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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #403

“ashes to ashes, watch me disappear”

If given the opportunity, would you like to star in a musical? Definitely not. I don't like musicals. Name one person you’d take a bullet for: There's honestly a lot, but Mom immediately came to mind. Any posters of a band on your bedroom wall? Yeah: Metallica and Marilyn Manson currently. I want lots more, especially an Ozzy one. Do you think you’ve already met your soulmate? I don't believe in soulmates. Do you share your bedroom with anyone? No, unless you include my cat and snake. Is your favorite color yellow? No, it's actually one of my least favorites. Were you born in a hospital? I was. Do you know the name of the person that delivered you? No, but Mom does. I think he delivered me and my two sisters, and I know Mom has seen him since for other reasons. Was your birth recorded? God no. Good call, Mom. Did you eat a peach this week? Would you believe me if I told you I had a small bit of peach pie for my sister's birthday? For some reason, I just really wanted to try some. It was okay, but the aftertaste sucked. Are you leaving the house tomorrow? Yes, for TMS therapy. Every weekday. Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche? I honestly do. If you could get free vocal lessons would you take them? Probably not. I don't like singing in front of anyone, and it's not like I wanna get anywhere with my singing, so. Is your mother diabetic? She is. Are you? No. Ever sang someone to sleep? No. Who do you stalk the most through Facebook? Nobody. Have you ever deleted your Facebook, then brought it back? No. What is your main responsibility each day? Be sure to take my medications. Do you feel like you fulfill those responsibilities? Yeah. There are rare mornings where I forget, but I almost always remember. I don't fw skipping out on meds that keep my mental health stable. When was the last time you used spray paint? Good question. Do you know the middle name of the last person you kissed? Yep. Who is the friendliest person you know? My mom, probably. Something that annoys you about summer: THE HEAT. THE HUMIDITY. UGH. Something that annoys you about winter: Hm. That's hard to say, given I love winter. I guess the fact it doesn't snow enough here. Are the doors of your fridge side by side or on top of one another? Side-by-side. If you’ve moved out of the house you were born in, do you know the people who live in that house now? Nope. Have you ever cried in a movie theater? Not sobbed or anything, but I've definitely teared up and gotten the sniffles because of multiple movies. Do you read comic books? No. Do you force your way into conversations in which you are not involved? No. Have you ever seriously pretended to be clinically insane? I didn't need to pretend; I'm pretty damn sure I was for a while. Might I add that it's EXTREMELY inconsiderate to pretend you're insane, btw. Insanity is not "cool." It's not "funny." It's not "edgy." It's a serious, confusing, heart-wrenching issue that can ruin lives. Do you know anyone with a stutter? Yes, myself included when I'm even mildly nervous. And sometimes just randomly. With a lisp? I don't believe so. What was the last board game you played? The Disney version of "Pretty Pretty Princess" w/ my niece and even my nephew, even though his sexist-ass dad didn't want him to. Like let your kid have some fun with his sister and aunt, goddamn. They had a blast. It was Aubree's birthday present from me, so I am SO glad she loved it. Did you win? Ha ha, no, I always let Aubree or Ryder win. I came super close once, but I let the kids bend the rules a bit. They don't like losing, and even though they definitely need to understand that just happens and is totally fine for it to, I wasn't about to be the one to make them sad about it. When was the last time you tried to speak with an accent? OH MY LAAAAAWWWWWWD. Also at Aubree's b-day party, at one point, I spoke in a snobbish British accent while I was winning at the aforementioned game. Ryder asked, "Why are you speaking Spanish?", and I fuckin DIED. Have you ever made up a word before? Yeah, I know at least a few instances for fantasy animals in writing. When was the last time you went to a museum? A couple summers ago when my brother and his son visited, we went to a science museum. My nephew was sooooo into it. Do you have a nice yard? If so, do you spend a lot of time outside in it? If not, where do you go when you want to relax outdoors on nice days? Our front and back yards are both small and honestly very boring. The grass is a pretty green, but that's the only nice thing about it. I don't go to sit outside here on any day. Do your parents enjoy any of the things that you enjoy? Do you bond over these things? My parents and I have very similar music tastes, so there's that. I also didn't know for the longest time that Mom likes to write, which I sure as hell do, too! She doesn't really write anymore though, and she's self-conscious of it anyway, like I am. She and I also love a lot of the same shows. What is the movie that you have waited the longest for/which film do you remember anticipating the most/are still anticipating? I think The Incredibles 2. I aaaalways wanted to know what happened after the end of the first film. Do you have any ideas for a story or movie you’re planning to write or you’d write if you had the time/had the talent? Please share a synopsis! I genuinely think some RP I've written is series-worthy, but I don't feel like re-writing the YEARS of RP into a book format, and I sincerely worry that the ridiculously dark parts could inspire people like serial killers and cause A LOT of controversy, crime-blaming, and just general hate. I don't want to be involved in that. What is something that an interested guy/girl could comment about you, that would make you instantly open to them (e.g., “That book you’re reading is from my favorite author”)? Compliment my Markiplier tattoo, obviously knowing it's a tribute to him, and we're essentially besties. Is there a person in your life (maybe barely) that you feel in constant competition with (even just in your imagination)? Maybe you feel they are consistently outshining you? Ugh... there's a local photographer that's much more successful than I am that I admittedly am very envious of. I swear to whatever god you may believe in that I mean it from a modest perspective, I really, really do, but I genuinely think my skills surpasses hers, and she's only more prevalent because photography REALLY is about who you know. She's talented, yes, but like... come on. If you are single, even if you are normally happily single, are there certain specific things you witness that make you wish you were in a relationship (e.g., people getting engaged)? I mean yeah. I miss cuddling, holding hands, kissing, just being cute together, and especially people getting engaged or having kids. It's such a trigger to me. Once upon a time, that's all I wanted with Jason. I wanted to be that beautiful couple that got married and had two or three loved-beyond-words children, but then he left so abruptly, and I feel like it was so brutally robbed from me. I don't want kids anymore like at all, but the point still stands that I felt like my dreams were just ripped away. Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? I use "Ozzkat" just about everywhere. Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? OHHHHHHHHHH YEAH. There have been a couple days or so where I was totally glued to looking up various tattoo designs, bingeing let's plays or conspiracy theory videos, etc. etc. If you ever think about getting married, what are some aspects of the wedding that you would like to see in a non-traditional manner (e.g., a different color dress or “partners” over “husband” and “wife”)? I WILL NOT get married in a church, first of all. I'm also not having the traditional vows, and I probably won't wear a white dress, but instead black. Salt & vinegar, barbecue, sour cream & onion, or cheddar? Ohhhh, I like all those options but barbecue. I think I've gotta go with sour cream & onion, though. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? A D O R A B L E ! ! ! I think they're ordinarily geeky, but I mean, geeky is cute in my world. :^) Do you believe in demonic possession? How about ghosts? Angels? Angels, no. Spirits/ghosts, 100%. I don't exactly believe in demons, per se, but I do question if evil spirits can possess someone. What is one romantic movie that you enjoy enough to watch more than once? I've seen The Notebook numerous times. Name three countries you want to visit; why those three? South Africa to interact with meerkats at the KMP, somewhere up in Canada to see the Northern Lights, and Germany just because, really. I took German for four semesters, and the culture and all just interests me. Do you have a good luck charm? No, considering I don't believe they do jack. Do you use Skype to talk to your friends? Only Sara. Now that I have Discord semi-figured out now though, we'll probably use that for voice chatting. Are you allergic to any animals? I might be allergic to dogs. Do you usually spend your weekends out, or at home? I'm like... always at home. Do you think it’s wrong for people to say "retard/retarded" as an insult? Absofuckinglutely. Don't pull that shit when I'm around. Have you ever had to go to the police department? No. Have you ever lived through a hurricane? Plenty. Have you ever had a home-grown tomato? Yes, from my old friend's garden. We'd have delicious tomato, mayo, and bacon sandwiches. The only instance where I've enjoyed tomatoes. Have you ever held a real gun? The former friend I mentioned just before, her husband always carried a gun, and he just needed me to hold it for a sec for some reason I don't recall. I hated the feeling. Would you rather wear Converse or Vans? I like both, but I think I prefer Converse. Have you ever been called bipolar? Yes, because I clinically am. Have you ever made fun of a handicapped person? FUCK no. And like the "retarded" thing, don't you fucking DARE to do this in front of me. I WILL deck the shit out of you. Do you think it’s okay to have sex before marriage? Sure, as long as you're being safe and are very thorough in communication. Do you like to watch old sitcoms? I don't really watch TV as I say in like every survey it seems, but I do enjoy some old sitcoms I grew up watching with my mom, like The Nanny, The Golden Girls, The Munsters, etc. If asked, could you run a mile nonstop right now? Being completely serious, I don't even know if I CAN physically run right now. My legs are so incredibly weak, and I'm humiliatingly close to what my heaviest weight was back in 2016, so I can almost guarantee my knees would crumple if I tried. Do you wear those rubber wristbands? I used to. I don't really like bracelets nowadays. If a necklace/ring gives you green marks, do you still wear it? Nope. Have you ever driven an electric car? No. When was the last time you saw someone you went to high school with? Uhhhh idk. What breed was the last dog you saw? A fucking GOLIATH of a lab. I shit you not when I say my sister's roommate's dog Hudson is the size of a goddamn bear. How long have your parents been together (or how long were they together, if they no longer are): I wanna say they were together at the very least 20 years. What has been your most epic cooking failure? I once accidentally put something (I don't remember what) in the microwave for around 45 minutes I believe, and I walked away and completely forgot about it. I remembered a long while later, and safe to say, it wasn't edible, whatever it was, lmao. Have you ever been to Mexico? No. Have you ever had a parrot sit on your shoulder? No, but that'd be cool. Has anyone in your life ever treated you abusively? No. How long has it been since your last breakup? Somewhere around two years ago? My memory is so garbage nowadays. Can you concentrate well while listening to music, or do you find it distracting? It's distracting, usually. What’s something you’ve been struggling with lately? I've been pretty bad about drinking too much soda lately. :/

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''under the graveyard'' by ozzy osbourne

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fic-al · 4 years

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Two Types of Stuffing

Prequel to Christmas 1958

Christmas Day 1957 Nonnatus House

Patrick Turner glanced over his shoulder once again. He looked longingly beyond the dining room door. He knew that staring repeatedly in the direction of the Nonnatus telephone was not going to make it ring, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

He turned back to the table and suddenly felt ashamed. He was positive everyone knew what he was hoping for. Timothy sat to his left, he certainly knew he could see it in the boy's eyes. He had grown up so much, in such a relatively short time. Wise beyond his years. Honed through the illness and eventual loss of his mother. Followed by almost a year of what? Grief, struggle, survival. Patrick tried to shake himself from his melancholy and self-destructive thoughts. He was so proud of Marianne's son, sat in his school tie and blazer.

The boy was animatedly talking to Sister Evangelina. He was glad Sister Julienne had sat Timothy between himself and the bustling nun. She was never short of conversation and had a soft spot for his son, as she also once had for the boy's mother.

Opposite the doctor sat three of the young nurses, he worked with on a daily basis. Nurse Franklin was dressed a little like she was having Christmas dinner at the Ritz, but he thought she carried it off. Nurse Lee a little less flashy, he could see Marianne in something like that. He knew the more diminutive Nurse Miller would also be wearing a new dress. Marianne always insisted a woman needed a new dress for Christmas Day. Apart from last year, last Christmas she asked for a new nightdress.

Absentmindedly, he glanced again in the direction of the still frustratingly silent telephone. What was wrong with him? He had accepted this kind invitation for Timothy's sake. Granny Parker always spent Christmas with Timothy's cousins in Liverpool and he hadn't wanted her to change her plans, there had been too much change. He had to snap out of this wave of self pity.

Please let the next call be a woman in labour, possibly breech or twins. A safe, but long labour, but get me out of here, please! Let no harm come to anyone, just free me from this odious obligation. Timothy is in good, safe hands. No need to feel guilty or selfish, is there?

"Would you care for some more stuffing, Doctor?"

The sudden question directed to him in a warm Scottish lilt shook him out of his malaise.

"No,no thank you Sister, I have ample."

"Mrs B has dared to be a tad adventurous this year and made two types of stuffing. I must say Dr Turner, I prefer the traditional sage and onion myself."

"I wasn't aware Sister until today that there was more than one type of stuffing." He interjected, trying to crack a weak joke. The poor girl, what had she done to be sat next to such a miserable, boring old sod at Christmas.

He looked around the table; The nurses sat together and whispered and chatted. Although Trixie couldn't be accused of whispering at present.

Sister Evangelina sat comfortably next to Timothy, the pair gently trying to heal each other's wounds. Sister Julienne at the head of the table as her seniority allowed, watching over her family, with a careful eye on Sister Monica Joan at the other end. Poor kind hearted, devoted Sister Bernadette had got the fuzzy end of the lollipop, when it came to the seating plan and was stuck next to him.

"More wine Doctor? I must say Constable and Mrs Noakes have been very generous in supplying us with beverages, before they decided to spend Christmas with Constable Noakes' mother."

"Erm, not much more for me Sister, I know Dr Enys is on call. Which is very kind of him, in the circumstances."

They both glance at Timothy. The boy takes a good slurp of his Dandelion and Burdock, another treat from the Noakes'. Sister Bernadette starts to wonder if the Fortescue-Cholmondeley-Browne empire had been built on off-licenses.

Patrick continues, "He is a fine young GP, but I did say I would be available, if you know he gets snowed under, or may need my guidance in a complicated maternity case. I gave him this number and told him not to hesitate to call…" He was interrupted,

"I see, Doctor."

Patrick looked at those piercing blue eyes. Oh yes, even as a very happily married man and devoted husband, he noticed the blue eyes. Even when she was a 22-year-old postulant and he an enthusiastic new father and war veteran, he noticed the blue, blue eyes. They saw right through him at that moment, the blue eyes knew he would rather be tending to a bad case of haemorrhoids than pulling a Christmas cracker, containing a very bad joke, with an increasingly giggly Trixie.

Sister Bernadette glanced behind her once again, looking longingly beyond the dining room door. She knew that staring repeatedly in the direction of the Nonnatus telephone was not going to make it ring, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

It had been Sister Bernadette a few years younger than the others, that had suggested that they took the strain over Christmas and New Year. To serve Him and to have the privilege of delivering a Christmas or New Year baby. Also, young enough and generous enough to realize her secular colleagues would greatly appreciate any time off during the holidays.

At this moment, Sister Bernadette wasn't contemplating such noble thoughts. Basically, she just wanted to get the Hell out of there. Alone in the work environment between the forceps and cursing mothers, she could ask him how Timothy was doing? How was he coping? Here it had to be so polite, so appropriate, she could see he was struggling for breath, for cover, for safety. All she could do in this situation was talk about stuffing.

She needed that phone to ring, this was stifling. Please let the next call be a woman in labour, a very long simple, safe labour, but get me out of here please! Let no harm come to is too anyone, this is too painful and there is so little I can offer in way of comfort.

Relief finally! Just as the plum pudding and brandy sauce was being served, again thanks to Chummy.

Dring, dring, dring! Sister Bernadette and Dr Turner nearly knocked each other over in their urgency to answer the blasted thing. However, while the pair of them were untangling chair legs and actually getting themselves more entwined. Sister Julienne beat them to it.

Patrick took a deep breath. Nothing too bad, too cruel on Christmas Day, but something, maybe a lonely old pensioner, just needs some company.

Sister Bernadette took a deep breath. Nothing too bad, a multiple birth, twins, that would take time and be joyous.

Sister Julienne answered, "Mother Jesu Emanuel, Merry Christmas."

Dr Turner and Sister Bernadette returned to their seats and looked their plum pudding square in the face. Silently and slightly sullenly, the pair focused on their dessert and rather rich sauce. Suddenly they both dropped their spoons in response to a rather loud noise.

No, this wasn't the telephone, but rather a call of a different nature. With its very own calling card, a rather pungent odour. Someone was suffering from a bout of flatulence.

Dr Turner immediately swivelled in his chair and glared at his son. Timothy, who was obviously well aware of why his father was glaring at him, was shaking his head furiously and mouthing, "Not Me," at his dad.

Dr Turner flicked his eyes from his wide-eyed son to the rest of the dining party. They incredibly continued chatting as normal and quite loudly, especially Trixie. He didn't mind; it was nice to see the young nurse enjoying herself and letting her hair down. She was a grafter; she deserved it. But the smell! Well, they were nurses after all, probably immune.

He was just about to admonish Timothy again when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

What was she going to say?

Not only had she had to endure Christmas dinner with the dullest man on Earth. Unfortunately, they sat only inches apart. She must have just had the same experience as him. His mind was racing. Now what must she think?

He turned his head slowly in response to the sleeve tug. The first thing he noticed was the pale almost opaque skin of Sister Bernadette was pink, very pink indeed. She had a rosy glow across her cheeks. Her eyes, those blue eyes, were throwing off a light show only he could see. When he was able to tear his eyes away from those northern lights, he noticed she was biting her bottom lip and seemed to be shivering.

Suddenly she was able to release her bottom lip for a moment and mouth to him, "Not Timothy." She cast a glance down the table past Timothy. Patrick's eyes followed and so did his son's and the colour returned to Tim's cheeks. Relieved he was off the hook and also because he wouldn't have to be the one to drop his dining companion in it.

Patrick now aware that he and his family had not disgraced themselves, looked back at Sister Bernadette. Who now seemed to be steadying herself, with her left hand firmly attached to the seat of her chair. Still pink, still quivering. She was in hysterics, silent, hidden hysterics. Trying for the life of her to not show it. He could only be about nine inches away from her. For the first time since Patrick Turner had walked through those convent doors that morning, a genuine ghost of a smile crossed his face.

He looked at her, really looked at her, maybe for the first time. She was pretty. Well yes, he knew that, but at this moment, she was simply radiant. She was sat only a few inches away shuddering with joy, trying to suppress an almighty laugh. In almost ten years of working with her, she had always been so proper, always been so professional, always been so self controlled. Right now, Sister Bernadette's control was slipping.

This was much more enticing than two types of stuffing. He was that close. He didn't sit him there-that was Sister Julienne's doing-he didn't even want to be there. Did he?

"You know if you hold on to that chair much harder, you are going to break it."

He was close enough, just for only her to hear the soft whisper in her ear. The rose pink turned to scarlet, not just across her cheeks but also down her neck, her shivering turned to a gentle rocking. He knew he should stop, of course he knew….

"If you bite that lip any harder, you might need me to take a look at that."

He didn't quite get the reaction he was looking for. Her head turned to face him, chin-up, and she stared straight into his eyes, blue into green.

"Best behaviour please, Doctor." She managed to squeak through gritted teeth.

It was at that point Sister Evangelina's battle with the sprouts came to its climax. Dr Turner and Sister Bernadette were somehow in suspended animation. The game had suddenly changed, they both knew the one to take their eyes away from the other would be the first one to break into fits of laughter.

Sister Bernadette found herself grasping the chair even harder, and Dr Turner found he was doing the same thing. Meanwhile, Timothy was making the adults to his right, look like primary school children. Hardly batting an eye or losing track in his conversation with his table mate. While she remained as unnerved as ever.

Suddenly, the stalemate was broken. Trixie trying to relate a story to a less than attentive Jenny, resorted in wild hand gestures and in doing so knocked over her wineglass. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you looked at it, it was only half full.

For the first time the table hushed and focused on one person, well almost everyone that is. Dr Turner and Sister Bernadette eyes flicked to Trixie and then back at each other. Not wanting the now mortally embarrassed nurse, to think they were laughing at her, they hung on to their self control.

The tables focus soon moved to another when Sister Monica Joan suddenly exclaimed out of nowhere. "Not only have I been subjected to a stench that would only be outdone by Vesuvius in eruption. Now, that inebriated young woman has just shed her wine all over the mince pies!"

The awkward silence that followed was broken by a sudden loud girlish giggle, that had lost any hope of censure and a deep masculine laugh, that had been begging for air, for too long. An eyebrow or two were raised in the direction of the ridiculous hilarity, but it was fleeting. The release of the built up tension in the pair seemed to influence everyone. Permission had been given for everyone to forgive, relax, smile and carry on and to clear up the mess.

Timothy took on the responsibility of rescuing the mince pies. Relieved that a reason to be excused from the table had finally presented itself. What no-one else saw was that on Sister Monica Joan's outburst, Sister Bernadette's resistance finally broke. She lost all control and could no longer contain the mirth mounting up within herself. Feeling unnerved and unbalanced, she felt unstable in her chair and grabbed the nearest thing available to steady herself. It wasn't until she required her left hand to help her remove her glasses and dry her tear stained eyes. That she became aware that what she was using to steady herself was in fact the doctor's leg. Just above the knee.

The one thing she was never able to comprehend, not then, not later that same night, not even in the sanatorium, was why before removing her hand from the doctor's leg? Did she first look left, to see if Timothy had noticed and then look right, to see if Sister Julienne had noticed. It was only when she was finally certain that neither had noticed, did she then and only then, remove her hand from its inappropriate mooring.

As people stood to clear the table, the was one person Sister Bernadette was definitely not going to look at. Even though she knew he was looking at her. Sister Bernadette had been searching all night for something to quell her school girl giggles, and now she had found it. Grabbing the doctor's knee in the possible full view of his son and her superior certainly did the trick. She had found her cure.

Sister Bernadette's back stiffened, her demeanour changed. She rose steadily from her chair. "Excuse me, Dr Turner," she said without a hint of a smile, eyes completely focused on his shoulder.

"Of course," he replied with just a hint of amusement, which she chose to ignore. She knew he was watching her walk through to the kitchen, but she wouldn't look back, she would never catch herself looking back for him. She remembered this silent promise, ten months later on a misty road in the Essex countryside.

#call the midwife #turnadette #christmas 1957 turnadette

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ofsinnersandsaints · 5 years

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safer in your arms

rating: E word count: 3171 one shot

AO3

Karen's apartment is getting painted, and since she was given absolutely no notice, she needs a place to stay for the night- which is how Frank ends up waking from a nightmare in the middle of the night with Karen in his bed and going on instinct he reaches for her.

Frank was staring at a can of soup, trying to come up with the interest to make it when he heard the knock at his door. Exactly five people knew where he lived and four of those people he wouldn’t mind dropping by on a quiet Tuesday night.

The fifth he was just as likely to hit as offer him a beer.

Moving to the door he checked the peephole and quickly opened it. “Karen? Everything okay?”

Her smile was a little wry. “Yeah, everything’s good. Weirdly, I haven’t come to you because of a deadly government conspiracy and no one has shot at me recently.”

Frank braced a hand on the open doorway. “It’s still early in the week. Want to come in?”

“That’s exactly what I’m here for.” Frank furrowed his brow but opened the door wider to let her inside. His place was sparse but it wasn’t the first time she’d been by, so she knew what to expect. “I need a place to stay.”

He shut the door, and watched her drop her bag on the only armchair in the room before turning to face him. “My place is being painted.”

“They didn’t give you any kind of heads up?”

“No,” she smiled and dropped onto his couch and he realized she was basically dressed for an evening in, leggings and a loose tank top. She looked warm and soft and a little too welcoming for his sanity. “Apparently when your tenant is an investigative journalist you don’t give them a heads up about possible lead paint and risk them writing an expose on you.”

Frank laughed and settled next to her on the couch. “And that leaves you without a place to stay tonight.”

“I tried hotels before barging in on you,” she promised. “But the only places with any kind of availability are more than I can afford.”

“I don’t mind the company.” She looked genuinely shocked which almost made him laugh again. “Despite my reputation as a lone gunmen, I’ve spent most of my adult life surrounded people.”

She curled up on his couch like she belonged there, her arm on the back of it so she could rest her temple against her hand. “I never thought about it like that.”

“I was an only kid growing up, but I had a pack of friends and we were always in each other’s space and then the army. Shit, there wasn’t a day that went by I had more than ten minutes to myself.”

“And then you got married,” she added with a small smile.

Frank returned it because he knew how careful she was about bringing up his ghosts, but he was getting better about it. “Then I got married, so even when I wasn’t deployed with a hundred other guys bunked in a single tent I had her, and our first apartment was about as shitty as this one is. We were constantly bumping into each other.”

“Did you fight a lot?”

“We drove each other crazy those first few months,” he admitted. “But we figured it out. We made good.”

“And now you’re back in a shitty apartment,” she teased and he smiled at her, shaking his head because he didn’t have a defense against that. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“I think I’ve got a can of chicken soup.”

“That’s just sad, Frank.” She moved to her knees and braced herself on his shoulder so she could reach her bag on the chair. “I’m ordering pizza, my treat since you’re letting me crash on the couch.”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Karen. You can take the bed.”

“Chivalry’s not dead,” she smirked, putting the phone to her ear. She ordered a pizza, loaded with everything but onions and anchovies, and then tossed her phone on the coffee table. “But seriously, I’m not taking your bed. You’re eleven feet tall, you wouldn’t get a minute of sleep.”

“I’ve slept in worst places.”

“Just because you have, doesn’t mean you should,” she argued, then tilted her head. “Can you share?”

“On occasion.”

“I sleep on the left side, that’s not up for negotiation.”

He felt like someone had tasered him, he was suddenly frozen and stupid. “You want to share the bed?”

“Sounds like the easiest solution,” she shrugged and got off the couch to take the three steps required to be in the kitchen. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“By all means,” he gestured towards the fridge. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, I will. Do you want a beer?”

“You’re offering me one of my own beers?” he clarified. “Sure, why not?”

She grabbed two bottles and returned to the couch, legs crossed as she faced him. “I’m glad you were home, I would have hated to break into the Punisher’s apartment.”

“This isn’t the Punisher’s home,” he reminded her. The intercom downstairs was for Pete Castiglione, a construction worker who was gone for long stretches at a time. It was an easy cover, and on occasion he actually did work legit jobs.

The last job he’d worked on, one of his coworkers had suggested a blind date but Frank had turned it down, not in small part because of the woman sitting next to him.

“And still, it’s the safest place in New York.”

That warmed him, that she figured him as somewhere safe, especially considering how much danger he’d put her in over the years. “That’s mostly because there’s nothing here worth stealing.”

“That’s not true,” she argued. “I brought my laptop so there’s that.”

“Do you need to work?”

“If you weren’t home I was going to sleep at the paper,” she explained with a shrug. “There’s a couch where I can get a few minutes of shut eye.”

He caught the evasion, barely there, but something he noticed it because of how her eyes avoided his. Frank remembered the diner, when she’d confessed that she’d gone with him because he’d never lied to her. He liked to believe that she’d never lied to him either.

Reaching over he picked up her bag and pulled out her computer so he could hand it to her. “Here.”

She looked guilty but reluctantly took it. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah, go for it. I get that you’ve got shit to do.”

“Thanks.” Karen opened the laptop and set in on the coffee table, shifting so she could lean forward and log in. “Do you want to know what it’s about?”

“Sure, since there’s a fifty/fifty chance I’ll have to save you from something regarding it might be good for me to be in the know.”

She spent the next half hour describing her investigation and he happily joined her in the conversation, mostly listening, but butting in now and again with questions of his own and the only time the conversation stopped was when the food came and they switched to the television as they shared slices of pizza.

“I’m going to crash,” she announced sometime around midnight. “Don’t feel like you have to go bed just because I am.”

“Okay,” he said as she got up and headed to the bedroom which was just on the other side of an open archway. He waited another fifteen minutes for the movie to end before following, stepping into the bathroom to ditch his street clothes for shorts and a t-shirt.

When he climbed into bed Karen was already breathing softly on the other side.

It had been a long time since he’d gone to bed with someone else, even longer since he’d fallen asleep next to someone and it was a strange feeling.

Not unwelcome, just different.

Turning on to his stomach he closed his eyes and with the warmth of Karen beside him, quickly fell to sleep.

He woke with a start, the room dark except for a flash of pale skin as cool hands touched his face in slow, soothing motions. ��I’m here, Frank. I’m here.”

Karen, he realized, blindly reaching for her in the heavily shadowed darkness.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Shit, he must have said her name out loud.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice quiet but concerned, and close enough he could feel her breath on his cheek. “I think you were having a nightmare, you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Nightmare,” he managed to get out, but even to himself it sounded more like a question. He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming out. Frank’s hand found her shoulder and he ran his palms down her arm. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” she promised and her fingers ran up and down the back of his neck as if trying to soothe something untamed and scared. “Do you need anything?”

Frank thought of the adrenaline still coursing through his veins from some unknown terror, of the erratic beat of his heart which was slowing with every caress of Karen’s touch.

“You,” he heard himself saying as his hands moved to her hips and clenched tightly, the jersey fabric wrinkling in his hands. “I need you.”

“You have me,” she promised, but he didn’t think she understood.

Frank ran his hands over her body, the pads of his fingers pressing into her spine. “I need you, Karen.”

She stilled in his hands and he expected her to pull away, or evade the suggestion, but after the span of a few heartbeats he could feel her lean forward, and in the dark her mouth found his.

He knew he shouldn’t think of her as salvation, that wasn’t healthy for either of them, but after the turmoil of whatever demons had been chasing him in his sleep she was like a drink of cool water, of moonlight pushing through the storm clouds.

Frank sipped on her lips, pushing the hem of her shirt up until she reached down and took it off. She wrapped her arms around his neck, moved to straddle him in the dark as his hand slid up to cover her breast.

The panic in his veins turned into something else as they kissed; Karen was slow and deliberate as if she could calm him down by touch and gesture alone, so even while he wanted to take and ravage she soothed and comforted.

It had been too long since he’d had someone to hold onto in the middle of the night.

She ran her hands down his back and pressed herself closer, the center of her pressing against his growing erection.

He wished he could see her better, but there was something intimate about touching and tasting her without being able to see her because he knew what she looked liked. He ran his hand through her hair, his thumb brushing the skin above her temple where he knew she had a small scar from the hotel.

Frank pressed his lips to the beauty marks on her neck, one on each side.

When had he memorized her so completely?

He pressed his hands to her lower back, holding her steady, so he could shift on the bed and lay Karen on her back. “I shouldn’t need you like I do,” he murmured against her skin as he kissed down her sternum, over the bit of lace that wasn’t quite a bra, and down her stomach. “But goddamn, I can’t stop myself.”

“You have me,” she promised, her fingers threading through his hair. “I’m here.”

With a tug he pulled down her leggings and underwear, leaving them on the floor as he kissed his way back up her legs, along the inside of her thighs. She stiffened beneath him which gave him pause. “I can stop.”

“No,” she whispered, he could feel as well as hear the shift of her body on the sheets. “I’m just pretty sure I’m dreaming.”

Frank kept his touch soft on her legs as he traced the length of her legs. “Is this what I do to you in your dreams, Karen?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. “But usually I can see you.”

“Next time,” he promised without even thinking about the words. If they kept the lights off, the world stayed somewhere else.

The darkness had always been theirs.

He used his tongue to spread those lips he hadn’t yet kissed, to find the hard bud already damp with arousal. With his lips and teeth, along with his tongue, he tasted and teased her in an ever quickening rhythm, taking her comfort and mixing it with his desperation.

Karen’s thighs tightened against his temples and he had to reach up to grasp her legs and hold her down and away. As much he wouldn’t mind dying in the heat of her, he wanted to hear her come first.

“Frank,” she whimpered, her body starting to clench beneath him. “Frank, I’m so close.”

“What do you need?”

“More.”

He shifted onto his hands, towering above her even though he could barely make her out in the shadows. Frank spit into his right hand and wrapped it around his erection, pumping himself a few times before guiding the head of his cock into her.

It was a slow slide as she shifted beneath him in an effort take more of him inside her.

Frank gripped the sheets on either side of Karen’s head, trying to control himself because he’d love nothing more than to take her quick and hard, a purging of sorts, but he wanted better for them both.

He dropped to one of his elbows, the other hand moved the bralette aside and cupped her breast and brought it to his mouth so he could lave her with his tongue, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked on her. All the while he was moving against her, with her, a slow in and out of slick friction.

Karen reached between them as he pleasured himself on her skin, he could feel her hand brushing against his erection whenever he pulled out and Frank shifted on the bed so he could watch the pale hand between them. Her fingers were busy on her clit, trying to get to the place they were both reaching for.

“What do you need?”

“Faster,” she answered as she put her free hand on the breast he’d been paying so much attention to, and Frank was entranced at the image of Karen taking what she wanted.

Frank obeyed the direction and braced himself on his elbows, picking up speed as he drove into her, realizing belatedly that he hadn’t put on a condom.

He realized he’d have to pull out, and he didn’t relish the idea of leaving the tight, wet heat of Karen’s cunt, and he wasn’t going to last much longer. But he couldn’t come before Karen, so he put one arm around her back and lifted her hips off the bed, changing the angle of his slid into her.

The strangled sound which came out of her mouth told him everything he needed to know, and even if it didn’t, Karen was more than happy to tell him. “God, yes. Right there, Frank. Right there.”

So he fucked her, the rapid speed echoed in the room with the sound of their flesh meeting.

“Yes,” Karen started saying, repeating the word as she reached out to hold onto his arm like an anchor. “Shit, Frank.”

And then she shattered beneath him, and Frank had half a second to pull out before coming himself, spending all over the sheets.

“Christ,” unable to hold himself up anymore he rested his weight on Karen. “I’m going to move in a minute.”

She chuckled beneath him, her hands running up and down his back. “You have thirty seconds before I won’t be able to breathe anymore.”

“Copy that,” Frank muttered, and then rolled off of her. “Fuck, what a way to wake up.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” Karen told him as rolled over so she could look at him. “I couldn’t wake you up.”

“Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s been a while since I’ve needed to worry about someone in bed with me when I have a nightmare. I’m going to get some clean sheets, feel free to use the shower if you need to clean up.”

“Thanks for that,” she said, her hand finding his. “You didn’t have to pull out.”

He shrugged because it seemed like basic decency to him. “I figured you were probably on something, but it felt rude to assume.”

“I am, on something I mean.” Karen sat up on the bed and now he wished for some light so he could see her a little better. “Was this a one-time thing, Frank? Take the comfort offered?”

Frank put his fingers around her arm and drew her forward so he could kiss her, tried to keep it soft and warm even though he was rarely either of those things. He’d try to be that, and so much more for her. “You have never been a one-time thing for me, Karen. And thank you.”

She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about, “I’m glad I could be here for you. I hate the idea of you having to go through this alone.”

“It doesn’t happen as often as it used to,” Frank admitted. “But I’m glad you were here, too.”

Karen framed his face and kissed him. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

Frank nodded and while she used the restroom he pulled off the now dirty sheets, thought about the fact if Karen was going to be there on the regular he should invest in something better. “I’m impressed you have spare sheets,” Karen said from the doorway.

She was still naked except for the bralette, and now that the lights were on he could see every bit of perfection.

“Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”

Her blush nearly covered her entire body even as she bent down to pick up her clothes and started redressing. “Thank you.”

“You’re not leaving are you?”

She laughed and finished pulling on her leggings, balling up her underwear and putting in her overnight bag. “No, I’ve just had enough bad shit happen to me I don’t like going to bed in clothes I can’t be interviewed by the police in. I don’t want to be jumped naked and unarmed.”

“Smart.” He’d pulled on his shorts and climbed into bed, Karen slipping under the sheets. “What time do have to be at work tomorrow?”

“I kind of come and go as I please, I don’t have a set schedule to be at the office. Why?”

Frank debated with himself before reaching over and pulling Karen against him, and he could feel her smile on his bare shoulder. “I was thinking we could get breakfast. I know this really great diner that recently remodeled after being shot up.”

Karen laughed, a bright, happy sound. “Maybe not there. The poor waitress would probably quit on sight.”

“Fair point. We’ll figure something out.”

She snuggled against him, her arm draped across his stomach. “We always do.”

#kastle #kastleff #ksw:#ksw: tantalizing tuesday #kastlesmutweek #kastlenetwork

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weshallc · 6 years

Text

Nonnatun Card Exchange (FF3).

This story was written for Gillian, hope you don’t mind me sharing. This is also dedicated to @eatapinkwafer because it’s her favourite.

Christmas 1957- Nonnatus House

Patrick Turner glanced over his shoulder once again. He looked longingly beyond the dining room door. He knew that staring repeatedly in the direction of the Nonnatus telephone, was not going to make it ring, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

He turned back to the table and suddenly felt ashamed. He was positive everyone knew what he was hoping for. Timothy sat to his left, he certainly knew, he could see it in the boy’s eyes. He had grown up so much, in such a relativly short time. Wise beyond his years. Honed through the illness and eventual loss of his mother. Followed by almost a year of what-grief, struggle, survival?

Patrick tried to shake himself from his melancholy and self destructive thoughts. He was so proud of Marianne’s son, sat in his best tie and blazer. He was animatedly talking to Sister Evangelina. He was glad Sister Julienne had sat Timothy between himself and the bustling nun. She was never short of conversation and had a soft spot for his son, as she also once had for the boy’s mother.

Opposite the doctor sat three of the young nurses,he worked with on a daily basis. Nurse Franklin was dressed a little bit like she was having Christmas dinner at the Ritz, but he though she carried it off well.Nurse Lee a little less flashy, he could see Marianne in something like that. He knew the more diminutive Nurse Miller would also be wearing a new dress. Marianne always insisted a woman needed a new dress for Christmas Day-apart from last year-last Christmas she asked for a new nightdress.

Absentmindedly he glanced again in the direction of the still frustratingly silent telephone. What was wrong with him? He had accepted this kind invitation for Timothy’s sake. Granny Parker always spent Christmas with Timothy’s cousins in Liverpool and he hadn’t wanted her to change her plans, there had been too much change. He had to snap out of this wave of self pity. Stop wishing for some tragedy at the worst, slight irritation at best. To befall on some innocent Poplar family, just to free him from this odious obligation. Leaving Tim in good, safe hands and him almost guilt free,perhaps?

“Would you care for some more stuffing, Doctor?” The sudden question directed to him in a warm Scottish lilt, shook him out of his malaise.

“No,no thank you Sister, I have ample.”

“Mrs B has dared to be a tad adventurous this year and made 2 types of stuffing. I must say Dr Turner, I prefer the traditional sage and onion.”

“ I wasn’t aware Sister, until today that there was more than one type of stuffing.” He interjected, trying to crack a weak joke.

The poor girl, what had she done to be sat next to such a miserable, boring old sod at Christmas. Patrick chastised himself internally.

He looked around the table, the nurses sat together and whispered and chatted. Although Trixie couldn’t be accused of whispering at present. Sister Evangelina sat next to Timothy,the pair gently triying to heal each other’s wounds. Sister Julienne at the head of the table as her position allowed, watching over her family, with a careful eye on Sister Monica Joan at the other end. Poor kind hearted, devoted Sister Bernadette had got the fuzzy end of the lollipop, when it came to the seating plan and was stuck next to him.

“More wine Dr, I must say PC and Mrs Noakes have been very generous in supplying us with drinks, before they decided to spend Christmas with Constable Noakes’s mother.”

“Erm, not much more for me Sister, I know Dr Enys is on call. Which is very kind of him, in the circumstances.” They both glance at Timothy.

The boy takes a good slurp of his Dandelion and Burdock, another treat from the Noakes’s. Sister Bernadette started to wonder if the Fortescue-Cholmondeley-Browne empire had been built on off-licenses

Patrick continues.” He is a fine young GP, but I did say I would be available, if you know…he gets snowed under, or may need my guidance in a complicated maternity case.I gave him this number and told him not to hesitate to call…”

He was interrupted, “I see, Dr.”

Patrick looked at those piercing blue eyes. Oh yes, even as a very happily married man and devoted husband, he noticed the blue eyes. Even when she was a 22 year old postulate and he an enthusiastic new father and war veteran,he noticed the blue eyes.Those blue eyes saw right through him at that moment.Those blue eyes knew he would rather be tending to a bad case of haemorrhoids than pulling a Christmas cracker, containing a very bad joke, with an increasingly giggly Trixie.

Sister Bernadette glanced behind her once again, looking longingly beyond the dining room door. She knew that staring repeatedly in the direction of the Nonnatus telephone, was not going to make it ring, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

The Nonnatuns took turns on Christmas Day to be on call. Sister Julienne always attended the first call. Sister Evangelina the next, Sister Bernadette followed and quite often that order would repeat itself throughout the day. The Sisters understood that Christmas may have a different interpretation for their young colleagues and they would want to mark it in a different way. It had been Sister Bernadette a few years younger than the others, that had suggested that they took the strain over Christmas and New Year. To serve Him and to have the privilege of delivering a Christmas or New Year baby. Also young enough and generous enough to realize her secular colleagues would greatly appreciate any time off during the holidays.

At this moment Sister Bernadette wasn’t contemplating such noble thoughts. Basically she just wanted to get the Hell out of there. Alone in the work environment between the forceps and cursing mothers, she could ask him how Timothy was doing? How he was coping? Here it had to be so polite, so appropriate, she could see he was struggling for breath, for cover, for safety.

All she could do in this situation was talk about stuffing. She needed that phone to ring, this was stifling.

Please let the next call be a woman in labour, a very long simple, safe labour, but long.Get me out of here please! Let no harm come to another.This is too painful and there is so little I can offer in way comfort.

Relief finally! Just as the plum pudding and brandy sauce was being served-again thanks to Chummy.

Dring,dring,dring! Sister Bernadette and Dr Turner nearly knocked each other over in their urgency to answer the blasted thing. However while the pair of them were untangling chair legs and actually getting themselves more entwined. Sister Julienne beat them to it.

Patrick took a deep breathe. Nothing too bad, too cruel on Christmas Day,but something, maybe a lonely old pensioner, just needs some company.

Sister Bernadette took a deep breath. Nothing too bad, a multiple birth, twins, that would take time and be joyous.

Sister Julienne answered, “ Mother Jesu Emanuel, Merry Christmas.”

Dr Turner and Sister Bernadette returned to their seats and looked their plum pudding square in the face. Silently and slightly sullenly the pair focused on their desert and rather rich sauce.

Suddenly they both dropped their spoons, in response to a rather loud noise. No this wasn’t the telephone, but rather a call of a different nature. With its very own calling card, a rather pungent odour. Someone was suffering from a bout of flatulence.

Dr Turner immediately swivelled in his chair and glared at his son. Timothy who was obviously well aware of why his father was glaring at him, was shaking his head furiously and mouthing,“Not Me,” at his Dad.

Dr Turner flicked his eyes from his wide eyed son to the rest of the dining party. They incredibly continued chatting as normal and quite loudly, especially Trixie. He didn’t mind,It was nice to see the young nurse enjoying herself and letting her hair down, she was a grafter, she deserved it.

But the smell! Well they were nurses after all, probably immune.

He was just about to admonish Timothy again, when he felt a tug on his sleeve. What was she going to say? Not only had she had to endure Christmas dinner with the dullest man on Earth, unfortunately they sat only inches apart. She must have just had the same experience as him. His mind was racing, now what must she think?

He turned his head slowly in response to the sleeve tug. The first thing he noticed, was the pale almost opaque skin of Sister Bernadette was pink, very pink indeed. She had a rosy glow across her cheeks. Her eyes, those blue eyes, were throwing off a light show only he could see. When he was able to tear his eyes away from those northern lights, he noticed she was biting her bottom lip and seemed to be shivering. Suddenly she was able to release her bottom lip for a moment and mouth to him, “ Not Timothy.”

She cast a glance down the table past Timothy. Patrick’s eyes followed and so did his son’s and the colour returned to Tim’s cheeks. Relieved he was off the hook and also because, he wouldn’t have to be the one to drop his table companion in it.

She was in hysterics, silent, hidden hysterics. Trying for the life of her to not show it.

He could only be about 9 inches away from her. For the first time since Patrick Turner had walked through those convent doors that morning, a genuine ghost of a smile crossed his face. He looked at her, really looked at her, maybe for the first time. She was pretty. Well yes, he knew that, but at this moment,she was simply radiant.

She was sat only a few inches away shuddering with joy, trying to suppress an almighty laugh. In almost ten years of working with her, she had always been so proper, always been so professional, always been so self controlled. Right now Sister Bernadette’s control was slipping.

This was much more enticing than 2 types of stuffing.She was that close. He didn’t sit him there-that was Sister Julienne’s doing-he didn’t even want to be there. Did he?

“ You know if you hold onto that chair much harder, you are going to break it.” He was close enough,just for only her to hear the soft whisper in her ear.

The rose pink turned to scarlet, not just across her cheeks but also down her neck.The shivering turned to a gentle rocking. He knew he should stop, of course he knew….

“If you bite that lip any harder, you might need me to take a look at that.” He didn’t quite get the reaction he was looking for. Her head turned to face him, chin-up and she stared straight into his eyes-blue into green.

“Best behaviour please, Doctor.” She managed to squeak through gritted teeth. It was at that point Sister Evangelina’s battle with the sprouts came to its climax.

Dr Turner and Sister Bernadette were somehow in suspended animation. The game had suddenly changed, they both knew the one to take their eyes away from the other, would be the first one to break into fits of laughter.

Sister Bernadette found herself grasping the chair harder and Dr Turner found he was doing the same thing. Meanwhile Timothy was making the adults to his right, look like primary school children. Hardly batting an eye or losing track in his conversation with his table mate. While she remained as unnerved as ever.

Suddenly the stalemate was broken. Trixie trying to relate a story to a less than attentive Jenny, resorted in wild hand gestures and in doing so knocked over her wine glass. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you looked at it, it was only half full.

The tables focus soon moved to another, when Sister Monica Joan,suddenly exclaimed out of nowhere.

“Not only have I been subjected to a stench that would only be outdone by Vesuvius in eruption. Now, that inebriated young woman has just shed her wine all over the mince pies!”

The awkward silence that followed was broken by a sudden loud girlish giggle, that had lost any hope of censure and a deep masculine laugh, that had been begging for air,for too long.

An eyebrow or two were raised in the direction of the ridiculous hilarity, but it was fleeting. The release of the built up tension in the pair seemed to influence everyone. Permission had been given for everyone to forgive, relax, smile and carry on and to clear up the mess. Timothy took on the responsibility of rescuing the mince pies. Relieved that a reason to be excused from the table, had finally presented itself.

What no-one else did see, was that on Sister Monica Joan’s outburst, Sister Bernadette’s resistance finally broke. She lost all control and could no longer contain the mirth mounting up within herself. Feeling unnerved and unbalanced, she felt unstable in her chair and grabbed the nearest thing available to steady herself. It wasn’t until she required her left hand to help her remove her glasses and dry her tear stained eyes. That she became aware, that what she was using to steady herself, was in fact the doctor’s leg. Just above the knee.

The one thing she was never able to comprehend, not then, not later that same night, not even in the sanatorium was…Why before removing her hand from the doctor’s leg? Did she first look left, to see if Timothy had noticed and then look right, to see if Sister Julienne had noticed. It was only when, she was finally certain that neither had noticed, did she then and only then, remove her hand from its inappropriate mooring.

As people stood to clear the table.There was one person Sister Bernadette was definitely not going to look at. Even though she knew he was looking at her. Sister Bernadette had been secarching all night for something to quell her school girl giggles and now she had found it. Grabbing the doctor’s knee in the possible full view of his son and her superior certainly did the trick. She had found her cure. Sister Bernadette’s back stiffened, her demeanour changed. She rose steadily from her chair.

“Excuse me, Dr Turner,” she said without a hint of a smile, eyes completely focused on his shoulder.

“Of course,“ he replied with just a hint of amusement, which she chose to ignore.

She knew he was watching her walk through to the kitchen, but she wouldn’t look back.She would never catch herself looking back for him.

She remembered this silent promise,10 months later on a misty road in the Essex countryside.

#CtM #Turnadette #fanfic #christmas 1957

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spicyskilletsauce-blog · 6 years

Text

Simmer, Chapter 3

Note: this story includes depictions of contestants on the reality TV show Top Chef. This story is not intended to depict any real-life actions or sexuality of the people portrayed.

M/M Explicit sexual content.

3. The Porch

It was never fun to watch someone leave the Top Chef house. Padma’s “Pack your knives and go” indictment was kind of fun if you were watching at home, but when you’re standing there, Judges’ Table just a few feet in front of you, facing the four or five people who had your fate in their hands … well, the reality of it crashes in pretty quickly. Even if you’re safe beyond any doubt, you still have to watch them send someone else home, you still have to see someone you’ve become friends with get ceremoniously ejected. And hell, it happened twice this week. At least Rogelio had had the dignity of leaving in the normal manner; Laura had been sent home in a Quickfire Elmination, which seemed just … what? Ignominious.

The worst of it was that you didn’t feel all bad when someone left. The worst of it was that a part of you – sometimes a big part – cheered, and did it loudly. If someone else is going home, you’re not. You stay to compete another day.

Joe Flamm let these thoughts swirl in his head as the rest of them cheered and drank and stared out the window at the endless Colorado vistas. Once or twice, he’d caught Joe Sasto’s eyes, and they’d lingered for a moment before moving off. They hadn’t talked about it today. Hell, they hadn’t had time. The Food Truck Challenge had been harder than anyone had anticipated, with more mental and physical energy going into it that he’d prepared for. He’d been matched up with Tanya and Carrie – not only a dream team in and of themselves, but also … well, fuck it. He’d been worried about pairing up with Joe. Not because he hated him or that it would be impossible to cook with him, but just because he hadn’t sorted anything out in his mind, and anything that was going to cause a distraction was something he didn’t need right now. Still, the three of them had opted to call their truck Down the Chin, cheekily explaining to anyone who would listen that of course they meant it to describe the messy food they were serving. Nothing else, wink-wink. But every once in a little while, Flamm would glance at the serving board and see that name and flash right back to Joe Sasto looking up at him after what had happened the night before.

No one here is psychic, Joe, his brain thundered at him. Call it what it was: a blowjob. Mustache Joe gave you a blowjob last night, and when he was finished, your cum was on his chin. And in his mouth.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Without saying another word, he stood up from the table and headed toward the back door. He needed air. A little breathing room.

Outside, the night had come down in a way he’d only experienced here. It wasn’t that the Top Chef house was completely free of light pollution – they were in Denver, deep in the mountains – but everything here seemed grander, wider, more open. In the distance, he could see the jagged tops of the Rockies reach out and touch the sky, a glittering violet blanket of stars and planets so vast he could only feel dwarfed by it all.

The door behind him opened and closed with a soft squeal. As he knew it would. As he hoped it would. “Joe,” he murmured.

“Joe,” the voice echoed back, and Flamm grinned, turning around and settling back against the railing. Sasto stood before him in a loose tank top and shorts, all that body hair still on display even though he was completely decent. Decent. What a word.

“Congratulations are in order,” Flamm said, grinning. It was true. In their third week there, Sasto had won the Elimination Challenge, for these out of control chicken wings that were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside and so good it was enough to make you lose your religion. Not that Flamm was slouching it: his soup with the grilled-cheese croutons had been enough for Gail to thank him for a hot dish on a sizzling day. A good day for the Joes, all in all.

“Thanks,” Sasto said. “I’m pretty relieved, actually. I was starting to get these thoughts that I would never win a challenge.”

“We’re on the third week, Joe.”

“Still. You know what I mean.”

Flamm grinned. “You’re so competitive. It’s good. It’s exciting to watch. Just don’t make it everything.”

“It is everything, isn’t it? I mean, that’s why we’re here.”

For a few moments, Flamm didn’t speak. It was easy to do with the mountains out there, and the moon hanging high like a benevolent ghost in the night, casting spells of light onto the world below. At last, Flamm glanced around. No one was following them, not even the camera crew. “So, do we talk about this?”

He met Sasto’s eyes and begged him quietly not to say, “Talk about what?” He didn’t know how to feel about the night before but he didn’t want to dismiss it, and he didn’t want to exactly forget about it. But even through all of the cooking and competition today, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. He needed to know why.

Sasto took a step forward, seeming to mull over his words. “Do we have to talk about it? It was something that happened.”

Flamm furrowed his brow and peered deep into Sasto’s dark eyes. The Italian set of his face, scruffy after the day they’d put in, even though he’d shaved that morning. And that mustache that should have been ridiculous, curling up at both sides like he was a strongman in a circus. It caught everyone’s eye, of course, but now his own eye lingered on it. It had brushed against his belly last night. Over and over, and then … then fucking holding Sasto’s head down as he came. What was that about? He’d never done that to a woman.

“It was more than that,” he said. “At least to me.”

Sasto did his own look around. “Well, what do you want it to be?”

“I don’t know. I thought I’d wake up this morning more freaked out than I am. But instead, I’m just thinking about it. I don’t think in a bad way, either. I don’t know. This is all new to me.”

Leaning against the railing, Sasto said, “It’s not exactly new to me. I mean, I’m straight, but … I don’t know, sometimes you just need to get off.”

A bunch of histrionic phrases passed through Flamm’s mind: is that all I am, a way to get off? and so I meant literally nothing? But he wasn’t even sure if he meant any of that stuff. He was just trying to get a handle on what he did mean.

“Yeah, okay. I mean, it’s good getting off. I never thought I’d do it with another dude.”

“It bother you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You want it to happen again?”

Flamm turned away. “I want to reiterate that I’m happily married.”

Then he felt Sasto’s hand on the front of his jeans. Instinctually, he backed away … then stopped. He glanced back through the window and the rest of the chefs were in the kitchen, drinking wine and deconstructing the day. Tyler and Bruce were making pork chops for everyone. No one was missing them, but if they started … if they looked.

“We both know that’s not a real answer.”

Sasto was still looking out into the wider Colorado world as his hand absently found Flamm’s fly and tugged it down gently. Flamm’s dick, fully flaccid only a moment ago, now awoke in the cool Denver night. Sasto’s fingers trailed across his shaft lightly.

“Sometimes this happens,” Sasto told him. “I don’t look for answers. I just enjoy the moment. You enjoying the moment?”

Flamm closed his eyes and couldn’t help but grin. Sasto may not want answers, but they were important to him. Maybe they mattered and maybe they didn’t, but he still wanted them.

But he could get them later.

Joe Sasto’s hand gripped the shaft of Flamm’s dick, now almost fully hard and leaking precum onto the porch boards. Flamm gripped the railing and bit his lower lip. Women had done this, his wife had done this, but this was so different. The hand that held his cock was rough like his own, calloused and hard – it was a hand that had chopped a thousand onions, that had butchered a hundred pigs, that had grabbed hot saucepan lids and sliced the webbing between fingers open in the drive to create the perfect dish. It was a chef’s hand – a man’s chef’s hand – so like his own, but coming from outside. This wasn’t him jerking off quietly in the shower. This wasn’t masturbating under the sheets when he was in high school. This was new, and strange, and exciting as hell. Any deeper thoughts he had and wanted to share flew out of his brain as Sasto’s brilliant hand picked up pace.

“Joe,” he murmured, taking one more look over his shoulder. They were all still in there, talking, laughing, drinking. At any moment, any one of them could wonder where the two Joes were, and go seeking. The door to the porch wasn’t even closed. The thin screen door was all that stood between the Top Chef house and discovery.

“Want me to stop,” Sasto said, and Flamm caught a wicked grin on his face. He was enjoying this. Not just what he was doing, but also the danger of it, and the way he’d caught Flamm off guard. Chicago Joe wanted to wipe that grin off his face … but he also wanted to keep looking at it, while Joe Sasto’s hand kept moving on his cock, stroking up and down, at an excruciatingly slow pace that would drive him insane eventually. And his thumb kept tripping over the tip of his dick, swirling the precum there; when Flamm was jerking off by himself, he never touched the tip – it was just a sort of straight-up mechanical back and forth. This was fucking exquisite: those rough fingers moving in a rhythm Flamm himself couldn’t achieve, his thumb painting the head of his cock with precum, sensitizing it even more.

“Faster,” he grunted, looking right into Sasto’s face. Sasto’s grin turned into a real smile now, his mustache tilting up at the sides, his white teeth flashing through his olive complexion and day’s beard growth. All at once, Flamm wanted to put his hand on Sasto’s body, touch the rough hair on his belly, feel the definition in the man’s chest. Sasto was so different from him, so physically different. Exploring that body, that man’s body, would be like traveling to a new country to uncover new food, new customs, new ways of thinking about the world. He wanted to take off Joe Sasto’s shirt and lay him down on a bed in a quiet room and start a journey of discovery. Would he use more than his hands? Would he use his mouth? Oh fuck, what if he was going to use his mouth? Could he? Would it be too weird? Could—

Flashes appeared in his mind: Sasto lying down, fully naked, he above, dropping his head down and putting his tongue on Sasto’s abs, Sasto’s nipples, Sasto’s … oh, fuck, his balls. What would it be like to lick the man’s balls?

“Joe, I’m…”

“Shhhh. Don’t want them to hear.”

The night before, his eyes had been fully squeezed shut when came, shooting into Sasto’s mouth behind a shroud of darkness. Now, his eyes were on Joe Sasto’s face as his nuts tightened. His cock throbbed. Sasto’s smile never dropped off, and his hand never stopped moving. Flamm found himself matching that smile, second before his body began to shudder all over. His knees went watery and he held onto the bannister as tightly as he could to avoid collapsing. Then, in a triple wallop, he came over and over and over, his jizz shooting out through the bars of the porch railing and showering the ground below. It felt as if his whole essence was shooting out of him, concentrated and vital.

Joe Sasto’s mild smile never fell away. Those eyes, dark pools of mystery, never betrayed what he was thinking. After a long while, Sasto removed his hand and glanced down at it. Some of Flamm’s semen had pooled there in the hollow between his thumb and forefinger. Never taking his eyes off Flamm’s, he held the hand up to his face and lapped up the warm come. Some of it dribbled down his chin.

“Joe,” Flamm repeated. It was the only word he seemed to know anymore.

“It’s just protein,” Sasto said, smiling, wiping his chin. After a moment, Flamm smiled back. Then the voices inside hit him afresh, and he was suddenly acutely reminded of where they were and what they were doing. He’d forgotten for awhile. As he got his still-hard dick back into his pants, Sasto said, “Look, man. If you want to talk about it, I’ll talk about it. Later. I didn’t expect this, but I’m into it. You into it?”

Flamm’s dick still throbbed behind his zipper. “I don’t want to say yes.”

“Hey, Joe. Look, I’m not gay, but I’m sure as hell not straight. If you’re having an identity thing, that’s cool, but me? I don’t worry about that stuff. Sometimes it’s okay to not think too hard and just enjoy it.”

“That’s not … really how I’m built.”

Sasto’s smile got bigger. “Then we’ll talk. But not now.”

Flamm shot his eyes down to Sasto’s crotch. “Aren’t you going to…?”

Shaking his head, Sasto said, “Not right now. But you owe me. We’re going to do it my way next time.”

Isn’t that what we’ve been doing? Flamm wondered, but his dick didn’t wonder. His dick – already getting softer – immediately hardened again, and he thought if he wanted to, he could get off again. He hadn’t come twice in a row since culinary school. What the hell was Sasto doing to him?

What he was doing now was tilting a little salute and retreating back into the house, leaving Joe Flamm on the porch alone once again. He tried to think but he couldn’t. His whole body thrummed with the excitement of what had just happened, and what had happened the night before. Two words clamored through his head like clarion bells: next time. Sasto had said next time. This was going to happen again.

Despite all of Chicago Joe’s reservations, he couldn’t stop smiling. Next time. What the hell was going to happen next time?

Hey friends: if you like what you’re reading, why not kick your favorite writer a couple bucks?

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skyteglad · 5 years

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do all the flower asks too you little heathen

Alisons: Sexuality? pansexual!! i used to go with demirom pansexual but pan alone is good enough

Amaranth: Pronouns/Gender? he/him, it/its is okay too! bigender but also i’m?? leaning towards just trans masc at this point?

Amaryllis: Birthday? dec 11!

Anemone: Favorite flower? oh fuck uhhhh chrysanthemum but only bc i love that word?? i like how flowers look a lot tho

Angelonia: Favorite t.v. show? oh shit fuck uh. there’s a lot but soul eater, desperate housewives, and heroes are three i can think of rn

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger? i have no clue what this question means!!

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes? h

Aubrieta: Favorite drink? soda… root beer, sunkist, and (currently) dr. pepper?

Baby’s Breath: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH

Balsam Fir: Have you ever been in love? YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Baneberries: Favorite song? THERE’S… A LOT OF THEM, OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD THOUGH, FIRST TO COME TO THOUGHT? between the bars by chris garneau

Basket of Gold: Describe your family. they’re actually pretty good? like, really good. not perfect, though. i still haven’t come out to them, but they’re very good in comparison to many other parents

Beebalm: Do you have a best friend? Who is it? imma go w my irl besties bryson and alyssa they’re fantastic, love them

Begonia: Favorite color? this is hard? i love colors??? fuck? i’ll just go with color combo instead here, which is a tie between red/black/white, and brown/teal/white

Bellflower: Favorite animal? I HAVE A LOT. CATS, DEER, AXOLOTLS??

Bergenia: Are you a morning or night person? night

Black-Eyed Susan: If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be? cat cat cat cat cat

Bloodroots: When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up? teacher, lawyer, forensic psychologist

Bluemink: What are your thoughts on children? love them! they deserve kindness in the world and it makes me sad as hell knowing not all of them have that. no child is inherently evil, they’re still forming and changing and growing, and there’s still a chance to help them be a good person

Blazing Stars: What are you afraid of? Is there a reason why? oh man, lots of things. i’ll go with… *spins the wheel* … abandonment! and yeah lol it’s bc losing people is scary and terrible

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood. not a fact abt my childhood but apparently i was born with an anxiety disorder lol

Bugleherb: How would you spend your last day on Earth? question too deep, pass

Buttercup: Relationship Status? **MARRIED** i’m not married but i’m happily taken by two of the best people to ever exist ever???

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go? SEE MY BOY NORSKI

Candytufts: When do you feel most loved? when i’m around my bfs and they’re being cozy and gay and sweet

Canna: Do you have any tattoos? nope!

Canterbury Bells: Do you have any piercings? nope!

California Poppy: Height? fuck you! i’m 4'11

Cardinal Flower: Do you believe in ghosts? sure do babey!

Carnation: What are you currently wearing? pajama pants, socks that are too tight, a tank top, and my bfs heart player hoodie

Catnip: Have you ever slept with a nightlight? yes i still do lol

Chives: Who was the last person you hugged? cotton :D

Chrysanthemum: Who’s the last person you kissed? cotton!

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font? fuck uhhhhhh yes

Columbine: Are you tired? lol ya

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to? LOVE BOYS LOVE BOYS LOVE BOYS

Coneflower: Dream job? forensic psychologist :c

Crane’s-Bill: Introvert or extrovert? introvert!

Crocus: Have you ever been in love? this was already asked but YES

Crown Imperial: What’s the farthest you would go for someone you care about? ALL THE WAY ALL THE WAY

Cyclamen: Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? What was it? UHHH YYYESSS???? imma go w booger bear, a green bear… shade of boogers

Daffodil: What’s your zodiac sign? sagittarius!

Dahlia: Have you done anything worth remembering? i… guess? maybe??? not really imo but idk!

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment? i have no braincells rn so pass

Daylily: What would you do if your parents didn’t like your partner(s)? cry (they do like them tho thank fuck)

Dendrobium: Who is the last person that you said “I love you” to? COTTON AND NORSKI

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at? d…raw…?

Foxgloves: What’s something you’re bad at? everything lol

Freesia: What are three good things that have happened in the past month? CON! HALLOWEEN SPOOKY STUFF! POTENTIAL MOUSE BABIES which is also a bad thing that happened but shh

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today? it’s been ok

Gardenia: Are you happy with where you’re at in your life? well… not exactly? i’m thrilled to be where i am w my bfs, i’m thrilled that i’ve grown and gotten through some bad trauma, but i want to be doing more, i want to feel accomplished, so.. i’m not :c

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two? FUCKING MOVE.

Glory-of-the-Snow: What are ten things that make you happy/you’re grateful to have in your life? oh fuck numbers. 1-2) cotton and norski 3) lee!!! 4) my family 3) my friends 4) there’s more but i have no braincells so :p

Heliotropium: What helps you calm down when you feel stressed? nothing

Hellebore: How do you show affection? many

Hoary Stock: What are you proudest of? :D.. i don’t rememeber

Hollyhock: Describe your ideal day. shrug

Hyacinth: What do you like to do in your free time? drrrawww??? procrastinate lol

Hydrangea: How long have you known your best friend? How did you meet them? i’ll go w alyssa! almost 16 years, it was in kindergarten! my aunt had lied abt mama bringing me lunch so i was left kind of just… without any and alyssa stayed behind while i ate when everyone went to recess :’) we also just shared a class but still

Irises: Who can you talk to about (almost) everything? cotton and norski

Laceleaf: How many friends do you have? bitch? how am i supposed to know?

Lantanas: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received? hhhhhh

Larkspur: What do you think of yourself? suck

Lavender: What’s your favorite thing about yourself? i give a shit about others

Leather Flower: What’s your least favorite thing about yourself? i give a shit about certain others :\

Lilac: What’s something you liked to do as a child? draw

Lily: Who was your best friend when you were a kid? alyssa

Lily of the Incas: What is something you still feel guilty for? SO MANY THINGS HHH JUST. BEING A THOUGHTLESS BITCH.

Lily of the Nile: What is something you feel guilty for that you shouldn’t feel guilty about? retaliating against my abusers and saying harmful things to them while they were basically cornering me bc i had a breakdown and that was ‘rude’ somehow.

Lupine: What does your name mean? Why is that your name? bc im trash! and it means 'thunderous skies’ (i found out that skylar is a popular/overused trans guy name and now i’m sad at myself but also fuck u i love the name skylar it stays as my middle)

Marigold: Where did you grow up? Tell us about it. texas lol i havent moved out of the city ive lived in my whole life

Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up? its never been personalized… it’s… just a bed, a tv (not anymore but thats ok) and thats it. currently its two beds but, again, thats it

Mugworts: What was it like for you as a teenager? Did you enjoy your teenage years? depression!

Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom. shes great!! she sucks sometimes and doesn’t understand my boundaries at all (maybe she does and just purposefully ignores them), and she babies me to fucking hell, but she’s very very nice and tries her best and i appreciate her

Onions: Tell about your dad. we don’t mention him he’s a piece of shit :\ my step dad’s great tho lol

Orchid: Tell about your grandparents. ging and popo are treasures to this earth

Pansy: What was your most memorable birthday? What made it be so memorable? i don’t want to talk about that.

Peony: What was your first job? haven’t had it yet

Petunia: If you’re in a relationship, how did you meet your partner(s)? If you’re not in a relationship, how did you meet your crush/how do you hope to meet your future partner(s), if you want any? COTTON: MET HIM IN A HOMESTUCK KIN SERVER. NORSKI: COTTON’S OLD FRIEND, INTRODUCED US. the first thing i ever said to him was great…

Pincushion: How do you deal with pain? i don’t.

Pink: Where is home? where the heart is uwu

Plantain Lilies: If you could go back in time, what is one thing you would stop/change? terrible people from hurting millions of others.

Prairie Gentian: Who is someone you look up to? Describe them. norski tbh? he’s so talented and brave and has done so much in life. he’s not perfect but he’s grown so much and tried so hard to do good and i’m so proud of him and admire him a lot

Primrose: Describe your ideal life. no mental illness, with financial stability, and also the world wouldn’t have fucking oppression and harm in it tbh.

Rhodendron: What is something you used to believe in as a child? THAT BUTTERFLIES WERE VENOMOUS AND IF IT TOUCHED U U’D DIE.

Ricinus: Who’s the most important in your life? norski and cotton… and also lee

Rose: What’s your favorite sound? my bfs’ voices

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory? most memories of good times we’ve had

Sage: What’s your least favorite memory? :) pass

Snapdragon: At this moment, what do you want? TO CUDDLE MY FUCKING HUSBANDS. also to go pee i’m gonna go pee intermission break here pee break done

St. John’s Wort: Is it easy or difficult for you to express how you feel about things? :D hard!

Sunflower: What is something you don’t want to imagine life without? norski or cotton hh

Sweet Pea: How much sleep did you get last night? uhhhh a good amount???

Tickseed: What’s your main reason to get up every morning? staying in bed hurts my body

Touch-Me-Not: How do you feel about your current job? that i wish i had one

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing? i have a rly hot hoodie now…

Tropical White Morning Glory: Describe your aesthetic. EDGY BUT COLORFUL

Tulip: What would be the best present to get you? stuffed animals… esp pokemon ones (or video games)

Vervain: What’s stressing you out most right now? life :D!!!!

Wisteria: How many books have you read in the past few months? What were they called? I DON’T READ HHHHHHH

Wolf’s Bane: Where do you want to be in life this time next year? living with cotton like… permanently (also spending time w norski irl!!!!!!!!! pls!)

Yarrow: Do you know what vore is? :)

Zinnia: Give a random fact about yourself. I DON’T HAVE A BRAIN RN

#marcotton #RIOT.TXT

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aconitewolfsbane · 6 years

Text

Reunion - reactions

Okay, first up. This episode took 3 whole pages in my notebook. So this’ll be the longest reaction post I’ve ever done.

- Ooh, starting with a song. Sounds pretty feelsy... - Shaving a single hair. Dude, just use a pair of tweezers. - Yeah, no shit kid. This poor boy needs hugs. - They covered their eyes cause you can’t see the bride before the wedding, but they’re BOTH the bride! - That giggle probably means that she already looked, the cheater. - Only Bismuth would wear a suit of amour to a wedding. But in the immortal words of Pat Benatar... Love is a battlefield. - Yeah... That might not have been the best choice, Ame... - That boy is contagious. - Daww! Peridot looks adorable in that dress! - Dang, that high note though. Zac Callison’s got talent. - “You nervous?” “I’m not.” *kicks a bit of ice away from her foot* LMTO! - Peridot throwing flowers so hard, she knocked Mr. Fryman off his chair! LMTO! I’m dying here! - I’m... not sure she understands what a flower girls is supposed to do... - *Ruby runs towards Sapphire* *Greg gasps and speeds up his playing* LMTO! - Amethyst had to stomp out the flames! asdsfggjhjlhdfgsae - “Dearly beloved. Gems, humans, lions big and small, living gourds, Onion...” LMTO! He’s still not sure what that kid is! - Also, that glance Priyanka and Doug had. - Also also... CAT STEVEN RETURNS!!! - Tututtut, living in sin for song long, and only just getting married? For shame... But please, continue. - “And eight months.” Fair nuff. - “Opened my eye...” I snorted through my nose! - Geez, she already loves you, Sapphire. Tone it down a bit. - “And Sapphire, do you...” “Yes.” “You didn’t let me finish!” She’s so happy, I could scream! dahjfhjsdhjf - Wait... ‘the power invested in me by the state of Delmarva’? Did he became a fully licensed ordained minister online or something? Actually, yeah, probably. He does love schmultz. - FULL UNCENSORED LESBIAN WEDDING KISS ON CHILDRENS TELEVISION!!! hjkghjASDyjisaldschjADSHJSJihvyjasuyedg

Okay, I’ve stopped freaking out and running around now... I... Can’t guarantee that won’t happen again.

And I’ve only just finished the first page of my thoughts...

- *Garnet throws bouquet* *It disappears with a gleam, ala Team Rocket* *girls are confused* LMTO! - Also, Connie’s like... 13 and a half. She’s way too young to catch the bouquet. - And Jenny’s already gotten bored and gone to dance. - LMTO! Pictures, or gifs, speak louder than words.

sHFAFGHKJGGBNHHG

- Ooh, Pearl and Kiki are happily chatting. Would that count for the ‘they become BFF’s’ bingo spot? - The bouquet finally came down... on Bismuth. She is so confused right now. - Uh-oh.. Those aren’t his... are they... - HOW DAFUQ DID THOSE SNEAK UP WITHOUT ANYONE NOTICING?! - Holy crap. Greg should record that and sell it to exhausted parents worldwide... - OH SHIT! - Okay, I know this is a dramatic moment here, really I do, but... that really sounded like ‘Bitch City’. asfdgfhjkjhgf - The Clusters fighting the Diamonds! HA! That’s what you get for making it out of gems that hate you! - The most epic arm wrestle ever! LMTO! - Also, did Rebecca design the Diamonds ships to be giant arms, just for this gag? - Hey... Would the Cluster count for the ‘new fusion’ bingo spot? - Meep. They’re fucked. - Greg, put the Murdercock™ away! - Yeah, that’s not gonna work.. Nice try though.

And that’s the second page done. My finger tips hurt, but I’m almost done.

- ALEXANDRITE! W00T! - Well, that didn’t last long. We’ve been had! The promo made it seem like that’d be an epic fight between Alexandrite and a Diamond... I feel ripped off... - Also, you’d think Pearl would have at least some resistance to the power of extreme depression... - Connie’s the only left who can fight... - OH SHIT! SHE BROKE IT! SHE FUCKING BROKE IT! HOLY FUCK! - Garnet’s back, bitches! And you’ve ruined her special day! - LAPIS! - Drop da barn on her! - She’s finally a Crystal Gem by choice! - Whoa... Even Connie dropped this time... - She’s powerless against Lapis’ extreme emoness. - Even Lion’s pressing his nose against the shield... *squees* It goes squish! - HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AWESOME! - WHOA! - Greg saved Cat Steven, thank fuck! - *Is breathless* - They now have an eldritch abomination in the centre of the Earth who’ll bitch slap anything that threatens the planet. Cool. - Ah shit... Enter Player Two: Yellow Diamond. - Peridot... - FUCK! - Oh fuck, oh shit, holy crap... is he..? - ...I’m scared... - Okay, Peridot’s the only one not doing anything, or giant size. Also, Steven’s on top of a giant Connie’s head right now. So this can’t be a gem thing... Shouldn’t he be on top of a giant Steven right now? Or Rose, or Pink? - Lapis... - “A classic psychic ghost type situation.” “Oh, of course!” These kids, I swear... - *speechless & panting from holding my breath* - He still helps each of them on the way through... I love this boy. - They look freaked out. - Whoa... - I can’t even... sfdsjghdsajkj

TL;DR: ... I don’t even know. It’s been more than full day, and hell, I’m still processing this.

Firstly, that wedding was incredibly adorable. And so important. Then, that epic fight, holy crap. The surprise appearance of Lapis, Blue Diamond weaponising her extreme depression, the Cluster slapping Blue’s ship away and then taking on Yellow’s ship, Connie being a badass, Steven having a fucking near-death experience or something.

Then there’s the fact that the Diamonds have never been seen without their pearls, which likely means that they were in the ships... Are they okay? Were they poofed? Is Steven gonna have to heal one of them? Will Pearl finally acknowledge that she knows them, and will their reunion be happy. Will Blue Pearl be pissed off that she’s had to endue 5000 years of her Diamonds emo bullshit over Pink’s dead arse for no reason? Will she be angry at Pearl for her involvement in that suffering?

Are the Diamonds now trapped on Earth, or will they have to swallow their pride and call for help?

And where’s White Diamond? Is she missing? Is the next season going to be Steven helping the Diamonds track her down to find out about the cause of the corruption so he can finally cure it? And if she was the cause of the corruption, was it on purpose? An accident?

TL;DR the tl;dr: THAT WAS AN EPIC EPISODE, AND I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE IT WAS ONLY 22 MINUTES LONG. THERE WAS SO MUCH PACKED INTO IT, IT FELT LIKE CLOSER TO AN HOUR!

Long post is long.

#stevenuniverse #spoilers #reunion #1st reactions #OPaconitewolfsbane #season5

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