#i have listened to this song nearly 30 times in a row this morning and this is the result

[andoutofharm]

we’ve gone way too fast for way too long

young & menace (mania)

#i have listened to this song nearly 30 times in a row this morning and this is the result #what did they put in this song it has Entranced me #fall out boy #mania #young and menace #fob lyrics #fob #my edit #edit.txt

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding On  Ch4: Full Steeb Ahead

Summary: Frank is determined to get Fliss to hear him out. But will she believe him?

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Hopefully after this @sweater-daddiesdumbdork will stop chasing me. As always, thanks to my unofficial beta @icanfeelastormbrewing​ for the usual inputs and opinions.  Chapter Song: Man Who Can’t Be Moved by The Script

Series Masterlist //  WIYPT Masterlist

People talk about the guy that’s waiting on a girl. There are no holes in his shoes but a big hole in his world.

Frank woke early the next morning, well, maybe woke was an exaggeration seeing as he probably managed about an hour of straight sleep, if that. The rest was spent in small dozing periods of 20, maybe 30 minutes at a time.  His neck was stiff from laying on the couch, as was his back and deciding he would give up trying to get comfortable he sat up, stretching his muscles out before he ran a hand down his tired face.

It was still dark outside and he reached for his phone. It had just gone 6 am, which meant he had an hour or so before the house started to wake. Standing up, he grabbed the shirt he had discarded the night before and shoving it on he located his sneakers. Once they were on his feet he grabbed his keys and as quietly as he could let himself out of the house, locking the door behind him as he headed down the little pathway which led to the main one through their little estate.

He walked down past the harbour and the little garages which were starting to open, nodding to a few of the guys he used to see knocking around when he had worked there, continuing past the little row of bait and tackle shops, past the small café, before he reached the path that led along the rocky sea defence. He followed the sandy pathway down to the boardwalk along the beach and continued for as long as he could, his feet treading over the well-worn wooden slats, some of which were loose in places, before it ended and he hit the soft sand. He headed onto the beach, it was almost deserted apart from a few early morning dog walkers, which suited him fine.

The ocean always calmed him. He had no idea why, but it had done ever since he was a kid. He’d adored those family holidays taken before it all went to rat shit, memories of him, his father and his sister playing on the sand whilst his mother read a book shaded by a parasol, every so often looking up to observe what was going on before returning back to whatever latest theory she was reading up on.  And then at night, they would eat with a family, late walks on the beach were always a treat, watching the dark water as it lapped against the shore, his dad making up random tales about Peg Legged Pirates searching for treasure which was always buried not far from where they were stood.

He’d done the same with Mary, telling her the same tales he could remember and making up new ones when he couldn’t. She didn’t buy them anymore, she was far too old for her age, but he couldn’t wait to tell them to Bean when he or she arrived, see their little face light up as they glanced over the ocean searching for ghostly ships or dug in the sand for imaginary treasure.

He reached the water’s edge and looked out at the horizon for a few minutes taking in the detail of the sky which was lit up in hues of purple and orange as the sun hovered a few meters or so above the place where the sea hit the sky and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind. He was in a mess, a mess that was entirely his own doing, and he felt utterly powerless to fix it. If he couldn’t get Fliss to listen to him…well, he didn’t even want to think about that. But the more he tried not to, the more he did. He couldn’t lose her, not over some stupid misunderstanding like this. Pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the tension headache that was already forming behind his eyes, not helped by the lack of sleep, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to re-centre himself. He finally had everything he hadn't even realised he needed and losing it was not an option. He had to fix this. With one last deep breath he turned to take the 15 minutes or so walk back home.

The house was still quiet when he got back in but he could hear the sounds of the shower meaning Fliss was up. He headed into the bedroom, Thor raising his head from where he was led on the bed, and he bent over to give the dog a scratch behind the ear. He pulled out a clean pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of boxers, tossing them down on the pale blue bed covers, his head turning to face Fliss as she walked into the room, towel wrapped around her, hair piled in a messy bun on her head. His heart gave an instant pang as he took in how tired she looked, the guilt flooding over him as he knew it was his fault.

“Where did you go?” she asked him, her voice soft. “I heard the door.”

“For a walk.” he said, “Just to the beach. Needed some air.”

She looked at him for a moment before she nodded and moved to the dresser to pull out her clothes for the day.

“Can we talk?” he asked her tentatively and she stopped, straightening up before she looked at him.

“I told you last night, I’ve nothing to say.”

“No, but I have.” he pressed, “Lissy please…just hear me out, let me explain.”

She licked her lips and took a deep breath before she sighed “Fine, when Mary’s gone to school. But I have clients at 9 and I need to pick Rupert up so I’m leaving here at 8:15 no later.”

“Ok.” he nodded, giving her a small smile before he headed into the bathroom for a shower.

Breakfast was a little subdued, but he had to give Fliss her credit. She was polite and civil to him, even if she wasn’t affectionate. But it didn’t fool Mary. She asked him as he walked her down to the bus stop what was going on, and not being one to lie to her, he told her truthfully that he’d been an idiot over the weekend and needed to apologise to Fliss. At that she shot him a filthy look.

“You better fix things or I will kill you and hate you forever.” she said before she turned and stormed towards the waiting bus.

You and me both, Short Stack.

When he got back Fliss was waiting for him like she said she would be, sat at the table. She looked at him as he sat on the seat at the end, so he was to her right and facing her. She glanced at her watch “You got 15 minutes.” “Lissy, those photos…” Frank dove straight in, he had not time to waste and even if he did, he didn’t want to. This was eating him up inside “I know they look bad…”

“No shit sherlock…”

“I swear to God, nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened.” She repeated, looking at him and he shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Then how the fuck did she end up on your knee Frank?”

He took a deep breath “In all honestly I only know from what Simon and Greg told me.” he said, “I was drunk, I’d already pushed her away earlier in the night and she came over with her friends, one of them was getting into one of the guys Jake works with and she just sat on my knee. Apparently it took me a while but in the end I told her to get lost. I was quite rude to her, so they say.”

“You look fairly comfortable with her on your lap in the photo.” Fliss said after a moment, her voice quiet. The hurt in her tone made Frank feel even more like shit, as she wasn’t screaming or shouting which to be honest he was fairly sure he would have dealt with a whole lot better. “And in the other photo where you look like you’re about to kiss her.”

“Baby, I swear to you seconds after that I told her no. I’d just bumped into her and she was falling so I grabbed her to make sure she didn’t as that was the second time I’d nearly kno-“

“The second time?” Fliss looked at him and Frank closed his eyes, letting out a groan. “So you accidently nearly kissed her before.”

“No, that’s not-“ “Keep digging Frank, because that hole you’re in is getting deeper and deeper by the second.” she shook her head, looking away.

“I nearly knocked her over before.” he said, “Round the pool. I’d just finished talking to you, turned round and bumped straight into her.” “Right, and she just happened to be there in the club then after you ‘bumped’…” she framed the words with her fingers “…into her?”

“Again, full honestly, no, I don’t think she did” he shook his head “She was flirty. Made some comment or other when I said I’d watch where I was going about how she hoped not, and then we saw them on the Friday night too in one of the bars…”

Fliss looked at him and shook her head “The irresistible Adler charm eh?” Her voice carried a note of sarcasm, and Frank shook his head.

“Baby I’m just being honest here, telling you the truth. She was with a group on a 21st and I think they just saw a gang of guys and…” he shrugged “I dunno…they screwed Aaron, Chad and Jeff out of plenty of drinks so...” Fliss licked her lips and looked down, her hands fiddling with the now empty glass in her hands.

“Sweetheart, I get why you’re mad, I really do…and maybe I should have told her to fuck off sooner…”

“Maybe?” “Alright, not maybe, I should have but…I swear to god I didn’t kiss her, I didn’t sleep with her…nothing happened” He reached for her hand, his fingers gently squeezing hers “I love you, more than I can even begin to explain, and our Bean…the thought of being with anyone else never crosses my mind.”

She looked at him, then down at his hand which was over hers before she took a deep breath. Her head was a mash. Half of her wanted to believe him, his face and his words were so sincere and he’d never lied to her before, ever. But the other half…those damned photos. And either way, whether he had kissed her or not, he had been far too close, and she’d sat on his fucking knee long enough for someone to get a picture.

“You do believe me, right?” Frank asked, his eyes locking onto hers.

“Honestly?” she asked.

“Always.” he nodded.

“I don’t know what to believe…” she said, before she pulled her hand away and stood up, “I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

*****

“Hey Titch…” Steve greeted Fliss as she walked into the annex and instantly frowned when he saw her face “You ok?”

“Yeah…I’m fine.” She shrugged, not wanting to talk about what was happening anymore. She was tired. “Where’s Roo?”

“He’s out back.” Steve frowned “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit nothing.” he said, looking at her. She looked away as the tears filled her eyes and she turned to her brother shaking her head.

“Just Frank…and…”

“What’s he done?” Steve asked

“I don’t know.” Fliss said, her tears trickling down her face. “That’s just it…”

Steve put the coffee mug he was holding down on the side and swept his sister into his arms. “Hey, come on…”

She pressed her face into his grey t-shirt as his arms wrapped around her and she simply cried the tears she’d been holding back all morning. Eventually Steve pulled back and looked down at her, letting out a soft sigh. “What’s going on Lissy?”

She moved to take out her phone and wordlessly scrolled to the offending photos which she had saved and handed the phone to him. “There’s another one…” she said, as she saw her brother’s face darken. Steve swiped across and let out a huff through his nose.

“Ok.” he nodded “They don’t look great. What’s he had to say about them?”

Fliss swallowed “That he was drunk, and moments after the first one he pushed the girl away and on the second one…well, he says he told her to get lost too but…” “But you don’t believe him?”

“I don’t know Steve, that’s the problem.” she shrugged “I want to believe him, and he’s never lied to be before…and then there’s the message he sent me about being in someone else’s room and…”

“Hang on…someone else’s room?”

Fliss nodded and explained the whole mix up, about how he had been with Simon but even that she was having her doubts about now and Steve listened, his hand running over his beard as he took in her words.

“Have you talked to any of the other guys that were there?” he asked and she shook her head.

“Bonnie tried calling me before but, well to be honest they’re all gonna cover for him, even if he did do it aren’t they? I mean fuck…, seeing those damned photos…it was humiliating and…”

Steve sighed, handing her the phone back. “Look, Lissy, I’ve been in this position before. Some woman all over me and Sian getting the hump. Photos are a snap shot in time, they never tell the whole story…you know that as well as anyone.”

“Yeah, but the same girl is there, on his fucking lap Steve…”

“I know, and yes, regardless of what he did he shouldn’t have let that happen but…fucking hell, he was in Vegas, pissed out of his brains.” Steve sighed “I’m not excusing it, before you start, and I’m not dismissing your worry but…I dunno Liss, just don’t jump to any conclusions ok? Give it some thought.” “I can’t think about anything else.” she murmured. “God you’re just like dad.” Steve chuckled “Could be worse people to be like. Look, go to work, get your thoughts straight and if you’re adamant at the end of the day you still don’t believe him then just come here for the night and we’ll take it from there ok?”

Fliss nodded and wiped at her face “Thanks Steve.” “What are big brother’s for huh?” She smiled and then eyed him a little “You’re not gonna do anything stupid are you?” “Define stupid?” “Like go round there and punch him?” Steve shook his head “I promise, no punching.” Satisfied he was telling her the truth she whistled for both dogs who came trotting over, bid her brother goodbye and headed out to her jeep.

****** With nothing else much to do on his day off, Frank was busy scrolling the internet looking at realtor pages. Whilst things were still up in the air, it was helping him focus on being positive, because being anything else was not an option. So far nothing in particular had grabbed his eye but still, it was keeping him occupied as he tried to push the fear he was harbouring to the back of his mind.

He was pulled from his browsing by a knock to the door. Setting the laptop to one side he stood up and headed down the hallway and no sooner had he opened the door someone had gripped the collar of his shirt and shoved him harshly into the wall. It took him a split second to focus and when he realised who it was he gripped the front of them man’s shirt and pushed back. There was a little scuffle in the hallway until Frank managed to free himself from the man’s grip before he stood there, glaring at him, chest heaving.

“Fuck off Steve…” he glared at him.

“I warned you.” Steve looked at him “I told you what would happen if you hurt her Frank…”

“Yes, I remember what you said.” Frank looked at him, shaking his head.

“And yet you still did it…” “Oh get fucked, this has nothing to do with you…” “Piss off Frank, it has everything to do with me.” Steve snarled “She turned up this morning for the dog in a right state. Showed me the photos.”

Frank sighed and hung his head. He should have expected this.

“I told her not to jump to conclusions, trying to keep her calm but I gotta admit Frank…they look pretty damning.”

“I’m aware of that, thanks.” Frank bit back “And you know what, I don’t need this. Things are enough of a mess as it is without adding a brawl with you into the equation.” he turned back to head into the living room “Close the door on your way out.”

“Look me in the eye, tell me you didn’t…” Steve said to his back and Frank stopped, shaking his head as he turned to face him.

“Of course I didn’t. I’d never do that to her.”

Frank met Steve’s glare with one of his own and he could practically see the man’s mind whirring. Eventually he took a deep breath and jerked his head in a stiff nod.

“I had to know Frank.” he said, his tone less confrontational, and Frank knew Steve well enough to understand that was as much of an apology as he was going to get. Frank didn’t say anything, simply turned away once more and headed into the lounge.

“So what happened?” Steve asked following him.

“I was shit faced, that’s what happened.” Frank sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He turned to look at Steve once more “The girl was part of a group that we’d bumped into a few times. She was a little flirty and yeah, I talked to her, but… she was a fucking kid they were there on a 21st party.”

Steve arched an eyebrow slightly as Frank pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“She tried kissing me in the bar, I pushed her away. I don’t even know how she ended upon my lap but I told her to get lost and…” he shrugged and looked at Steve “There’s nothing more to it…”

“And the morning after when you woke up elsewhere?”

Frank let out a groan “I was in Simon’s room. I passed out…we both did. Liss called me that morning, she even heard Simon on the phone…” Steve watched him carefully as Frank simply shook his head “I’ve explained all this to her…”

“I know.” Steve said “I just wanted to hear it for myself.” he took a deep breath “Any coffee going?”

Frank looked at him and Steve gave him a small smile, causing Frank’s spirit to lift somewhat. Her brother believed him, which was the best thing he could have hoped for in the circumstances.

“Sure…” Frank nodded and headed to the kitchen, Steve following. He made them both a drink, not another word spoken until he handed him a mug and Steve took a sip, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Look, Frank, I don’t think she believes you cheated, not really. From what she said to me I think she’s more upset really about how she found out.”

“She wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for those damned photos because there is nothing to find out.” Frank shook his head.

“When she told you about John…did she ever mention his little photo stunts?” Steve looked at Frank and Frank paused, frowning a little as he racked his brains, and then a conversation one stormy night as they lay in bed suddenly flashed into his mind.

“He used to go out and deliberately let women paw at him, and instead of hiding any photo evidence he used to simply flaunt it, splash it all over Facebook. That’s why I de-activated all my social media until recently…”

“Fuck.” Frank groaned, shaking his head.

“Manipulation.” Steve said, his jaw set “He would never do anything with the girls but he made Lissy think he had and would then accuse her of being jealous, and paranoid. Was his twisted of getting her to come off social media, another way to isolate her, keep her in line.”

“She doesn’t think that’s what I was doing?” Frank looked at Steve, a horrified expression on his face.

“God, no.” Steve shook his head, “She knows you’re not that man…but Frank, as happy and as safe as she is, those scars are gonna be there for a long time.” “I know.” “And I know that the fact that ass hole could still be casting a shadow over everything you have, especially now he’s well out of the picture, is basically really shit, but…” “I should have remembered.” Frank shook his head. “But, well, to be honest I’ve never had to explain myself like that to any girl, let alone the one I want to spend my life with and I was so caught up in getting her to believe me, I didn’t even consider any of that. Looks like I just fucked things up even more.”

“She’ll come round.” Steve looked at him. “Just give her time.” “I hope you’re right.” Frank shrugged “Because if she doesn’t I’ll never forgive myself.”

****

Fliss groaned as she looked at the caller ID on her phone. It was Bonnie again.

“Fucks sake…” She grumbled, before answering, deciding to get it over and done with.

“Finally!” Bonnie said, “I’ve been so worried about you…”

“Look, Bonnie I’m really busy…”

“Just 5 minutes…hear me out, please.”

“If you’re gonna start pleading Frank’s case…”

“There’s no case to plead. Simon told me everything last night, apparently about 30 seconds after she’d perched on his knee Frank suddenly realised what was going on and told her to fuck off.” “Well he would say that, he’s his friend…”

“Oh come on Fliss…” Bonnie made an exasperated noise “First off I can tell when Simon is lying, and he wasn’t, and second off, do you really think Frank would cheat on you?”

“I’m sick of everyone telling me what I should and shouldn’t think.” Fliss practically snarled “I don’t have time for this.”

She cut the call and shoved her phone back into her pocket, her hand gently sliding over her bump.

“You know, people are only trying to help Titch.”

Fliss spun round to see her brother in the doorway to the office and she let out a groan “I thought you were over to do work…” “I am…meetings start tomorrow.”

“Right, well, go and find something else to do. I’m busy.”

“Don’t get shitty with me…” Steve frowned.

“Steve just…fuck off!” Fliss exploded “I can’t deal with…” she stopped and shook her head “Why can’t everyone just leave me alone.” “Because they’re trying to help.” he said softly

“Well they’re not.” she sniffed

“Titch…look at me.” Steve said gently and she raised her head to meet her brother’s eyes, her own watering with tears.  “Do you hand on heart believe he would cheat on you…seriously?”

“I didn’t…”

“So why do you now?”

“I don’t know if I do…it’s just those photos and…” “Fuck the photos.” Steve said, his voice a little sterner. “You know full well they never tell a full story.” Fliss swallowed as she looked at her brother, as he continued.

“Do you truly think Frank is the type of man who would, after everything you two went through, jump into bed with some tramp in Vegas whilst this pregnant fiancée is at home, looking after his niece?”

Fliss looked down at the floor, her tears falling down her cheeks.

“Because I don’t Liss.” Steve continued “Especially not now he looked me in the eye and said he hasn’t.”

At that her head jerked up and she frowned. “You went round?”

“Yeah.”

“Steve you promised not to!”

“No, I promised not to punch him. And I didn’t.” he shrugged, not a shred of apology in his tone. “I talked to him, asked him straight to explain to my face.”

“And you believe him?”

“Yeah I do believe him, completely. I think he was drunk, and at worst potentially indulged the girl a little over the days they were there, which, ok, he shouldn’t have done but at worst he’s guilty of nothing but allowing some 21 year old kid to flirt with him a little.  And if that’s a crime then, fuck, you better shoot me along with half the population now.”

Liss looked away, her brother’s words ringing in her head. Truth was they hit home. She had always been a flirty person by nature, it was just the way she was…well, had been until John beat it out of her. But Frank, well, Frank had never bothered about her talking to other men before because he knew she was his…

“Is this really about him, or is this all to do with that fucker again?” Steve asked.

Fliss gave a snort and looked up at Steve. “Can you read minds?”

“No, you just get this look on your face whenever you think about him.”

She stayed silent.

“Frank isn’t John” Steve spoke gently.

“I know that Steve…”

“So stop comparing the two.”

“I’m not.”

“Ok, really? So tell me honestly when you saw those photos your mind didn’t go to his party trick of being photographed with every girl he could manage to on a night out to rub your nose in it, whether he cheated or not?”

“I know that’s not what Frank was doing.” she shook her head. And she did, truly. Frank would never manipulate her like that but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it, and how shit it made her feel “I just…”

“You’re waiting for something to come along and fuck everything up for you.” Steve said, looking at her.  “Which I get, I really do Titch because of everything you’ve been through but you need to stop looking over your shoulder and worrying about what you think is gonna happen, and simply look at what is, because if you don’t then eventually you’re just going to fuck it all up for yourself.”

Fliss turned away from her brother, his words cutting her to the core. He was right. She was, whether consciously or not, constantly wondering when her happiness was going to shatter around her because all she had ever known in a relationship was pain and anger. Some days she would wake before Frank and lie there, watching his face as he slept, committing every single detail right down to those freckles that spattered his nose and cheek, unable to believe how lucky she was. Engaged to a man who asked her to marry him because he loved her and didn’t merely want to possess her. She had a home, not a house, a surrogate daughter in Mary, days filled with laugher and happiness, and a baby on the way. It was a dream for most people, including her and she was perpetually scared one day someone or something would take it all from her. Just as they always had before.

“You know, Frank told me that he’s never had to explain himself to a girl before…” Steve gave took a deep breath “He’s now petrified that being honest with you has just made things worse. Doesn’t that tell you something?” Fliss looked at her brother, taking in his words. This was all unchartered territory for Frank too. What they were building together was new. He wanted it and more importantly he wanted it with her. As that realisation washed over her so did another one, the understanding that he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise what they have.

“Look, what the pair of you have is special. Don’t let something as stupid as this ruin it all because you both deserve better than that.”

The tears in Fliss’ eyes began to spill down her cheeks and Steve sighed, pulling her to his chest, gently rocking her to and fro, simply allowing her to cry.

****

When Fliss got home Frank wasn’t there, but there was a Pandora Gift Bag sat on the coffee table. Curiosity got the better of her and she undid the bag, opening the box inside. It was a small stroller charm and she swallowed, placing the box back in the bag. She heard the door open and turned as Frank appeared in the doorway.

“Before you ask…” Frank nodded at the bag in her hand “I didn’t buy you that as a sweetener. I got that in Vegas before any of this kicked off.”

“I didn’t…” she shook her head, placing it back on the table “That wasn’t what I thought.”

He gave her a nod and she studied him for a second, before Mary bounced into the room.

“Hey!” Fliss smiled at her, “You had a good day.”

“Yeah, it was ok.” Mary nodded “They were all doing math today but I did some of my uni work whilst they did the times tables. Have you and Frank made up yet?”

Liss hesitated and Frank gently dropped his hand to the back of Mary’s head.

“We talked, and we still need to talk some more.” he said “Any chance you can give us some space?”

She eyed him for a moment before she shrugged “I got homework, I’ll be in my room.”

“Thanks Stack.” he smiled and she turned and headed back out of the room. Once she was out of ear shot Frank turned to Fliss.

“So I had a visit from Steve…”

“I heard.” Fliss said “I’m sorry I told him not to.”

“He was just being a big brother.” Frank shook his head “But I’m not gonna lie, he scared the shit out of me.” “Well he came to the yard after, fighting your corner. As has Bonnie…”

“Honey, I didn’t ask them to…”

“I know.” she said softly. There was a moment of silence before she sighed and shook her head. “Frank, I’m sorry…”

“Liss…”

“Let me finish, please.” she shook her head and Frank fell silent, his hands falling into the pockets of his jeans. “If I’m honest I don’t think I ever thought you’d really cheated, I guess…well I saw the photos and…” she trailed off, shrugging “I’m sorry for not believing you, but I’m still pissed at you for getting yourself in that position in the first place.”

Frank hesitated for a second. He was about to protest that he was just drunk, point out that he hadn’t meant to get himself in any position at all,  but then he stopped himself. She was angry and hormonal, and he’d rather have her pissed at him for being an idiot than believing he was unfaithful.

So instead he nodded “Ok that’s fair. I get it. And I’m sorry.”

She looked at him for a moment and he stepped forward to give her a hug but she simply moved back a little and gave him a small smile “I’ll start dinner…”

“Sure…” his voice was quiet. He wanted nothing than to hold her in his arms, run his hand over the place his baby was growing, her bump seemingly even bigger than it had been that morning but he also didn’t want to push it. She hadn’t left, she believed him, but she was pissed. However, Frank knew she would get over that in time…which he understood he had to give her, and respect the boundaries she set too. So, with that in mind he took a deep breath and followed her into the kitchen.

“Do you want me to help or…”

“No, it’s only stir fry.” she shook her head. “Did you already feed Mary or…”

He frowned and looked at her, and then realised what she was referring to. They hadn’t been home when she arrived.

“Oh, no…I picked her up and then ran my suit into the dry cleaners.” he said “It had something all over the front of it…god knows what.”

She nodded. “Ok, well it won’t be too long.”

“I’ll set the table then.” he nodded. He moved around, careful not to step into her space as he gathered the various items around and carrying them into the dining room. Once he had completed that he headed out telling Fliss he was going to wash up and tell Mary to do the same.

Fliss acknowledged him and continued with cooking, when suddenly she felt a really strange sensation in her stomach. It was like a fluttering, almost as if she had bubbles inside her belly, and then she realised instantly what it was.

Their baby had moved. And she’d just felt it for the first time.

Pausing what she was doing her hand fell to her bump as the tiny little sensations flooded her and she felt a smile creeping over her face.

“Hey Bean…” she said softly.

At that point Frank came back into the room and saw her, her hand on her bump, stood perfectly still, looking down at her belly and he frowned.

“Lissy?” he looked at her as she raised her head to look at him “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just felt Bean move!” she smiled, her eyes bright and Frank let out a grin.

“Really?” he stepped forward, his hand out but he paused. Fliss looked at him and he locked eyes with her. Fliss understood instantly, he was waiting for her to say it ok after she told him last night not to touch her.

He was asking her permission.

Instantly her heart melted towards him, she loved this man, with everything she had. And he loved her. She gently took his hand and pulled on it softly, and he closed the distance as she pressed his palm to her stomach, leaving her hand resting over his.

“I doubt you’ll feel it…it was just like bubbles, not really a kick or anything.” she said as he looked down before he raised his eyes back to her “But they can hear you now though, according to Mary’s extensive research.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. Frank took a deep breath and knelt down, both his hands resting on the side of her belly as he grinned “Hey kid…you cooking well?”

Fliss felt the flutters again, a little stronger this time and she smiled, her hand running into Frank’s hair “They just did it again. They clearly know your voice, daddy.”

He glanced up at her, his eyes watering “I love you both so much.”

“I know.” she sniffed “I love you too.”

Frank stood up, his hands sliding up Fliss’ thighs to her hips and as he did, hers fell from his hair to his shoulders. They both stayed still, simply looking at one another till Frank leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss.

“This doesn’t mean I’ve completely forgiven you.” she muttered against his mouth and he smiled.

“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it did.” he shrugged “But is it at least enough to get me off the couch? My back is killing me.”

“You wanna compare back ache?” she arched an eyebrow.

“No, no, not at all, obviously yours is far worse than mine could possibly be…”

Fliss narrowed her eyes. “Is that sarcasm?”

“Absolutely not.” he told her sincerely, shaking his head. His eyes, however, told her a different story. Those azure blues she knew and loved shone with humour, utterly betraying him.

“Hmmm, well I’ll think about it.” she said, her hands moving to pat his chest. “Now get lost, I need to finish dinner.”

Frank turned away, a smile on his face. As he always told Mary, an I’ll think about it wasn’t a no.

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #gifted #gifted fan fic

[flipomatic]

A New World Chapter 2 - Spirit of the Piece (1/2)

Summary: Nakamura waited for the students to put the papers away before continuing. “Now, we’re not going to do traditional introductions. Instead, you are going to introduce yourself through your music.” 

That grabbed Rinko’s interest. Sure, she’d improved at public speaking over the last year, but she had always expressed herself much more clearly with the piano.

First Chapter

Author Note: Disclaimer, I know almost nothing about piano or Japanese universities. My music experience is in viola and I attended an American college. Some research has been done for this chapter, but there are still likely inaccuracies. This one will be split into two parts.

Word Count: 2300

_________________________________________________________

If Rinko broke it down, her new school wasn’t much larger than Hanasakigawa had been. It had more classrooms, which were spread out over a much larger space. There were more students as well, most of whom walked from room to room with large and small instruments in tow. The students all wore their regular clothes, rather than uniforms.

So many people, so many strange faces. There was a sea of people everywhere she went.

Rinko wasn’t fooling anyone, not even herself. This school was completely different and way scarier.

She opened the map on her phone again, triple checking that she was at the right building. Today was the first day of class, and going to the wrong classroom would be mortifying.

Rinko consulted with Sayo over the weekend about this map. Her friend had verified the accuracy of it, reassuring Rinko that it could be trusted. Sayo even circled the buildings either of them had class in. She was on campus today too, attending classes on the opposite end of campus.

In front of Rinko stood a large building, one with multiple floors. It too provided an intimidating obstacle. Students were coming in and out, one every few seconds or so. They walked past Rinko without sparing her a glance.

The name of the building matched Rinko’s destination on the map, so she put her phone away, took a deep breath, and entered the building. Once inside, she looked at the arrows on the wall to find the correct room.

One flight of stairs and a left turn later, and Rinko was at the classroom. Her electric keyboard, which she had carried all this way, felt heavy on her back as she stepped inside.

The room was larger than she had expected, with largely empty space. Chairs were set up a few feet apart from each other. They all faced one side of the room, where a desk and chalkboard were located. A few large cabinets lined the same wall.

Some of the chairs were already occupied by people Rinko assumed were students. They each had piano cases as well.

When another student cleared their throat behind her, Rinko cast her eyes quickly towards the ground. She hadn’t meant to linger in the door, hadn’t meant to stand out.

Rinko quickly claimed a seat near the middle of the room, taking care to look towards the front once she did. A woman sat at the desk in the front of the room. She appeared to be in her 30’s, with shoulder length black hair and glasses on her face. There were a couple papers on the desk, which she was reading.

Around Rinko, a few quiet conversations were being held. It seemed like some of the students already knew each other. The noise level in the room increased slightly as more students filed in.

As the time ticked past the designated start, the woman at the desk took off her reading classes and rose to her feet. She was dressed professionally, in a pencil skirt and blouse. She cast her eyes around the room, skipping right over Rinko as she did.

“Good morning.” The woman turned to write something on the board, which appeared to be her name. “My name is Professor Nakamura, it is a pleasure to meet you.” She set the chalk down and stepped back towards her desk. “In this class you will start your professional career.” Nakamura’s voice was clear and crisp, easily carrying throughout the room. Rinko’s eyes were locked on her, as she easily demanded the attention of the class.

Nakamura leaned down to open one of the desk drawers, pulling out a stack of paper. She walked to the front row of students and instructed them to take one and pass the rest back.

“This is the syllabus. Read it, know it, remember it. There will not be any exceptions.” After a minute the papers came back to Rinko, so she took one and continued passing them on. The syllabus was about ten pieces of paper stapled together, all full of text. “Take a few minutes to look through it.” Nakamura said once all of the papers had been distributed.

Rinko did as she was told, carefully reading the document. It listed a number of techniques and songs she’d be required to master for the course, as well as a performance requirement. There was a zero tolerance policy for late work and only one absence was permitted from class for the whole semester. Students were also advised to bring their own keyboard to class.

Rinko wondered what would happen to students who didn’t meet the requirements. The very thought nearly made her tremble, as she suspected they were kicked out of the program.

A few minutes later, when Rinko was nearing the end of the document, Nakamura requested the class’ attention. “Make sure not to lose the syllabus.” She said, mouth set in a firm line. She waited for the students to put the papers away before continuing. “Now, we’re not going to do traditional introductions. Instead, you are going to introduce yourself through your music.”

That grabbed Rinko’s interest. Sure, she’d improved at public speaking over the last year, but she had always expressed herself much more clearly with the piano. Nakamura again leaned down to take some papers out of the desk.

“You can choose between these three pieces.” She said, holding up the papers. “I’ll leave them on the table. You have two days to prepare your performance. On Thursday, when we meet for our next class, you’ll perform. Sign up for a time slot when you choose your piece.” Nakamura looked around the room. “Any questions?’

Rinko shook her head, even though Nakamura wasn’t looking at her. Nobody raised their hand.

“Great, keyboards are in the cabinet if you need one. Pick a song, sign up for a time slot, and start practicing.” Nakamura clapped her hands together, signaling for them to begin.

Suddenly, it felt like everything was moving at once. Where all had been still, there was now a flurry of motion. Around Rinko, students were flashing by towards the front.

Rinko stayed in her seat for a moment, gathering her courage to join them. It wasn’t until the last one had passed that she rose to her feet. She glanced to the right side of the room, and her eyes locked with Nakamura’s. The professor had a neutral expression, her eyes unreadable.

Rinko’s face felt warm as she quickly stepped forward to join the line, jerking her head to face forward. Since she had been slow to get up, she would have to wait a while to choose her piece. That was fine, she could wait.

One by one students returned to their seats, pulling out their pianos and starting to work. Rinko listened to the ones nearby as she moved closer to the front.

When she reached the desk, she examined the three choices carefully. They were all from songs on the syllabus, which made sense. After a moment of deliberation Rinko picked up Beethoven’s Sonata in E flat Major, Op. 7. The printout was light, it seemed to just be the first movement.

She stepped to the sign up sheet next, where there was only one open time slot remaining. Rinko added her name to it, and then returned to her seat.

It only took a minute to set up her music stand and keyboard, and then she was ready to start practicing this piece. Rinko was familiar with the song, but hadn’t performed it before. To learn it well enough in a couple days would be a challenge.

Rinko made sure the volume was low on her keyboard, and then she started to play. As she did, she could no longer hear the sounds of other pianos around her.

There was only her and the music.

Nakamura was walking around the room, stopping here and there to listen to the pianists. Rinko didn’t pay her any mind. What mattered was the performance, her chance to introduce herself properly.

She would make sure to be ready.

_________________________________________________________

Rinko stood in the hallway outside of the classroom, ignoring how sweaty her hands felt. She had come a few minutes early for her time slot, not wanting to be late. She still checked the map once to make extra sure she was in the right place. It was easier to find the second time.

The last couple days had been dedicated to preparing, when she didn’t have her other classes. Rinko even had to skip a Roselia practice to rehearse, since this was important for her schoolwork. She didn’t feel ready to perform the song, but she almost never did.

Rinko could hear the sound of a piano from inside the room, playing the same piece she’d chosen. They sounded good, and even though this wasn’t a competition the sound was only making Rinko more nervous.

After the pianist finished, there were a few minutes of silence. The walls were too thick to hear what was being said inside the room.

When the other student emerged from the classroom, they walked past Rinko without a word. She only watched them go for a moment, before turning towards the open door.

Nakamura was standing there, smiling a half smile today. “Come on in.” She said, gesturing towards the door.

She didn’t have to wait any longer. Rinko followed Nakamura into the classroom and closed the door behind her.

The classroom looked different than it had earlier in the week, with almost all of the chairs put away. Only one was set up now, right in the center of the room.

“Go ahead and set your keyboard up.” Nakamura instructed, crossing the room to sit at the desk. Rinko moved to comply.

Once she had her keyboard and music stand set up, Rinko prepared to play. She stretched her fingers and double checked her notes in the music. She steadied her wavering confidence, taking a steadying breath like she had practiced. When she was ready, she looked over at Nakamura.

The professor had been waiting patiently, watching how Rinko set up her instrument. “Begin when you’re ready.” She said, bringing her hands up to place them on the desk.

Rinko nodded once, and then focused on the music.

She placed her hands on the keyboard, inhaled, and began to play.

The music flowed from her fingers, echoing through the room. The tempo was fast, and the piece carried with it a frenetic energy. Beethoven always had a way of amazing her.

Rinko played through each phrase, the keys practically gliding under her fingers.

When Rinko played like this, even with an audience, she felt like her whole body was in tune with the music. The rhythm swept through her, as she moved through the parts of the piece.

As Rinko finished the movement, playing the last note strongly, she finally looked back at Nakamura. The professor hadn’t moved from her desk. She was writing something on a piece of paper, but she looked up as Rinko finished.

“You have extensive performance experience, correct?” Nakamura asked as she rose to her feet.

“I-I play in a band, yes.” Rinko replied softly, bringing her hands together.

Nakamura walked around the desk to approach her. “It shows in your posture.” She stopped next to Rinko, looking at the marks she had made on the music. “And your sound.”

“I see…” Rinko wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Now Nakamura turned back towards Rinko, the small smile on her face amplifying Rinko’s nerves. “It’s a rock band, isn’t it?”

Rinko’s eyes widened with surprise. “It is.” She nodded, wondering how Nakamura had guessed that. Was she familiar with Roselia’s music?

“You play with such heavy hands, gave it away.” Nakamura reached for the music, picking up one of the pages. “See here,” she pointed at one passage, “this phrase should be light, with occasional heavier contrast. You played it heavier than it should be, which lessens the effect.”

Had Rinko been doing that? She hadn’t noticed. “I’ll mark it.” She picked up her pencil from the music stand and took the paper to write the direction in.

Nakamura shook her head. “It’s not just this passage. You play consistently heavier than the piece calls for.”

Rinko’s heart, which wasn’t the strongest in the best of times, felt like it was going to fall through the floor. She had already failed her first test, for something she hadn’t even realized she was doing.

“I-I’m sorry.” Rinko bowed her head forward, grimacing. She knew this was a bad idea, but she had enrolled anyway. The treacherous voice in her head, the one telling her to give up and to retreat, echoed in her mind.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Nakamura’s words surprised Rinko, causing her to snap her head back up. “This wasn’t a test. It was your self-introduction, and now I know you.” As Rinko breathed in deeply, it felt like the tightness in her chest had loosened.

Nakamura stepped away and back towards her desk. “I have a task for you.” She said as she sat back down. Rinko’s palms were sweating again this was all way to stressful. “Think about my feedback and reconsider the spirit of the piece. Come to my office hours on Saturday to perform it again. I’ll be downstairs in room 104 from 12:00 to 4:00.”

Rinko jotted that down on her paper, in the corner so it wasn’t near the music. “Yes professor… I’ll be there.” She again bowed her head, this time in respect.

Nakamura then told her she could pack up, and that she would see her Saturday. Rinko put her keyboard and stand away quickly, so she could leave.

Her mind was racing, full of her mistakes.

She needed to go practice, to be prepared for her second attempt.

In addition, there was a lot she needed to think about.

Next Chapter

________________________________________________________

End Note: Sources for this chapter because I needed some references. The first movement of the piano video is the song Rinko played:

Kendall, Phillip. “The 10 most common surnames in Japan (and their meanings)” Japan Today, 28 Aug. 2013, https://japantoday.com/category/features/lifestyle/the-10-most-common-surnames-in-japan-and-their-meanings

“Levels of Attainment” University of West Florida, https://uwf.edu/media/university-of-west-florida/colleges/cassh/departments/music/pdfs/Levels-of-Attainment---Keyboards-(2).pdf

“Beethoven - Sonata No. 4 in E-flat major, Op. 7 (Richard Goode)” Youtube, Uploaded by MrPalika123 on 25 May 2012, https://youtu.be/TjaTwyHnDDA

#bang dream #bang dream fanfiction #shirokane rinko #bandori fanfiction #flip writes #here we go with the next chapter #I split it up because it was going to be longer than I like #for a single chapter #and this is a good spot to split it #fanfiction #rinko #roselia

[eleanorblue]

The Best Day of the Worst Year

It was a gorgeous morning--the sky was crystal blue, it was unseasonably warm, there was little wind to speak of--and I wanted a donut. 

We hadn't been leaving the apartment except for work all week, scuttling from home to lab like frightened mice. We’d stocked up on groceries the weekend before in order to minimize the amount of time we had to spend outside. Of course, we’d been spending much of our time inside ever since March, but now, our biggest fear wasn’t the virus. We were afraid of what everyone--the other nervous inhabitants of our city, the intimidating protesters from (mostly) out-of-town, the blank-faced National Guard members stationed around city hall--might do whenever the announcement came. 

Earlier that week, I’d been walking home from work when a troop of motorcyclists sped past, revving their engines and shouting slogans. It was clear from the vile glads on their bikes and the twisted things they yelled why they were here. They didn’t say anything  to ME specifically--they were just causing a ruckus--but I worried what their presence signified. I knew these people were capable of violence. Two gun-carrying men had already been arrested under suspicion of plotting some sort of attack. 

But it was Saturday, and I always bought donuts on Saturdays, and nothing serious had actually happened all week. The marketplace was right across the street from the convention center--the epicenter of the protests and counterprotests and counter-counterprotests--but I figured I’d be in and out quickly and it wasn’t likely that anything would go down in broad daylight in the twenty minutes I’d be out. 

(Besides...maybe I was a little curious to see the protests for myself.)

So off I went to the donut shop. The streets were fairly empty until I got to the protests, but the market was as busy as ever. As I stood in line, waiting to buy my donuts (I always get two donuts with vanilla frosting and sprinkles--yes, I am that boring), my phone vibrated in my pocket.

It went off again. And again. And again.

Then suddenly, there was a great roar from the crowd outside that made everyone in the market turn towards the windows. I’ve been in cheering crowds before--clapping in the audience after a musical, shouting in the bleachers at sporting events--but this cheer was different. This didn't sound like a bunch of voices cheering at the same together--it was a singular roar, as if everyone’s voices had merged together to become one. 

I looked at my phone and nearly dropped it. 

It was 11:30 am on November 7th. Philadelphia had just counted enough votes for the Associated Press to call Pennsylvania. Every major news outlet had just called the U.S. Presidential Election for Joe Biden. 

And I was standing across the street from where those votes had been counted. 

I ran outside. 

There were two groups standing outside the convention center, separated by yellow tape and police officers. On the side closest to the convention center, there were around 50-100 Trump supporters. They stood silently, solemnly, holding their flags and banners. 

The other side--made up of hundreds of people--was having a party. Cheering, whooping. Waving handmade signs and flags. Every few minutes, a chant would break out--“Lock him up! Lock him up! Lock him up!” Or, “Biden won! Biden won! Biden won!”

Holy shit, I thought. 

I took a couple of pictures and videos and sent them to my family. Then I started to feel antsy. Not much was happening, and the street was too crowded for my liking during a pandemic. 

I decided to walk to Independence Hall--the site of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It was only a few blocks away, and it seemed appropriate to go there the day Trump was voted out of power.

When I got there, I discovered that I was not the only person who had had that idea. 

I crossed Arch Street and climbed up on a row of stone benches so I could better see. The streets were beginning to fill with excited Philadelphians, laughing and cheering. It looked like they were setting up for something--a temporary stage had been erected, and bright-shirted volunteers were scurrying around with pamphlets and clipboards. Someone started playing music. 

I realized three things. One, there was absolutely no way I was going to hide inside--not on this gorgeous, electric, miraculous morning. Two, I needed to change--I was dressed for typical November weather, and it was hot. Three I was hungry. I’d forgotten about the donuts, after all. 

I went home quickly, put on something lighter, and made myself a sandwich. Then I went back out and headed for my favorite park. 

In the short time I’d been inside, the city had changed. 

Cars honked and people screamed wildly out of their sunroofs, waving at pedestrians. People in their apartments cheered out of their windows, waving banners. I passed a woman in her forties walking down the street, just banging a pot with a spoon. 

Someone was playing music in my favorite park as well, and little kids were dancing in a circle. I sat on a bench, ate my sandwich, and marveled. 

I don’t have the words to describe how it felt to be in Philadelphia on that day. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The atmosphere was jubilant, electric, euphoric. The near-unbearable tension, worry, and unease of the last week had been wiped away, and people sobbed with relief as they laughed with joy. 

Biden won! Biden won! Biden won!

Suddenly, a loud cheer rose up from Locust Street. A crowd rounded the corner, waving Biden 2020 signs as they marched down the street. Everyone in the park--myself included--rushed to the stone walls to meet them. 

They kept coming. And kept coming. And kept coming. Marching down the street, heading northeast.

It was a whole spontaneous parade. 

“We’re heading to Independence Hall!” a man shouted. “Come on!”

I am a shy person. I’m pretty reserved in public. I rarely talk to people I don’t know. I’m not the kind of person who engages with random people on the street. 

But I joined that parade.

 More and more people joined us as we marched towards Independence Hall. Others stayed inside, calling out from their windows. I waved to them all. Church bells rang, cowbells clanged, and people whooped and screamed with joy. 

It was a cacophony, and I hate cacophonies, but I loved this one. 

Independence Park was MUCH more crowded than it had been an hour earlier. The green between Chestnut and Market was packed with people, and even the green between Market and Arch was pretty dense. I wove my way through the crowd until I found a space where I could stand without worrying about COVID. 

The speeches had started. Organizers climbed on the makeshift stage and spoke about all the work that had gone into this election--campaigning for Biden, registering people to vote, and actually getting people to the poll. They talked about all the work that still needed to be done...and how that work was now possible.

After all, we were happy, but we weren’t stupid. We knew we were still living in a global pandemic with massive income inequality during rampant climate change. 74 million people apparently thought that Trump was the better choice, which was and is quite frightening. And we knew we still had three more months under Trump, and he was going to try to pull a bunch of BS to try and invalidate the election. 

But for the first time in four years, there was HOPE. It might actually be possible to work to address the devastating inequalities that plague us. There was going to be an END to the constant barrage of assaults on our democracy and people. We’d have an administration that actually, like, listening to experts. An administration that believed in science. An administration that believed in...decency, in respect and courtesy and kindness. 

Instead of constantly having to fight to protect the liberties we’d managed to scrape together, we could actually make progress. 

The rest of the day blurs together in my memory. I spent it wandering around Center City, calling out to and cheering with random strangers. There was a dance party at City Hall, and I, Ella who has never danced in public ever before, bounced around to some teenage pop songs. There were parades up and down Broad Street, and I saw people dressed in inflatable T-Rex and Unicorn costumes. (I don’t really know why.) Someone handed me a pamphlet on reforming the prison system, and another person gave me a t-shirt with Dr. Fauci’s face. (Another person gave me a booklet on repenting for my sins before the end times--that was kind of strange.) Some clever person was blasting Hamilton songs at one of the parks. 

The world turned upside down...

For the first time I’m thinking past tomorrow!

History is happening in Manhattan Philadelphia and we just happen to live in the greatest city in the world, the greatest city in the world! 

When I finally came home that evening and crashed into bed, I could still hear the noise from outside. Cowbells, cheering, singing, laughing. It all melded into tone symphony of joy and relief, of celebration in the midst of misery, of light in the darkest hour. 

It was the sound of people who could breathe again. 

#ella rambles #under the cut because I am completely unable to be concise #election 2020

[confusedhost-archive]

Alright

Ao3 link

Warnings: Fae, knives, blood, gore, descriptions of injury, major character death, death, panic attack, body horror

Summary:  Xe breathed in. Out. "I'm alright." And xe were.

Kyle grinned up at the cottage. It was large, nearly brand new, and the area around was beautiful, with lush green grass and flowery fields. She grinned, grabbing her best friend's hand and pulling xem to the front door.

Alex stumbled, surprised. "Excited, huh?" xe laughed.

Kyle rose her brows, adjusting the pink bracelet around her wrist and grabbing the keys to the house. "You're kidding right?" she asked, inserting the key into the lock. "Of course I'm excited, I get to spend a whole week in this super awesome house, with my bestest best friend, and just- Oh gosh, this is going to be great!"

Alex's lips curled into a soft smile. It really was going to be great. Xe squeezed Kyle's hand, careful not to press xeir nails into her skin. "Yeah," xe whispered.

The two opened the door and moved apart to look over the house. Kyle gasped, jumping up and flapping her arms. "Oh my gosh!" she giggled. "Look at it, Alex!" She spun around, trying to take in the whole house immediately.

Alex moved over to the fireplace, taking in the intricate woodworking. "I'm looking," xe breathed, running a finger along the design. "It's beautiful."

Kyle grinned, bouncing over to the kitchen. "It's beautiful and it's ours!" There was a moment of awed silence between the two.

"I'm checking out the second floor," Alex decided, tracing a finger up the railing as xe walked. Down the hallway, there were two bedrooms (although, with Kyle's fear of the dark, they would probably end up sharing a room), a bathroom, and a closet. Alex peeked into one of the bedrooms, eyes widening when xe saw the start of the sunset. It was nearly 7:30, and the colors of the sky were blending together.

Alex stayed and waited for a couple minutes, ears ringing with the song of the forest and sun. The sky wavered, and the trees came alive, weaving a story of time and light. Xe listened, a calmness settling on xeir shoulders.

"Alex!" Kyle called, making xem shoot up. "I think we should go bring our stuff in!"

"Oh!" Alex gasped. "You're right, we should-" Xe rubbed at xeir ears, trying to get rid of the last notes of the song. "We should grab our bags."

Kyle grinned at Alex, and xe smiled back, teeth shining in the dim lighting. Kyle grabbed Alex' arm and pulled xem up. "Let's go!"

---

Alex grabbed the last three bags from the trunk and closed it with xeir hip. "That's it!" xe hummed, making their way into the house.

Xe dropped the supplies by the door, grabbing their suitcase. "I'm going to put my stuff away." Xe tilted xer head thoughtfully. "Actually, I'm not going to eat today. I'll be lying down to sleep, so don't wait up for me."

Kyle smiled, grabbing Alex' free hand. "Okay! Good night!" He gave xeir hand a squeeze, before letting go, pulling at the blue bracelet around his wrist. "Sweet dreams!"

Alex gave a tired smile in response, waving. "Night." Xe hefted xer bag up easily, carrying it to the room xe had been sitting in before.

Shoving the case into the closet, xe pulled out a pair of pyjamas and frowned. Xe were really tired. Did xe need to change, or could xe just stay in these clothes? Xe sat there for a minute, considering, until xe noticed the way xeir clothes rubbed against skin that wasn't xeir's. Xeir face scrunched up - even that feeling wrong - and rubbed against the body that didn't belong to xem. Disgust pooled in xeir stomach (Not xeir's, not xeir's-) and xe turned xeir head, disliking how xeir neck twisted too far and yet not far enough. A whisper of doubt plagued xeir thoughts, insecurity and fear almost shutting xem down.

Not right, shouldn't be here, need to go, knife, hurt, stab, rip, kill die not safe bad idea imposter not you run away unfair monster leave danger goawaypleasegetoutdon'twanttobeherenotallowednononoNONONONO-

Alex took a deep breath, xeir entire body straightening with it. The following exhale left with a shudder through xeir body, bringing some of the thoughts with it.

Again. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Again. In. Out.

You're alright.

Alex nodded to xemself. "I'm alright." And xe were. And xe would be.

---

Alex woke up the next morning, groggy and chest hurting. Xe didn't move for a minute, only perking up at the smell of eggs. Stumbling down the stairs, xe found Kyle cooking. "Oh!" Alex gasped, breathing in the aroma. The kettle whistled just then, and Kyle rushed to turn it off.

Alex noted absently that Kyle wasn't wearing a bracelet. No pronouns right now.

Kyle grinned up at Alex, gesturing to the breakfast that had been prepared. "Bone apple tea!" Kyle joked, taking one mug and a plate to a spot at the table.

Alex laughed. "Bone apple tea," xe responded, grabbing tea and a plate of xeir own. Xe smiled down at xeir food, then looked up at xeir best friend. "Kyle? Do you know what we're doing today?"

Kyle shrugged. "We could check out the fields, maybe pick some flowers?" Kyle's eyes were drawn to the tattooed crown of flowers that wrapped around Alex' upper arm.

Alex gasped. "Please? I would love that so much actually, thank you!" Xe looked hopefully at their best friend.

Kyle smiled. "It's settled then!" Kyle ate in silence, looking up to see Alex' clean plate. "You wanna put that away?"

Alex nodded, sliding xeir chair back and putting the dish back in the cabinet. "Alex?" Alex paused. "Could you grab the marshmallows? You can reach higher than me," Kyle continued. "Second shelf to the right- yeah, there!"

Alex reached up, snatching the marshmallows from their place on the top shelf. When xe turned around, xe were grinning, eyes wide and bright. "You told me we could have my first campfire soon." Kyle's brows rose, lips twitching into a smile.

"Campfire?"

"Campfire."

---

They had a campfire. They ate dinner, roasted marshmallows, and told each other spooky stories. They stayed out to watch the stars after it got too dark and the fire started to dwindle. It was fun, Alex acknowledged as Kyle's arms wrapped around xeir waist.

"Scared?" Alex asked, wrapping one arm around Kyle in a comforting squeeze.

Kyle nodded into Alex' side, murmuring a muffled, "Pitch black," and, "Don't like."

Alex smiled softly. "That's fair, but I'm right here, and I'll protect you!" Xe carefully didn't promise.

Alex felt Kyle smile and squeeze xem, giving a whispered, "Thanks."

Alex didn't respond, instead frowning as Kyle's grip didn't loosen. "Kyle? Hey Kyle, you can loosen up, I told you that-" Xe choked on xeir breath. "I told you that I'd protect you- Kyle-"

Kyle squeezed tighter, a snake devouring its prey.

"Kyle- Kyle, stop that, Kyle that hurts , Kyle- Kyle please- " Xe gasped, hating how Kyle was restricting xeir ability to breathe.

Xe inhaled quickly as xe felt the edge of a knife press against xeir skin. Bad, bad, bad, sharp, hurts, can't breathe, can't- no, NO, why is Kyle doing this, why is Kyle happy it hurts and it's starting to cut and it's badbecausecan'tdealwithcutslikehumansfragilenotstrongenoughtrytogetoutjustbreathebreathebreatheandliveandgetout-

Alex tried to wiggle out of Kyle's grasp, finding that xe were only succeeding in losing more blood and air. In a split second decision, xe pushed xemself away from Kyle, shrieking when the knife split a hole through xeir stomach. Xe tried to remember everything xe had learned about when xe were losing a lot of blood.

Keep the knife in.

Easier said than done, but- Alex tried to stop wriggling, only pushing away from Kyle, pushing into the knife. Xe gasped in pain, a small whining sound emitting from the back of xeir throat. Apparently Kyle knew what Alex was trying to do, deciding to pull the knife out and stab it back in, opening a new hole in xeir torso.

Alex screamed.

It was a horrible noise, like nails on a chalkboard, or the ringing in one's ears after an explosion. The Souls of the Lost shrieked with xem, grief and pain carrying across miles of area. Rows upon rows of teeth ripped through Alex' jaw, each one sharpened to a needlepoint. Xeir eye's widened, becoming bigger, less human, more predatory. Fingers elongated until it teetered on the edge of unnatural and nails sharpened to claws.

"We're far from any form of life. No one can hear you," Kyle growled, taking in Alex' new appearance.

Alex' eyes focused on Kyle, pupils narrowing into slits. Xeir jaw unhinged and xe dove in, aiming to rip Kyle's windpipe out. With a gasp, Kyle pulled the knife from Alex' stomach, and stabbed it into xeir cheek.

There was a moment of silence. Kyle didn't try anything, and Alex sat there, attempting to not pass out on the spot.

It was gone not a moment later. Alex slumped, tears mixing with blood around xem. Kyle got up and took a step away, looking mildly unsettled. Alex was using xeir last breaths to pray to spirits, ghosts, gods, anyone who could hear.

Kyle's face hardened and Kyle walked closer. "Shut up. The point was to get rid of a fae, not bring more." Kyle squatted down, pressing a hand to Alex' mouth, muffling xeir already troubled breathing.

Alex could hear the blood rushing in xeir ears, feel the burn that touched every inch of xeir body. Xe have no energy, so it's a wonder that xe managed to reach xeir arm up to pull Kyle's away from xeir mouth. Xe saw - barely - the surprised expression that crossed Kyle's face.

"What are you doing?" Kyle asked. Alex couldn't hear. Instead, xe laughed, or, made a sound that was close enough. Words in a language that humans could never hope to understand poured from xeir mouth, twisting into a symphony of pain. There was a rumbled note, and a high one, magic swirling and adding a beat. It was hypnotizing.

Kyle's eyelids drooped.

At the climax of the song, Alex cut off, timing Kyle's scream perfectly. Blood poured from Kyle's arm, both being's eyes drawn to the claws that ripped into the human's skin.

Kyle gasped for air, feeling panic take hold. Alex had stabbed right through the bone, and punctured a vein. The likelihood of Kyle surviving long after Alex pulled xeir claws out was low. "No, no, I can't-" Kyle pressed a hand to the cut, trying to stop the blood from pouring out. "Please, I can't- I can't-" Kyle sobbed.

Alex stared up at the stars, completely unaware of Kyle's dilemma. Xeir functions were shutting down, one by one. Hearing was gone, as was touch. All xe could do now was look up at the stars, and take one last breath. And so there Alex lay, frozen in stone, for a long, long time. 

Kyle wept, pain and fear taking over the human's brain until the end.

---

"Don't go near the campsite, you understand?" A mother would tell her children, years later. "The fae protect the murdered one, and if you disturb xem, you will be punished for your insolence." Her children would nod, glancing nervously at the forest whenever they went out to play.

Far deeper in the forest, fae lurked, surrounding a statue of a child, long dead. The stone was cracking, and the fae would giggle, sure to stay clear of the shell. The chrysalis was opening, and soon the beast would appear.

It would be alright.

For the fae, it would be alright.

#Fae #writing #story #knife tw #blood tw #horror #body horror tw #major character death #death #panic attack #injury

[miserylovescompanyfanfic]

MLC Ch: 2

A standard day for Emilia Wine involved with getting up at 7:30 am during the weekdays, throwing on her leggings and slipping a bra on under her t-shirt, yawning as she made a smoothie and squinted against the bright light and white kitchen décor. It usually involved a thought along the lines of “I really need to redecorate,” sipping a bit of the smoothie as she stretched listening to the news, before slipping on her tennis shoes and grabbing her phone with some earbuds, finally jogging out the door. 

Emilia’s first thing in the morning jog was usually the worst part of her day, mainly just because of how early she forced herself to get up. Though it was only an hour and she ran a few miles all together from her apartment down the few blocks to the main park in the center of the city, around that track a few times, then down to the coffee shop that she worked at in the afternoons, and back home-- it was still about 9 miles a day give or take. 

It wasn’t a fun experience, especially since she never really enjoyed running in the first place-- though all the years she spent chasing after Sonic toned her for the endeavor, also it was a decent way to stay in shape and up her endurance. 

Though, she was doing a bit more these days to stay in shape as well, running was just the easiest to accomplish with her busy schedule. 

Today was only slightly different though compared to the rest of her days. The coffee shop was a little busier than normal, but that wasn’t too much of a unique thing. No, it was as Amy was leaving, waving her goodbyes to the sweet Badger girl named Sticks who always worked the early morning shift that while she was pushing the door open she accidentally ran into another body. 

See, even though Emilia didn’t look like she had a lot of muscle-- she was still very strong. She ran nearly full force into the other person, heard a grunt and slam from their side of the glass door. 

They were a hedgehog like herself, but he had unique coloring (like she did too but that isn’t important); he held his head where she assumed she smacked him in the face with it, and also noticed the coffee cup in his hand. 

Her eyes widened as an apology was on her lips, but the sharp look he gave her had her pause. His eyes were a sharp, vivid red, brighter than anything she had ever seen… set against his coal black fur they glowed like embers. 

His mouth opened to say or yell or shout or curse or something but she beat him to it. “I’ll pay for your dry cleaning!” 

She closed the door behind her as they moved farther from the entrance, he huffed and looked at the blue button down shirt he had. Emilia looked him over, noticing a little swelling developing on his temple but nothing else. 

“Here, look at me.” She held her finger up at him and slowly moved it in front of his face. His eyebrows pinched as he looked at her finger than at her. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He demanded, his voice deep with a slight baritone to it. Emilia placed a hand on her hip and blew her bangs out of her face. 

“Checking to make sure you don’t have a concussion. Now, watch my finger.” He was taken aback, eyes widened as he started following her finger. “I’ve got painkillers with me if you need them.” He shook his head after a moment and looked down at his phone. 

“Gah, I don’t have time for this. Don’t bother.” He threw away the rest of his coffee in the garbage outside the café, casting one last glance at her. “Don’t worry about the shirt.” 

He moved past her, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he was striding down the sidewalk. 

“I’m sorry!” She called to him, his ear twitched so she knew he heard her. Emilia placed her hands on her hips for a moment before putting her earbuds back in, checking the time along with picking a new song, and getting back to the day ahead of her. 

It was a big city after all, what are the chances she would run into him again, anyways? 

------------------

She made it back to her apartment at nearly 9:00, which is a little too late for her comfort but there wasn’t much she could do about the situation. Instead she hoped in the shower for a quick wash, downed the rest of her smoothie from earlier with some toast to accommodate it, and then went to revising one of her papers that was due at 2:59 pm at the end of class that day. 

Emilia Wine was a senior in college in her last year of a bachelor's degree in Electrical Engineering and Computer Sciences; the subject of which she found utterly fascinating and had tried to decide whether or not she was going to follow her studies further.

Though, at the moment, she was happy. 

Yes, when she was still known as Amy Rose she threw herself into her studies immediately, immensely, and got one of the highest grades-- much to Tails delight (seeing as he already finished all of his schooling by the time he was 12, but… whatever.) Getting to be Emilia Wine wasn’t just an overnight decision, though. It took months of planning, and a lot of strings to be pulled by government officials, even the Royal Family themselves had to be involved in the process to allow Amy to change her name and move away. 

But it was done, in the city of Empire Amy Rose was officially, and legally, Emilia Wine. 

Who was a top student at ECU in her program, which she was very proud to report back to her friends at home. 

Though, there were plenty of friends she made here, like…

“Emiliaaaaaa,” there was a singing voice as it bounded down the tiled hallways. Little heels clipping along the hallway as Emilia turned around to watch with a small smile as her best friend came up to her. 

“Hey Cream,” Cream the Rabbit wasn’t quite as tall as Emilia was now, though they were about the same age (Emilia was just only slightly older) even with her heels on. Cream and her had been friends since the beginning of school when they were put together as roommates in their first year together. 

“You Bitch!” She yelled at Emilia after catching her breath for a moment. Her orange sweater was bunched around her waist where a pastel blue skirt was ruffled from her “run”. “You said you were going to wait!” Cream mock hit Emilia, pouting the entire time. 

Emilia laughed, grabbing Cream’s hand as she pulled the other girl outside. “Cream you’re gonna get us kicked out if you keep yelling Bitch at me.” 

“Well then stop being one!” 

Emilia tapped her cheek for a moment, giving a sly smile to Cream as she patted the other girls head. “Then I wouldn’t be me, would I?”

“That’s the point.” Cream pouted, crossing her arms as the two walked towards the library. 

“But then you wouldn’t love me.” Emilia batted her eyelashes at Cream, who scoffed and rolled her honey yellow eyes. 

“Sounds like your loss.” Cream put her nose in the air, stuffing her hands in her sweatshirt pockets. 

Emilia lurked behind Cream at that point, giving a sickly sweet smile from over the girls shoulder. 

“But what if… I make you cookies?” 

“Mmmm…” Cream looked at Emilia for a moment, before shaking her head. “Sorry, you gotta try a bit harder.” 

“I’m not a “try hard” like you are,” Emilia flipped her quills over her shoulder, now significantly longer and pulled into a high ponytail to keep them manageable. 

Cream gasped at her, throwing her book bag at Emilia. 

“Emi!” Emilia laughed as she ran, Cream grabbing her bag from the ground and running after the peach hedgehog. “You whore!” 

“Stop talking about yourself like that.” Emilia called over her shoulder, ducking from the bag Cream threw at her again. 

Emilia finally made it into the library, flashing a guilty smile to the librarian at the front desk as she skipped the elevator and ran up the spiral staircase, going rather quickly as she made it to the third floor by the time that Cream got to the entryway. 

Emilia could tell because of the clicking of Cream’s heels on the flooring. 

Emilia stifled a laugh, holding her hand over her mouth as she moved deeper into the bookshelves towards a slightly darker part of the library. She turned around, walking backwards among the shelves as she watched with excitement for Cream. 

Hands suddenly touched her arms, and made Emilia squeal. She turned around quickly, ready to see Cream there but-- there was empty air. 

Emilia could still feel the hands on her arms though, and the grip slowly loosened. There was stillness for a moment before the world in front of her moved. Purple manifested where there was open air just a moment before. 

“Sorry,” a voice said, a calming rumble like thunder. “You were backing up so quickly and then I realized that you probably didn’t see me.” A chameleon stood in front of her rather suddenly, and Emilia blinked in surprise. 

“Oh, I should’ve been paying more attention. I’m sorry for almost running you over.” Emilia shifted her bag over her shoulder to sit more comfortably. 

“Why were you running anyways?” he asked her, and she felt rather embarrassed to say she was playing an impromptu game with her friend.

“I, umm…” she rubbed her arm then. “Well, it’s going to sound kind of silly, but I’m hiding from my friend.” 

The chameleon smiled then, nodding. “As long as you’re not in trouble.” There was silence for a moment. 

“I’m Espio by the way, I’m a student teacher here for the time being.” He held his hand out to her. Emilia smiled easily and took it in her own to shake. 

“Emilia, I’m finishing up my last year for my bachelor’s degree. I’ve gotta say you don’t look like a student teacher.”

Espio gave a light hearted chuckle at that. “Yeah, I’m not much older than the majority of students here. I just finished most of my schooling early.” 

“Ah, one of my best friends is like that.” Emilia nodded. Though the conversation didn’t go much farther than that when Cream barreled down the row of books and tackled Amy to the ground. 

Thankfully Espio was faster than either of them, as he moved out of the way before Emilia and Cream flew by him and into the floor. 

“I found you!” Cream hissed in triumph, sitting on top of her friend with arms crossed. Espio looked between the two of them before hiding his laughter behind his hand. 

“It was great to meet you Emilia.” Espio said eventually, Emilia gave him a weak thumbs up from the ground. Stuffing his hands in his pockets he wandered down the rows of books before turning invisible again. 

“Who was that?” Cream asked once she decided to let Emilia up. Emilia brushed herself off and shouldered her bag. 

“His name is Espio, apparently he’s a student teacher here.”

“Weird, who for?” Emilia shrugged. Cream tapped her chin. 

“Well, I haven’t seen him before.” 

Emilia gave a sly smile to Cream once again. 

“I’m surprised actually, with how many people you’ve slept with around campus you know everyone by proxy.” 

Cream hit Emilia on the arm with an encyclopedia from the book shelves.  Emilia laughed and then softly cried out “Owww I have to use this arm tonight.” 

Cream’s cheeks were blazing red. “At least I’m classy enough to not try to seduce my teachers.” She sniffed. 

Emilia blushed crimson. 

“It was a completely accidental and giant misunderstanding!”

#misery loves company #misery loves company fanfic #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #shadow the hedgehog #sth #sonic au #shadamy #fanfiction #fanfic #cream the rabbit #espio the chameleon

[fu-yao]

plants, cry baby, and eyes!! 💓

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them

i feel like i’ve answered this one before, but i would love to go stargazing with @gentleyeol - we’ve known each other for almost four (five?) years now and she lives so so so close to me but our hectic schedules make it so impossible to ever meet up :( i’d love to spend just a couple days with her bc i’m sure they would be the best days of my life

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel

ohh this is a super interesting question!

130503 one direction ‘take me home’ tour in amsterdam - this was my very first concert ever, i was THE biggest one direction fan in 2013 (who wasn’t) and i absolutely bawled my eyes out when they first appeared on stage. trust me when i say 15 year old me is still crying about this

170806 megadeth, alice cooper and marilyn manson at the lokerse feesten in lokeren - so basically in early 2017, whilst also being a kpop fan, i was hugely into metal music and completely obsessed with metallica (kirk hammett is still my baby daddy okay) and when i saw the tickets for this metal day were only 50euros i called my friend and we agreed to go together and it was a wonderful evening (THE ALICE COOPER POINTED AT ME!!!!)

171129 ‘throwback thursday in het sportpladijs’ in antwerp - this concert was basically a celebration of 20 years of ketnet, which is a dutch children’s channel my generation grew up with, they invited all the singers from the children’s shows from the 2000s and the kids from eurosong for kids and i absolutely loved every single second of it because it brought me back to my childhood

180316 ‘harry styles live on tour’ in antwerp - ok SO i went to one direction’s concert in 2013 and this was the first time after i ever saw one of them back on stage and it gave me honest to god chills, the entire concert gave me such good vibes and i experienced it with some really good friends and we both cried when harry sang medicine, all in all 10/10 experience and i would definitely go to another concert of his

180430 niall horan ‘flicker’ world tour in brussels - CAN I JUST SAY I LOVE NIALL okay this entire evening was amazing, i study in brussels so it was easy for me to get to the venue and the vibe throughout the entire concert was hands down perfect, everybody was dancing to the upbeat songs and everybody cried during the slower songs, it was a one of a kind evening and i loved every single moment :(

180701 ed sheeran and anne marie at rock werchter in werchter - ok so there were a shit ton of people there to watch ed sheeran bc it was on a festival site and on a sunday so a lot of people could come, not to mention it was well above 30 degrees celsius that day and i sweated my ass off, BUT hearing him sing live was a gift in and of itself, his voice is truly something else and i knew the words to each and every song of his and i cried so hard when he started singing i see fire because i’m a huge tolkien fan and my friends thought i was v weird. and anne marie’s vocals were on point, girlie can sing like damn. also, getting home from werchter was total shit but the concert was 100% worth it.

181013 bts ‘love yourself’ world tour in amsterdam - here we are again at the ziggo dome, five years later. hands down my favorite. concert. ever. i remember waking up at ass o’clock in the morning because of nerves (trying not to wake the other ppl in the room bc my friend & i slept in a shitty hostel) so i spent the entire morning on twitter with major butterflies in my stomach because holy fucking shit after almost five years of stanning i was FINALLY GOING TO SEE BTS LIVE, so my friend woke up at 8:30 and then we got dressed and walked around the city center of amsterdam before getting breakfast at 10:30 and then we took the tram towards the ziggo dome and we were there by 12pm, which okay we had seated tickets so totally not necessary but anyways, we cringed a lot at v cringy armys, we saw a lot of armys with these cardboards that read “looking for tickets” and it nearly made me cry, walked around the interior design mall next door bc we had to kill time, went to the media markt and played a game and won a poster and a keychain, ate lunch in a place called booven, walked around some more before joining the queue at around 5:30pm. we were SO nervous. both of us talked w the armys in front and behind us, we made some friends, and then it was time for the security to check our tickets, we were both really scared that we wouldn’t be able to get in bc we both bought our tickets through resellers but everything went fine and once our bags were checked and we were really inside the venue we just started jumping around bc holy fucking shit it was gonna happen. it was really gonna happen fuuuck what the fuck okay. put our stuff in a locker and went to find our seats, went back to the hallways again to charge our phones, said goodbye abt 30mins before the concert started to go to our respective seats (not too far from each other luckily) and saw that there were like 7 front row seats still free. texted each other, “if 10mins before the show no one’s sitting there we will”, agreed and 10mins before the show moved to the front row. counted down. seven minutes. sang the songs. five minutes. screamed. two minutes. heart beating so wild. one minute. i’m about to fall out of my fucking chair. five. shaking. four. crying. three. about to die. two. screaming. one. music comes on and lights go down, i swear my heart stopped. everybody was screaming so loud and then suddenly they appeared on stage and it’s like the entire fucking universe has aligned bc my seven angels are RIGHT THERE i’ve never cried like that before i swear. the entire concert was just filled with so much love. them speaking dutch!!! them singing. them being them. me nearly fainting. it being so fucking hot inside the venue. the thrill of sharing that moment with thousands upon thousands of other armys. i just. miss it so much.

190301 a.c.e ‘to be an a.c.e’ world tour in brussels - i didn’t really know a.c.e all that well prior to the concert, i had heard of them and knew one of their songs cactus, so i researched and listened to most of their music and i was really impressed and the concert really helped to get me into them more bc they’re all so so so cute!! when i first started listening to their songs i liked byeongkwan best (he is now my bias) and during the concert, between their songs, i think donghun was talking and byeongkwan was looking in my general direction so i shoot him a finger heart and he saw and he smiled and HE SENT ME ONE BACK!!!! bro i legit died right. there. amazing concert, 11/10 would recommend

190601 bts ‘speak yourself’ world tour in london - no words. just. absolutely speechless. second time i saw bts, second time i was reduced to a crying mess. i love them. i love army. second best night of my life ever. dionysus live was amazing. i cried. yep. take me back. please

190616 eric nam in brussels - i don’t understand why i cry this much during concerts, i just do. eric was an absolute sweetheart. v funny. i had an amazing evening and would love to go to one of his concerts again!!

190907 seongri in brussels - ok so seongri is an idol who participated in produce 101 and is an ex-member of the group rainz which has disbanded, he is an absolute sweetheart and super tiny :( during the fansign i told him he was really pretty and he looked me straight in my eyes, took my hand and told me that i was more beautiful and i blushed super hard and almost fell off the stage. it was a real fun night! he has a great voice and wants to do a sexy concept in the future

upcoming concerts dreamcatcher & up10tion in brussels on 191005 and day6 in brussels on 200122 & halsey in antwerp on 200305, i’m super super excited for all of them!!

(none of the videos are mine)

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?

@gentleyeol imagine going to korea together :(

aesthetic asks

#this took me a full hour #my fingers are numb #replies #1stlove

[ignis-scientia-estrogen-brigade]

~ISEB Meets Adam Croasdell: An Illustrated Dramatization~

I apologize for forgoing details and leaving everyone hanging with my post yesterday; it’s taken me a full 24 hours to wrap my head around how it all went down, but I’m finally ready to share my experience here on ISEB (and exploit my own painful awkwardness to hopefully make you laugh in the process). 

This is the text that started it all:

WonderCon is San Diego Comic Con’s spring counterpart (run by the same company), and has made its home in Anaheim the past several years. As Anaheim is only a 1.5 hour drive from my house, and as I get free industry tickets thanks to my professional status, it seemed silly not to go for at least one day.

I wasn’t terribly enthusiastic about going, if only because I didn’t have access to a hotel room if I wanted to wear a costume (changing in and out of costume in the Toy Story parking lot at Disney isn’t exactly my idea of a fun time), and none of the guests on the guest list piqued my interest. But then my friend texted me the night before saying there had been an Adam Croasdell sighting somewhere on the con floor, and suddenly I was VERY interested in attending WonderCon.

(I could spend a lot of time painting a picture of how crappy Saturday morning was to me, which would highlight how triumphant meeting Adam finally was. But it really just boiled down to my lack of sleep the night before and forgetting my makeup case in the car causing me to look like death, so I’ll cut to the good stuff and get on with the story.)

To my knowledge, Adam was never officially confirmed as a guest of honor at WC, so even though he was spotted at the con on Friday, I had no way of knowing whether he’d be there on Saturday as well. It was only after someone had posted a picture on Twitter that morning showing him in attendance at a screening of his new movie Batman Ninja that I got the bright idea to run over to the DC booth and ask around. One of the employees there told me a signing with part of the Batman Ninja cast was scheduled for 2:30pm, but he didn’t know which cast members would be at the signing. All I could do was cross my fingers and wait.

So I waited. And waited. And waited. And when I realized that there were only four chairs at the signing table and something like ten cast members, I started to psych myself out. There was less than a 50% chance that he’d be one of the actors at the signing table. And even if he did happen to be one of the elite few, he’d probably want to talk about his role in Batman Ninja, not Final Fantasy XV. I began to feel like an idiot for thinking he’d want my stupid Ignis drawing.

There was a signing for something else immediately preceding the Batman Ninja signing, so when the actors began to show up about ten minutes early for their 2:30 signing, they sort of conglomerated off to one side of the DC booth. There were a lot of people there, and I couldn’t tell right away who was who. BUT THEN—

As if the heavens themselves opened up and angels swept down to sing their song of exaltation, the crowd parted and I caught a glimpse of him.

There he was! Adam Fucking Croasdell, like ten feet away from me. My face cleared up, my crops began to thrive, my vision became 20/20, and all because Adam Croasdell and his beautiful man-bun deigned to grace WonderCon 2018 with his wonderful presence. #blessed

I immediately skirted around the backside of the booth to see if I could grab his attention before he jumped into his signing, but there was a slight problem. You see, every good Ignis fan worth their weight in Ebony knows that Adam has had some issues with a persistent internet stalker; I’m not sure if the one thing was related to the other, but there were security guards EVERYWHERE.

I feel like this is a good time to tell everyone that I am a HUGE pussy when it comes to meeting celebrities. In fact, I make it a point not to get wrapped up in them at all because A) I recognize that they are not the character they play and that to them it is simply a job, and B) I HAVE ZERO CHILL. Seriously, I’m awkward, clumsy, and I never know what to say that will be memorable without coming across like a total lunatic. I was thisthisthis close to walking away, especially when the security guards began to eyeball me suspiciously and close in a little closer on Adam.

But then, somehow, I just went for it. And by ‘went for it’, I really mean ‘whispered at him in the most pathetic and puny voice I could muster’.

And he heard me. AND THEN HE TURNED AROUND. And before security could tackle me to the ground as punishment for daring to look at him directly in the eye, I basically word vomited a stream of consciousness along the lines of “HI ADAM I’M REALLY SORRY TO BOTHER YOU I KNOW YOU’RE HERE FOR BATMAN NINJA AND I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE FOR BRINGING UP FINAL FANTASY FIFTEEN BUT I DREW THIS PICTURE AND I WAS WONDERING IF I COULD POSSIBLY GIVE IT TO YOU IF YOU ARE OPEN TO THAT SORT OF THING...” 

(Note: The following conversation actually took place word for word, but because I was prepared for total rejection, I’m sure my recollection of it is far more intense than Adam had intended haha.)

After my soul returned to my body following a brief escape, security relaxed and allowed me to approach. But my knees decided they no longer wanted to listen to anything my brain had to say, and my lungs also thought that now would be as good a time as any to rebel, and everyone within a ten-foot radius had a front row seat watching me nearly hyperventilate whilst trying collect myself.

Adam noticed my sudden lack of control over my vocal chords and took matter into his own hands (this also actually happened):

After that, everyone—security, bystanders, Adam himself—had a good chuckle, and I was able to calm down enough to tell him the story behind the illustration. Despite my jokingly putting him on a pedestal, the truth is that Adam is an incredibly nice and down-to-earth gentleman who took the time to give me a very special experience with him. It’s the kind of moment every fan dreams of having with their idols, and he really didn’t have to do what he did in light of how he’s been treated on social media in recent months.

He even took the time to snap some selfies and give me a hug (!!!), but since I’m physically incapable of smiling without looking like an actual cartoon, I went the goofy route and let his handsome face do most of the talking:

The moment I sincerely regretting leaving my makeup case in the car:

And finally, here’s the drawing I gave to Adam (and the story behind it). ISEB MISSION STATUS: COMPLETE

#final fantasy xv #ignis scientia #adam croasdell #wondercon

[metinthehallway]

Gaia

Idek what this is, it’s just an idea that came to me upon looking at that one pic of harry sitting on the grass with a red bandanna around his neck and sunglasses on his head. Nothin too serious but I thought I’d post bc it’s 7 am and why not? 4.5k words of nonsense

In the flat green fields of Woodstock, New York, a young man sits with his knees pulled lazily to his chest. He’s found the perfect place to disappear, a tucked away corner in the shade of a large elm tree, a refuge from the constant commotion of the festival happening around him. It’s only the first day and he’s seen about 30 people carted away on makeshift stretchers either due to heat stroke, dehydration or too much LSD, about two thirds of them most likely suffering from all three. Scoping out the bodies swaying barefoot to the tune up of an electric guitar, he lets his mind wander. To this morning, finally dragging himself out of the body-sized indent in his bed. To last night, lying beneath the stars on the hood of his 1957 Cadillac, soft palms resting right on the hot metal as if it could burn the fingerprints right off his body. As if it could burn the existence right out of him.

To last month and the letter in the mail that changed the coursing river of his fate. The swiftness of the water sludged down to a motionless one, not a ripple to be seen for miles. He thought back to the letter, written in blue ink, written five states away in a room he’s never seen before. She sat in that unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar chair and whipped out the most formal stationary she owned and proceeded to cross her T’s and dot her I’s and break his heart. She used to spray her letters with his favorite perfume of hers so that when they arrived they would carry a sweet reminder; that she remembered the small details about him, that she remembered enough of him to call it love.

When the mailman unceremoniously dropped the pile of bills and subscriptions and a single handwritten letter onto his entryway floor he didn’t know he would spend the rest of the day in his room, on his bed, staring at the blazing summer sun making its way across his wall. The letter, adorned with drying tear stains that marred the pretty blue cursive, was absent of any faint trace of lemon. It was more bitter than the words that played on repeat in his mind, a record player skipping on the ugliest part of the song and distorting itself into a continuous screech. Words saying over and over again, “it’s not you, it��s the distance”. As if she wasn’t the one who created the distance in the first place.

The unmistakable sound of a cheering crowd brought him back to the present. Harry felt the grass poking at the tender skin of his hands as he ran them back and forth lazily to the music emitting from the speakers. A band he didn’t know the name of just walked on stage and everyone went wild, tipping their beers and sloshing the beverage all over the ground below them. He frowned, looking across the littered lawn at the variety of trash blanketing the green earth. Piles of cups, cans and bottles discarded, cigarette butts and clipped joints burned amongst wrappers of fast food and flyers showcasing the lineups for the day. He thought it was such an unnecessary thing to do as the large dumpsters lining the perimeters stood empty and void of their purpose. It was unfair. And he suddenly felt a great need to do something about it. Anything to get his mind off her.

Harry stood to his feet and brushed off the back of his pants so they would be free of dirt, ignoring the inevitable grass stains on his dark grey corduroys, and fixed the red bandanna tied loosely around his collar. He took off in the direction of the largest trash pile. He hadn’t even wanted to be here. He loved music, sure, but he bought these tickets months ago with his friends with the money he saved from his shoveling side job during the winter when things were drastically different. He’s been mentally preparing himself for the amazing experience he would soon have at dear old Woodstock. He planned everything down to the minute but what he hadn’t planned on was his girlfriend of 2 years to up and cut all forms of ties she had with him, which nowadays were only came in a weekly letter due to her having moved miles away. He couldn’t even enjoy himself here, couldn’t allow the music to wash over him in that special healing way it did when he heard a spectacular guitar riff or felt the beat of the drums sync up with his pulse.

So he grabbed a leaf bag that lined one of the smaller garbages towards the center of the festival and walked around, picking up single pieces of wayward trash before moving to the more compact piles. He didn’t realize how far he’d walked until his bag was filled to the brim with a plethora of waste and his arms started to ache in protest. Half carrying and half dragging the bag, he headed over to the industrial dumpsters and wrangled the ballooned bag over the top of the container. A hot and soupy liquid leaked onto his chest in the process and he recoiled, dropping half of the bags contents back on the ground. He groaned and with a dejected sigh and began to pick it all up again. When he straightened at the waist, he felt a pair of eyes boring holes into his back. He shrugged off the feeling as there were obviously a lot of eyes in the vicinity today and successfully got rid of the garbage once and for all.

Turning around, Harry made eye contact with a girl about 100 feet away. She looked to be around his age, maybe younger, holding a trash picker in one hand and a nearly full black garbage bag in the other. In a quick once over he notices long black hair trailing onto the ruffled shoulders of a white floral blouse that ended at the waistband of dark brown bell bottoms, giving way to thickly strapped sandals peeking underneath the fabric. She gives him a wide smile and throws up a peace sign, her chubby fingers clad with an assortment of rings on each one. He thought it must be difficult to use the picker with the clunky bands of metal hitting the switch every other second to open up the claws at the end when they didn’t need to be opened up. He tilts his head slightly to the side and furrowing his brows he lets a small, tight smile take over his face. She must’ve thought he was a fellow advocate for Mother Earth like her. He wasn’t really. He just needed something to do.

Averting her gaze, he finds his way through the disjointed crowds in search of his friends, Eric and Johnny. He was hoping he could see Eric’s circular afro bopping above the sea of bouncing heads or Johnny’s tremendously long arms flailing out of rhythm to the heavy music sounding out through the trees. He was ready to go and they had all taken Harry’s car to Woodstock. Fumbling with his keys, he saw a familiar body going hard in the middle of a mosh pit, semi greasy pieces of hair flying about Johnny’s face as his bony elbows found a different target to impale every two seconds. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Harry braved the pit. His feet were being crushed every time he took a step and he stopped just outside of the core of the mosh, hanging low in the outer edge. He called out his friends name.

“Johnny! Johnny Menzel!” Harry repeated his name until the letters no longer made sense and his name no longer sounded like a word. Johnny was too caught up in the music. Harry wishes he could throw away his brain, wishes he could actually enjoy himself this weekend but alas. Here he was, wanting to go home to sulk in his bed after only three hours at the festival. They were supposed to go all night, him and his friends, even after the acts had finished their gigs. He told them he would stay for them because they knew he was going through the ringer at the moment and he wanted to be that reliable Harry he was, not this flakey, emotional Harry. But here he was, going back on his word. Harry traveled further into the dense crowd of flying limbs and swirling hair and tugged on Johnny’s shoulder, turning him around to face him.

“Harry! Fancy seeing you here dude,” Johnny exclaimed, brushing a sweaty strand of dirt colored hair out of his eyes in order to see his friend. Red rimmed the translucent blue irises, eyelids drooping heavily over them as a cheesy grin found its way onto his face. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Johnny was having fun, everyone around him was having fun. So why couldn’t he? Johnny had four months of rent to worry about that was due in two days but here he was, head banging to some obscure band amidst total strangers with their own problems. Maybe that was the way to let forget about it; smoke a whole lot of weed and let your body do all the thinking. Harry felt he couldn’t even do that, though. He just wanted to go home.

One look at Harry’s face and Johnny could tell what he was thinking. Shaking his head quickly, he backed away from Harry with his palms up and started to walk over to the canteen where they were selling bottled water for outrageous prices. Harry followed him and watched as he whistled and started picking at the bush next to the table, seemingly interested in its foliage. Harry knew what he was doing, having seen this same scene play out hundreds of times. The person in the chair counting money didn’t notice when Johnny swiped a cold bottle from the row and strutted away, Harry scoffing and trailing behind.

“Listen,” Harry says, catching up to Johnny. “I’ll stay the whole day tomorrow, I promise. I just can’t today. It’s too hot and...loud,” Harry finished, grasping for any excuse and coming up short. Of course it’s loud and sweaty. They’re at a music festival. In the middle of August.

Johnny could hear the absolute bullshit in his words and whirled around, placing a cold and condensated hand on Harry’s shoulder, chugging half of the water in one gulp before opening his mouth. “Yeah, because that’s totally the reason you want to leave before Janis Joplin comes on stage. You know, the quote unquote love of your short lived life? The woman you’ve obsessed over since you knew what a boner was?” Harry smacked Johnny’s hand off his shoulder, suppressing an intense blush before groaning. He should know by now to never tell his friends anything about himself.

“Man, I told you that in confidence,” Harry whines.

“You were drunk off your ass and announced that Janis Joplin gave you musical hard ons to a garage full of people. Don’t act all scandalized. You do it to yourself,” Johnny quips. “Anyway,” he continues animatedly. “Eric and I told you we were going to drag you out of that house if it was the last thing we did. And we did it. You can’t stay in that musty room anymore. I get that you’re hurt, man, I really do,” Harry crosses his arms at this statement but that doesn’t deter Johnny. “But we’ve been talking about this forever! I should’ve spent most of this money on rent but here I am, getting paid in experience. This is too groovy man, and you’re making it seem like a chore,” Johnny ends his miniature rant with a pouty bottom lip and what seems like a stab at a comforting voice but all it sounds like to Harry is pitying.

“I’m going home,” Harry announces, choosing to ignore the well meaning monologue. He jingles his keys in front of Johnny’s face, the 8 ball accesory almost making contact with his aquiline nose.”With or without you guys.” Johnny rears his head back.

“Looks like it’s without then. I’m going to go find Eric. And together we will find a ride. If not, we’ll just sleep on a bench or something. Maybe even on the wet grass,” he says, letting out an exaggerated gasp. “It’s all about the experience,” Johnny says, before turning on his heel in search of the third staple friend in their group. Harry knows he shouldn’t feel betrayed by them. It would be unfair with all the moping they’ve put up with and all the times they smoked a bowl on Eric’s roof and Harry talked for hours and hours about her. Her pointy ears, her dainty wrists, her brown eyes he wanted to sow seeds in, watch flowers grow out of. Yeah, he was high. He was also sad. And they knew it. They sat there and let him talk for as long as he wanted to, even until the sun came up. They were good friends, he reminded himself on the way to his car. They just wanted to have fun.

Shoving his key into the ignition, he felt the Cadillac roar to life. He spent a full year working on this car, restoring it to its former glory. He loved his baby, even gave her a name: Candace. It wasn’t too creative but it was something to call his own. Putting his car into reverse and letting his foot off the break, he slowly rolled backwards out of his hazardous parking space, in his own little world. He regretted being to lazy to check his blindspot when he heard a dull thud and a grunt, the sound of numerous object falling to the ground. Harry’s eyes widened as he put the car in park, scrambling for the door handle. He missed the lock three times before successfully disarming it and opening the door. He hesitantly made his way to the back of Candace, heart racing. He just hit someone.

In the two seconds it took to get to the bumper, Harry’s thought process went something like this; Oh my god. I just hit someone with my car. I’m in so much shit. Deep shit. Center of the Earth shit. They’ll sue me. Wait, what if they’re can’t sue me because they’re dead? I wasn’t going that fast, was I? What if they hit their head on Candace on the way down to their demise? What if there’s blood? I can’t handle blood! Oh my god, I’m going the throw up ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Rounding the back of the car (and discretely flicking his gaze to the headlight for any sign of damage), he sees a familiar pair of thick and strappy sandals and his heart drops even more. It was Hippie Girl he just mowed over with his car. He stands there, frozen as she begins to stir, loud groans escaping her lips. She tries to sit up and Harry finally moves, rushing over and dropping to his knees, making sure to cradle her head so she doesn’t hurt anything else.

Upon opening her eyes, his breath catches. They’re the deepest shade of brown he’s ever seen and it chills him to the bone. It’s an unsettling stare. Various emotions pass over her face like clouds in the sky ranging from shock, confusion, pain and then finally, anger. She winces and takes a stuttered breath, opening up her deeply bowed mouth.

“What the hell just happened,” she questions angrily. Her thick brows furrow and dimple her forehead in the process. She turns her dark eyes left and right as if to gather her bearings before connecting with his, a recognizance sparking to life behind them like a flame. He gulps, praying silently for the Earth to swallow him up.

“Well,” Harry drawls out, unsure of how to say it. “I kind of backed into you with Candace. But not on purpose! I was...changing the radio station,” he lies, not wanting to seem like a wack job that doesn’t deserve his license. “I am so, so, so, so, so incredibly, terribly sorry. Here let me help you.”

With one hand on her back and the other wrapped around her wrist, he gently helps her up. As soon as she rises to her feet, she swats his hands away. Grimacing, she rotates her neck side to side and finds that it’s only a bit sore and still capable of full motion. Testing out the rest of her body, she stretches out her limbs, flinching slightly when she takes a step forward. Lifting her shirt to expose her hip where Harry assumes he hit with his car, he sees the start of a nasty bruise spreading into the waist of her dark brown jeans the same time she does. Lifting her head, he sees her face turn red with anger. A sharp inhale leaves both of their mouths. Uh oh, Harry thinks to himself. I’m definitely getting sued.

The Hippie Girl starts mumbling under her breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Harry asks uneasily. He really didn’t feel like getting cursed by your run of the mill Woodstock Witch, no matter how much he deserved it. She ignores him and  turns her focus to the trash bag lying half empty in the dirt, its contents splayed all around them, many having rolled under nearby cars. She closes her eyes in defeat. Harry, feeling awful, hurriedly bends down to pick up all the garbage he can fit into his arms, not caring this time around if any mysterious liquid drips onto him.

Stuffing the armful of random waste into the bag at her feet, he hears what she’s saying. He stays crouched, cocking his head. She’s not saying any words, just counting. The numbers drop down from one hundred in threes, it seems. He pauses to listens. 97, 94, 91, 88, 85, 82…The numbers stop suddenly at 79 and he looks up to see her looking at him, almost black eyes narrowed. He straightens up quickly, clearing his throat. “Listen,” he says frantically. “You have to understand how sorry I am. I’m not usually the type of guy who goes around running over girls with his car.”

“I would hope not,” she shoots back. “You’re lucky I have somewhere to be or else I would really be laying into you, dude. Changing radio stations? Really? Are you that shitty of a driver?” She puts her hands on her fleshy hips, forgetting about the bruise and cursing quietly. “Whatever,” she says softly, almost to herself, diverting her gaze to the sad looking trash bag. “I have somewhere to be.”

Reaching down to get a firm grip on the bag, Harry stops her. He feels like the worst person in the world. He can’t let her leave like this.

He could’ve hurt her way worse than a bruise. And he already felt horrible about the bruise, sucking in his own breath like he was the one who got hit when he saw it. Taking the bag from her, his hands dwarfing her own ring covered ones, he jogs over to the nearest dumpster before she can protest and throws it in. Returning to her, he holds up his hands in some type of truce.

“Where are you going? Maybe you could let me take you there. It’s the least I can do. And if you’re in such a hurry, driving would get you to wherever you need to go way faster than your tiny feet could. Not that there’s anything wrong with tiny feet,” he hurries out. “Just can’t cover as much ground as my Candace,” he finishes with a proud smile and a knuckle rapping twice on the trunk.

“As if I’m sitting in the same car that ran me over. A car that you named Candace. No chance buddy,” she says, already twisting her body to physically leave the conversation. Harry inwardly groans. She seemed more than capable of doing things on her own and she definitely didn’t want Harry’s company but he felt like he owed her. Scratch that. He didn’t just feel like he owed her: he absolutely knew that he did. He hit her with his car!

He watches her retreating figure for a full minute before deciding to catch up to her. If she didn’t accept his ride, he would at least see her arrive to her destination safely.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, side eyeing his profile. She’s made it all the way to the entrance of the festival full of congested cars. He shrugs his shoulder, remaining silent as they walk, not quite together, but not quite like strangers.

She weaves her way in between the vehicles, a bit more wary now that she knows what it’s like to be rammed into by one of them. He walks behind her, observing her straight posture and confident walk silhouetted by the setting sun. The dying star turned the frizzy halo around the crown of her head an orange tint and made her swinging hands glint brightly, courtesy of the multiple rings that called her fingers home. Her blouse was falling off one shoulder, sporting a couple dirt stains on the white fabric from her fall. Another thing he was sorry about. His eyes wander down to the swell of her backside against the tightness of her bell bottoms. He almost doesn’t notice she’s stopped walking and thankfully he does in time, or else he would’ve ran into her. That would’ve been bad. That would have brought on an onslaught of, “You can’t drive AND you can’t walk? How did you even get this far in life being a total safety hazard?”

Harry can just hear it now.

She’s stopped in her tracks because a small fender bender blocks her path. She huffs and turns around not knowing how close Harry is, running right into his chest and bouncing back. “Woah there,” he says, putting both hands on her upper arms to steady her.

She shrugs him off and lets her feet carry her to the left, through a break in bumper to bumper traffic. Harry follows, of course. He thinks just a bit more than normal before opening his mouth. “You think they’d see the traffic and the sun setting and turn around to go home, wouldn’t you? Like, day one’s almost over, the acts are wrapping up their sets,” he says matter-of-factly. She doesn’t say anything, just nods her head infinitesimally in grudging agreement. Harry takes this as a good sign. She’s no longer biting at his head.

“So,” he starts off. “What’s your name? I’m Harry. Harry Styles. And, again, I’m so sorry I hit you with my car.” He finds himself by her side, walking faster to keep up. Maybe her tiny feet aren’t so ineffectual, he thinks with a huff. She doesn’t seem to be too eager to answer him so he presses further.

“What are you doing here anyway? At Woodstock I mean. You don’t look like you were enjoying the music so I’m just curious as to why someone spends their Friday afternoon picking up other people’s messes. Seems kinda pointless if you ask me,” he says, rubbing a large hand around the nape of his neck. This garners a reaction from her and she looks up at him, an incredulous look on her otherwise serene face.

“My name is Cynthia,” she begins, voice gaining more traction as she goes on. “And it’s a good thing no one asked you then. I’m here because a bunch of environmentally challenged idiots get together and fry their brains to the sound of metal screeching on metal and create more litter than what’s found in a town dump. I’m here because no one but me seems to care about the environment. Do you know how much waste this godforsaken festival generates? And do you know how often they let it be stampeded into the Earth? They don’t clean this shit up, man,” she swears and breathes in, continuing her spiel. “I mean I thought you cared. Do you? Or is your favorite pastime just taking out random pedestrians with your obnoxiously red car like it’s a bowling ball and we’re the pins?” She finishes her last sentence with a snark.

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise, halting mid step. Whatever he says is the wrong thing, so he just purses his lips and stares straight ahead. If I just stayed with Johnny and Eric, I wouldn’t be stuck with this self righteous hippie, he thinks. He knows she has every right to be angry but he’s been in too bad of a mood to even begin sympathizing. Everything feels like a direct attack to him at the moment.

Mentally sighing, he falls back in step with Cynthia, feeling bound to her at least until she knows she’s safe. She may be mean and sarcastic and all the synonyms of angry in one person, but after she’s arrived where she needs to go, Harry will never have to see her again. This thought gives him a bit of relief. She really is draining on his energy and he feels the need to pack a bowl just being around her.

They’ve been walking in uncomfortable silence for a mile now and she stopped protesting his presence about half a mile ago. The sky eventually turned dark and the stars have come out from behind their cloudy curtains when they finally approach a small neighborhood full of neatly stacked white houses and manicured lawns, most of which are full of blooming yellow black eyed susans and crisp white hydrangeas. She walks a bit quicker, a skip in her step as she nears a white blocked house with pale yellow window shutters and the number 19 in gold lettering on the front door. As she hops up the steps, her bell bottoms swish against the ground.

She turns around. Narrowing her dark eyes yet again, she bites out a curt, “thank you”. Harry’s about to smile but before he does she follows up with a, “thank you, really. For hitting me with Candace. That’s a hardcore stripper name, you know,” she blows a piece of thick onyx hair out of her face. “I didn’t need you to walk me home. Really. So I’m not going to give you a heartfelt thank you. You hit me with your car,” she says pointedly. She can’t believe she ended up here at the end of another seemingly routine day, standing on her front porch and looking into eyes so green it feels like she’s staring at a motionless forest, waiting for the trees to move.

“Have a wonderful night, Henry.”

And with that, Cynthia closes her front door with a flourish and in the quiet night, Harry can hear the lock click shut. “It’s Harry,” he says out loud to no one but himself.

“Fucking Cynthia,” he grumbles before twisting on his heel so fast it almost creates smoke, briskly walking down the single road in the complex back to Woodstock. He hears a flutter in the bush to his right and the brisk pace turns into a jog.

“Fucking Cynthia,” he repeats, shaking his head.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #writing #woodstock #1960s au #fic #harry styles imagine

[acoupleofstars]

Thu Nov/22/2018

I stayed late at work. Procrastinated an assignment that I thought would be easy. I was late in the morning, though, kinda needed to stay anyway. He texted me, said he wasn't feeling too well. I asked if he needed something, "your company" he answered. I immediately put away everything and rushed to the parking lot so I could get to him. The lady guard saw my rush and didn't retain me with the revision:

-You are in a hurry, right?

×Yes, I need to get to class.

-It's ok, honey, just show me your purse.

I showed her the inside of my purse and she let me go

-Do you do your brows?- she stopped me.

×I just pluck them

-Oh, well they look really nice.

Said thanks and continued on my mission. That brightened my day a little.

I usually drive fast, but today I was faster. I wanted to get to him as soon as possible; he needed me. Got to the teacher's parking lot and reverse parked next to his father's Yukon. He sat in my co-pilot seat.

+Hey

×How are you feeling?

+Do you have gum?- he asked

×I have Halls

+Anything to take off the puke breath

+Turn on the stereo.

I turned on the car and set his phone up.

×Babe, I don’t think the pizza made you sick, we've eaten it before with dessert and you didn't take it too bad.

+It was instant soup, I hadn't had one since the shooting.

×Yesterday I puked too.

+What is wrong with us? You puke because you want to, I puke because I have to.

×Aren't we fucked up?

+You aren't fucked up, you look really good.

×It's because I puke. You don't look bad either, you don't look like you got shot 7 times.

+I don’t look like I have two bullets in my body that will forever be there.

×They won't even take out the one in your stomach?

+No, probably not.

×What are we gonna do? Do we stay here or where do I go?

He took out his weed in his old pill jar and started filling the pipe I just gave to him.

+This pipe is so good, you kicked ass. It can fit so much.

×Yeah, like a little joint but without all the ashes.

+And it's so easy to clean. I had one of these, but it was metal, wood is so much better.

He offered me the first hit but I refused, said that he should be first. After a couple of hits, he offered again and I accepted. Two fucked up students getting high on the teacher's parking lot. Turned on one of the incenses I brought from CDMX to tone down the pot smell. Yesterday it worked well; that and the airfreshener he gave me left no hotbox smell.

+These days I haven't been able to take this song off my head. Listen to the bad vibes it gives.

×How fucked up on drugs do you have to be to create this?

+A lot of them. He was addicted real bad. His OD was accidental, they gave him what it was supposed to be Xanax, but instead they have him fentanyl and took it like Xanax, but it's too heavy, the body can't take those doses so he died. Listen to those bad vibes.

×I get it, I feel in danger just listening to it.

+ I even feel guilty.

The song was on repeat. I turned off the incenses and we continued with the sesh. After a while, a guard in his motorcycle approached, we scrouched down to avoid being seen and he left after a minute.

×I saw this article today, it was about a danish man who traveled to a greek island...

+Yes! I saw it too, but wasn't it an indian island? That the tribe that lived there killed him.

×What? No, I'm talking about another one. I didn't read that one.

+Well, yeah, this guy wanted to study this tribe, but they don't want anyone to mix in nor interact with them, so they killed him. It's a very small community, like 30 people. It was really fucked up and everyone knew that this tribe was dangerous.

×And how did they know that he was killed?

+Because of the man that took him there, he payed to take him illegaly on his boat, there is no legal way to get there. But, what the fuck, right? Like, how is it possible that this kind of primitive tribe still exists?

He showed me the article on his phone and I just saw it astonished.

×The redaction is a bit weird though, what source is it?

+Yeah, I know, the BBC one was better.

+What the hell, it is really fucked up. But I was actually talking about a danish man that traveled to this greek island to help people that were running away from their country. But because they were really big groups in one boat, it would sink and the waves were massive so a lot of them were dying. He traveled there and helped a lot of people to get to the coast, but because of this, the coast guard arrested him and charged him with being an accomplice of illegal immigrants. Can you believe it?× He put his hand over my leg and I caressed it for a bit. ×He was fucking helping people, and they arrested him. How fucked up is our world that we let bad people like rapists and killers get away with their shit but when it comes to helping, they get arrested?.

We stood there in silence thinking about these stories. Humans are really strange creatures.

×The new girl at work is such a loser. Her parents nag her because she reads too much, they tell her to go outside and have a life.

+That bad?

×Yeah, Workmate says that she hasn't even had her first kiss. And she's such a kiss ass. Like real bad, she always is talking to our bosses and making conversation.

+Ugh, I guess she really wants to stay there.

×Yeah, she does. I mean, she's nice, but not my kind of people

There was silence again. We kept listening to the song and he took another hit. We don't mind being silent, it's never uncomfortable.

×I'm hungry× I said.

+Me too.

×But we can't binge, your stomach isn't right.

+Is Subway considered binging?

×Yes, a little.

+What do we eat then? What do you want?

×I don’t know, but something good.

+Subway doesn't count as binging.

×Fine, we can go there, but fast because we need to come back to class.

I turned on the car and started driving. As we got to the exit I started wondering why was I driving, he always drives. We both didn't know, but it was too late to switch.

+I really appreciate the fact that you don't judge me for being a fuck up at school.

×Fuck school.

+Park in that space

I obeyed, put eyedrops and we got out of the car. The Subway was empty and we both got Chicken & Bacon Ranch sandwiches with our own specifics: he likes his with lots of pickles, I like mine with double cucumber and no tomato. We both got Ranch and Chipotle dressing, just in different order. I left him paying and rushed to the restroom.

×You pick me a cookie× I said before leaving.

I gave him the keys so he would drive us back and we ate our sandwiches in the car.

×It's weird that people want us to be together. They don't get that we like being friends.

+Yeah, like IRSgal, she wants to force us to be something. It doesn't come to them that we aren't interested in being a couple.

×I know, it's such a strange thing to them how we are just friends.

We finished our sandwiches and were getting closer to school.

+I bought you two cookies because I didn't know which one you would want. I got double chocolate and chocolate chips.

×Double chocolate is fine.

I chose that one because I know he loves chocolate chip. He had his before the sandwich so I gave him the other one left.

+Can you be late to your class?

×Yes, no one takes that class seriously.

+Ok, I'll stop near my building and you go park your car, move quick.

×How stupid is it if you come to this side of the parking lot thinking you will find a spot?

He got out of the car and rushed to his class. At that time, the parking lot is full, it is nearly impossible to get a spot there because a lot of people are at school at that hour, is rare for someone to finish their classes in that time. However, I spotted a girl who was just leaving so I could get her spot. That was lucky.

I went to class and when I entered the room, spotted a fucking guy on MY seat. Everyone knows it's mine, I'm always there and alone. They know I don’t want to seat with someone, either my feet or backpack are in the chair next to me so no one can be by myself. I had to settle all the way in the front. Took out my phone and honestly didn't pay attention to anything the teacher was saying. It always makes me feel bad that no one takes his class or him seriously, but it's just that is really damn boring and uninteresting: Banking Law.

I was texting Starboy about Kylie Cosmetics's Black Friday sale and we were discussing if we should invest and resale at its original price. We concluded that the earnings would be too low and that it wasn't worth it. He said it needs to double.

-So guys, I guess this is it of the class. I just wanted to let you know that you were such a good group, that whenever I asked something you were honest enough to say "I don’t know and I don't care" and I appreciate the honesty. Thank you for this semester.

He's such a cute teacher, too pure so we take advantage of him. We don't deserve him. He checked our assistance and dismissed us. A couple of classmates said goodbye and hugged or shook his hand, but I just flew out of there, as always. Normally, he dismissed us 15 minutes earlier, but this time I only got left 5 minutes to get to my other class.

I arrived and, again, someone sat on my seat, however it's a large room so I don’t mind the next row. The teacher gave us our last exam, in which I got a 10/10. He gave us our current grade and said if we wanted to take the last exam to get our grade up, we could, but I just want the semester to be over, so I took my 8.2 and finished with that class. Two more to go.

Got out of the building and saw Frenchmate, gave him a pat on the chest but kept walking.

-Who are you?- he asked. His blindness never lets him see people, he needs glasses real bad, but prefers to spend the money on alcohol. I looked back and just gave him a peace sign.

-Stargirl!

I kept walking and didn't look back again. He followed me a little but didn't reach. I am still offended by the shit he pulled out. I'm not a whore, if he's with someone I will respect her. Fidelity is something I take very seriously.

I got into my car and as I was getting home, realized I didn't want to get there yet so I missed the turn and kept driving. I queued up some songs and just drove around for about 45 minutes. Thinking about Starboy, our future, how are we planning to get money if we are sick of working.

There was a bunch of people camping outside the american consulate and one of the men scared me so I braked really harshly, but then kept driving. I passed there for a second time and saw an ambulance and a traffic cop; probably someone ran over one of the people.

The queue was on its last song so I took my way home.

#writing #story

[claires-smithventures-blog]

What I Did This Summer: My Study-Abroad in France

This summer has been filled with adventure! In addition to my wonderful job working as a tour guide and social media producer in the Smith admissions office, I spent six weeks in June-July in Avignon, France studying French Literature and Theater at the Institut d’Avignon. This is a program run through Bryn Mawr College (a Seven Sister College!), that welcomes about 30 undergraduate and graduate students from other U.S. colleges/universities to spend an immersive summer enrolled in intensive courses.  Hélène Visentin, the Chair of the French department here at Smith, first recommended me for this program and it is to her credit that I owe my experience! 

[Photo ID: The undergraduate cohort of the Institut d’Avignon 2018 in front of the cliffs at the Sentier des Ôcres in Roussillon.]

Avignon: A City of Rich History

Avignon is a city in the region of Provence in southern France. During the 14th century, the capitol of the Catholic Church relocated from Rome to Avignon, so for 70 years the Pope resided in the vast Palais des Papes (Pope’s Palace). The heart of the city is encircled by a stone wall called the muros, and being inside these limits (or intra-muros) is like stepping through a time portal into the middle ages: my daily walk to and from class (in a building directly across from the Pope’s Palace no less!) wound through cobble-stone lined alleyways, took me past medieval churches, and guided me through public gardens where I could observe the ancient military fortress directly across the embankment of the Rhône river.  Additionally, Avignon is famous for its bridge--the Pont d’Avignon-- for which there is a famous folk song named!

[Photo ID: the golden statue of the Virgin Mary atop a tower at the Palais des Papes. The Palace is so massive it was impossible to capture it all in one photo!]

[Photo ID: The Pont d’Avignon jutting out into the Rhône River.]

[Photo ID: Hotel de Ville (the Grand Hotel) at the Place d’Horlage (essentially the medieval equivalent of New York’s Time’s Square), one of the largest central squares in Avignon, directly next to the Pope’s Palace. The square is teeming with restaurants and bustling terraces where tourists can grab a meal or an afternoon espresso. Every week, we would attend a different conference in this building and listen to a lecture by an esteemed French scholar. Presentations topics included “Facts and Fiction in the French Revolution,” “Social Protest in 1968,″ and “Jean-Baptiste Racine’s Play Iphégenie.”]

French Courses

This program was the perfect fit for me because it aligned with my passions for French and the performing arts, as a French Studies/Dance major. At the Institut, every student registers for two courses; the first course I enrolled in was African Francophone Literature, which was a fascinating seminar that dealt with themes of colonial/post-colonial theory, immigration, and diasporic identities in France’s former colonies in Sub-Saharan Africa. The second course I took was a theater course taught by an AWESOME professor who is a professional actress and artistic director of her own company. We engaged in an intensive rehearsal process that culminated in the public presentation of a 30-minute play of our creation (in French !!!). It was by far my crowning accomplishment of the program. A highlight is that I got to choreograph a flash mob for the finale of our production!

[Photo ID: 5 other cast members and I smiling, laughing, and taking bows at the end of our play production! I am the fourth person from the left wearing the black dress and black sandals.]

Wednesday/Weekend Excursions

Classes met for two hours every day of the week except for Wednesday, when we went on group excursions to explore the surrounding towns in southern France and engage in fun activities such as canoeing and sailing trips,  museums visits, and--my favorite-- a wine tasting.

[Photo ID: me jumping in front of a Lavender plant on one of our excursions in Roussillon, France. This was one of my favorite excursions because we were able to explore the beautiful countryside of Provence and go to a wine tasting!]

[Photo ID: a hat maker’s shop in the charming village of Uzès displaying a flower-filled balcony with a yellow umbrella and a display of straw hats in front of the doors.]

[Photo ID: A purple bike with a basket of purple flowers resting underneath a purple basket of dried lavender in Uzès, France.]

[Photo ID: a stack of blue and red canoes resting on the beach in front of the Pont du Gard, an ancient Roman Aqueduct and a UNESCO World Heritage Site! We went on a canoeing trip for our very first excursion!]

On the weekends we were free to explore as we chose. Two of my favorite trips with my friends were to the Mediterranean coastal cities of Marseille and Nice. One thing I appreciate about France is the accessibility of the public transit system; sure, you do have to watch out for strikes on France’s national railway system, the SNCF, but America’s public transportation system (or lack thereof) pales in comparison to the speed,efficiency, and price of that in France.

[Photo ID: crowds of people scattered across the beach and splashing in the water in Marseille.]

[Photo ID: my closest friends and I smiling for a selfie on the beach in Nice. I am in the front row, the farthest to the right.]

Festival Avignon

Another special part of being in Avignon during the summer is experiencing the Festival Avignon, a HUGE international festival of theater and dance that brings roughly 3,000 different performances to about 100 different venues throughout the city for three weeks in July. The city truly transforms and is bustling with life; nearly 20,000-30,000 people flood the streets and the foot traffic is so heavy that all access to cars is restricted. When I received the festival program brochure, it was as thick as a phone book!! Shows run 7 days a week from 10 in the morning to 11 o’clock at night, and tickets are reduced price for students, so I had the opportunity to see 5 dance shows and 2 theater performances over the span of two weeks, as well as countless pop-up street performances. My favorite performance by far was by Compagnie Chriki’Z, a French dance company that blends Contemporary Dance, Hip-Hop, and Capoeira (a Brazilian martial art). The dance piece, which took inspiration from Michelangelo’s painting Genesis on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, was incredibly daring and so moving it made me cry.

[Photo ID: Banners saying “Festival 2018” hanging above one of the streets. During the Festival Avignon, every inch of free space on the walls and buildings throughout the city are COVERED in posters advertising the nearly 3,000 different theater, dance, and music that occur over the course of three weeks.]

In Conclusion...

Suffice to say, my experience in France was incredible. As expected, my fluency and confidence in speaking French greatly improved, and I gained a new appreciation for theatrical studies that I think will benefit my stage presence as a dancer. Furthermore, I made a great group of friends (we already have plans for a reunion!), and gained connections through the faculty at other colleges in the U.S. The liberty and independence that comes with displacing yourself from your habitual context in order to step into a completely unfamiliar part of the world helped me mature as a young adult, and particularly helped me identify my strengths (self-advocating) and weaknesses (decision-making). This small-town raised, Western MA girl is excited to continue traveling the globe!

#smith #smith college #summer #study abroad #institut d'avignon #avignon #france #theater #french literature #smith college department of french studies #bryn mawr college

[stunudo]

Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.

Buddha

Craters 4

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Genderneutral Reader and Spencer Reid

Setting: Season 10

A/N: Violence, language, and talk of dead bodies. Thank you all for reading this really dark thing I created. Bold type is the present. Italics are the future. xoxo Stu

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Your name: submit What is this?

Dr. Reid banged on the cell door frame, getting the cops to release him. He glanced back at you over his shoulder, his eyes calculating. In that glance you saw the man behind the genius and it filled you with the first genuine glimmer of fear you had felt since you had been taken in for questioning.

You had no where to go and nothing to do, but wait. You resigned yourself to these simple truths and laid back down on the unforgiving cot.

September 21, 2014

Jerry had finished digging, the sandy soil cleared away enough to finally get to work. It was an end of summer heat wave and he owed it to me to get this over with. I hadn’t slept in three days. I put on Memory from my mom’s old cassette soundtrack of the Broadway play Cats, the old boom box rattled with the volume. She wore her green dress from her forty year high school reunion and was wrapped in one of my grandmother’s quilts.

I let the song fade into the next and the next, watching the dirt fall over my mother’s body was a sight I will never forget. This miserable excuse for a friend had given my mother a heart attack and somehow convinced me to keep it a secret. We didn’t like cops and his play thing was still recovering from their wild weekend. I had no one else in the entire world but Jerry now. It made me sick to my stomach.

Eventually the sun went down and Jerry stopped letting me rewind the tape. He took the boom box back into the truck, leaving it in the bed with the shovels. I don’t remember him carrying me into the cab, but he must have since I woke up in my bed the next morning.

“Garcia? Tell me about Y/N’s mother.” Reid barked into the comm unit still live from the unsuccessful raid.

“Homeowner, single, mother to Y/N, uh, hello.” Garcia sputtered. “She left her job late last month because she had quote “struck it rich”. Which unless it was with a backwoods gambling operation, she did not.”

“My girl! Now tell me, did she quit in person or email?” Morgan crooned.

“Letter, like from a good, old fashioned type writer.” She replied, “The bus company scanned it into their records.”

“Right in line with the timeline.” Hotch muttered, pointing at the dates on the cork board.

“She died?!” JJ guessed.

“Okay, but who killed her?” Rossi prodded.

“Y/N or the unsub?” Callahan thought aloud.

“Hotch, what if this is the trigger?” Reid finally spoke up.

“Death of the mother would be a traumatic enough event to push even someone as mild mannered as Y/N over the edge.”

“But we profiled Swanson as our unsub.” Morgan challenged.

“But why?” Hotch replied. “Because he had ties to all of the victims?”

“He also has a history of violence against women.” Callahan spat.

“But what if it wasn’t Jerry?” Hotch countered.

“Jerry isn’t the unsub. He’s the motive.” Reid finished.

September 22, 2014

I was in the kitchen just before dusk, filling the sink for dishes. We hadn’t been very good on chores over the weekend. The girl wouldn’t shut up about how sorry she was about my mom.

“That’s terrible, man. Like, I can’t get her face out of my mind. You know?” She rambled, scratching at her arms as she came down from the days long binge. I never really listened to Jerry’s girls talk for very long. Usually they didn’t like me or I zoned out long enough for them to leave me alone. This one was not getting the hint.

“Do you know when Jer’ll be back? I don’t really want to walk home.” Her voice was part whine and part cough. I ignored her and made myself a sandwich, I had an hour before I had to start my shift. If I had ever had a pet, I would have known what to do with the chick. But, I hadn’t, and my nerves were exposed wires after my mom, had, you know.

I listened to the second hand click away and counted. It was nearly seventy three seconds after her head went into the soapy water that her body stopped fighting me. But I didn’t count all the way up, I did rows of twenties. As her body fell soaking on to the floor, the purest sense of ease filled me. And I began to laugh at the little rag doll on the floor.

Hotch, Morgan and JJ took the rooms on the ground floor as Reid, Callahan and Rossi scaled the stairs for the second floor motel rooms. The team and the locals surrounded the motel, bar and small shed, the house belonging to the unsub���s mother had turned up neither the missing Gerald Swanson or any other victims. They had yet to locate the body of the mother as well.

The dusty inn had many vacancies, leaving the BAU to invade only a handful of innocent people’s rooms. Morgan and Hotch had cleared the last room facing the parking lot when JJ froze.

“Do you hear that?” The blonde paused and the frantic rattling of metal against a hard surface met her fellow agents’ ears.

Derek was the first one into the attached bathroom. Hanging in the shower stall by his wrists was Jerry Swanson. His stocking feet were half soaked with a combination of his own blood and the water dripping from the shower head. His mouth had been duct taped shut.

“Hold on man, we got you.” Derek lifted up the lanky man to ease the strain on his shoulder sockets while JJ cut through the leather belt holding him in place.

Hotch hung back and called paramedics, considering how out of the way this place was, he worried it may be too late. Reid, Rossi and Callahan met at the crime scene, searching the room for evidence to use against Y/N. Reid found it on the bedside table, in small print across the generic motel notepad was a single sentence, over and over again.

“I will not be a bad friend anymore.”

“It looks like Y/N went from one to infinity on the disciplinary scale with Jerry here.” Rossi pointed out over Reid’s shoulder.

“The penmanship slips, I wonder how much blood he lost before he was given the task.” Spencer Reid said.

September 30, 2014

Jerry hadn’t quite been himself lately and I knew it was my fault. I didn’t like seeing my friend down. But I didn’t say anything, I just mulled it over and over in my head. Jerry and I never really talked about feelings, just making sure we had a good time.

I just had to get Jerry to have some fun and he would be able to forget about how bad he felt about what happened to my mom. At least that is what I guessed was bothering him. You don’t just kill your best friend’s mom and forget about it, like that. Right?

Walking home the next morning I heard a car approach behind me, which was odd as they usually barely slow down and ease around. I ignored it, thinking it got turned around on the way out of town.

“Y/N?” A woman’s voice called to me. “Do you want a ride?”

It was Jerry’s ex Traci, I wasn’t raised to be rude. I glanced over my shoulder at her leaning out of the driver’s side window and nodded. I slipped into the passenger seat of her salt rusted station wagon and put on the seat belt.

“Thanks, Trace.”

“We found Jerry, Y/N.”

“Is he alright?” You asked honestly, his punishment wasn’t supposed to last this long.

“He’s in intensive care at the Central Hospital in Dixon.” Dr. Reid’s voice was flat. He remained defiantly outside of the holding cell. You approached him steadily, looking around to the surrounding officers in intimidation stances.

“That’s a good hospital, thank you.”

“You’re thanking me?” Dr. Reid shook his head. “You’re the one that put him in there.”

“Honestly, no. Jerry got himself in trouble and you folks kept me from releasing him from his punishment, yesterday.”

“Tell me about the girls, Y/N.”

“What about them?” You asked, leaning into the bars, waiting for the questions to flow freely now that you were freed from the sidestepping.

“You said you watched Jerry have fun with the girls. When did it go from watching to killing, Y/N?”

“Dr. Reid, Jerry had lots of girls over to the house. I’m not quite sure which ones you think that I killed.”

“Y/N, where’s the last girl? Traci Stevens, where is she?”

“Now, Traci I do know, cuz she was nice to me. Gave me a ride home couple a weeks ago. Even before that she was nice, she kicked Jerry out so he could come home to me.”

“Where is she, Y/N?”

“I sure don’t know, Doc-tor Reid.” His lips told you he was not amused, but his eyes looked impressed.

“Jerry will tell us everything we need to know, Y/N.”

You wanted to believe he was bluffing, but there was nothing he needed from you anymore. Nothing besides where to find Traci. It was a simple thing, but after years of giving, you were done. You shrugged, “If Jerry talks there is nothing I can do about it. I could never depend on him anyhow.”

October 14, 2014

Jerry had picked Traci over me, in the end. He wouldn’t hurt her, even though he usually liked roughing up his lovers a bit. Making them scream, that’s why he found me such a challenge. Nothing he ever did to me got me to wail like those girls he would play with. Traci was kept in the basement since the day she gave me the ride home, for the most part Jerry was grateful.

But it was just because I hadn’t killed her, too, like the girl he was fucking when he killed my mom. I didn’t want to kill Traci, I wanted to keep Jerry home. If I had something he loved, he would be happy staying with me. I had taken away some of his used toys, but at least he still had her. Traci wasn’t supposed to die, but she must have gotten sick or something cuz she pleaded for medicine or some whisky the afternoon before I left for work.

Walking in the next morning I found Jerry strung out and Traci on the couch, he had cut her ties and let her out of her space in the corner.

“Jerry, what did you do?” I snapped my fingers trying to get him to focus.

“She’s gone. Traci’s gone. Just let me die.” He moaned.

It took me nearly all day to deal with the body, driving back to the woods where we camped during the Cranberry Festival two summers ago. I hated driving, but I kept the speed limit and Jerry told me how to get there. He was slobbering and sobbing the entire time. And I had to stop myself from yelling at him that it was all his fault. He was good to me when we buried my mom, so I tried.

After Traci was gone for good, we drove back home. I had to get cleaned up before work and Jerry had finally started to sleep off the drugs. It was just before bar close when Jerry stormed into the motel office yelling like a wild man.

“Y/N, you sick fuck. How could you?! You were supposed to be my friend.” He shoved me as I sat in the office chair, leaning half his body across the front desk. I grabbed his arm and bent it behind his back, slamming his head on to the piles of assorted fliers for local businesses.

“Eleven years you’ve been dragging me along like a lost puppy, Jerry. Whose the sick fuck? Huh? Cuz I’m finally seeing this friendship needs serious help.”

*

“Now, you’re going to hang out for awhile and think about what you’ve done.” I explained to Jerry, patting his face gently before his head lolled back to the side. I closed the door to the motel room tightly behind me and headed back to the office. I had another two hours of my shift left and still needed to clear the closing trash from the bar. The fall air had turned chilly and I hopped from foot to foot to keep warm.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” A stern voice called from the parking lot, an SUV and a squad car had appeared out of thin air.

July 15, 2016

I had started from the beginning, laying my whole life out for the woman before me. She wore a sleek suit, but nothing distracting. Her eyes were blank, I couldn’t read her thoughts one way or another. I stopped trying pretty quick. I traced patterns on the table as I explained about my dad and how tough school was. She asked more questions when I got to Jerry.

I didn’t want to talk about the bodies, but she asked round about questions and they always turned back up. After lunch and cafeteria duty, I was shown back to the visitation room. She was still here, her notebook and voice recorder set aside.

“Y/N? Do you want to figure out why you did these things?”

“Ma’am?” I was confused. “Aren’t you here to research people like me?”

“Yes, but if I can give you some insight into why you are the way you are. Wouldn’t that be beneficial?”

I stared at the darker skin under her eyes, “You trying to get me to share some untold secret to help your project? Get all the recognition? You aint the first Doctor-Fed I’ve met.”

“So it says in your file, Dr. Spencer Reid interviewed you extensively before locating the remaining bodies and Gerald Swanson that day, almost two years ago.”

“Yeah? Bet it says a lot of things that seem more important than they really are.”

“Y/N, did you know that I work with the BAU? I work with Dr. Reid on a regular basis.”

This lady was messing with me, but I decided it didn’t hurt to test the waters. “Oh yeah? How’s little old Reid these days?”

Her eyes unfocused, “What I mean to say, Y/N. Is that if you cooperate, I’ll see if Dr. Reid will accompany me on my next visit.”

“You know what Dr. Lewis? I suddenly remember there WAS a fifth girl.”

“I thought so. What can you tell me about her?”

Feds, eating up anything you shoved in front of them. Maybe Dr. Reid wasn’t rid of me yet.

@dontshootmespence @starbucksreid @jodiewhitters @cherry-loves-fanfic @ficrecswithcassie @criminal-navy-writings @ultrarebelheart @sapphicpage

#Criminal Minds #Spencer Reid #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Unsub Reader #Spencer Reid x Gender neutral Reader #Gender Neutral Reader #CM Fanfiction #CM fanfic #Criminal Minds Reader Insert #Spencer Reid x You #Case Fic #Craters #stu #Murder #Mayhem #Criminal Minds Fanfictions #Creepy Unsub

[fly-like-a-grayson]

Flying Metal Deathtrap (Connor Murphy x Reader)

WC: 1,154

Warnings: Language and planes

Request: connor x reader and its connors first time on a plane?? thank u!!

Larry and Cynthia weren’t the best parents in the world. They tried, they really did, but sometimes Connor made it difficult. But they wanted their son to be happy, and Connor knew that. That’s why he used that to his advantage and got you to come on the annual family vacation.

This year Connor’s parents wanted to go to the Grand Canyon. Connor agreed to it, they could be asking him to go to a nuclear waste plant and he’d say yes as long as you were there. But for some ungodly reason, they decided to fly to Arizona this year. Usually then drove on their trips to Aspen to ski, he had no clue as to why they decided to fly this year.

“Isn’t like taking a road trip to Arizona like a big deal?”, he complained to you.

“Well, yeah. I’m just sure they don’t want to be on a nearly 35-hour drive with you, me, and Zoe in the car,” you tried to explain.

He sighed, “I know, it’s just I’ve never been on a plane before,” he admitted.

You smiled sympathetically, “Connor, it will be fine. I’ve been on planes many times and I’m fine.”

“Well flying is unknown to me and you must always fear the unknown,” he tried to contradict.

You scoffed, “Okay, calm down Edgar Allen Poe. At least I’ll be there with you.”

“Well isn’t that a comforting thought,” he said rolling his eyes.

You threw a pillow at him, “Don’t be a butthead.”

Two weeks later, you and the Murphys were standing in line to board the plane that would take you guys to Arizona. Every few seconds Connor would shift on his feet or adjust his backpack strap. He wouldn’t stand still and was making all of you tense. Now it was your turn to board and Connor was internally freaking out. He was worried that an engine was going to go out, or one of the pilots might die, or something like that. You, Connor, and Zoe got a row to yourselves. You sat closest to the window with Connor in the middle and Zoe in the aisle. Larry and Cynthia sat next to an old man behind you two. Zoe was already reading her book with her headphones on and Connor was gripping both armrests with white knuckles.

You placed one of your hands over his, “Connor, you’ll be alright.”

He looked over at you, “You don’t know that!”

“Thousands of people everyday board planes and they’re fine. We’re not going to be the exception,” you said rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. You two sat in silence for about 20 minutes, with your fingers now intertwined, until they started the plane up. Connor squeezed your hand as he felt the slight jolts as it moved down the runway, getting ready to take off. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else other than the inevitable plane ride. He tried to think of the book he was reading earlier, the last song he listened to, the last TV show he watched, just anything other than the flying metal deathtrap he was stuck in.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Connor could feel the plane’s wheels start to leave the ground. He squeezed your hand tightly as he also squeezed his eyes shut. He was trying to keep his breathing normal instead of letting himself hyperventilate. He felt his stomach do flip flops and ache as the made their way higher and higher into the sky. Then Connor felt the plane go steady. He opened his eyes and looked at you. You smiled and pecked his lips. He felt himself become slightly calmer.

After 30 minutes, you decided to listen to the playlist you made for you and Connor to listen to during the flight. It was filled with calm instruments, regular songs, and the occasional Broadway tune. You offered Connor one of your ears buds and he immediately put it in his ear. You pressed shuffle and “Equation” by Camille! started to play. You closed your eyes and tried to doze off to the music. Connor mimicked you and closed his own eyes. You were able to fall asleep in about 15 minutes, but Connor wasn’t. He opted for staring at you instead. He looked at you and smiled to himself. Your mouth hung open as you slept, with your hand still holding his.

Zoe glanced at the two of you, “Jeez Connor, do you have to be such a creep?”

He ignored her and kept looking at you.

She shook her head and got back to her book. She was happy Connor had you in his life. He wasn’t as mean anymore. Sure, they still pushed each other’s buttons and got into arguments, but he wasn’t trying to beat down her door anymore. She was very thankful for that, the entire family was.

Connor brought up your hands to kiss the top of yours, something he did often. The shift of your arm made you eyes open to be greeted by Connor’s perfect face. He smiled down at you, “Sorry for wakin’ ya up.”

You sleepily smiled, “It’s no worries. I brought my iPad, wanna watch Twilight Zone?”

“If I ever turn down watching Twilight Zone, beat me with a stick,” he responded.

You quietly laughed, “Noted.”

You and Connor decided to rewatch the first season. You had seen most of the series by Connor’s request. It was one of his favorite TV shows. He loved the mystery and creepy aura most of the episodes gave off. There had been multiple times when you two had cuddled and watched this show. Most of those times you fall asleep at about midnight and Connor still watching into the wee hours of the morning.

As you were watching the show, you could tell Connor’s demeanor was a lot different. His hand was holding yours but not squeezing the life out of it. He was sitting up completely straight, he let himself hunch a little bit. He had no distinct emotion on his face, nor any traces of fear. He just looked… content. Your heart fluttered at how beautiful Connor is. He noticed you staring and moved his head quickly to peck his lips against his, like a chicken.

You blushed and turned back to the show. Connor smiled and did the same.

After a few more hours, you were told that you were about to make your way to the Phoenix airport. When you landed, all of you guys started to make your way to baggage claim. You turned to Connor, “See that wasn’t too bad. We didn’t die.’

“Yeah, but I died a little on the inside,” he responded.

“Oh, shut it!”

#connor murphy #connor murphy imagine #connor murphy x reader #connor murphy drabble #connor murphy headcanon #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen imagine #dear evan hansen x reader #dear evan hansen headcanons #dear evan hansen hc #deh hcs #deh x reader #deh headcanons #deh imagine #deh #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist imagine

[woozoinks]

I was tagged by @zimooy ! this has take me 23 days to get to. im sorry. Would you rather explore the many planets in the universe or explore the wondrous depths of our oceans? That's a toughy tbh. both would be p cool. but I would probably choose the universe. like that would be so cool???? 10/10 a gt im sure Can you describe your favorite color without saying what it is and its shades? Early November Evening In The Heart Of Seattle Your bias texts you, mistaking your number for one of their friends. Do you talk to them and keep up an act or do you admit the mistake? How do you do it? What happens after? I would probably admit from the get go that he has the wrong number but bc coups is a nice guy and im a nice lady, we'd probably continue talking anyways Describe your favorite feature of one of your best friends without saying what it is. Why? can i say everything?? describe a feature of my best friend without saying what it is?? my goodness what is this?? hagge's class??? okay um. it's like??? yknow when you eat some cookies and you wash it down w milk?? yeah it's like that. or like when you come inside after a really hot day and for a solid 15 minutes you are super sweaty but then by then, the A/C has cooled you down and you feel amazing??? it's like that. or when you you are giving someone a hug and they squeeze you in a loving way???? it's like that. or like when you hear the rain outside and you can't really see it but you kNOW it's raining and everything else is just quiet??? yeah it's like that. or when you are super tired to the point where you can't keep your eyes open so you close your book and turn off your light and finally rest your head on the pillow to sleep??? yeah, it's like that. What super power would you have and how would you use it? Hero or villain? mind reading or shape shifter. I can't decide between the two. probably mind reading tbh??? like that would be so cool. nobody can lie to me bc ik what they're thinking. I always know what's going through a persons mind. it would be so cool and personally v useful. but i don't think I'd be a hero or a villan really?? I'd just be doin it for myself yknow. as for shape shifter, that can just come in handy all the time. running late for work??? shape shift into a frickin cheetah and whabam im there. bih. i can even shape shift into the flash if i wanna. you can't stop me. What are three things included in your ideal type? Why? Would you accept someone without these features? they gotta be like friends man. loyal af. im not here for some hot n cold, two faced shiz. nuh uh. nope. i like someone who actually sHows that they care. someone who genuinely wants to be my pal. someone who is Real. no fakes here. having someone who is funny is kinda nice. but like fr i think everything is funny so that shouldn't be hard. I prefer someone who isn't rude or does a bunch of hardcore drugs n drinks n tries to get me to do it w them bc im not about that. I definitely need someone who i can have personal, deep conversations with. that's a must. i like someone who likes hugs but that isn't like a nEED. i could keep going but those are some of the main stuff. and I'll accept just about everyone. but if you don't meet most of these things, I probably just won't be close to you. Vampires, werewolves, or witches? If you could become one, which would you choose and why? a witch. i mean what's the good in being a vampire??? u gotta drink blood and u cant go out in the sun n stuff. lame. and werewolves??? you literally turn into a wolf whenever there's a full moon. I literally don't see why anyone would want that. so definitely a witch. like casting spells n making potions n stuff??? how cool would that be??? i wAnt. if you released a mini album with 4 songs, what would the song titles be? 1- cherry soda 2- queen 3- teacups & oil 4- rose petal gardens Describe what you feel right now by using a metaphor without including the word to describe how you are feeling. an old man is sitting inside a row boat in the middle of calm waters but below the surface, screams are erupting from the gills of scaled creatures Your bias from one group confesses to you in front of your bias from another group. They quickly confess their love. Who do you choose? they cannot be your ult. bias. *calls mo* listen chani and jinjin,,,, I love you both,,,wow um,,,, * aggressively whispers into the phone speaker* mo i need your help rIGht now Your bias promises to go on a date with you on the condition that you plan it. Plan the entire night (where you go, why, what you eat, what you wear, the other places you go, what you talk about, etc.) alright. here goes nothin. they didn't say wHat bias it had to be so um,,,im doin jae bc nobody can stop me. let me just run you through the date. start to finish. I'll start with outfits bc in this friendship with jae, style is Key. jae would be wearing his hp wire frames and wearing an oversized maroon sweater bc gotta have the Sweater Paws. and let's just say for this time, he had the hair he had in the when you love someone mv bc that's a good. okay honestly. that entire swingset look? the outfit, hair, everything. tHAT is what he's wearing. okay. me?? um. probably wearing some cute black skinny jeans and some classic red converse. and probably an oversized, light grey sweater. we just havin those cute sweater paw vibes yknow bc we like that. imma make this a day long date bc i Can. so after we do our things yknow, we meet up at a cute coffee shop (btw we are in seattle) at like 9am bc we are not wasting the day sleeping. we have a casual, flowy, comfortable morning conversation over warm coffee and soft muffins. then at like 10am, we leave the coffee shop and walk down to a library and grab some poetry books and sit on the comfy library couches and read each other some poems to set the mood for the day. at 11am, we walk to through the streets of seattle, having wonderful conversation, even stopping by the bubble gum wall and leaving our mark there before continuing, maybe once in a while stopping to admire the graffiti or art posters along the way. stopping off at a park or a bench to rest. just having no particular destination and simply enjoying the city as it lightly rains. around 1pm, we stop by a cute, old restaurant that has been around for decades and order the oldest item on the menu. we talk, smile at the old man that started the restaurant and shake his hand before leaving at almost 2pm. then we go to pike place market. we watch them throw the fish, we go into every single shop there is & look around. we don't buy anything but we take a few pictures together with his polaroid camera throughout the day. we spend the rest of the afternoon there bc there is so much to do and so much to look at. we buy some fresh berries and snack on them bc seattle berries are truly devine. we even go to the original starbucks and buy a coffee. we take a polaroid picture of course which i will later tape to the wall next to my bed next to all the other polaroids we've taken throughout our friendship. after spending the afternoon at pike place market, we go to dinner at a cute restaurant across the street that jae swears has the best breadsticks. and he's not wrong. we spend the entirety of the 6pm hour and part of the 7pm hour at this restaurant, talking about some of what we've done today as well as other pointless conversations. as 7:30 creeps up, we step out of the restaurant. the sun has already gone down and all the street lamps and city lights are ablaze. we walk down to the space needle, deciding that it's a good way to end the day. so we pay the ever growing price to go to the top (where most people have already begun to leave). we step out onto the outside of the very top and peer out to look at the city. we walk around it once slowly, taking in every inch of nighttime seattle. we point out what we find astonishing while doing so. once we make a full revolution, we walk to the side that overlooks our favorite view (the side that shows the giant ferris wheel and the ocean) and lean against the railing, just staring out. then we start getting into deep conversations about the universe and other personal topics that only the two of us will ever know. we stay there for a while, eventually just sitting on the floor bc our feet and legs have grown tired. i sit against the wall as he lays on his back, his head resting comfortably on my lap. I play with his hair as we continue you our quiet conversation. we stay like this until everyone else has left and even some of the employees have left. we don't leave until the last employee left says that we have to leave bc they are closing. so we get up and walk hand in hand back inside the elevator and back down to the bottom floor. we step outside and agree that it looks less twinkly on the floor then it did at the top of the space needle. we check the time, seeing that it's past 11pm. so jae, being the good friend he is, walks me to my apartment (although he doesn't live in the same complex, it's only a 10 minute walk away from where he lives). as we walk, we have comfortable conversation about the nighttime. once we reach my building, he walks me up the three flights of stairs and 12 feet down the hallway to my door. I thank him for the day and we give each other a hug. we stay in that position, hugging, for nearly five minutes, not saying a word. the only sound i can hear is his heartbeat. once he pulls away, saying that he will see me soon and he promises to text me when he makes it home safely, we bid our farewells until next time and I go into my apartment, waving one last goodnight wave before closing the door, leaning against it as i listen to his footsteps fade down the hallway. ~the end~ okay honestly that was rEALLY fun and I had a gt doing that. thank you mo for tagging me. honestly. I would tag someone else to do it but LITERALLY the only two people ik on here are mo and ri and they both already did it so oop. im not gonna tag n e one bc idk n e one. sorry it took so long for me to fInally do this. thank you for reading!!

#that date one was so long im so sorry #bless your heart if you actually powered through that whole thing #i love jae park okay #um okay the end byeeee

[calamitys-child]

Yo dude, for the music asks, as many of the even numbered ones you can be arsed to do!

Apparently I can be arsed to do a Lot of stuff at 1am, cheers dude!! This is gonna be a very long post I'm sorry2. A song that reminds you of schoolDynamite by Taio Cruz, it gives me such vivid flashbacks to primary school dances every time I remember it4. A song that is not sung in your native languageThere's this one my dad listens to a lot, I can't remember the name of it but it's a really pretty song sung in French6. A song under 2 minutes longBrave as a Noun by AJJ, which I have listened to 6 times today8. A classical pieceToccata & Fugue in D Minor by Bach, because one time in music we were doing a quick revision quiz and I got a correct mark for answering the question "what is a lower mordent" with "the start of that really dracula-y song that I cannae remember the name of"10. Something you've heard performed liveWalking is Still Honest by Against Me!, aka that one time Laura Jane Grace sang directly to me for a full chorus and I sang back the whole song word perfect while crying12. A song by an artist who's from where you're fromBlack Chandelier by Biffy Clyro because I love them and they're Scottish, they're from a wee bit of a drive away though so if you wanna get more specific to where I'm from I'll say Over & Done With by the Proclaimers14. A song made suddenly awful because of a special someoneThe first one that springs to mind is Stage 4 Fear of Trying by Frank Iero cause of this beautiful girl I was too scared to admit I had a crush on so I just got sad and listened to that song a lot lmao16. Something to scream along toThrash Unreal by Against Me! is a really good loud angry sing along song18.  A song that demands lipsyncing into a makeshift microphone Literally anything by Queen honestly, I'm gonna say Good Old-fashioned Lover Boy cause I get so fuckin camp singing along to this20. A song you're dying to master all the words toLa Vie Boheme off the Rent soundtrack, I can so so nearly do it all but I always stumble on it a bit and I'm desperate to be able to do it all22. A song you can't help but dance toWannabe by the Spice Girls tbqh24. A song that makes you wanna stripMichael by Franz Ferdinand, the gayest and sexiest of all the gay sex songs I know26. A song that makes you act out the music video when you hear itDesolation Row by My Chemical Romance- obviously I alone can't create the beautiful chaos of that video but I do become very Gerard when I hear it, like I'll sing along imitating his poses from that video28. A song with spellingLiterally the only one I can think of rn is L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N by Noah & the Whale?30. A song 40 years older than youBye Bye Johnny by Chuck Berry32. A song whose lyrics shocked you as soon as you were old enough to understand themPure Morning by Placebo- my dad's a placebo fan so I grew up knowing a few of their songs and I vividly remember sitting in the car one day and this song came on and halfway through I suddenly understood what words I'd been singing along to and it was mindblowing34. A song you'd like your favourite artist to coverI'm lowkey desperate to hear Against Me! cover anything by AJJ36. A great song you discovered thanks to televisionBaba O'Riley by the Who, I heard it in an episode of House once and was like "hey that's a fuckin tune" so I went and googled it38. The song you were too ashamed to post for 37GOD honestly like I have very little shame regarding my music taste... the multiple McFly albums I still have? The Labyrinth soundtrack?? Dancing in the Street by David Bowie & Mick Jagger??? It's all trash and I don't care really40. Favourite Disney songI'M NEVER GONNA CATCH MY BREATH saygoodbytothosewhoknewme Boy Was I A Fool In School For Cutting Gymmmmm THIS GUY'S got 'em SCARED TO DEATH hopehedoesntseerightthroughme Now I Really Wish That I Knew How To Swiiiiiiiiiim B E A M A N

[weneverfreeze]

Sydney. My dear. I will love you forever if you write samnat for one of those au prompts you just reblogged (im feeling 1, 6, or 7 for them, but really any prompt is fine 😄😄)

Okay sorry this is late Mercedes! This didn’t get a reread, just so you know, and I started writing the ending at around 1 AM and it’s 4:30 (lolol it’s 4:47 now) in the morning right now, so yeah:

1.  I’m sleeping over at my friend’s flat from university after study group and just got woken up in the middle of the night by their roommate, who is sitting in the kitchen, listening very loudly to the dirty dancing soundtrack and crying. Like wtf, I didn’t even know they had a roommate and normally I would yell at you but damn you are cute. You really need to stop tho dude, its 4am, some people in this house want to sleep AU

6. We work out at the same gym and you are my declared rival because we have the same workout routine and you are always better than me and on my way to the locker room I passed you in the shower where you were singing the opening of hannah montana and I can still hear you and you switched to the lion king now and even though I hate you I think I am kind of in love with you AU

7. I’m hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant from a spectacularly awful tinder date and you are in a similar situation because a guy at the bar just won’t stop hitting on you and now we are planning an epic escape together even though we only met ten minutes ago AU

WC: 5747

There are two gyms on campus. Two gyms for nearly 40,000 people, so it stands to reason that you’d run into people very rarely. Two gyms, 40,000 people, seven days in a week, fourteen hours give or take each day when they’re open, four floors of exercise equipment and courts and weights and two pools per gym. This isn’t even factoring in her work schedule or classes, but somehow Natasha’s managed to run into this asshole every single time she goes to the gym. Out of both gyms and all the rooms and all the possible exercise routines. Every single time.

The first time she thought maybe it was just coincidence. It happens now and then of course, that someone comes in and has a similar routine to the one she’s perfected over the last six years. Last time it was Clint though, and that was first semester sophomore year, and that was only because Nat asked him. He’d complained the entire time about how hockey’s enough exercise for the both of them, and Nat I’m going to mess up my legs or my arms or my nose, okay, you remember how I got a concussion swimming. Clint came with maybe four times before deciding to do yoga by himself.

Since then Natasha had been alone in her workout routine. Thirty minutes on the bike, thirty doing weights, and thirty on the thigh machine downstairs on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Saturday’s for lazy laps in the pool when she isn’t making burritos at Chipotle. Her routine is simple and easy. In and out within 90 minutes.

But this asshole. Showing up all cocky and self-important. He’s been mirroring her pretty consistently the last month or so. At first it wasn’t that noticeable—he’s cute, maybe, in that sweaty sort of athletic way that she won’t pretend not to like, but she’s dated girls and guys like that before, so—just another body on the bikes a little down the row, or another person curling dumbbells, or another guy waiting for a weight machine.

Then it started being a thing. Nat had glanced over week 1.5 of this whatever-it-is at the same time he had, and they shared a nod and went back to biking. He seemed like an asshole even then. It was something, she figured, to do with how he wore cologne even when working out.

Then, week 2, it had been a very full Wednesday, and the only bikes were right next to each other. He was definitely looking at the display on her machine and she’d never tell Clint or Maria that that was the reason she was walking a little stiffly for three days afterward, because she definitely hadn’t been going a little faster than she should have been and checking his display as well.

Weeks 3 and 4 had been more of the same, except at week 3.5 she’d realized what exactly is so asshole-y about him: he doesn’t sweat, and he bikes further and can lift more than she can. (She’s better overall on the thigh machine, thank you, hockey.) Natasha would be over here straining to go up one last hill while he’d be pedalling easy as anything, scrolling through some article on his phone.

Natasha had been hoping when she walked in today that he wouldn’t be here, but no such luck, and he’d taken the machine she favors. She glances to her left; he catches her look, and raises his water bottle in an obnoxious salute. Inwardly she flips him off.

Only five minutes in. She readjusts her headphones. Five minutes in. She can do this.

The men’s and women’s locker rooms share a wall. Through numerous, painful post-workout showers, Natasha’s determined that unfortunately the wall must be dividing the shower sections of both locker rooms; someone’s been having a field day singing show tunes and pop music and rapping while she’s in the shower.

The variety, she thinks as hangs up her towel, is pretty impressive. Today the singer’s belting out Best of Both Worlds from Hannah Montana.

It’s not unpleasant today, which is surprising. The singer’s voice goes oddly well with the theme song.

The singer switches to Circle of Life. She joins in and they sing together until the water goes cold.

(It goes cold after six minutes.)

New Text Message

Clintyyy: Takeout?

Me: You’re buying

Clintyyy: Hey now, no

Clintyyy: It’s your turn

Me: Don’t make me bring up Budapest again

Me: You owe me

Clintyyy: ….fine

Me: Good

Clintyyy: Preference?

Me: Anything but tacos

Me: Chipotle has me sick of tacos

Me: You’ve never known true taco hatred until even just the smell makes you want to throw ingredients everywhere

Clintyyy: Please tell me you did not do that

Me: (read at 7:39)

Clintyyy: Tasha?

Me: (read at 7:43)

Clintyyy: We gotta pay rent still you’ve got a job right

Me: Of course I do

Clintyyy: Don’t do that to me

Clint’s got fried rice, lo mein, and crab rangoon waiting on TV trays in the living room when she shoulders through the doorway. Or, limps through; she’d done too much on the thigh machine again today, which she’s pretty sure Asshole Guy had noticed. Light from NCIS flickers over his face as he raises an eyebrow. A noodle is hanging out of his mouth.

“Don’t tell Steve,” she says. She plunks down next to him on the couch, pokes his thigh until he gives her more room.

He says, “That’d be embarrassing for you,” and she glares until he raises his hands in surrender. “I won’t, fine; just don’t kill me, okay?”

“Who am I gonna get to rent with me next year if I didn’t have you?” She opens the fried rice and quirks a smile and he bumps his shoulder against hers.

They’ve rented together for two years now after Natasha’s freshman year roommate gave her a photo album of her sleeping at the end of the first semester. She’d spent the majority of spring semester staying over at Clint’s room, which worked out nicely because Clint’s roommate Steve’s just about the nicest most stubborn guy she’s ever met, and he’d only asked them once if they were dating (they weren’t). Most other people have a look that says I don’t believe you when they say they’ve been friends as long as they’ve known each other, but Steve had just nodded and gone back to sketching his calculator.

“We should live with Steve next year,” she says, thinking; it’s October now, if they get a move on they should be able to get a nice place. She steals a bite of noodle from Clint’s container.

Clint pulls a face, but he holds the container closer to her. Nat offers the fried rice in return. “Nah, I’m good.”

She smiles. “To the rice or to Steve?”

He pretends to think about it, stroking an imaginary beard, and she leans into his side and waits. Onscreen Gibbs slaps Tony upside the head again.

“Both,” Clint says. She makes a face. “Kidding. Steve’s rooming with someone next year, they’ve really hit it off, so.” He tilts his head to the side like he’s deliberating and adds, “Or not kidding really, because that kid wheezes so much when he tries to sleep. Snores like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I was there, remember?” she says with a smile, checking the crab rangoon. “Do you want the last one or shall I?”

Clint waves it toward her and says, “What song today?”

She’s been keeping him updated on the gym since he refuses to go. He knows all about The Asshole and The Song Guy. He’s convinced that there’s a love story in the making between the three of them, but since she threatened him (half-jokingly) with a spatula, he’s been keeping that to himself.

“Circle of Life.”

Clint nods and shrugs appreciatively. “Good choice.”

She says, yawning, “Better than the week of Thrift Shop.”

“You love Thrift Shop.”

He starts playing with her hair and it’s so soothing she almost drifts off.

“I do,” she murmurs, yawning again—it feels really very nice—and curling closer. Clint unfolds the blanket along the top of the couch and pulls it over them. “That’s why it was so bad. He didn’t know all the words.”

Clint says something like “Neither do you” but she’s just about asleep now and doesn’t really hear him. Or at least, that’s what she’ll say if he mentions it in the morning.

New Text Message

1-347-867-5309: Hey Nat! Do you wanna study together Saturday?

Me: Who is this

1-347-867-5309: Steve

Me: Ohh right right

1-347-867-5309: You didn’t know it was me did you

Me: Of course I did

Me: I know everything

Steve: Sure

Steve: You’d think that

Steve: Since, y’know, we’re friends and all

Steve: You’d save my phone number

Me: Don’t be offended

Me: I’ve been friends with Clint for fifteen years and I only saved his number since coming to college

Steve: I guess that helps

Steve: Maybe

Steve: Not really. Anyway: study with me?

Me: Worried for the test?

Steve: A little

Me: Me too

Me: Where/what time?

Steve: My apartment? I’m off work at three, so four?

Me: Sounds good

Steve: See ya then

Asshole Guy isn’t there today. Today she’s got her machine again and the world is at peace once more.

To be fair, it’s Tuesday. She never knew for sure, but she strongly suspects Asshole Guy only works out Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, like her. But this week Fury has her working the night shift on the line, so Friday’s workout’s cancelled.

She probably shouldn’t be in today. Her inner thigh is still sore. Steve would kill her if he knew she was straining it—he’s a history and art double major, but, since his dad’s a trainer, he knows a fair amount of things. Including the fact that pushing a hurt muscle is a terrible idea.

Natasha knows that too, though, and it’s starting to hurt more than it had, so she sighs and lets the weights down gently.

“You alright?”

She whips around, ready with a snappy retort for another dude bro trying to tell her how to do her workout. It dies in her throat. Two gyms, 40,000 people, seven days in a week, fourteen hours, an entirely different day, no less, and yet.

It doesn’t help that The Asshole has nice eyes this close. He clears his throat, and that’s when she realizes he’s wearing the khaki pants, blue shirt, and red backpack of a student trainer. He says, “It’s Tuesday. You don’t usually—I mean, this isn’t your max weight, and you usually lift longer than this.”

He’s been watching. Nat raises an eyebrow. “Observant.”

“Part of the job,” he says. His cologne is sharply out of place with all the sweat in the air.

“You work here.” She regrets it the moment she says it; his eyebrows shoot straight up, then settle again. Of course he works here. No one wears khakis to a gym.

Instead of answering he plucks at the hem of his shirt and moves on. “Are you okay? I have to ask when someone lets the weights down like that.”

“Didn’t realize they were that loud,” she says, to have something to say. “I’m fine. Little sore from yesterday.”

The Asshole sets his backpack down and kneels to sort through it, all the while asking about her hydration and whether or not she’s eaten and you know, you’ve gotta rest between these kinds of things, you can’t do the same exercises back to back and expect to be totally fine.

This rubs her wrong. “My work schedule’s different this week,” she snaps. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Sorry,” he says mildly. He hops back to his feet holding a blue crinkly something. Natasha glares up at him and he holds his hands up before saying, “I know you’re not an idiot, just needed to say that. Job description and all that.”

She’s got her arms folded, so when he tosses the crinkly something at her she’s completely unprepared. It bounces off her elbow before she catches it, somehow, on the rebound. It’s a Nutrigrain bar. She stares at him.

The Asshole rubs the back of his neck and says, “It’s blueberry, not too bad if you—I dunno, if you eat that sort of thing.”

“Thanks…?”

“Sam,” he says, starting to walk away.

She says “Natasha” and Sam smiles and walks out of the weight room.

There is a profound silence from the men’s locker room. Today the water stays warm for exactly eight minutes before threatening to crystalize on her skin.

When she’s dry, she squeezes her hair with the towel and dresses. The Nutrigrain wrapper’s in her pocket when Nat pulls on her jeans. She’s not sure, really, why she’s still holding onto it.

New Text Message

Steve: Hey were you working out today? At the Heli?

Me: Yeah, why?

Steve: No reason

Steve: (Steve sent an emoji)

Me: The halo’s not reassuring Rogers

Steve:

Early Wednesday morning she wakes up in Clint’s arms while Tangled plays for the third or fiftieth time. Squinting, she looks up to see that Clint’s awake and bedheaded as ever; she’s still not sure if he styles his hair like that intentionally or if, thanks to the innumerable naps he takes, that’s just the way his hair grows.

She pulls the blanket over her more and Clint starts. “Sorry,” he whispers, grabbing for the remote. He mutes the TV (Rapunzel and Flynn are just about to be trapped in the mine) and Nat closes her eyes again.

“S’okay,” she says sleepily. “How long’ve you been awake?”

“Somewhere around Flynn finding the tower.” He stretches carefully, rests his arm around her again. “You were saying something about Sam? In your sleep.”

“Mmm. No.”

“I think so. Fell asleep with my hearing aids in, so.”

“Your hair’s stupid” is all she says. He lightly pulls on one of her curls, and they drift off again.

Steve has to poke her six times to stay awake in lecture around noon. She’s lucky to have him there; Clint would’ve let her sleep and drawn mustaches on her with Sharpie. It’s especially important to be awake today because they’re reviewing for the exam, and she’s got a 93% right now and this test could solidify or jeopardize that A.

That doesn’t mean she’s not leaning on Steve right now. She’s lucky she’s on her left because she’s right handed, and even though he is as well he’s not the type to complain when he’s helping someone. Plus his right arm is ever-so-slightly more muscular than his left, so it’s somewhat more comfortable to lean against.

He’s really bulked up in the last two years; freshman year Nat used to be able to fit his wrist between her forefinger and thumb. Not so much now. He has a Russian pen pal according to Clint—kept in touch since they were five apparently—and they’ve been FaceTiming and working out together. She and Clint aren’t really sure what exercises they’ve been doing—or how you can work out with someone over FaceTime—but it’s working for Steve at least; they’ve doubled their efforts to get him on their hockey team.

Steve pokes her again as Professor Stark rambles on about medical experimentation during World War II.

“I’m awake,” she says. Their redheaded neighbor, Pepper, hushes them, and Nat sticks her tongue out at her. Quieter: “I’m awake.”

“I know,” Steve says, “you snore.”

“Hey!”

“Shh!”

Steve holds up a hand to stop either of them from saying anything. He whispers, “Did you meet Sam? At the Heli?”

Natasha stares at him. “How’d you know that?” Their prof changes the slide and she hurriedly copies down the information.

“He told me,” Steve says. “Ran into a redhead on the weights, said it wasn’t abnormal but for the fact that you don’t work out Tuesdays.”

“I don’t, it’s be—”

“Because of work, yeah.”

Nat worries her bottom lip. “You know him.”

“From high school,” Steve says. He nudges her and winks when she glances up. “He’s a good guy.”

She elbows him back, but she’s blushing a little. “You can’t be too sure. He wears cologne to the gym.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs so loudly that Stark stumbles over his lecture and stares, aghast.

“Excuse me, in the back; do you find this subject funny?”

Steve’s really doing an admirable job of biting back his laugh, she can almost see it straining to chime out. He hangs his head in the model of a subdued and solemn student. “Of course not, Professor.”

Stark narrows his eyes and resumes his lecture, casting dark looks at them from time to time. Steve whispers, “Cologne? Really?” and Natasha barely stops herself from laughing too.

Clint leans in her doorway while she ties her sneakers. “C’mon, Tasha.”

“I go to the gym on Wednesdays,” she says, sighing a little when she stands; her inner thigh muscles still hurt from yesterday.

What Natasha means is, Sam goes to the gym on Wednesday. She’s been thinking about him almost all day. She got on the wrong bus this morning because she was trying to remember the shade of his eyes. She’s even—it hurts to admit this, even to herself—she’s even bought him a blueberry Nutrigrain bar.

Clint knows her well enough and is, in general, smart enough to hear what she isn’t saying. “I get that, believe me I do, but. You’ve gotta rest up. You can go back to kicking butt and showing off next week if you want, or Saturday, but you’ve gotta rest.”

If she had enough momentum, she’d be ducking under his arm and in the hallway and on her way. Clint catches her stare and shifts into a more solid stance, the one that makes him look intimidating in his hockey gear but right now makes him look bedheaded and earnest and like her best friend.

Nat says, “I don’t really wanna go, but I do,” and Clint smiles with half of his mouth.

He looks up and runs a hand along the doorframe like it’s the most fascinating thing, still smiling like it’s just for her. “Wanna get out?”

“Where?”

“Dunno,” he says, and shrugs.

Their university does movies for free at the Union, so that’s where they go. Every Wednesday through Saturday at 9 PM whoever’s in charge of the videos cycles through blockbusters that came out earlier in the year, usually on a few month’s delay. It’s always very energetic; the room seats 150 people, give or take, and that many college kids in a room tend to laugh and talk to the screen now and then in very audible whispers.

It’s Moana tonight. Natasha buys the popcorn and Clint does the butter and salt in an easy routine that they’ve established over the last decade and a half, one born from Natasha having a job and but sense of what to do with butter and Clint not having a job but the amazing ability, somehow, to properly flavor even the vaguely cardboard-y popcorn served outside the theatre.

She’s checking his work—flawless, as always; he can’t seem to miss the mark—when he says, “Oh, hey Steve.”

Clint takes the popcorn back, which is good because she almost drops it. Steve smirks at her but she barely sees him; Sam’s leather jacket is filling up her field of view.

“Hey Clint, Nat,” Steve says. “Nat, I think you know Sam?” Nat glares at him and he shrugs in an I’m sorry kind of way, which would’ve been fine if his eyes weren’t plainly amused.

Sam says, “We’ve met. How’re your thighs?”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s got popcorn stuck in his throat at that. “Her thighs?” Steve doubles over, laughing a little breathlessly.

“Fine,” Nat says, ignoring Clint and Steve, but it’s okay because she and Sam have both gone red now. “Just. Taking a day off. Rest day.”

“Good, good,” Sam says. He’s wearing what Natasha thinks is his my best friend is an idiot expression; she recognizes it because she makes the same face about Clint.

She looks at them—they’re not paying attention anymore, Clint’s showing Steve something on his phone—and then back at Sam and says, halfway between annoyed and flustered, “Wanna find a seat?”

And he says, “Absolutely,” and they sit next to each other and, in the dark, she imagines that this is, maybe, a date. A daydream ruined when Clint and Steve stumble over them to get to their own seats and spill Steve’s drink all over the floor, flooding over the tops of their shoes and making the floor obnoxiously sticky when they shift their feet.

New Text Message

Steve: yknow tht Sam liks you

Me: Are you drunk?

Steve: cant get drunk rmmber

Steve: scince

Me: That’s not how science works

Me: Are you okay? Do we need to come get you?

Steve: nahhhhh

Steve: mfine. got Sam

(Steve added Clintyyy to the chat.)

Steve: CLINT tell her

Clintyyy: What’s with the caps man?

Steve: phone bein weird

Steve: does that

Me: Are you sure you’re fine?

Steve: i am not Sam he’s in lov

Steve: *live

Steve: *lpbe

Clintyyy: We got you

Steve: you knoe what I mean

Me: He’s drunk

Steve: mnot

Me: Like Budapest all over again

Clintyyy: Ah the memories

Natasha has twelve missed calls from Steve when she wakes up. She checks through them, straining to separate the synth in the background from Steve’s slurred speech, and makes a mental note to make Steve the DD from now on. Boy can’t handle his alcohol very well.

She also has a series of quick texts from a number she doesn’t recognize, and she smiles when she sees them: Got him home safe, don’t worry. Got your number from his phone. Don’t forget to hydrate.

Clint walks with her to the bus stop, very blatantly reading over her shoulder. She lets him. “‘Don’t forget to hydrate’?” he says, one eyebrow raised.

Nat just shrugs and shows her ID to the busdriver. Clint follows behind her. He wants to ask something, she can tell, so she waits and leans the back of her head against the window. He pokes a hole in the knee of her jeans.

The bus slows to a stop by the main lawn five minutes later and they get up, sling backpacks over tired shoulders. Nat’s class is a little bit of a walk from the stop but Clint’s is in one of the old buildings ringing the lawn, so they hug and go on their way.

But he’s running after her a beat later, and he asks, winded (he should, she thinks, probably come with her to the gym), “You like him?”

“Maybe,” she tells him.

Clint studies her with the certainty and ease that comes from knowing someone for awhile. “You do,” he says, like he’s found something worth finding.

She says, “Yeah,” and they smile at each other.

New Text Message

Clintyyy: Still up for it?

Steve: Yessss

Me: Why not

Loud, overly flirtatious and forward drunk frat guys. That’s why not.

Thirsty Thursday is always a little over-the-top, but somehow, today, it’s one hundred percent worse; they’ve walked the entirety of College Ave. looking for a bar that wasn’t overflowing but still quality. There are approximately seven different bars within feasible walking distance—that is, within the distance that a still somewhat hungover Steve, an exercise-loath Clint, and a Natasha in relatively high heels would be willing to walk to. Seven bars for 40,000 students, maybe only half of whom can (legally) drink, maybe only half of that half who don’t have classes Fridays and would be out around this time. And, apparently, all of those students are tipsy frat guys.

They don’t say anything to her, per se, never do, but they’d said things to each other about her when she and Steve and Clint walk by, and once was enough for her to dislike them on principle.

The three of them had planned for eight. Eight was a dumb idea, evidently, because the bars they would have no trouble getting into Monday through Wednesday at eight o’clock are filled with lines a block long.

“Should we just call it?” Clint asks in frustration. They’re at the sixth bar on the list.

Nat shakes her head. “Let’s try the next one. We’re out, we’re cute, we may as well. And I really have to pee.”

“Well said,” Steve says.

The seventh bar is called The Triskelion for reasons Natasha hadn’t cared to ask about. The logo is the same curving lines as her boss’ tattoo, and Fury never struck her as the type of person to welcome questions about it, so she’d shelved her curiosity.

It’s a little, low lit dingy place with graffitied walls and peeling paint. But the bar is clean and so are the tables, and there aren’t as many frat guys here—there’s a few other people at the bar and one or two couples who seem to be on dates, but no Greek letters—, so Nat thinks it’s perfect.

“What can I get you all?” the bartender asks.

Natasha looks and Clint and says, “Surprise me,” and heads off to find the bathroom.

“I got you,” Clint calls. She raises a hand to say she heard.

It’s surprisingly clean, the bathroom. It’s unisex, so there are urinals and stalls, but there isn’t as much pee everywhere as she’d expected for Thirsty Thursday. She’s washing her hands when the door slams open.

“—right back,” someone says, talking to someone outside, and then: “Shit fuck.”

Nat glances to the door and immediately wishes she was back at the bar. “Hey, Sam.”

He smiles weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “How you doing?”

“Fine. You alright?”

“You, uh. Heard that, then?” Sam says flatly. She nods, waits. He sighs. “It’s my date.”

Now she really wishes she was back at the bar. The sentence bounces around her head a moment before settling uncomfortably on her stomach.

She says, “Sorry,” and pinches off bits of her paper towel.

“Yeah. Don’t know what I was expecting, it’s just,” he says, and now he throws up his hands, “everything’s gone wrong, she told me that I was ‘just the sweetest thing’ and ‘so soft’ and that I remind her of her dead chocolate lab, and she didn’t answer if I asked if it was because I’m black. I mean, I was kidding, but not now, clearly.”

“She sounds interesting,” Nat says carefully. “I’m sorry.”

“‘Interesting’ is a little milder than I’m thinking,” he says. “It’s my fault really, it’s Tinder and I was gonna call it off, but she sounded so sad in the messages.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

Sam looks around the bathroom and says sheepishly, “I was going to pop open the window, actually. But there isn’t one. So.”

“I’m sorry,” Nat says. On an impulse she takes his hand and squeezes it. “You can do this. It only has to be a one-time thing.”

He squeezes her hand back. “I’ll try.”

New Text Message

Me: Abort

Nutrigrain Bar: What happened? Are you okay?

Me: Frat guy at the bar hitting on me

Me: buying me a drink npw

Me: Steve and Clint in bathroom

Nutrigrain Bar: One sec

“Hold on, I gotta tell Clint and Steve, they worry,” Nat says a little breathlessly, leaning against the brick wall of the library. Sam starts to back away but she catches his jacket sleeve as a sort of tether. She sends her text one-handed and pulls him closer, and the second kiss is as nice as the first, and the third is better.

New Text Message

Nutrigrain Bar: I had a very, very nice time last night

Me: Me too

Me: It’d be a shame if

Me: You know

Nutrigrain Bar: If it happened again?

Me: Exactly

Nutrigrain Bar: Well

Nutrigrain Bar: We’ve always got out standing date at the gym

Me: That’s a good start

Nutrigrain Bar: Well hopefully we’ll have a good middle too

New Text Message

Stevie: Told ya

Me: I know

Stevie: For the record

Me: I knowwww

Stevie: ;)

Me: Shut up

“Details,” Clint says, his arm a dead weight around her shoulder; they’re both still feeling last night.

The NCIS opening credits play, but they’ve got the sound off. This is one of Clint’s favorite things to do, sit around and read the lips of the actors on TV shows. Nat’s favorite part is when he gets bored of it and starts making up his own lines.

She tucks her knees close to her chest and leans closer to Clint. He mumbles Gibbs’ line, “Grab your gear,” and she says, “Doesn’t count.”

“Does so.”

“He says it,” and here she yawns, “every episode.”

Clint tugs on her sleeve. “It counts. It’s like the free space in Bingo.”

“Gonna pretend you didn’t say that, Barton.”

“Gonna pretend you aren’t dodging the question, Romanova.”

“You didn’t,” she says, yawning again, “ask me anything.”

“Don’t be a McGoofus, McGee” is what Clint says next. Then: “Fine. Details?”

Remembering it gives her goosebumps. She smiles. “About?”

Clint groans and buries his face in a cushion while she laughs harder than she would normally. His voice is muffled as he says, “The kiss, Tasha, the kissing, the Frenching, snogging, whatever.”

“You mean like, how was it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Tongue?”

“Maybe.”

New Text Message

Steviesteviestevie: Okay I’m presentable now

Steviesteviestevie: Are you almost here?

Me: Just got off the bus

Me: Be there in 5

Steve flings the door open wide and drapes himself against it, saying, “Welcome to my humble abode.”

He’s ridiculous. “You’re always so dramatic,” Nat says, laughing in spite of herself. She crosses the threshold and Steve closes the door behind her.

She’s never been in Steve’s apartment before. It’s about what she would’ve expected for a student on a college budget: small living room with a small TV and bookcase, small kitchen, small bathroom with a corner of the mirror missing. A hallway leads off the living room and has three doors, one being the bathroom, one Steve’s room, and then a closet, maybe.

He spread out cool ranch Doritos and Oreos and lemonade on the counter. After handing her a (paper) plate, Steve piles huge handfuls of the Doritos onto his own plate and sits.

The Doritos are now half empty. “You should’ve just taken the bag,” Nat comments. She deliberates for a second and then just takes the Oreo tray to the table.

“There’s time,” Steve says. “We’ve got a lot of studying to do.”

Nat plunks her notes and books onto the table. “That we do.”

Two hours later, Natasha hits the wall.

Thirty minutes after that, Clint texts her about an NHL game, so she commandeers Steve’s TV and watches that. Steve abandons his homework and joins her on the couch and they yell at a few missed calls, and she finally gets him to agree to join her and Clint’s team (thereby allowing her to win a twenty dollar bet).

Around nine, a Mythbusters marathon starts. Natasha and Steve have a competition to see who can stack and eat the most Oreo filling. Steve wins, but only because his mouth his bigger.

At ten Steve’s Russian pen pal FaceTimes him, and, after exchanging hellos in Russian, Steve introduces him to Nat. Steve’s pen pal has long hair and the unlikely name of ‘Bucky’ and is surprised when Natasha takes to him exclusively in Russian.

Sometime after that Natasha’s alone on the couch, and while the Mythbusters team blows stuff up onscreen, she falls asleep.

She hears it and holds a pillow over her head in sheer stubborn refusal to be awake. When she moves, her arm threatens to fall off; sleeping on the couch never really works out for her unless she sleeps on someone.

The lights are off in the apartment. Careful to keep her ears covered, she peeks at the TV and sees that someone turned it off. The singing’s coming from the kitchen, then. If she focuses extremely hard she can just make out the pitch on the voice, and from what she knows from several painful karaoke nights, Steve’s voice isn’t this nice to listen to. Even if it’s waking her up at—she checks the clock on the bookcase—four in the morning. She blearily considers the possibility that Steve’s being robbed.

Whoever’s singing (a musical burglar?) is getting into it. Their words filter through the pillow now: “Just remember, you’re the one thing I can’t get enough of”.

That’s it. She throws the pillow across the room and storms into the kitchen.

“What the hell are you—” That’s when she sees Sam.

He stops midword in surprise. “Nat?” he says, uncertain. “Why’re you here?”

She crosses her arms. “Why’re you here?”

“I asked first,” he says, yawning.

“Studying.”

He says, “Sleeping.”

This more than anything annoys her. “Trying to,” she says pointedly. “Was sleeping.”

It seems to take him a moment to put together what she’s saying. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Your turn.”

“I live here?” He raps his knuckles on the back of a chair.

She’s not awake enough for this. “Here?”

“Steve and I are roommates,” Sam says.

“I thought—” she yawns “—thought he lived alone.”

Sam says, in a tone too bright for this time of morning, “Nope.”

“Why Dirty Dancing in the kitchen? Can’t you practice in, I don’t know, the car? The shower?”

Sam looks at her oddly. “Yeah,” he says. “I do,” and this time it’s Nat who takes a moment to understand what he’s saying.

And then she puts it together. “The gym.”

He nods, smiling slightly. “Thought you knew.”

“No,” she says, rubbing her eyes. It’s too early for this.

“Shame.” He looks very determinedly at the ceiling. “I was trying to woo you.”

She laughs. “Through the shower.”

“Wasn’t sure what else to do,” Sam says, shrugging. But he’s smiling, and she thinks that maybe she’s found something worth finding.

“You’re an idiot,” Nat says.

He says, hopeful, “That mean it worked?”

“Maybe,” she says.

New Text Message

Me: Made it back fine, thanks for asking

Nutrigrain Bar: Good :)

Me: And it worked

Me: How’s Wednesday?

#thanks for the ask Mercedes :) I hope it's okay #samnat #samnat fanfiction #sam x natasha #natasha x sam #otp: on love's light wings #asks #i need to go to bed #long post #I CAN'T BELIEVE I MISSPELLED CLINT'S NAME #I AM DISTRAUGHT #clint barton #steve rogers