look gorgeous, and as much as I am admiring the way you look in this suit, you need to change. Swap the shirt and tie out for a tshirt, and the tapered pants for some of your nice jeans." you encourage him, stroking his upper arm lightly and smiling up at his face which looked extremely defeated. You could sense the anxiety emanating from his body, he was just as nervous to meet your parents as you were for them to meet him. But you didn't tell him that, because you didn't want to worry him anymore than he already was. He simply nodded, taking a deep breath and unsleeving his arms from the blazer so that he could unbutton his shirt. You pushed his hand out the way and did it yourself, after seeing the way his hands were pretty much shaking. He still preoccupied himself, beginning to pull his trousers off to fasten the pace, as he knew you needed to set off soon to make it in time.

Once he was dressed in more appropriate clothing, which you deemed suitable for a first impression, you were finally able to leave for your parents. The car journey over there was a little less stressful, as Ben had began to calm down and forget all about his little moment in the morning. However, as you stood outside your parent's house, your own nerves began to set in. You had arrived a lot later than you expected to, having been stuck in traffic for a lot of the journey. Your hand trembled as you went to ring the doorbell, Ben stood a step behind you so that your parents would be able to greet you first. The door swung open after a few seconds, revealing the bright cheery face of your mother.

"Darling, hello! It's lovely to see you! Come in, come in!" she cheered, stepping to the side to allow you and Ben to enter. You gave her a warm hug as you walked in, in which she responded with a small kiss to your temple. Your father entered the room too, a smile emerging on his face, and you couldn't help but laugh as you noticed the apron he was wearing; it was the same one he wore every single year, with an awful christmas pun which to be honest was not a suitable apron to wear around children.

"Mum! Dad! I've missed you so much! Sorry we were late - the traffic was awful" you squealed, pulling your dad in for a hug as well, until you looked to the side to see Ben standing there incredibly awkwardly as you greeted your parents. "Mum, Dad, I'd love for you to meet my boyfriend, Ben"

"It's nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs LN. Thank you for having me, especially during a time which is meant for spending time with family" He greeted, holding his hand out to shake my fathers, but rather he pulled Ben in for a hug. You then realised you had completely forgotten to mention to Ben quite how open and friendly your family were, meaning he had quite a shocked reaction to the sudden embrace.

"Please, call us Lydia and Michael. And you are part of this family Ben; any friend of YN's is a friend of ours, lovie. Now why don't the two of you head up to your room and settle down - that way, you'll be awake in time for tomorrow morning when the kids come up and completely wreck your lie-in!" Your mum whisper-yelled, chuckling as she handed your suitcases over to your dad to help you haul them up the flights of stairs to your old childhood room that you and Ben were planning to stay in for the next two nights. Admittedly, you were a bit embarrassed considering you knew your mother hadn't changed anything about your room since you were 18 and moved out to University, so you were in for an awkward and humiliating moment when Ben first saw the posters of Roger Taylor and Queen all over your wall like you were some kind of crazy fangirl. Which, of course, you were but you didn't even think about having to explain that until now.

After a good 10 minutes of Ben laughing at your seemingly-passionate devotion to the band, you had finally settled down in your bed, which was thankfully a double. It was rather cold, being wintertime, so you and Ben were cuddled up extremely close together under bundles of blankets in an attempt to keep some warmth between you. You spent a majority of your nights curled up like this, Ben's touch providing a haven for you. And just like every other night, you ended it with the same words.

"I told you they'd love you, you practically had my mum wrapped around your finger!" You grinned, poking Bens stomach jokingly as he released a low chuckle at your point. He knew you were right, because you had mentioned that your mother was often more removed from people if she didn't like them.

"Okay, okay; I was worried for nothing, I'll admit it! But I had every right to be!" He defended himself, his warm breath on your shoulder sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but cuddle closer, wrapping your arms around his torso and place your head in the nook of his shoulder.

"I know, I know; I really do love you Ben"

"I love you too"

*****

You were woken by the feeling of a small body pouncing onto your stomach, shouting and cheering filling the otherwise silent room; "Aunty Yn, Unca Bwen! Wake up! It's Christmas Day! And Santa's come!"

You chuckled, partly at your nieces urgency to get downstairs and open some presents, but mainly at Ben's low groan at being woken at 7 in the morning. Your heart softened at her reference to Ben being her Uncle, and not just a random man who had joined the family for the day. You urged the 4 year old to move off you so you could climb out of bed, grabbing the dressing gown screwed up in the floor and pushing your arms through the sleeves. "Lilah, give us 10 minutes and we'll be right down, okay?"

"Okay!" She squealed, wrapping her tiny arms around your legs before running off to shout to her brother Jackson that you'd be down in "twen" minutes.

"Baby, wake up" You whispered, shaking Bens arm lightly and kissing his forehead, only to hear him grunt and roll to face the other way. "Tired"

"So am I, but it's Christmas hun; come on, I want my presents!" You giggled, giving him a shove and jumping out of bed to tie the newly-clad gown. Ben pulled himself off the mattress and lugged over to the en-suite bathroom, mumbling that he was taking a quick shower before they head down. In the meanwhile, you busied yourself with helping your mum out in the kitchen to prepare Christmas dinner.

"Is Ben not joining us this morning?"

"He's just taking a quick shower, he'll be down soon" you explained, chopping the veg; you found yourself grinning at the mention of his name. Of course, your mother noticed this.

"You seem perfect for each other, you know. He seems like a very lovely lad too; your father and I are very happy you have found yourself someone" She smiled, elbowing your side a little which made you chuckle and grin widely; you were extremely happy that your parents actually accepted Ben into the family so unquestionably, and liked him. "So when can Michael and I expect more grandchildren!"

You saw the question coming; there was no doubt that your mother loved being a grandmother to Lilah and Jackson. But they were getting older now, Jackson being 7 and Lilah being 4, and Lydia desperately wanted a baby to care for. So, your next words came like a haven to her.

"What if I have reason to believe roughly 9 months?" You mumbled, placing your hand on your stomach and looking up at your mum with nervous eyes. Her own eyes widened in shock and happiness, taking in your words.

"You mean? You're pregnant?" She whispered, not wanting the rest of the house to hear. You nodded, worried your mother would think you and Ben were moving too fast, having only been together for roughly 10 months. "Darling, oh my gosh, that's amazing! I'm so happy! Does Ben know?"

"No not yet; in fact only you know. I was planning on telling him today, and the rest of the family, but I'm seriously beginning to second guess everything; what if Ben doesn't want the baby? I mean, we're not even married and Ben is always away for press tours and filming. What if he thinks we're moving too fast? I don't want to scare him away-" You stumbled, tears beginning to brim your eyes. Whether it was the hormones or your nerves you didn't know; but it was most likely a mixture of both. Your mother hushed you, rubbing your arm in a way to calm you down as she understood you tended to over worry about a lot; and of course, this is an extremely reasonable thing to worry about.

"Lovie, look; you will not scare Ben away. I see the look of lust in that boys eyes when he looks at you, and I can tell just how much he really loves you. This is a big thing, of course it is, but you need to tell Ben; whether you plan on keeping the child or not. He deserves to know, and if he turns you away then he was never a gentleman to begin with. You have this whole family to support you the whole way, but at the end of the day; it is both yours and Bens decision" She comforted, her words calming you a little as you realised she was right. You couldn't just not tell Ben, it was his child and you were a couple. And, to be completely honest, you were excited as hell to start a family with the man you considered the love of your life. The only reason you were hesitant with this was because you and Ben had literally never spoke about having children or starting a family, so you didn't have his opinion on the matter to fall back on. The moment between your mother and you was interrupted by the man himself, hugging you from behind and pressing a small kiss to your neck.

"Hiya love, everything okay?" He muttered, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you continue to chop the carrots as you were before the conversation with your mother. You hummed, leaning back into his touch, hoping he hadn't heard the previous conversation between you and your mother. You felt the smile on his lips against your skin, and he tucked his head into your neck.

"Why don't you go and meet my siblings huh? I'll be in in a few minutes, just finishing up with this" You suggested, to which he nodded and placed a small kiss to your temple, before walking into the living room to join your family. You could hear the loud voices of your older brother, Sam, and his wife greeting Ben from the other room, and painfully worried that Ben wouldn't get too nervous as your brother tended to be quite boisterous at times. In fact, your whole family did; which was extremely different to Ben's family who were much more calm and collected. Although by the sight you received entering the room a few minutes later, you were immediately filled with joy; the sight of Ben sat on the living room floor, cross legged, with Lilah on his lap and Jackson sat beside him, as he read them a story Lilah had begged him to. You were a little confused as to how he was getting on with them all so well; Lilah didn't usually warm up to people so well unless she had been properly introduced. And your mum was usually very judgemental of your boyfriends that you had brought home before. And your brother was often extremely protective over you. And your sister would most likely try to steal any guy you brought home and have him for herself.

You can't help but admire the way he is around the 2 children; it's as if he's done the whole parenting thing before. Lilah was smiling so widely, you thought her face was going to get permanently stuck like that. The two were amazingly engaged as he spoke the words on the page, acting out the story with little actions and different voices,  making sound effects when needed. Your brother's wife, Sophia, walked up to you with a small grin on her face before mumbling "You've got a good one there, don't ruin it" in your direction as she passed by to enter the kitchen. At the sight before you, you realised exactly how correct she was. You had got someone in your life who you could never lose; you'd be a fool to ruin what you and Ben had. So of course, you began second guessing telling him the news once again. If you told him the truth, he may leave and then you've lost him for good. But seeing just how well he was around the children and how engaged he was, you actually considered that this was a good idea.

The time came to finally exchange presents; no doubt after the children had nagged the adults for 20 minutes straight, asking "when can we open them?". The children spent the most time opening presents, getting excited after each one and showing it off to every single adult in the room. You were sat on the small armchair; well Ben was, and you were perched on his lap, an arm around his neck and head rested on his shoulder. You were admittedly beginning to grow impatient at telling Ben the news; as much as you didn't want to tell him, waiting to do it was becoming painful because it only gave you more time to re-evaluate your decision. Thankfully, your mother had finished giving everyone her gifts, so it was the end and you could give Ben his. You rushed out of the room to where your coat hung up, pulling out a small box that was wrapped in paper and had a bow placed on the top. Ben noticed the box and furrowed his brows, even more so when you went to hand it to him.

"YN, we agreed we weren't doing presents this year?" he questioned, hesitantly taking the box from your hand, almost as if he expected it to explode in his hand. You nodded your head a little, understanding his confusion. Honestly, you forgot that you had agreed to not give each other presents this year because you had spent quite a lot of money so far on your relationship, first buying the house and then investing in a pet.

"I-I know, but you wouldn't have got any other gifts, and I think you'll like this one" You mumbled, urging him to open it and trying to hide your nerves from Ben as you knew he had a strange talent of noticing when you were hesitant to do something. He was like a human radar; he knew when you were happy, sad, angry, nervous, excited. He had a mental notebook of all your habits for each emotion, so he could probably tell that you were absolutely bricking it right now. But you assumed that he just thought this because you were nervous he wouldn't like the gift; which you were, but he didn't realise why. He took his sweet time opening the present, unwrapping it slowly considering he had all eyes of the room on him at that moment, alongside the glare of a camera that your mother had pulled out in excitement of the moment. As he opened the flaps to the small cardboard box underneath the wrapping paper, his eyes widened and his whole body froze. You can't deny, so did yours. He slowly pulled out the small stick out of the shadows of the box to reveal two small pink lines on the small screen.

"A-are you... is this real?" he mumbled, looking up to meet your eyes. You saw the tears beginning to pool at the bottom of his eyes, and you saw a glint of happiness. You nodded, awaiting his reaction.

"I tested positive."

You didn't know if this was a good reaction or a bad one because he didn't really show much emotion on his face. That was until a giant smile stretched across his face and his hands dropped the box so that he could wrap his arms around you. It was rather sudden, but he took you into the tightest hug you'd ever felt; his head rested against your shoulder and you felt the tears of joy seeping into your jumper. You obviously hugged back, relieved that he was actually happy about this.

"I-I'm gonna be a dad? W-We're gonna be parents?" He continued questioning, unable to believe any of this was true because he didn't think contentment like this could exist. You could barely speak your own words, only having the ability to nod and cry as well as Ben.  The whole family was now cheering with you, Lilah jumping on your lap to give you the biggest hug she possibly could, exclaiming that she couldn't wait to have a little cousin she could play with. Well, you assumed that's what she said, considering most of her words were indistinguishable.

"I can't believe this, this is the best day of my fucking life. God, we're gonna be parents in 9 bloody months, love. I love you so much, and you too" he gushed, tears brimming in his eyes once again and also yours. He bent down and gently kissed your practically-non-existent bump as he whispered "and you too" and you couldn't help but admire how well he took the news; you certainly didn't expect this much of a reaction from him and you felt a little stupid for ever second guessing yourself. Of course, being the bundle of nerves Ben tended to be, started questioning everything; "How far along are you? Have you been feeling ill? Because I'm sorry if I haven't been much help to make you feel better but I don't recall hearing you being sick of anything in the mornings so I don't know-"

"Ben, I've been fine so far; I'm only a month along and I've only had two instances of morning sickness, both of which you weren't home for so you don't have to worry. I suppose I've felt a little under the weather recently but nothing that I couldn't cope with." You explained, which brought comfort to Ben as he knew you weren't suffering too much in the time being. Though, he had heard of how harsh pregnancy can be for some women and he prayed to the Lord that you would not be one of the small percentage.

*****

After finding out the exciting news, Ben had been non-stop protecting you like you were a piece of glass; not that he didn't before, he just did it a lot more intensely now. Every time you tried to sit down or stand up, he would help you so that you didn't 'strain your back'. Every time you went up the stairs, he would walk right behind you. Every time you yawned, he asked if you wanted to go to bed and insisted you had an early night so that you and 'bean' were well rested. Oh yes, and he had nicknamed the growing child 'bean'. You, thankfully, now found yourself wrapped up in the covers of your duvet after a long Christmas day and could not wait to fall asleep. Ben had jumped in beside you and cuddled close so that he could rest his hand on your stomach and head on your shoulder. You were so close to being asleep, until Ben decided to create conversation.

"You know, I thought your boobs had gotten bigger, but I didn't want to mention it in case you thought I was complaining" He mumbled into your neck, which woke you up immediately. You slapped his arm and chuckled loudly, making him wince in pain a little.

"They've also gotten a lot more sore so no touching. And alongside that, I constantly need to pee, very gassy and am continually getting mood swings; so good luck for the next 9 months because you're officially dating a zombie" you countered, making him chuckle gleefully. He didn't care how disgusting or gross you may have seen yourself; you were still beautiful to him and he was going to let you know that every day.

"A gorgeous zombie who I love very very much and is literally bringing my child into the world; with my help, of course." He smirked, making you roll your eyes because you completely understood what he meant by 'his help'.

"I'm so happy that your happy and I can't wait to have a family with the love of my life"

"And I can't wait either" He grinned, feeling happiness he had never felt before in his life. Now, all he had to do was propose; luckily, he'd been planning it all along

#ben #hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x y/n #fanfic #oneshots #fluff #imagines #christmas #pregnancy

[asmallbirdinmayy]

I'm not sure why I haven't posted anything here yet since this world craziness started... Normally I would have bombarded it with posts everyday and such.

This social distancing is my life style, so I've been doing pretty okay better than most unfortunatly. Thank you Tumblr, and hours of scrolling for preparing me for this moment in time!

I've been filling my days with video games, reading and trying to force myself out for runs. I've helped my mum clean the house. (She has a bad back and would end up killing myself if I didn't go over every once in a while to help out)

I've also recently shaved my head! Finally, I've wanted to do it for years to see what I'd look like and to get rid of the years of dying it and hairstyle frustrations. I like it, but some days I get self conscious and don't end up going for runs. But maybe I'm just using that as an excuse and I'm just hella laazy!

It's a learning curve for sure, I've been reading a lot of philosophy lately and listening to the philosophize this podcast for the past year now so I've been trying to work on myself, thinking more and trying to meditate and gain self confidence and just be able to help myself help others. If that makes sense? Anyway, cutting off all your hair really helps practice Stoicism. There's no instant regrowth, and my hair takes longer to grow out than normal people.

I do love myself, a hella a lot more than I used to. There's nothing I wouldn't change, and I think that mind set alone has been what gets me out the door more often for runs and wanting to take care of my body and mind!!

I've also been cooking more, to save on money and because I'm not a huge advocate for waste being delivered to my door. I have had breakdowns however, I did it twice, I've ordered breakfast for myself to help me get up earlier and to get better coffee. Because the Maxwell can is not working out for me, and it's so gross, its taking me forever to get through it! I'll still drink it though, because, caffeine! Hello.

Back to cooking more! I've been mostly making mashed potatoes and what nots, but I'll occasionally make a vegan grilled cheese or have vegan hot dogs! I've made some pasta, quinoa and lately before bed I'll get a chia bowl ready to set while I sleep. That's pretty healthy and delicious. I've made terrible pancakes, I accidently got the whole wheat flour rather than the other stuff, soo that wasn't a fun mistake. Alas, no waste, so I have to make it into things!

I also signed up for a sustainable cities online course, lots of reading, but it was on sale. If anything it'll help me plan imaginary cities better in my head and I'll be able to put it on resumes. So level up?

I've re arranged my living room so I can easily switch between laptop and PlayStation without having to get up for any reason! +40 laziness. Aha. Fun.

Cats bombard with with attention and cuddles All. The. Damn. Time. I thought cats were supposed to not care and be independent and stuffs. Not my cats, noo. I wake up pinned, cat by my head, in the curve of my back and on my feet! If I'm laying on my back xews will be on my chest. Like hello! Let me breathe. They follow me to the bathroom, and to the couch! My couch is tiny, and all three of them find a little spot and take up all the space. It's hard to take notes! Anyway. I love them, I love their cuddles I'll never take them for granted and I'll always be like okai in the lap you go! It's nice playing a videogame with your cats stretching their paw onto your paw!. #catmum

Works been telling me the new opening day is July 3rd.. July 3rd two more months of this madness. I'm okay with it though, I'll hopefully finish the online course and get out for more runs! I've signed up the the social distancing run thing, I'm hoping to do a 10k for it!

Our government is all over the place about everything, and its making people crazy! There's lies, uncertainty questions unanswered. There's conspiracies left and right and I don't know which ones to believe. I mean some seem drastic and obviously crazier than others. I'm just not politically educated enough for this. But what if they're true to? I dunno, I've been watching a lot of things and reading stuff of history and stuffs and theirs some people that end up being corrected and proven right when people thought they were insane ? And yea people are just crazy and have their crazy thoughts. I dunno. I just want to have a back seat, and I mean my first and foremost fight is with nature, so my bias towards anything will be on how it affects the future of how we live with nature. If that makes sense? I could go on and on about this part, but this part makes me the most unwary and depressed honestly. I've been crying for days about this and where I stand, I've always been one to stand with the people. But which people? My brain hurts. I'm a sheep guys. I'm a sheep. I'm just a very lost sheeple.

People that I know from South Africa sent me a message saying that they were starving and asked for help, I wasn't sure what to do. I sent them some money, but I don't have much to give. I hope it'll be enough to get them by for a couple of days! I haven't heard from her since? So I don't know?

Anyways.

I haven't heard from my possibly future school yet about the upcoming semester and what to do, am I still able to go? Are they going to be opened by end of August? Will I be allowed to travel to another province? I'll wait till the end of May to send an email and find out! I am not doing that course online, I have a hard enough time motivating myself to do this current baby course. And I really want to do well in this course if I get there! It was a whole thing guys.

Before all this started I had started therapy, volunteering for the theater and taekwando. I'm really sad that i haven't been able to take part in these new hobbies. I had the chance to volunteer for the opening of the wizard of oz production before all the other shows at the theater got cancelled. It was amazing. Maybe I'll be able to do something similar while I'm in Vancouver. I only had one beginning trial class for taekwando, I'm slightly sad because by the time it reopens I'll probably be heading to Vancouver and won't be able to attend.

Cancelling therapy was the hardest, I had just started after years and years of being afraid to go for many reasons. I only got two sessions in before having to stop due to being laid off. But it's okay, because I still have my writing as my therapy. I end up asking the questions to myself while writing. I've read a lot of psychology, well not a lot, but a good amount. But the extra help and guidance was nice. I learned new terminology that applied to myself and my childhood and a couple other things that I'm able to sit back and acknowledge during meditations.

It was like I was finally getting out more, trying to fix myself, trying to go meet new friends and say hello to the world. And then the world was like nah. Back to social distancing! Kay, thaanks.

The last three or so days I've felt a little pull back into myself and I couldn't motivate myself lately. I think a large part of it was due to an argument I had with my mother, and the political drama that's been going on lately.

Wanting to go on runs or outside to enjoy the chilly sunny day has been a struggle, when it hasn't been I'm a while. I was playing ESO with a couple friends when all of a sudden all I wanted to do was just lay on the couch, curl up with my eyes closed and just bleh. I listening to the ESO music for a while and remembered that I haven't wrote anything in a long while on Tumblr or anywhere. So here I am, returning to my old therapy just writing my garbage thoughts to replace them with happier more motivated ones. It's sort of working, we'll see how the day goes.

All in all, I'm okay, my family is okay. And only time will tell what craziness is next for this year!

If anyone read this far down, first of all thank you. You're probably someone that I love! Love you <3 and I hope you're also doing well, and staying safe!!!

#xews #sleep #thoughts #personal #me #writings #writing #therapy

[beastlyimagines]

A/N: I saw a request for a Theseus or Newt imagine based on “I’ll Never Love Again” from ‘A Star is Born’ and I couldn’t resist. The lyrics aren’t in order and this isn’t the whole song, I just picked the lyrics that worked the best for what I had in mind. Hope you all like this.

When we first met I never thought that I would fall

“Y/N hurry up and get downstairs! The guests are arriving and we can’t have our own daughter missing!” You heard your mother call from down the hall, causing you to hastily put on your shoes.

“Coming mother!” You shouted back, taking one last glance in the mirror to make sure you were presentable, before rushing from your room.

Your father was recently promoted to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and your mother was having a gathering off his coworkers to celebrate.

You personally hated when your parents had people over for gatherings. Being an only child in a pure blood family as well as to a high ranking ministry official meant having the importance of appearances drilled into your head from an early age. Your mother especially always made a show of you among their guests, putting you up on an unrealistic pedestal.

You loved both of your parents dearly, but the expectations from both of them was nearly suffocating.

“There you are! Come, come! Some of your dads coworkers are already waiting to meet you.” Your mother said once she spotted you, hurrying you along down the stairs. “Remember, be polite and courteous. We need to make a good impression.”

“Yes mother.” You responded, internally groaning at the thought of how dreadful the next couple hours would be. Plastering a polite smile on your face, you allowed your mother to lead you towards your father and the first of many families to be greeted.

After over an hour of greeting family after family, you excused yourself to use the bathroom. Taking your time, you sighed before straightening your shoulders and facing the crowd of people once again. Finding your parents quickly, you noticed a new family standing with them.

There was a man and wife, along with two boys, one of which looked to be your age, and a younger boy that gripped his mothers hand tightly. You walked up just as the two boys were being introduced.

“This is our eldest son, Theseus.” Mrs. Scamander spoke, gesturing to the boy that looked to be about your age. “And our youngest, Newton.” The toddler waved as he was introduced, a shy smile on his lips.

“How old are you Theseus?” You father asked, causing the boy to straighten up slightly.

“I’m eleven.” Came the response.

“Received your Hogwarts letter?” You noticed the boys slightly dull expression brighten considerably at those words.

“Yes sir! I’m very excited to be heading to school next month.”

“Good, good. My daughter-“ He gestured to you, causing all attention to turn your way. “Y/n will be starting this year as well. Y/n, this is Mr. and Mr. Scamander. Mr Scamander works in my department at the ministry.”

“Pleasure to meet you both.” You smiled, nodding politely towards the two adults. Both smiled at you as well, while Theseus barreled on as if no one else had spoken.

“Really?” He asked, all traces of boredom gone now as he looked at you with a smile. “You’re the first person that I’ve met that’ll be in my year, everyone else I’ve met is older.”

“It’ll be nice knowing someone my age.” You responded, a grin taking over your face as well.

“We can sit on the train together!” He suggested, before turning to his parents. “Mum, Dad, can Y/n and I go outside so we can talk about Hogwarts?”

“If it’s ok with her parents. “ Mr. Scamander spoke, looking at your parents. Your mother looked hesitant, but your father nodded with a smile.

“Of course, Y/n’s been dying to get out of here for the past hour anyway.” Your dad laughed, ignoring your mother’s huff.

“Come on then Y/n.” Theseus spoke, gesturing for you to follow him outside. Seeing your escape, you quickly dashed after him, leaving 3 laughing adults and 1 annoyed one in your wake.

“Thank Merlin.” You muttered once outside and away from all the adults. “I hate these gatherings.”

“Me too.” Theseus responded, an easy grin on his face. “They’re dreadfully boring, and usually there aren’t any kids my age. I usually get stuck babysitting my little brother, this is much better.”

“At least you had someone else to be with, I’m always stuck being dragged around by my mother. I’m shocked she actually let me come out here.” You responded, taking a seat on one of the swings with Theseus following suit.

“You’re welcome then.” Theseus grinned, causing you to roll your eyes. “So, what House do you want to be in at Hogwarts?”

I never thought that I'd find myself Lying in your arms

It had been 5 years since you had met Theseus Scamander, and the two of you were now best friends. Both of you had become Gryffindor’s, and made sure that you shared the same schedule every year. The only time the two of you were ever separated was for sleeping (for obvious reasons) and Quidditch.

Theseus, being more concerned with his studies and his future didn’t see the need to play the sport. You on the other hand, had practically jumped on the opportunity in 2nd year. Unfortunately, most males didn’t really think females should play on the team, and only 2 females had in the past 10 years. You were turned away your 2nd and 3rd year, but you you finally made it onto the team in 4th year when the captain of the team was more accepting. Theseus came to every game.

Currently you found yourself waking up in a vaguely familiar room. Opening your eyes, you were instantly blinded by the white ceiling of the hospital wing. Blinking rapidly, you glanced to your left.

Two things registered in your mind instantly; pain radiating through your entire body at the movement, and there was a familiar body sleeping in a chair next to your bed. Unable to keep in the groan of pain, you internally cursed when the person jumped in response.

“Y/n?” Theseus asked, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Once more alert, he sat up straight and sighed in relief. “Thank Merlin you’re alright. How do you feel?”

“Bloody hell, I feel like I was hit by the Hogwarts Express.” You groaned, wincing as Theseus helped you sit up. “What happened?”

“That one Ravenclaw, Peters, was really angry about losing. Guess he’s still not happy that Gryffindor has a girl playing for them, and that said girl kicked his arse. He grabbed one of the beaters bats and shot the bludger after you while you were flying towards the team. Hit you in the back of the head and knocked you about 15 feet to the ground.” Theseus explained, anger and some lingering fear swimming in his blue eyes. “Headmaster Black was pretty angry, gave Peters about a month of detention. Professor Dumbledore put you on a stretcher and brought you here, you looked pretty bad.”

“Oh thanks, just what every girl wants to hear.” You replied sarcastically, making a weak grin form on your friends face. “Where’s the rest of the team anyway? Figured those overprotective prats would be here too.”

“Well they were here..” Theseus trailed off, suddenly looking sheepish. “But they were forced out just before curfew.”

“Before curfew? But the suns out..” You spoke in confusion, glancing out the window. “Do you mean to say that I’ve been out all afternoon and all night?” You asked suddenly, comprehension dawning on you.

“Er, Yes?” Theseus responded, watching you closely.

“You stayed here all night?!” You exclaimed, reaching out to smack his arm when he nodded. “You idiot!”

“I was worried, alright?” He defended, a light blush spreading high on his cheeks. “That was the worst injury you’ve gotten, and you were so pale. I couldn’t leave without knowing for sure that you were ok.”

“Git.” You mumbled fondly, making Theseus laugh slightly. “Don’t do it again.”

“Sure.” He agreed, but you both knew he was lying. “Now...” He started, a glint in his eyes as he changed the subject. “Peters can’t get away with harming you like that and only getting a month of detention, so I’ve got a plan...”

Don't wanna feel another touch Don’t wanna start another fire Don’t wanna know another kiss

After the 2 hour long graduation ceremony finished, you took off from your seat in search of your best friend. Finally spotting him searching the crowd for you, you darted towards him.

“Theseus! Can you believe we’ve actually graduated?” You exclaimed, throwing your arms around your best friend in excitement. “I feel like we just started learning the disarming spell, and now we’re about to leave for the last time.” There was sadness in your voice as you pulled away, only to find your best friend merely staring at you. “Theseus? You ok?”

He continued to stare at you for a moment, before suddenly surging forward and capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Gasping in shock against his lips, you took a few seconds to respond. When you did, however, it was the greatest feeling you’d ever experienced. Better than winning the Quidditch Cup, better than flying on a broom, and better than making your parents proud when you received nearly perfect scores on your NEWTs exam.

“Sorry, I’ve been wanting to do that for months.” Theseus whispered as he pulled back slightly, yet his lips still brushed against yours.

“Then why are you stopping?” You mumbled dazedly back, causing a laugh of disbelief to fall from your best friends lips. He happily obliged.

And I don't wanna give somebody else the better part of me I would rather wait for you

“Y/n, love?” Your boyfriend questioned as he walked through the door, something off in his tone. Ignoring it for the time being, you smiled and headed towards him.

“How was your day Thee?” You asked, reaching up and kissing him briefly. When you pulled away, you noticed he looked tense and wary about something. “Is everything alright?”

“Y/n.” He spoke softly, yet seriously, eyes seemingly boring into yours. “A couple of the Auror’s have been talking recently, and well we feel that this war has been going on long enough.”

“War? You mean the one between the Muggles?” You asked, a foreboding feeling coming over you as you continued to watch him.

“Yes. There was something called a bombing in the east part of London early this morning, and it killed a couple families from the ministry.” He spoke, causing you to gasp in shock. “It’s like a really bad form of reducto but made with chemicals, the muggles have been using it more and more recently. And now that we know it can kill us..”

“Theseus, where are you going with this?” You asked, though you felt like you already knew the answer.

“Well I know Travers is saying that wizards are not to get involved in the war, but one of the people killed was a friend, and I can’t stand by and do nothing anymore.” He spoke, eyes glassy as he continued. “So a few of us are leaving, we’re going to go help fight with the muggles.”

There was a deafening silence in the room as you took in his words, heart quickly dropping into your stomach.

“You-you’re leaving?” You questioned, shock and disbelief strong in your tone. “You’re going to war?”

“Yes.” He replied, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

“Ok.” You murmured, closing your eyes tightly against the emotions building up. They snapped open, however, at his next words.

“I won’t blame you if you don’t want to wait for me.” He said gently, pain in his eyes as he watched you closely. “There’s a good chance that I might not come back. I can’t make you go through that pain. If you want to end things-“

“How dare you.” You cut across him, angrier than you had ever been. “I love you Theseus Scamander, and you going off to war isn’t going to change that. I’m not going to go off and find someone new. You’re it for me, you’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with. That’s not going to change. And the fact that you’d think that-“

“I don’t, but I couldn’t leave without offering. I don’t want to force you into this. I know how hard it’ll be. I just don’t want you to regret everything.” He told you, looking relieved now.

“Never.” You responded strongly, eyes still hard as you glanced at him

“Watch our for my little brother, won’t you? He’s always in some sort of trouble.” He joked, trying to cut the tension in the room.

“Of course.” You spoke weakly, staring out the window while you tried to wrestle down the emotion building up in you.

“Y/n.” He spoke softly, grabbing your chin and turning it so you were looking up at him. “When I come back, we’re going to be married, ok? If we make it through this, I want you by my side for the rest of my life.”

“I’m already yours.” You told him, fighting back tears with all you had.

“I’m going to be ok, I’ll come back to you.” He said strongly, cupping your face in his hands.

“You promise?” You whispered, the tears finally falling freely from your eyes.

“I promise.”

Wish I could, I could've said goodbye. I would've said what I wanted to Maybe even cried for you If I knew it would be the last time I would've broke my heart in two Tryin' to save a part of you

“Theseus? I’m home.” You nervously shouted through the house, hearing something clatter to the ground upstairs and footsteps quickly approaching down the steps. Moments later you were wrapped in strong arms, nerves vanishing in your husbands embrace.

After returning from the war nearly a year later, Theseus had shown up to your work and had asked you to marry him. Of course you had said yes, a now 6 years later, here you were.

“Welcome home my beautiful wife!” He exclaimed, making you giggle slightly at his excitement. “I was hoping I’d see you before I had to leave, Travers is sending us on another mission. He claims he has a source that told him where Grindelwald is. We all know how reliable his sources have been in the past. Probably just another wild niffler chase.” He rolled his eyes, making you snort.

“There’s something I need to tell you before you go.” You spoke anxiously, causing Theseus to become concerned.

“What is it?”

“Well I- I felt sick at work today, and one of the other healers said I should take a test. I did, and well it came back positive.” You whispered, doing nothing to calm your husbands worries. “Thee, I’m pregnant.”

“P-pregnant?” He asked, pure shock written all over him. “Blimey, you, we’re-“ He suddenly cut himself off, voice clogged with emotion. He quickly kissed you heatedly, an overjoyed sound coming muffled from his mouth. “I’m going to be a father!” He exclaimed when he pulled away, spinning you around joyously in his arms. “This is the second happiest moment of my life!”

“What’s the first?” You laughed, catching your breath as he set you down on your feet again.

“The day you married me.” He said as if it were obvious, making you grin. “Wait till I tell Newt! We’ll make him god father, yes?”

“Of course.” You answered, watching your husband happily. “I’ll owl him when you leave.”

“Right, right.” He spoke, suddenly remembering his mission. “Almost forgot, well I’d better be off. Wait till I tell the others, a baby!”

“Alright, alright, get out of here you crazy man.” You joked, leaning up to kiss him once more. “Come back to me.” You whispered when you pulled away, having spoken the words every time he went on missions.

“Always.”

And I want to pretend that it's not true Oh baby, that you're gone

“Mum, where are we going?” Your five year old daughter spoke, holding onto your hand tightly as you walked through familiar large iron gates.

“You’re going to meet someone very special.” You responded, squeezing your little daughters hand gently.

She stayed silent as she walked beside you, the silence of the area around causing her to do the same. After a few minutes of walking, you stopped in front of the familiar place. Kneeling down next to your daughter, you moved your hand to hold her shoulder.

“Is that-?” She started, eyes wide as she took in the name in front of her.

Theseus Scamander Born: 7th June 1889 Died: 19th February 1920 “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

“Honey, this is your dad.” You spoke softly, placing your other hand over the slightly worn tombstone. “He was the bravest, loyalest, and most loving man I ever met. He died before you were born, fighting an evil man so that one day you and I and others could live in a peaceful world without fear. He never met you, but he loved you fiercely from the moment he found out about you. You look so much like him, you are so much like him.” You paused, playing with a loose brown curl in your daughters hair while tears filled your eyes. “He’d be so proud of you, he’d love you just as much as I do if he was still with us.”

“Do you miss him?” Your daughter asked softly, tears now falling from her eyes.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t.” You responded, wiping a tear from her cheek. “But he is always with us; he lives on in me, and he lives on in you. As long as we always remember and always love him, he’ll never really be gone. He’ll look over us and protect us until we join him again one day.”

“I wish he was still here, I wish I had my dad.” Your daughter sobbed, prompting you to pull her tightly into your arms.

“I know, I know my little love. I wish he was still here too. I always will.”

Oh, I’ll never love again

#crimes of grindelwald imagine #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #harry potter imagine #the crimes of grindelwald #theseus scamander #theseus scamander imagine #newt scamander #harry potter #a star is born

[devaigh]

The Winner ~ Chapter 5

Thanks to @curlsgetdemgurls for all her help, and encouragement for this chapter as well as the work she did to whip this into shape!! 😘

Previously: 1 2 3 4

Brianna arrived breathless with Roger in tow just as Claire found herself back in the  bright light of the hall  inside the wide french doors. Her daughter was flushed pink, her long red hair wild from the sea wind outside.

"Mama?" The laughter in Bree's eyes faded as she caught Claire's expression. "Are you okay? What's wrong? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"Oh. It's nothing," Claire smiled weakly.

"Are you sure?" Brianna wrapped her arms around her mother.

Claire smiled. "I'm fine darling. I promise. I think the stress of everything is getting to me, is all." She cupped her hand along her daughter's jaw. "Don't worry, Love. I'll be fine."

"Is there anything we can do to help ye?"

Both women turned at Roger's voice.

"It's just, I ken it's a lot happening right now, but the wedding is still a few days away. I'd be willing to do whatever to help out."

"Thank you, Roger. But I think we're okay now. Almost all of the guests have arrived, and everything else is set. We just have last minute things really."

"Still Mama, we can help if needed. This is supposed to be a vacation for you."

"I know, Bree. But right now, what both of you can do is get cleaned up. Dinner  should be ready soon and we have nearly 50 guests waiting for the two of you."

"Aye. We wouldna want to keep them waiting." Roger grinned.

"Exactly. Now both of you, Shoo!"

Bree rolled her eyes. "Okay. I'm going."

Claire smiled as she watched the two of them disappear up the stairs. Her heart was still racing, but she knew her damnable glass face had nearly given her away. She just couldn't confront her daughter about what had just happened, at least, not yet.

After Dinner, maybe.

Yes, after dinner, in the quiet of their room, Claire would have a talk with her high-spirited, daughter. It was clear that it was past due for this talk, one she had obviously put off for far too long.

"There you are LJ!"

Claire whipped around, shaking herself from her thoughts. Joe met her at the end of the hall, where she was still planted.

"Oh, Hello Joe."

"I haven't seen your for hours LJ. Where did you disappear to?" he winked. "Don't tell me you already found you a man."

The deep flush that spread across her cheeks was not helped by the laughter that rang in her ears.

Oh! You did! I told you it wouldn't take long, LJ!” Joe laughed again “Tell me, where did you find him? Is he still around?”

"I didn't!" she huffed, at his look. " I'm NOT looking." She pushed past joe, moving towards the stairs behind him. "I've gotten used to being alone, Joe. I'd much rather keep things simple."

"That's just the thing LJ. You're still in your prime. you deserve a guy who's going to treat you right. Frank didn't know what he had. He never did.”

"I appreciate your support, but no thank you." She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Besides, there's so much more for me to focus on in the next few days."

"That's true, but what about after the wedding?"

Claire shook her head. "What about it?"

"I told you you needed a vacation. Time to yourself. Don't forget to take care of you. I mean it.  You know I worry about you."

" I do know Joe. And I'm grateful for it." She kissed his cheek. "Just trust me when I say that I'm okay."

"I do LJ. You know I do."

* * * * * * *

The knot in his throat felt like an iron weight.

She was gone.

He blinked, surprised by the tears pooling in his eyes at the sight of her, running, as though terrified, from him. The thought chilled him to the bone.

Was she afraid of him? Why?

Seeing her from his balcony this afternoon had not been enough. He had sought her out, needing to see her, hear her voice, revel in her laughter. Jamie knew he was still enchanted with her.  Claire held his heart whether she knew it or not. He had been completely devoted to her, ever since that day.

The day he remembered.

The day he lost everything.

It had almost broken him.

He remembered waking up smiling. This first time he had felt true joy since he had returned home, to Scotland. He had rolled over, hearing her wake up and reached for her, his fingers desperate for the touch of her skin. Her dark hair was splayed out across  her pillow and her small form was curved over the large, full shape of her womb. His hand moved instinctively to cover her stomach, feeling the child move within her.

He was happy,

He was content. Until..

"Don't touch me."

It was like picking up a hot coal. He had jerked away, staring at the stranger beside him. Her voice was wrong. Not the beautiful, elegant voice he had dreamed of, but a harsh, worn-out, annoyed tone greeted his ears. She rolled over and met his eyes, and Jamie remembered the feeling like an icy grip, tearing at his heart.

It wasn't Claire.

It was… HER.

Jamie had woken up to find himself in another woman's bed. Worse, he had come to  discover that he was married, a soon-to-be father and he couldn't remember anything.

Except Claire.

His Claire. His Sassenach. The woman who had haunted his dreams for months. Even in the middle of that damn hospital she came to him, half-unseen, but always her voice, her laughter and her joy had found him, in the darkness. He had clung to the mystery of the woman who possessed his thoughts, Praying she wasn't a trick his mind played on him.

He couldn't remember her face. Only the most vague details were there. Her curls, the dark waves that he loved to lose himself in. The way her hands, so soft and frail felt on his battered body. The iron will he knew she possessed.

He had fallen in love with a ghost.

When the woman in his bed glared at him with distaste, he felt his wame curl. What was he doing here? Why was he here?

It was then Jamie realized he had been living a lie.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. He looked back towards the path that Claire had taken, kicking himself for all his past mistakes. What had he been thinking? He didn't deserve her.

Maybe he never had.

* * * * * * *

There were still several people milling about as Claire took her place on the small platform. At her Nod, Roger tapped his fork against his class, bringing attention to the front of the room. Smiling, she looked out at the sea of faces staring back at her as she began her speech.

"Good Evening."

She smiled as the room responded in turn.

"I would like to thank all of you for joining us this tonight and for the rest of the week as we come together to celebrate my daughter Brianna, and her fiance Roger.

She turned slightly looking back at Bree. Her daughter was simply glowing in the warm light, watching Claire with shining eyes as Roger wrapped an arm around her bare shoulders.

It is with deepest thanks that we welcome you all to enjoy your stay and we hope that this week is filled with love and joy as we witness these two begin their lives together."

A murmur ran through the crowd as she turned to face them once more. Movement, then a flash of red caught her eye near the door. Claire felt her breath leave her body as her eyes met Jamie's.

'"I..um. I hope that..." She could feel her cheeks flush. "I hope everyone here tonight will join me in a toast to our happy couple, and may this week be only the beginning of what is to come."

Her mouth felt dry as she raised her glass high, the crowd murmuring their response as she stood, struck by the his gaze. He tipped his chin, just a fraction of a movement, yet Claire felt a spark, a tiny flame ignite within her come to life. She licked her lips and downed her drink, feeling the burn of the amber liquid as it went down.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone.

#the winner #modern au #outlander fanfic #outlander fandom #jamie and claire #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #brianna mackenzie #roger mackenzie #brianna x roger