#if they were like the same height then maybe smoked cheese

[yikesharringrove]

It’s a book Steve’s actually read.

Well, Nancy kinda mostly read it to him. Which really just makes the whole thing hurt a little bit more.

His speakers were crackling and he had turned the bass up high enough that the song was distorted, vibrating through his car.

It was embarrassing. Scream-singing to Kate Bush while sobbing into your steering wheel in the high school parking lot.

He’s just got a lot of feelings, and Nancy dumped in that alleyway, he can literally see it and Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy. I’ve come home, I’m so cold.

Which, it’s all just bullshit. Pardon the word.

Because, Catherine and Heathcliff don’t even fucking end up together. There’s something about family difference and he remembers Nancy saying socioeconomic like that word meant anything to him and Catherine winds up dead of bad brain-itis and Healthcliff is a dick so they never should’ve been together anyway.

But, whatever.

He’s feeling very much like Catherine right now. Standing on the moors with a broken heart.

Because fuck Heathcliff. And fuck Nancy.

Kate Bush is the only one he can trust anymore. 

Her and her red dress and Steve’s insides feel like that red fucking dress in a way he can’t explain and Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy. I've come home, I'm so cold. Let me in your window-

He just about jumped out of his skin when the passenger door opened.

One too-tan hand reached out to crank the volume down on the song, and a too-pink tongue slid across too-white teeth and

“Harrington, I’m obligated to tell you that you’re acting like a pussy.”

Hargrove.

Y’know, he’s the top of Steve’s Fuck List. Right there with Nancy and Heathcliff, and everyone else who sucks shit and makes people feel bad.

“Can it, dickhead.”

To be fair, Steve was ugly crying to Kate Bush by himself in his car, but he’s allowed to be a pussy by himself in his car.

Hargrove just gave Steve a look that Steve’s pretty sure meant I’m resisting the urge to punch you in the face right now, but was undercut by that stupid fucking tongue of his lolling around like some kinda hyper-sexual golden retriever.

Meanwhile, Kate Bush was still singing and Steve was still Cathy on the moors.

“I’m fucking sad, or whatever. Let me be a pussy.”

“Oh, come on, Harrington. You really this cut up about some prissy little princess? She’s not even the best this town has and that is saying something.”

“Y’know, for a guy that’s constantly calling all the girls in town ugly, you sure do fuck a lot of ‘em.”

“At least I’m getting some. When was the last time the princess put out, eh? Or was she savin’ it for marriage? I could see her bein’ one of those types.”

He said those types like he wasn’t wearing a saint’s pendant around his neck. Like Steve didn’t see his family all sitting uncomfortably silent together in the diner after mass every single Sunday afternoon.

It was weird, seeing Billy in a nice shirt. All buttoned up properly with his hair looking all respectful. Especially since Steve was usually high off his ass and slurping down a strawberry milkshake with cheese fries like he’d die if he didn’t.

“I’m not gonna talk about my sex life with you, Hargrove.”

“Aw, why not, Harrington. Don’t wanna compare body counts? You embarrassed or something?” Billy was grinning that shitty sharp grin of his, still waggling his fucking tongue as he leaned closer to Steve. “You still a virgin, King Steve?”

The song ended. Steve rewound the tape. It started up again.

He needed Kate now more than ever.

“Of fucking course I’m not. I’m just not some gross asshole that goes around telling everyone who’ve I’ve fucked. It’s called being a decent guy.”

“It’s called being a prude. Now, c’mon. Tell me who’ve you fucked. Maybe we’re tunnel buddies.”

Steve wanted to throw up. Kate was on the moors again.

“You’re disgusting. Tunnel buddies. How gross can you even get?”

“I hope that’s a rhetorical question.”

“I don’t know what that means and you’re a shithead.”

Hargrove tossed his head back and laughed, showing off those teeth that looked like they could take a chunk out of Steve’s flesh if Billy got close enough to try.

You had a temper like my jealousy. Too hot, too greedy.

“Seriously, though.” Billy had stopped laughing. “What is this shit?”

“She’s Kate Bush and she speaks to my heart.”

Billy just stared at him.

Yeah, that was a pretty pussy thing to say.

“I just got fucking dumped, dude. Let me be sad about it,” Steve backpedaled.

And then Billy did something very unexpected.

Well, he did something very normal for his character, and then he did something unexpected.

He lit up a cigarette.

And then passed it to Steve.

Steve filled up his lungs with a thick drag of smoke. He held it for as long as he could.

Which was really long.

Swimmer’s lungs. And that.

He blew out the smoke. Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy. I've come home, I'm so cold. Let me in your window.

“Is this fucking song based on Wuthering Heights?”

“Yeah, you dumb dumb. It’s fucking called Wuthering Heights.”

“Okay, dumb dumb, I clearly don’t even know this song.”

“Maybe you’d be less of an ass if you did. Dumb dumb.”

Billy lit a cigarette for himself, letting the smoke trail out of his mouth like he was some kind of dragon.

Billy probably fancies himself a dragon. Thinks he’s this big scary creature that just goes around breathing fire and ransacking villages for their gold.

Ooh, it gets dark, it gets lonely on the other side from you. I pine a lot, I find the lot falls through without you.

Really, he’s probably like a dog of some kind.

Domesticated.

“You’re staring at me.”

Yeah. Steve was staring at him. Watching him smoke while Kate Bush played loudly. The speakers still sounded like shit even though Billy had turned down the song considerably.

Steve didn’t know when he had stopped crying.

Probably right when Billy had let himself into his cave of self pity, but his face was still wet.

He wiped it off, not pointing out that Billy had been staring at him too.

“Why are you here so late? Practice ended like, an hour ago.”

Billy shrugged lamely. He kinda looked like a little kid.

Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy. I've come home, I'm so cold. Let me in your window. 

“Bored. Didn’t feel like being home.”

“So you came to sit in the break-up mobile with me. How nice.”

“Mostly I just wanted to make fun of you for listening to this garbage. I could hear it across the lot.”

And sure enough, Billy’s car was parked a good ways down from Steve, about as far away as their two cars could be from one another.

Steve doubts Billy heard Kate all this way, but what’s he gonna do, bring that up?

No. He’s rather sit in this weird silence that settled between them, feeling awkward about himself and his body and listen to Kate.

I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering, Wuthering Heights

“She’s not worht it, y’know.”

Steve had to do a double take to make sure it was still Billy sitting in his passenger seat, and not some cheap imposter wearing a Billy-suit and saying almost nice things to Steve in a not-mean voice.

“What’d you say earlier? Plenty of bitches in the sea?” Steve would’ve laughed at that comment when Billy made it if they weren’t naked together.

There’s something things you don’t do while naked with another guy, and laughing just isn’t one of them.

Plus, he had been a little too focused on figuring out why Billy’s nudity had given him that same hot feeling that nearly seeing Rob Lowe’s dick in The Outsiders movie gave him last year.

“I mean, it’s true. Don’t sweat this break-up. She seemed like an uptight bitch anyway.”

“Hey.”

Steve was still a little too sore, a little too fresh from the split to trash talk Nance like that.

“Whatever. Get high. Look at some porn. You’ll be fine.”

Ooh, let me have it. Let me grab your soul away.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Silence again.

Kate was back to the chorus.

The song was almost over.

“You could always go on the rebound. get her out of your mind with someone that’ll actually put out.”

Hargrove had barely even said it before he was yanking Steve forward, giving him no time to prepare as their mouthed smooshed together in something that was very very awkward, and very very sloppy.

Steve still had tears on his cheeks, and his cigarette was getting dangerously close to the filter, threatening to burn his fingers, and Kate was still singing, and Billy was kissing him, and dear God Steve’s at least a little bit gay.

Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy. I've come home, I'm so cold. Let me in your window. 

They drifted apart from one another just in time for Steve to rewind the song again.

“So, uh, yeah,” Billy said, and his cheeks were this wonderful shade of red, and Steve couldn’t stop thinking about Kate’s red dress and that fucking kiss and he was on the moors again, but this time he and Billy were making out in the grass and oh fuck, oh fuck-

“Yeah. Good.”

“Good?” Billy raised on of those dark eyebrows at him, his cheeks still burning.

“Good. Very good.”

Billy nodded a few times, sucking on his cigarette. Steve suddenly remembered he had dropped his on the floormates and tried to stamp it out before it got singed to bad.

“Okay then. Good.” Billy opened the passenger door, stepping out and flicking away his cigarette. He seemed to think for a moment, before turning around, leaning his upper body into Steve’s car.

Steve thought they were going to kiss again.

He was ready to go for it, ready to let his eyes close and maybe let it lead to more. He was Cathy and he was ready for some action.

But Billy just grinned again.

And skipped the song.

#yes i know when nancy and steve break up billys only been in town for like three days but its my fic and ill make up a timeline if i want to #yeah i call people dumb dumb all the fucking time so i had to put it in #this idea came from me listening to this song on a loop for fifteen minutes in the parking lot before work and crying before going in to wor #k #also i've never read wuthering heights everything i know abt it is from the song and this one fic i read that mentioned it #also the way that this is probably technically a song fic #i hate it #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #this is so self indulgent omg

[aotxfan]

Grief (Marco)

Summary: Reiner comforts Marco’s lover after his death.

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack, depression, and character death.

The sunlight hurt her eyes and she dove back under the covers with a pitiful groan. Her head was pounding from all the tears she had spilled and her throat was raw from the agonizing screams she had let out in her grief last night. The chirping birds outside and the sunny day did little to ease the anguish buried deep in her heart.

Somewhere from the other side of the room, a voice was calling her name.

The last thing she wanted right now was a visitor. She pressed the covers even more tightly against her face and hoped that whoever it was would leave. Couldn’t they see that she was in no state to see anyone?

No such luck. The voice grew closer and a hand tugged at the blanket over her head.

Exposed once more, her eyes burned and her face scrunched up. She blinked disoriented and a warm palm was pressed to her forehead. Her name was called again in a hushed whisper.

Reiner. She recognized his voice before she even saw him standing next to her bed. His eyes were narrowed in worry as he took the state of her in.

She must have looked awful. Her hair was in disarray, there were dried tear stains on her face, her eyes were bloodshot, and her knuckles had bloodied half moon crescents from where her nails had dug into them painfully. She knew she looked like a disaster, yet she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. Her voice sounded raspy from all of the wailing she had done recently and she coughed to clear it.

“How are you feeling? I brought you something to eat,” Reiner lifted his hand. He was holding some warm bread and cheese.

The scent made her feel nauseous. The last thing she needed right now was to eat. She didn’t have the strength to do anything. Not since-

Her throat seized up and she squeezed her eyes shut. In her mind’s eye, she could still see Marco laying there on the cold pavement. Half his body was missing and his eyes were dazed staring lifelessly-

“Hey, hey, hey.”

As if he could tell what she was thinking about, Reiner’s hands suddenly gripped her shoulders. His amber eyes were wide open with concern. He eased her back into her bed as she realized new tears were rolling down her face.

“Leave me alone,” she ground out, “Please.”

The urge to dive back into bed was strong. For the past few days since his death, all she wanted was to sleep. At least in sleep she could escape the reality that the love of her life was gone.

“You know I can’t do that,” Reiner murmured. He was patient as he went to her windows. He pulled the blinds back and she had to look away. “Everyone is worried about you.”

She shifted in her bed and drew the covers to her chin. Based off the height of the sun in the sky, it was around midday. Her roommate, Mikasa, was long gone and most of the others were probably already in training.

In her grief, she had been allowed to miss some sessions. Shadis, despite his cold exterior, wasn’t completely heartless. The soldiers that had fought in Trost and lost comrades had been allowed to skip the rest of the training until the day they chose their battalion.

Her friends had known not to bother her in her grief despite their worry. Mikasa had known to let her sleep and not say anything when she heard her wailing alone in the room. It seemed only Reiner had not gotten the message because he continued to come every day to check up on her.

“Why are you doing this?”

A headache was forming somewhere at the back of her mind. While she knew Reiner was being a good person in his worry for her, she was sick of him dropping by. All she wanted was to waste away in peace. Was that so much to ask?

Without asking, he pulled a chair out for himself next to her bed. His hands expertly spread some cheese on a slide of bread before offering it to her in an attempt to get her to eat. Even as she tried to wave him away, he refused to budge. Finally, she had no choice but to accept his offering with a glare in his direction.

“I’m worried about you. You’re not eating, you’re not going outside, and all you do is sleep. You know this isn’t what Marco would want-“

“Shut up,” she hissed.

Hearing his name out loud made her feel sick to her stomach. It filled her with the image of his corpse lying there in ruins. She felt bile climb back up her throat, but she forced it down.

Desperate now, more tears running down her face, she pressed her hands to her face. “Please, please leave.”

Her voice sounded pitiful even to her own ears, and his eyes further softened.

“Not until you eat.”

“I’m not hungry. You’ll be waiting her all day-”

“Then I’ll wait here all day,” he answered. He reached out to brush away a tear that was running down her face. “As long as it takes.”

She wanted to keep fighting him, scream at him to leave her to rot the way Marco had been left behind when Wall Rose was breached, but she had no energy left. For days, she had done nothing but cry and wallow in her grief. She was tired of everything and wanted nothing more than to sleep it all away and never wake up.

Reiner was still waiting expectantly for her, and she turned away from him.

She had no idea why he insisted on visiting her everyday. She and Reiner had been friends since they had met, sure, but he was never particularly close to her. They were comrades in the training grounds, and she sat with him when the mess hall was full and there were no other seats open. Still, they had never been close.

Since she had arrived at the 104 Cadet training, she had only ever been close with Jean and Marco. She had known Jean since childhood and had befriended Marco upon arrival.

The thought of Marco gave another painful lurch in her chest. She bit her cheek until she tasted metal on her tongue.

Marco had been the one closest to her. She had fallen for him without meaning to, and it seemed like he had liked her back. They had just begun to explore their new feelings for each other. He had just asked her to date him and had been planning to take her to introduce her to his parents before Wall Rose had been broken through and he had died.

Suddenly, the bed dipped and she looked back. Reiner had moved from his chair to her bed and was staring at her in concern.

She moved to give him more room and stared out the window. Somewhere below, she could hear the other cadets outside still cleaning up from the attack. A part of her felt bad for leaving it all to her comrades, but it was outweighed by the part of her still in mourning.

“You really have to eat something. You look awful,” Reiner commented. He was still offering her the piece of bread he had brought.

She accepted it from him but didn’t raise it to her mouth. He bit his tongue but didn’t urge her. Perhaps he figured she needed time on her own.

“Why are you here, Reiner?” She asked again, “Jean hasn’t even stopped by. You and I weren’t really friends.”

Reiner looked down at his hands before answering her. “I’m just worried about you.”

She blinked away some more tears. “Did they already-his body-”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Mikasa had come home smelling like smoke last night, and she had known it was finished. The military always burned the bodies of the dead to prevent a pandemic from spreading, but she didn’t want to ruminate too much on it.

“Yeah,” Reiner exhaled, “You didn’t go.”

She shook her head. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to go. Seeing the funeral pyre would have made everything more real.

As it stood now, she could pretend that this all wasn’t happening. She could tell herself that Marco was still alive and that he would come back home. He would run up to her and embrace her with his bright smile and spin her around as she laughed. Everything would fade away as he looked at her and she wouldn’t be in so much pain. This would all be some awful nightmare that she would wake up from as soon as she saw him.

To go to the funeral pyre would have meant letting go of whatever ridiculous hope still clung to her.

“What are you thinking about?”

The question brought her out of her reverie. She turned and saw that Reiner was still staring at her. His eyes were full of concern, sympathy, and something else she couldn’t trace. Something dark and haunted that made her stomach churn.

“Marco,” she answered.

He seemed to wince as she said his name. For the first time, she wondered if maybe he was in mourning too. Marco hadn’t been his friend either, but he had been a kindhearted person. It would make sense that several of the 104 would mourn his death.

“You know, it helps to speak to someone. Sharing your memories with someone can help process things. You can talk about him,” he offered.

She finally brought the piece of bread to her mouth. It was still warm if a little stale, but her mind couldn’t find a flavor in it. She had never known a grief this bad, and everything tasted like ash on her tongue. Getting it down without water was difficult.

“Talk about what? His death? I’m not ready-”

“Not his death,” Reiner shook his head, “Something happy. What’s your favorite memory of him?”

She thought about it. It was so hard to point to just one. It seemed like she loved everything about him. Every moment with him had put a smile on her face.

Still, one memory in particular made her pause. It was during the winter expedition. They had been in different teams back then, but had made it back to the cabin around the same time. He had lit up when he had seen her and had rushed to her to ask how she had done. His eyes had been so bright when he had spotted her among her teammates.

“The winter expedition,” she heard herself say, “He met up with me in the cabin. I wasn’t used to snow, my village never got it, so I wanted to stay outside longer and play in it. The leaders didn’t want anyone outside while they waited for the other teams, so they refused to let us hang out. I was upset about not being able to stay outside, but Marco just told me to go inside. He knew I was sad, and he wanted to help. He disappeared outside for a bit and came back after a while hiding something in his jacket. It turns out he had snuck out a bowl when the leaders weren’t looking. It had some snow inside, and he gave it to me. He said he couldn’t give me the full experience of being outside, but maybe I could make a tiny snowman in the bowl as a consolation.”

A tiny smile broke through her face and she felt her eyes sting. Still, thinking about the happy memories made some of the agony in her chest abate.

Reiner let out a tiny laugh next to her. “I remember that. He was hobbling around with something under his coat and wouldn’t say what he was hiding.”

She swallowed down another piece of the bread and thought about him some more.

“He used to do that all the time. He brought me a lot of tiny little things when he sensed I was sad. When I didn’t score high enough on that test we had, he brought me some tiny wildflowers and said I could make a flower crown with it. He even taught me how to do it.”

She still had that flower crown somewhere. The flowers had long since wilted, and it would probably fall apart in her hands if she touched it, but she had it. After he had woven it into her hair, leaned in really close to get it just right, and blushed when he had looked into her eyes as he did so, she had decided to keep it.

Reiner stretched out his legs and his eyes closed. He looked exhausted and there was something weighing heavily on his shoulders. Like Lord Atlas, it seemed he carried the weight of the world. She wanted to ask what was wrong but doubted he would answer her.

“He liked you a lot, you know,” he finally said, “He asked me to take care of you. The last time I spoke to him, all he wanted was for me to protect you.”

Silence filled the room, and she had to suppress her tears. She was dehydrated now and her eyes hurt too badly to cry. She pressed a hand to her mouth and suddenly the bread from before felt like lead in her stomach.

“When did you last speak to him? None of it makes sense. He was with us at HQ and then gone. I don’t know what happened-”

Her voice raised an octave and she felt her breath start to hitch. Her breathing became shallow and her neck became tight. She felt a panic attack rising in her as her heart began to pound.

Suddenly hands were at her shoulders. Reiner’s concerned gaze was in front of her and he was calling her name.

“Breathe, hey, breathe.”

He demonstrated how to breathe and kept going until she had mimicked him. Slowly, the panic subsided, and she felt exhausted.

Without thinking, she buried her face in his neck and began to sob. He wrapped his arms around her and his grip was tight. He was shaking even as he held her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “Forgive me. I’m so sorry.”

He kept repeating it over and over again and his own voice was shaking. Seeing him like this made her pause. She drew away and wiped at her face.

“Not your fault, Reiner. None of us saw what happened. No one could have saved him-”

She cut herself off as he winced. Pure agony flashed through his face before it disappeared. He recovered so fast that she had to ask herself if she imagined his reaction. Perhaps all the crying was getting to her.

“He wouldn’t want you to be like this,” Reiner said, “He’d want you to live. All he wanted was your safety. The last thing he said to me was for me to protect you.”

She pressed her fingers to the back of her head. A bad headache was forming there, and all she wanted was to go back to sleep.

Sleep was good. Sleep meant all the pain went away for a few blissful hours. Plus, if she was lucky, maybe she would dream of Marco.

“I just want to sleep,” she murmured.

She wished he would leave so that she could bury herself in her covers all over again and waste away. Maybe then this gaping hole in her heart would disappear.

“No,” Reiner shook his head, “Come on. Please, let’s go outside. Just for a few minutes. Humor me.”

He extended his hand. His eyes were pleading for her to take it. For some reason, he was the one most concerned for her well-being. She wasn’t quite sure what it was that drove him to keep coming to her room every day.

Still, she just stared at his outstretched hand.

“I don’t want to,” she bit her cheek.

“Then the mess hall. You’ve got to eat something more than just bread. It’s almost lunch time. There’ll be warm food for you.”

Food was the last thing she needed. It was so hard to swallow anything, and she wasn’t sure she could keep it down anyhow. No, she just wanted to be left alone.

Bringing her knees up and resting her chin on them, she looked away.

“I can’t,” she said.

“You can.”

Suddenly, Reiner was kneeling before her. His hands were at her shoulders again and he was staring into her eyes. Again, that dark emotion was plain to see in his eyes. She had no idea what it was, but something about it made her want to move away.

Was it regret? Guilt? She couldn’t place it.

“Come on. Just come with me for a bit. Take a shower, change your clothes, and just come with me down to the mass hall. You don’t have to talk with anyone if you don’t want to, and you don’t have to stay down there. We can just get you something to eat and bring it back up here. I just want you to see some sunlight outside of this room.”

The offer didn’t entice her in the least. Her friends would be down there, and she didn’t feel like being stared at. Not to mention the fact that Jean hadn’t even bothered to check up on her. Even if he was mourning Marco too, couldn’t he have at least poked his head in her room?

The fact that he seemed not to care about her filled her with irritation. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to forgive him for it. In her own pain, she wasn’t too understanding of his.

“Please leave me alone,” she repeated.

Again, he shook her head. “No, I don’t want you to be alone. I don’t want you to ever be alone again. I made him a promise and it’s the least I can do-”

He cut himself off and slumped his shoulders. He looked to be in pain himself.

“I’m not your responsibility. You don’t have to stop by every day and check up on me. No one else has.”

She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her tone.

Jean hadn’t stopped by, and he was her oldest friend. Mikasa was too quiet to stay and console her even if she was her roommate. Her other friends hadn’t seen her since Marco’s body had been discovered. She figured they didn’t know what to say to her and felt too awkward to visit. The thought stung deeply.

“Well I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m always going to be here. I’m going to come by every day and keep insisting. Some day, you’re going to get out of that bed and we’re going to walk down there together. You’re going to survive this, and I’m going to protect you like I promised,” he reached for her hand and tugged her close, “I’m going to be here, okay? You won’t be alone.”

His promise made new tears run down her face. She began to sob and he held her tightly. His embrace was rigid, awkward, and his eyes were squeezed shut as if seeing her in such a state hurt him too. Nevertheless, she felt grateful to him.

At the very least, she had someone at her side. Marco hadn’t completely left her alone. If he had asked Reiner to protect her before dying, then she figured she could trust him. She could let him in and draw strength from him.

“Just to the mess hall?” She sniffed, “And then we come back?”

Relief filled his face and he offered her a soft smile. “Just to the mess hall.”

She nodded her head and got out of bed. Her legs were unsteady and he helped her walk.

She could do that, she figured. She could take a shower and then go down to the mess hall. It was a small way of repaying Reiner for everything he had done for her.

“Reiner,” she called his name as she headed towards the showers, “Thank you.”

He hugged her again and brought her close.

“Yeah,” Then, as if in pain, he closed his eyes. “I made a promise to him. It’s the least I can do. I’m so sorry.”

She frowned at his apology again but let it slide. It felt nice to hug someone again. She let herself relax in his embrace and decided to trust him. If Marco had asked him to watch over her, then she knew Reiner was trustworthy.

Drawing strength from his hug, she offered him her first real smile in days before heading to the showers.

- - -

If only she had known then that, the entire time, she had been smiling at Marco’s killer.

#marco x reader #marco x you #reiner x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: One

“Where’s she headed?” Bucky asked watching the woman loading the back of her small SUV with a duffle bag and assorted odds and ends.

She was a friend of Sam’s, one from his days at the VA, Bucky knew, but he couldn’t remember her name. Sam had got her the gig with SHEILD. I guess he figured they all needed counseling. Or a team mom. Or whatever it was she did. Outreach, Bucky figured. Generating good PR. 

“Looks like a mission of Mercy,” Sam said with a small, slightly sad smile. Bucky looked at him for explanation and Sam sighed, instantly looking sadder and a few years older. 

“She’s a third generation Army Brat,” Sam explained. “Dad never came home from Desert Storm and Brother didn’t come back from… whatever the fuck he was doing. Mom was a VA nurse before she retired… So Y/N knows a lot of grumpy old fucks that don’t like to leave their houses. She makes rounds a few times a week still, for the people she’s known since she was just a kid. Friends of her dad’s, some cousins twice removed.”

Bucky exhaled slowly and nodded. That he hadn’t known. He’d never really paid that much attention to you. But now he looked again. You were packing down styrofoam coolers with what looked like milk, eggs, cheese, and assorted lunch meat. And you had a few labeled boxes of cans. A couple cases of beer… That made Bucky smile a little. And he could respect what you were doing. 

“Y/N!” Sam called across the motor pool, “Who’s on your list?”

“Joe, Rocky, and Cooksy, at least for today,” you answer, “Mac and Wild man are still in the nursing home for rehab.”

“Joe, huh?” Sam said walking over, Bucky trailing after him looking confused.

“You wanting to go along?” you ask, smiling, tightening the ratchet straps that held the styrofoam coolers in place.

“That old man still owes me a rematch,” Sam said grinning. 

“Rematch in what?” Bucky asked, catching a case of beer that had started to slide of it’s perch and slotting it carefully into an open space for you. 

“Dice,” you snort, “Sam swears he cheats.” You give Bucky a smile of thanks and slot a small gift bag in next to the case and Bucky has to look away from you. His face feels hot and he feels like you’re looking through him. So he looks at your hands. Work roughened. Nails bitten to the quick. Useful hands. Not just ornaments at the ends of your wrists. Efficient. 

“He Does!” Sam’s voice breaks through Bucky’s distraction and jolts him back to the world. Back out of his head. And for that, Bucky is momentarily grateful. And a scolding gasp from you immediately makes him too aware. 

“Get off my bread you fucking heathen,” you grouse, only half playing as you give Sam a shove away from a bag.

“My bad,” Sam said, quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “You got a minute though?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “Go get your stuff. I don’t want to wake Joe up before he’s ready.”

Sam gives you a grin and trots off and Bucky sighs, mentally trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his day. He didn’t want to assume he was going. 

“Joe did intelligence work during WWII,” you tell him, “You guys can always swap some bullshit stories… If you want to come.”

Bucky looked at you. You aren’t looking at him, instead you’re leaning on the bumper of your car and looking somewhere not quite the middle distance, but at something, anything else. And he can’t decide if you’re nervous or just awkward. And he can’t decide how he feels about making you nervous. He was nervous. His palms felt clammy and the rolling in his stomach couldn’t decide if it wanted to be butterflies or hornets. 

“Joe won’t mind?” Bucky asked. 

“A friend of mine is a friend of his,” you say, and Bucky can see that the corner of your mouth is upturned in a smile. “He’s a cousin… kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“He’s a cousin of a friend of my mom’s… He used to look after me sometimes when mom had to run a night shift.”

Bucky nodded, “That-” he couldn’t decide if that was “nice,” or “Cool,” or “weird.” 

“He taught me how to draw in three point perspective, gamble, and make a decent martini,” you say, and Bucky can hear the fondness in your voice. “Most importantly I guess, he never let me be a weirdo by myself.”

Bucky let himself chuckle. And when you chanced looking up at him, the rolling in his stomach decided it was butterflies. 

You were smiling. The kind of smile that would be seductive outlines in red. But right now? With no make up on and your hair falling out of a haphazard ponytail? You looked like a kid about to cause trouble. And he wanted to see what trouble that was going to be. 

Sam retuned before Bucky could formulate something flirty to say. Something that wouldn’t sound too dirty or too corny. Something that might make you swoon a little... though. As you swore at Sam across the motorpool telling him to hurry the fuck up, Bucky doubted very much that you had ever swooned in your life. But he could absolutely see that having a grumpy old man baby sit you had had some other amusing outcomes. 

Swear words didn’t look like they fit you. Your mouth was too sweet looking and the words were too blunt and ugly. It looked like they would fit wrong and come out worse. But. The way you said them was so casual. As if you had never not said them. And that… For some reason, tickled Bucky. He likes smart girls. He liked girls with a temper. And listening to you bicker with Sam just… It definitely burst some more butterflies out of their cocoons. It was nice, Sam having to put up with a smart mouth instead of being the one to dish it out. 

__________

The drive was fine. 

Sam didn’t even complain about the music you played. A blend that gave Bucky whiplash and something of a headache behind his eyes. But. That wasn’t your fault. A lot of the music past his own time did that. 

The Audio bombast of discordant sounds and coded meanings of the ever evolving slang was… a lot. So he mostly focused on the scenery. The cars. The people. The sky. The architecture. That helped. Some things about New York would probably never really change. There were more people now. Fewer dresses and more people in pants… And fewer roving packs of kids. But. It felt the same.

It wasn’t until he was standing on the doorstep. He and Sam looming over you like bodyguards that he noticed differences. The lack of washing hung out to dry. The consistent low hum of multiple air conditioners. The lack of kid noises. The lack of… community. The way everyone was together, and apart simultaneously. 

But when the door swung open slowly, and Bucky was greeted by a little old man. One with thick glasses, a bald head, and stooped shoulders. A neck that made him look like a turtle… A sudden warmth washed over him. 

“There’s my favorite ray of Sunshine,” he said, pulling you into an unembarrassed hug. The kind men in his time reserved for their mothers and beloved children. “And my second favorite pain in the ass!” he said, rasping a laugh as he clasped Sam’s hand in his. 

“I moved up a spot,” Sam chuckled.

 “Eh, the neighbor’s dog died last week,” Joe said, giving Bucky a steady, appraising look.

“Aww, Bear died?” you say sadly, “poor old man… How’s Irene doing with it?”

Joe turned back towards you and chucked you under the chin gently with a small smile. Bucky didn’t miss the tears that had welled up, and evidently, neither had the old man. “She’s heart broke,” he said, “But, she told me to tell you he loved the blanket and it made his last couple weeks more cozy.”

Joe stepped back and ushered you into the house, letting you pass him to go and quietly pull yourself back together, Bucky figured. The butterflies in his stomach catching a sudden chill. 

“Who’s he?” Joe asked, arms folding across his scrawny chest as he straightened himself to his full height… or as close to it as he could manage.

“Winter Soldier,” Sam said grinning, clapping him on the shoulder before going to get the stuff you had for him out of your trunk.

“No shit?” Joe said, adjusting his glasses.

“No shit,” Sam answered, calling over his shoulder. 

“Well Son,” he said to Bucky, “Come on in. I gotta add a bottle of Jack to my grocery list… it looks like I lost a bet.”

And Bucky can’t help it. He laughs.

In the Hall, just inside the door, Bucky  can hear you rattling around. It sounds like dishes being done. And maybe a broom being used and Joe shakes his head. “She’ll make someone a nice wife some day, but fuck if I know what kind of man could handle her.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if that was for him to hear or just Joe Musing to himself out loud, but he smiled anyway and followed him inside. On the walls, there were pictures. Covered bridges, flower gardens, portraits… Presumably of people that the old man knew. Or had known. And the smell of dust and old paper. Decades of smoke from meals cooked and packs of cigarettes. It smelled like age. A sepia tone that mellowed and dulled all the colors around him. But somehow there was nothing harsh. Or forbidding. 

“Will you sit down?” The old man groused, “I have a broad that comes in and does all that shit.”

“Then you’re paying her too much because she ain’t been doin’ it right, old man,” you tell him over your shoulder as you rinse a plate. 

“Bah,” Joe said, flapping his hands at you. Clearly realizing that this wasn’t a fight he could win as he lowered himself into his spot at the kitchen table. “Siddown, son,” he said to Bucky, “Take a load off and let these stupid kids do the grunt work.”

“Kids,” Sam scoffed, putting boxes on the counter with an eye roll as he nudged you.

“I hear him,” you snort. “Careful old man,” you tease, “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin and at your age, replacement parts are hard to come by.”

“Listen Heifer,” Joe said, eyes dancing behind his thick glasses, “If you wanna kick my old ass, you better pack a lunch.”

You shake your head, and pull the top off a styrofoam cooler, “I got your lunch meat and some eggs. That was it right?”

“Yup,” Joe said, “How much do I owe you?”

“A Dr. Pepper,” you answer over your shoulder, making Joe give you a stern look. 

“Young Lady-”

“You’re not giving me money, ya old coot,” you say, more fond than scolding as you kiss the top of his bald head.

“The hell I’m not-”

“I’ll tell momma and she’ll have both our asses. Me for taking the money and you for payin’ me.”

“She’s got you there Joe,” Sam said, grinning. 

“You shaddup,” Joe said grumpily, eyeing your back. And Bucky could see he was trying to gauge how likely it was that he could slip you some money without you knowing you’d been given any. Bucky grinned and Caught Sam’s eye before bumping the table with his knee to get the old man’s attention.

Once the Old man’s sharp eyes had fixed on him, Bucky glanced meaningfully towards the coat rack. Where your jacket hung so conveniently.And Joe followed his gaze, he grinned and touched his nose in acknowledgement. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ do it,” you say not turning around. 

And Joe made a silent “rats” gesture, before sticking his tongue out at your back

#Bucky Barnes #soft bucky #sam wilson #falcon #Winter Soldier #bucky fluff #Bucky x reader fluff #swearing

[gills-corn]

Once there was a boy and a butterfly.

It wasn't a butterfly at first, of course - the boy picked up a lone caterpillar one scorching May morning and nursed it to adulthood. As it molted and grew wings and learned to fly, the boy played under the sun, showering in the sunshine and the summer rains.

The butterfly flew away, right out of a window and to the sky. The boy was outside, running around with a group of children his age, playing whatever their heart desired. He didn't even had the chance to say good-bye.

He cried himself to sleep that night, inconsolable. The next day, he's back on his feet after a friend gave him a cone of ice cream, as fickle as the summer day that shined down upon him.

He became just a boy, with no butterfly, but a boy who knows more about leaving and losing than the day ago.

The next years repeated the same way - a boy, alone in the universe, but bodies still orbited around him, people he knew loved him but he couldn't quite comprehend why or how. He had long forgotten is butterfly. People came and went - friends, classmates, family members - and he had learned how to cope. He had learned about the importance of them arriving, of them leaving, of them tracing a solitary mark on his life.

Still, the idea of having something you value so dearly, so tenderly is lost on him. But what does he know? He's sixteen and miserable and alone, not entirely friendless or lonely, but there's still a vacuum around him, warping around his from like a black hole.

"I don't think I'm capable of love," he had mentioned to his friend once, in the throes of drunkenness. There's a sad smile on his face, reminiscent of a boyhood not-so-lost but drifting away.

"You are. Everyone is," his friend answered, his eyes fluttering shut. He rested his head on the other boy's shoulder.

The silence rang through the boy's ears as other bodies slept around him, his friends that fancied themselves as rebels but didn't do more than sneak a few bottles of beers. He examined his friend's face and returned to his drink, his body thrumming.

He was nearly seventeen, crying in the bathroom, his heart threatening to burst out of his tight chest. A boy with no butterfly, no love to give, no best friend to hold onto, whether they're drinking, laughing, or exploring the blissful tragedy of teenage-hood.

He thought he knew how to say good-bye. He had practiced this all of his life - see you soon, hope you'll be okay and, in times of death, I'm so sorry for your loss. This was worse than death itself - it was something that was torn out of his life, like a page from a book, except the page was inked with memories he could never forget and things he wished he had said.

First there was sadness.

Then there was anger.

He tore out fistfuls of hair from his head. He threw away comic books they once shared, mixtapes they made for each other, notes passed around class, naughty and mischieveous and immature. He kicked his door and teared up because he stubbed his toe. He tore his curtains down and immediately repaired them, not wanting his mother to be more worried than she already is.

Finally, it was the numbness, the calm.

Everyone was too worried about him, too careful about the words they said. The hurricane had soon departed, he thought to himself, but everyone was afraid to start another one. He did not have the energy nor the time for it anymore. He had wasted enough time as it is. He had school to focus on, friendships he wanted to revive, apologies he had to give out.

He was trying to be a better person. But why did it feel like he's only making himself worse?

"He told me you thought you didn't know how to love," a friend told him. She blew a gust of smoke on his face from the cigarette she'd been smoking.

Something wrenches behind his ribcage. "Yeah."

"I'd say you were wrong," she replied. "You acted out because you love him. And you can't bear to see him leave."

"I know," he murmured. He raised his head. The familiar warmth of his friend's eyes, the slope of her nose, the crookedness of her teeth were all a gentle reminder of a childhood diminished but he hoped to cling onto it as much as he can. He tried to stop his voice from cracking as he added, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be. We're all upset. And sad. He's our friend since, like, forever. But the world goes on. If you don't catch up, you might just get left behind."

That was the thing he liked about this friend. She was never too gentle.

He was able to move onto seventeen without a hitch. His remaining friends helped him celebrate, throw a party, down a few shots. He made him realize that was able to love and he had been loving them since he knew them. And he knew they loved him back.

Seventeen felt new, fragile. Maybe he was just being overdramatic but he was getting closer to adulthood. He wasn't much of a child anymore, with overgrown limbs, unwanted hair and things he was not able to control, but the thought of moving to adulthood was too daunting. Sometimes, your past selves are the ones who leave and you must still know how to depart from them properly.

The universe goes on and he moves on. Slowly. But he's getting there. School was ending. The number of summers of spending with his friends was dwindling. Soon, there'd be university, jobs, apartments. A few years later, relationships, marriages, children would start to appear in his life and rubbed on his nose, whether he liked it or not. The future was vast, terrifying, like the expanse of the wide, deep space. He decided that he'd take on his last summer as a child, even though he had lost the title years ago.

He knew things left. He didn't always expected them to come back.

Everyone rejoiced at his best friend returning for the summer - everyone, that is, only his friends. They all were planning for their last hurrah before departing their own ways after the next school year. He didn't know how everyone just became happy and fun and excited as if his friend's loss didn't rip out a piece of his soul.

Summer was ruined. He should have known that days of fingers sticky with melted ice cream, skin smelling just like sunshine and jumps into creeks and pools were long gone. He stayed in his bedroom for as long as he can. He knew that with him coming back, he'd be leaving again.

"Are you avoiding me?" his friend asked him, lying side by side as they stared on the dark ceiling of his bedroom.

He was not able to get out of the end-of-summer sleepover. He did not want to disappoint his other friends and their powers of convincing were straight out of an telemarketer.

He breathes out, his heart rattling. "What do you think?"

"I'm sorry. I - I know you're still upset with me leaving."

"Well. That answers your question now, doesn't it."

"You can't hide from me forever. I can't handle it."

"Do you think I knew how to handle it when you walked away from my life?" he shot back.

Tears clawed at his throat and he felt something hot behind his eyes. He closes them, hoping to get out o this nightmare.

"I didn't have a choice. My dad got a promotion, my mom's unhappy with her job here - "

"You could have told me," he replied. His voice was quiet, pinched. "At least I could have prepared myself."

"Can we talk outside?" his friend whispered urgently.

The two of them stood up. They were both the same height now, all awkward limbs and unharnessed strength. His friend gleamed under the glow of the silver moon outside, his tears glossing on the tops of his cheekbones. He stretched his hand, beckoning him to come closer.

He had no choice but to take it.

That summer night was cold but everything else was bright. If they were seven years younger, they would have howled at the full moon and ecstatic that they had managed to be awake past midnight. Nostalgia gnawed through his heart like an unwanted termite. He clasped his chest as his friend sat on the grass, not minding the stains on his white pajamas. He sat beside him, listening intently to the silence.

"Do you still think you can't love anyone?" his friend answered.

"No, not anymore." He smiled. A little. "I realized that I actually love all of you. My parents. Even my little sister. I was just drunk and melodramatic."

His friend laughed quietly but in a way that was still distinctly his. "I get what you meant, though. Sometimes, I - I feel like there's just something missing and it makes you all hollow inside."

"But you still loved, right?"

"Yeah," his friend replied. "I have never felt more love. That was cheesy but it's true."

"You're right. Maybe truth is a little cheesy. Maybe we need a little cheese in our life."

"I am so, so sorry. I can't - I did not know what to tell you, really, that I was going to go."

"But you told Tom - "

"No, I meant you. It's just - just the thought of saying good-bye to you hurts. Hell, even physically. I did not want to lose you. Or anyone. But especially you."

"Well, you tend to lose people in your life. That's sort of how it works."

"But then I wouldn't know how to live."

"Don't say that. Losing people does not mean losing yourself, too."

His friend sighs. "I know. What I'm trying to say is - I didn't want to make you upset, disappointed, sad or whatever. I know what I did probably made you more like those things and I apologize. Really. It was selfish of me. I didn't want to think about you not being there right by my side."

"You were right." He sat up straighter. "I - I didn't know what to do with myself when you left. Losing people means losing a part of you, I know, but I never seemed to realize that you were such a large part in my life that it made me crumble."

"Remember the first time I gave you ice cream? We were like eight or whatever. It was from my savings from school. I wasn't actually full that time. You were just so sad and you loved ice cream so. . . I gave you a cone."

His eyes crinkled as he gazed upon his friend's open and vulnerable face. "My butterfly left the day before. Of course I was sad. But why did you do that?"

"You know how I always get you ice cream, right? You, only you. Always vanilla and chocolate in a wafer cone. Whenever you want one or whenever you're miserable, I give you an ice cream cone. Sometimes, there wasn't even any reason. I just gave you one."

"Yeah, but Kay and Rachel are lactose intolerant and - "

"I'm trying to say that you're special. To me. Ever since we met. And I can't - I did not know how to say good-bye. Especially to my favorite person."

They were grasping hands, sweat intermingling.

"I know. But we all have to, right? Eventually. But seems like I still need to learn that lesson."

"Why?"

"You're my favorite person as well and I - I can't bid you farewell for the second time."

"Well. We don't have to think about saying good-bye right now, you know. We can think of what we should be doing now."

"Like what? Sleep?"

"No." A beat passes, like a flap of a butterfly's wings. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

As their lips meet, bittersweet yet refreshing, filled with shed tears, unfurled emotion and whispered love confessions, they say hello and bid good-bye to each other again and again, like two butterflies floating in the air.

#fiction #short story #mlm #romance

[gideongrace]

65. "When I sang I wanna hold your hand at you, I meant it literally." (because let's be real, some singing is needed at this time xD)

Sorry this took a million years.

//

It's late and they're hungry so they're making grilled cheese sandwiches and "I wanna hold your hand" by The Beatles is playing and Steve is singing along tunelessly. 

"Oh please, say to me, you'll let me be your man. And please, say to me. You'll let me hold your hand." 

He's really getting into it, using the spatula as a microphone and everything and Billy just can't help himself. In the middle of the next verse, he just surges forward and kisses Steve. It's a full-on, hands on his face, pressing him up against the counter and pressing into his space kinda kiss and it's meant to be romantic, but Steve, like a complete and total jackass, laughs into the kiss instead.

"Your sandwich'll burn," he says as he breaks the kiss. Not that he goes far, they're still close enough to be sharing the same air, close enough to be touching too much for it to be anything other than wholly distracting. 

Billy considers going in for another kiss but instead, Steve smiles wide and bright and leans back enough to look Billy in the eye before he says, "And besides, you know when I sang I wanna hold your hand at you, I meant it literally." 

Steve moves to back up further, moves to break Billy's hold but Billy doesn't let him, just holds him tight and stares him right in the eye as he says, "Move in with me. You practically live here anyway."

Steve again ruins Billy's intent for the moment by saying, "Oh, how romantic," and laughing. 

Billy just rolls his eyes and grips Steve tighter, his hands going to rest right around Steve's hips, making it impossible for him to move. "No really," he says, making his voice soft and quiet, trying to make Steve get he's being serious through his tone as well as his words. "Move in with me." 

The spatula in Steve's hand goes slack, the grilled cheese on the stove sizzles threateningly and Steve looks off in the direction of Max's room. "But…" he says. "But what about Max?" 

Billy clears his throat and squares his shoulders. He'll bust through this problem physically if he has to. "Yo, Max!" he calls out, loud as he can.

Her answering shout of, "What?" is just as loud, maybe louder and is near instantaneous.

"You okay with it if Steve moves in here?" Billy shouts. 

Max replies, "Sure! He practically lives here anyway!" and Billy thinks that's it, problem solved, but the way Steve goes tense in his arms says it isn't. So Billy tries something else. 

"Lucas?" he shouts.

"Yeah?" Lucas shouts back just as Steve makes a face and says, "That's not—"

Billy cuts him off, asking Lucas, "You okay with it?" 

"I don't even live here!" Lucas sounds annoyed enough Billy can picture the stink-eye look Lucas is probably giving him even though they're rooms apart. 

Billy just smiles and cracks back with, "Sure you don't!"

Causing Lucas to grunt and reply, "Fine, whatever!" 

Billy turns back to Steve. "See?" he says. "Everybody's good with it."

Steve gives him a look like he's mulling it over and Billy can't for the life of him understand why. He knows Steve wants to live here, to be with him like this every day. He just knows it. 

Doesn't he? 

The sandwich crackles and hisses in the pan, upping the ante on its earlier threat and Billy moves to turn the stove off, but doesn't bother to move the sandwich to a plate. He doesn't care if it soaks in too much oil or gets burnt on one side, so long as it's not about to explode into flames and set the rest of the kitchen on fire or fill the room with smoke, he doesn't care. 

"Or do you…" Billy asks, voice shaky even as the rest of him holds firm. "Do you…" He swallows. "Not want to live here? With… me?" He lets his hands drop from Steve's hips and he inches back just slightly. He can't quite make himself back away completely, can't quite make himself surrender the warmth of being this close to Steve, not if…

Not if…

If there's something about this he's been misreading? 

Is there something about this he's been misreading all this time?

This time, Steve is the one to pull him close. This time, Steve is the one to put his hands on Billy's hips and forcefully press their bodies together but still, verbally, he hesitates, leaving Billy with just enough space for his doubts to hang him. 

What if there's something Steve's not telling him? 

What if he's not in this the same way Billy is?

What if…?

"No, it's not that. Not at all. It's… Billy…" Steve says, finally. "Are you sure?" 

Billy's hands fly up but, having nowhere to go, almost immediately sink back down. "What is there to be unsure about?" 

"Well, I mean…" Steve trails off and it makes Billy want to shake him. 

"I love you," Billy says. "And you love me, right?" He hates how anxious this is making him, how nervous. He hadn't put any thought into asking the first time, it had just seemed like the most natural course of action, like of course, they would. Of course, they would. It had never, ever occurred to him that Steve might, that Steve might… not want to. 

Still, after a second or two where Billy could almost swear his heart had stopped completely dead in his chest, Steve nods. "Of course I do," he says, the words coming out as slow as if he's dragged them. "Of course I do, I just…" He trails off again and again Billy could swear he feels his heart go still. 

"I just. We have such a good thing going and I don't want to ruin it. I've never dated anybody for this long, never…" Steve seems to shrink in on himself with every single word and it makes Billy feel clumsy, like he's ten times too big for the room and for Steve even though they're almost entirely the same height.

Then when Steve says the next thing, says, "I've never loved anybody quite this much," something breaks apart in Billy just as something bright and shiny and new takes its place. 

"So marry me," he says, not thinking this through any more than he had asking Steve to move in with him, but knowing, even more than before, that this is what he wants. This is all he wants, all he's ever wanted, all he's ever going to want. 

"But!" The word flies out of Steve's mouth and hits Billy hard enough he's surprised he doesn't come away bleeding. "But we were just talking about moving in together!" 

Billy wants to crumble, he does, he's terrified and honestly surprised he isn't shaking, but instead, he stands there, solid and sure and he smiles, outwardly, at least and he takes a step back, takes Steve's hands in his and he says, "I know, but then I realized something. I've never loved anyone more than I love you, either. And I'm never going to. Ever." He pauses, takes a long, deep breath, and pretends like that does anything to center or to calm him before carrying on. "So marry me. I can get a ring, I can do some fancy proposal, we can talk about it more, you don't have to answer me right away if you don't want to, I just… I just want you to know I want you to marry me." 

The length of time it takes for Steve to respond this time makes Billy feel like his heart could fully stop, he could go to the hospital, get that dealt with, come back and still be waiting on a reply. 

And then all Steve says is, "Okay." 

"Okay?" Billy asks. "Okay like you'll marry me or okay like you'll think about it?" 

Steve smiles and it's a bit thin but at this point, Billy'll take it. At this point, he'll take anything. "Okay like yes, l'll move in. Okay like yes, I'll marry you." Steve bites his lip and looks away, like some part of him still doesn't quite believe this is happening. "I would love to marry you." 

And suddenly, Billy feels like the whole world could explode and he wouldn't care. Because Steve just said he'll move in. Steve just said he'll marry him. There is nothing he could ever imagine topping this moment. 

Except for maybe the way it feels when Steve leans in and kisses him. 

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #harringrove fic #ace fic

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #443

“it’s not a life sentence, but a death dream for you”

When was the last time you were in the hospital? Me personally, uhhh sometime in 2017? Why were you there? I had a cyst removal surgery. Do you like Cheez-Its or Cheese Nips better? Cheez-Its. Have you worn headphones at all today? Yeah, I pretty much always do because YouTube is always open and on a video. When was the last time you had blood drawn? A few months ago or something? I'll be getting some drawn shortly though for genetic testing; due to my mom having some dysfunctional cancer prevention gene, all her children are getting tests to see if we inherited it. The last time you got blood drawn, what was the reason? I want to say I was tested for anemia most recently. What color eyes does/did your father have? Brown. What do you daydream most about? Things I wish I didn't daydream about. What is your relation to the last child you spoke to? They're my niece and nephew. Do you believe the Holocaust happened? No fucking shit? Do you prefer zebra stripes, tiger stripes, or leopard spots? Tiger stripes, ig. When did you last see a dog? At my nephew's b-day party a couple weeks ago. Nicole brought her dog Zeke over. Have you ever been in the mountains when the moon and stars were up? No, but omg I wish!!!!!!!!!! Do you know anyone from Canada? Yep. Has a cat ever licked you? Yeah. Roman especially loves to give kisses. Where would you most like to go in your state, etc. that you haven’t been? The Wizard of Oz park, probs. Are you scared to look at your own organs on x-ray or ultrasound? No, that shit's rad. o: Have you ever walked on a frozen lake/river? No, that sketches me out. I'd be afraid of the ice breaking and me falling in. Have you ever seen a volcano? No. Have you ever met an Alaskan? Met in-person, no. But I do have an online friend who's from Alaska. Or may still live there? Idk. Have you ever mowed the lawn (even a little bit)? No. Have any unpleasant public transit stories to tell? Nah. Do you know any German words? Seeing as I took four semesters of the language in high school, I know a good deal. However, my skill has definitely atrophied with time and lack of application. Do you have a passport? No. Are your teeth straight? I mean, mostly. I had braces for too long, but I didn't wear my retainer, so they've moved back some. Would you mind dating someone significantly shorter than you? Yeah, sure. I've never understood why height is an issue for some people. Can you quote the movie Mean Girls? No. I personally never got the craze. Have you ever swam in the Atlantic Ocean? I have. The Pacific? No. Can you make yourself cry? No. Have you ever held a starfish? Not a live one. What would you do if you found out your ex was pregnant/fathered a child? Faint or vomit. Wail. All three. Are you very close to your siblings? No. :/ Can you do CPR? No. Favorite sport to watch in the summer Olympics? I don't care. Ever flushed a fish? Yes. Ever been paid for sex or a sexual favor? No. I wouldn't agree to that. Last friend you talked to online? Sara. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity? No. What is the best ice cream flavor? Vanilla. You have so many topping options. What’s your favorite thing to do outside? Photograph nature, especially wild animals. What would you spend $1,000 on? A big, really pro tattoo. What was the best (non-romantic) night you’ve had? Hm. I don't know. Who did you last lay in a bed/couch/recliner with? Mom and I sat together on the couch some time ago. Do you keep a planner? No. What are you craving right now? I've got a seriously random craving for shell pasta with a nice, meaty tomato sauce. Do you want kids anytime soon? DEFINITELY not soon, but also never. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? No. Have you ever slept in the same bed with the last person you kissed? Yeah. What’s the best feeling in the world? Knowing you're in love and really feeling it. What’s something you really want right now, be honest. There's a lot of things. Who in your family do you act like the most? I don't know, really. Who has made the biggest sacrifice for you? My mom, 100%. Do you believe that your first true love can be your only love in life? Of course not. Have you ever kissed under water? Yes. Is there that one guy that you’ll always have feelings for no matter what? Suuuure is. Wish it wasn't like that, but I don't see it ever changing, to be real... Are you 100% over the last person you kissed? 100%? No, I can't say I am entirely. Have your parents ever caught you kissing a guy? "Caught me?" How old is this question meant for? Yes, they've seen me kiss a guy before. If you mean like, seriously kiss-kissing, no. Which one of your exes hates you the most? Probably Jason. Are you named after anyone? No. Well, my middle name has been passed down, but "Brittany" wasn't from anybody else in specific. What reminds you the most of your last relationship? The song "The Only Exception" by Paramore. Have you ever rejected someone but they still wouldn’t give up on you? In elementary school, yes. When growing up, did your family always eat at the dinner table together? Usually, yes, at least when growing up. Sometimes we'd use little tables to eat in the living room though while watching TV. What is the greatest source of happiness in your life? My mom, best friend, and pets. What was the last charity/cause you donated to? I'm unsure, actually. Who was the last person you got a handwritten letter from? Sara! :') Did your parents read bedtime stories to you when you were little? Mom did. Have any of your worst fears ever come true? Yes. The greatest fear I've ever had was losing Jason, and that happened. Is anyone in your family divorced? My parents, for one. My older half-sister has also be divorced because her ex is an absolute piece of manipulative horse shit. Has anyone in your family gotten pregnant as a teenager? I think my mom? No, maybe not... Idk. I ain't doing the math. What’s your greatest talent? If you want a serious answer and not something self-depracating, I suppose writing. Would you ever want to get a master’s degree? It'd be cool, but I've never *actually* wanted to pursue that. Have you ever worn revealing clothing in order to get attention? No. Have you ever been falsely accused of being racist? I've never been accused of being racist, because I'm not. To you, is sex just about physical pleasure, or do you see it as an expression of love and commitment? Absolutely the latter. I could never engage in sex without deep emotional commitment. How many times have you been drunk in the past 6 months? Zero. What’s your favorite French food? I have no idea. What’s the most elaborate recipe you know how to cook? Nothing. Which rooms of your house have doors that lead outside? The living room and kitchen. Best purchase you ever made? My snake. :') Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? I haven't seen him a long time, but boy did I have a thing for James Hetfield in high school. There are defs others, but no one else immediately comes to mind. Have you ever been caught sneaking out? No, because I've never tried to. How many Facebooks have you had? Just the one I still use. Have you ever been punched in the face? No. When was the last time you talked to the first person you kissed? The beginning of February, 2017. What is the latest you have ever slept in? Past 5. Do you have to watch yourself in the mirror while you brush your teeth? No. Do you text when you drive? Fuck no. You couldn't pay me to. What movie do you really want to see that’s out? I don't even know what movies are out right now. Did America really put a man on the moon? Eventually, yes. Call me crazy, but I do believe the supposed first one was faked, though, to "beat" Russia in the space race. Do some research and it's pretty shocking. Would you like to date someone a lot purer than you? Idc. Do you turn your phone off at night when you go to sleep? No, but I turn the brightness down for if I wake up in the middle of the night and want to check the time. Have you slept in a bed with the last person you kissed? Yeah. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you didn’t say it back? Yes. Has anyone ever played a prank on you? What happened? I don't believe so. Do you like tattoos and piercings? Helllll yes. :') What are you really into? Animals, art, some weird Korean guy on the Internet... Do your parents like your best friends? Yes. Have you ever taken a nap with a member of the opposite sex? Yeah. Do you have weak upper body strength? Yes. What color was the last cup you drank from? It's just clear glass. How old is your oldest sibling? I actually don't know her exact age. 30-something. What was the last thing you ate that had nuts in it? A Nature Valley cashew bar I had earlier today. How many pieces did the last puzzle you completed have? I have no idea. Who did you last shake hands with? uhhhhhhhh Has anybody asked you out on a date recently? Nah. When was the last time somebody asked you to be their girlfriend? When Girt asked me out a few years ago. Name something you’re picky about: Food. Who did you last ask for help? My mom. Do you like corn? Yeah. If you were offered to smoke some weed right now, would you accept? Right now I honestly probably would, believe it or not. Honestly, who is the last person to tell you that they love you? My mum. Have you ever made out for more than a half hour straight? Yeah. How do you earn money? The only occasions where I ever and very rarely earn money is if someone (non-family, of course) pays me to take pictures for them. Where were you raised? All you need to know is a crappy town in eastern NC. Are your ears gauged? No, but I want the first holes in my earlobes to be, but only with very small gauges. I just can't figure out how to do it myself, at least with the gauges I have. I think I'm missing something. Explain what triggered your last kiss? We were saying goodbye. Could you go a month without talking to your best friend? I mean I could, but it'd seriously fucking suck. Have you ever made out in a park? No, because I don't do that in public. What are you listening to? "Paint You With My Love" by Marilyn Manson. I wasn't big on the album when it came out, but this is one of the songs that's aight to me. Last thing you said out loud? I gave Venus a little wave and said "hey babe" or something like that like I do sometimes when she's slithering around and looks out towards me. Are you sad? Always at least a little bit. I have been kinda down this evening. Where is your dad? I would hope at home. He's probably watching TV, or maybe in bed.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''paint me with your love'' by marilyn manson

[purplesurveys]

1131

survey by lilprincess

Approx. Time you began this survey: 6:46 on a Wednesday evening.

Describe your mood right now: Erm, a bit exhausted because I just ended a work shift; but content for the same reason. Right now I’m simply looking forward to dinner and crashing on the couch or my bed, wherever I feel like sleeping tonight.

Spell your first name without vowels: Rbn. Let’s just also remove y for this one.

Age you will be on your next birthday: 23.

Zodiac Sign: Taurus.

Do you believe what your horoscope says about your sign? I do not believe in astrology whatsoever.

What state/region do you live in? Somewhere in the Philippines somewhere close to Metro Manila.

Height: Like 5′1″ ish. I had a massive growth spurt in 4th grade that also ended in 4th grade, which will always be a funny story to tell people lmao. I went from being placed at the back of the class line to the front really quickly.

Do you smoke? Super occasionally. My last cigarette was like...all the way back in February last year. It was easier to hide the smell around my family before, but because my parents and siblings have mostly been staying at home in the last year it would be so easy to weed out the smell. I never feel like smoking anyway since I vape, so there’s been no reason to seek it out.

Do you drink? Yeah, sometimes socially and sometimes on my own if I wanna unwind and feel a lil buzz come through.

What's your ethnic background? Southeast Asian, specifically Filipino.

What's your religious background? Technically my ~background~ would be Catholic since I was born and baptized in that faith, but I’ve long let go of this. Excluding one very brief period in high school, religion was something I never held much belief and faith in, even if I've been taken to literally every Sunday mass for the last 23 years and even if I was enrolled in Catholic school from preschool to high school.

What's your natural hair color? Black.

What;s your natural eye color? Dark brown, almost black.

Do you have any bad habits you want to break? I do overtime work a lot but used to seldom file it on our company shift log sheet because I get shy that they must think I’m doing it just to be paid more, lol. I’m starting to file them every time I do OT though because fuck it, pay me.

Name a few of your positive habits. I like that I always find a way to meet deadlines. I like that I’m selfless, even though some would see it as a flaw. I’d rather do too much than say I never did anything at all.

Have you ever lived in a foreign country? No, the most I’ve done was travel to one for a week.

Did you vote in the Nov. 6 2012 presidential election? No because I am not American -___- The last election that took place before I was eligible was in 2010, and had I been able to vote then, I would’ve given mine to Gibo Teodoro, who I believe was the most qualified at the time.

Are you even eligible to vote? Yeah, I’ve been for the last 5 years. I’ve voted twice - once for the presidential elections back in 2016, and the next was for the senatorial elections in 2019.

Are you right handed or left handed? Right-handed.

When you write, is your penmanship usually neat or do you tend to scribble? It starts off neat for the most part, but it gradually gets messy and becomes more like a scribble if we’re talking about writing several essays in one sitting, which was usually the case in my exams in college.

Have you ever experienced an accident? (of any type): Sure, I’ve been in car accidents before. I’ve also been shocked once.

Do you have/want children? They would be nice to have, yeah. 

Are you environmentally conscious? For the most part, yeah. But there are some things that can’t be helped, like me driving. Unless the government does something about the shitty public transport system that we have and have had for decades, I refuse to take it.

What's your favorite mode of transportation? Like I said, my own car. If I’m traveling, by plane.

Do you prefer 80's - 90's music compared to today's music? Eh, not at all. I prefer music produced these days.

Are you more of an introvert (quiet/shy), or extrovert (social butterfly)? I’ve been more of an extrovert in the last few years but I will always be shy at first upon meeting new people, like that will never change. I warm up a lot quickly now, though.

What's your favorite emoticon? :)

Do you miss the good old days of hand-written letters? I caught the super super super last part of this era, so I didn’t even get to experience it. I know snail mail was still kind of a thing when I was a kid, but at the same time that was happening my mom was also already using email to keep in touch with my dad, so.

Nowadays, though, when I do write letters to loved ones, I will still prefer to make handwritten ones, especially for a significant other or best friend. I don’t think I’ve ever sent out a computerized long letter.

Do you enjoy receiving or giving more? Giving, but it’s nice to be treated too sometimes.

Are you good at keeping secrets? Sure.

Do you take or give advice more often? I don’t usually get into situations wherein I’d have to do either, but I think I’ve been asking for advice more, especially over the last few months.

Do you have your driver's license? “I got my driver’s license last week, just like we always talked about...” Haha this question made me sing a bit. Anyway, yeah, I got it shortly after I turned 18 since I needed to quickly learn before college started.

Would you rather be poor & happy or rich but miserable? Rich but miserable. Soz but I’d solve 4854983594857 of my problems if I never had to worry about money.

Have you ever had a pregnancy scare? Never.

Have you ever blocked someone on Facebook? Probably not blocked, but I’ve unfollowed some current Facebook friends and unfriended others entirely.

Do you think recreational marijuana should be nationally legalized? Idk much about the topic since it’s taboo enough where I live, but sure, I guess?I haven’t heard one bad word about the effects of marijuana.

Describe your perfect first date. I’ve never really had a first date, but I imagine an ideal one would be pretty lowkey, just a stroll around a nice city and maybe have fancyish dinner somewhere.

Have you ever been high? Nope.

Have you ever watched a NC-17 rated film? Sure. A good handful of Kubrick films pass for NC-17, right? I’d be surprised if they weren’t, lol. I’ve been scarred by some of them for sure.

If you ever become reincarnated as an animal, what would you want it to be? A dog.

Do you remember where you were/what you were doing on September 11, 2001? No; I was 2 years old. I did ask my parents where they were in those moments, and my mom understandably missed most of it since the entire thing unfolded in the late evening in the Philippines. The only thing she can recall was being insanely worried for my dad, who had just started to work in the US back then.

Do you ever wish you were of a different nationality/religion? Yeah, to a certain extent, just because the political and socioeconomic situation here is very messy and it doesn’t really give us the nicest reputation in front of the world. I’m proud of my Filipino culture and heritage though.

Are you more of a junk food addict or health nut? Health nut is the last thing anyone should be calling me. But I’m not so much a junk food addict either? I do like spoiling myself with food, but I still monitor my intake.

Do you believe Antarctica should be considered the 7th world continent? Isn’t it already though?? We’ve always been taught there were 7 continents and Antarctica is one of them lol.

Describe your own sense of humor in 1 word: Gen-Z, if that counts as one word.

Have you ever quoted the Bible (or any other Holy Book)? If I ever did it was probably meant to be sarcasm.

Have you ever completed a Sudoku puzzle? No. Never figured out how to play it either.

Would you rather be a nuclear physicist or marine biologist? Marine biologist. That’s one step closer to one of my loves, biology. Plus I was never any good with physics, so.

Do you have a deep, dark secret you're hiding from every one? I guess.

Would you rather be able to soar like an eagle or swim like a dolphin? I’d make my childhood self happy and go with flight.

If you wanted to learn a foreign language, what would it be? Korean so I can finally stop reading subs, hahah.

Are you bi-curious? No.

Did you watch the Disney Channel or Nickelodeon more as a kid? The Nickelodeon cartoons were far more interesting to me. I think I only got into Disney when I got a little bit older, once I was able to appreciate the more mature content in shows like The Suite Life, That’s So Raven, etc. But for the most part our TV was always tuned into Nick Jr., Spongebob, Jimmy Neutron and the other Nick shows.

Name 5 films that were made the year you were born: American History X (great watch), The Truman Show, Mulan, La Vita e Bella if I’m not mistaken (one of my faves, no matter how gut-wrenching it is), and Shakespeare in Love.

Did you have a lot of friends in high school? Yes, eventually I did.

Do you rely more on the newspaper, Internet or TV as your news source? Social media these days since I find that online writers are far more discerning in their reporting than TV anchors, who stay neutral at best.

True or false: Bigger is better. Very vaguely put, but not always, I guess.

Do you think religion is the primary cause of war? No? There’ve been plenty other reasons for war.

What's your favorite pizza topping? ...Cheese.

Think of your wardrobe. What color do you wear the most? It’s still black, I think.

Have you ever been to a planetarium? Just once, on a middle school field trip. I’d love to come back, though.

Do you feel like you connect more with animals or other people? I don’t get to be with animals a lot other than my dogs, so I’ll go with people.

Do you feel like sometimes you have to lie in order to protect yourself? Wow so dramatically put haha but yeah, I suppose it does feel that way sometimes.

How often do you exercise? Literally never. I’ve stopped working out this year since I didn’t see the point, and I’ve stopped feeling like I had to ‘get back’ at my ex just by getting a more toned figure. I’m totally at peace with how my body looks, plus I never want to give up on my favorite foods and snacks lol so there’s that.

Can you swear in a different language? Putangina mong bobo kang gago ka. That’s three for ya.

Do you think teachers/doctors deserve to get paid more than pro athletes? Everyone deserves to be paid fairly to the point that no comparison should be necessary, period.

From a scale of 1- 5, you would rate this survey: Erm, a 4.5. I had to delete some questions I didn’t feel comfortable answering or that I found a little meh, but the rest I fairly enjoyed.

Do you think most of these questions were more original or more ordinary? It’s a bit in between.

Approx. time you completed this survey: Hahahahah 10:38 PM. I took a million breaks.

#survey #surveys

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

An Orwellian Nightmare

PART THIRTY-SIX OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: discussions of parent death, teenage drinking, anxiety, and depression, please read with caution, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 6K

Summary: Ella and Jess go to Rory's graduation party, then return to the bridge.

A/N: The descriptions of depression in this chapter and in this fic are based on research and my own experiences. Everyone is different. If you need to talk, I am always here.

“The door itself is worth more than everything we own.” Jess gawked at the large mahogany door of the famed Gilmore house.

“Welcome to the realm of the one percent,” Ella replied, smirking as they stood hand-in-hand facing the entryway. Beyond it, she could hear the faint sound of classical music and polite chatter. “I don’t hate it, though. It’s got kind of a Great Gatsby thing going on, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But I think it’s more like Dracula.”

“Hm,” she nodded, lifting her eyes to see the pillars on either side of the door. “Wuthering Heights?”

“Oh yeah,” Jess agreed. “That sounds right.”

“Get ready, then, Heathcliff,” Ella quipped, ringing the doorbell.

Jess scoffed. “Ready as I can be, Catherine.”

Not more than a moment later, the door swung aside to reveal a woman in a maid’s outfit in the sprawling foyer. Behind the maid, there were groups of well-dressed people, mostly older, milling about with martini glasses in their hands, sugar on the rims. Though she couldn’t quite be sure, Ella thought it was Mozart playing from somewhere farther inside, live on a piano. It sounded fine, but she had always preferred Beethoven. The lesser of two evils, she had taken to calling him. Before even stepping beyond the threshold, she could see at least two chandeliers gleaming in the yellowish lights. She tugged Jess along by the hand, stepping up and into the house.

“Good evening,” the maid said.

“Hi,” Ella said, smiling at the small woman with black hair and dazzling brown eyes. “This is Rory Gilmore’s graduation party, right?”

Jess chuckled behind her. They’d gotten a bit lost on the way up to Hartford. The plan had originally been to follow Luke’s truck, but he had decided against going at the last minute. He wasn’t sure if Lorelai would really want him there. Instead, they had followed the less than legible directions Luke scribbled on one of the diner napkins. Luke rarely remembered street names, using mostly landmarks. The drive would have been easier if it wasn’t already near dark by the time the party started.

“Yes, ma’am,” the maid answered formally, holding a hand out to Ella. “May I take your bag?”

Furrowing her brows, Ella looked down at her large black purse, the only one she owned, and then back up at the woman. She hadn’t been expecting such a question, instead thinking she’d either carry it with her or stumble upon a coat rack somewhere. “Oh, sure. Thank you. That’d be great...sorry. I didn’t catch your name?”

The maid looked equally confused as she took Ella’s bag from her. “Helen.”

“Okay, Helen. I’m Ella,” she said, sticking out her hand for Helen to shake, tilting her head in Jess’s direction. “That’s Jess. We’re Rory’s friends.”

Jess nodded in greeting at Helen, biting back a laugh as the maid shook Ella’s hand with a disconcerted expression.

“Enjoy the party,” Helen muttered, then turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd behind her.

“I don’t think you were supposed to introduce us to the maid,” Jess chuckled as Ella led him through the sea of people to the left, revealing a large sitting room with an open bar.

“Who cares what we’re supposed to do?” Ella shrugged, stopping in her tracks as she began to search the room for anyone she knew. “Rory used to tell me her mother fired a maid a week. Figured she might need at least one friendly face tonight.”

His smile turned warm and his face lost its amusement as he regarded her for a moment. Her hair was back in a low bun, shorter pieces framing her face. She wore a dress bought special from Goodwill for the occasion, a black bodice and a skirt of lavender tulle. On her feet, the same black leather ballet flats she had owned since high school. Somehow, they hadn’t begun to fall apart yet. Beauty in her usual, hasty variety. She didn’t look exactly comfortable, but she looked like herself, fitting in so well simply because she wasn’t putting anything on. He disentangled their fingers and brought his hand to her freckled cheek instead, catching her lips in a kiss.

For a moment, Ella relished in the feeling of the butterflies in her stomach. But then, she remembered the buzz of the socialites around them and the mission at hand: to find Rory and congratulate her. She pulled away from him with a smack! and blushed immediately.

“Jesus, James Dean. Wait until we’ve got a smaller audience,” she snapped, though there was a smirk playing on her mouth. She was glad to only be wearing chapstick. Most of the makeup she was the dark smudge of smoke around her eyes.

Jess only shrugged, nonchalant and smug. “We’re the other half, Daria. They don’t expect too much from us.”

She rolled her eyes. Before she should retort, though, a woman with heavily styled brown hair and a glittery pantsuit approached them. Thankfully, it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Ella to recognize her as Rory’s grandmother, Emily Gilmore, who she’d met only once before. Back when Ella was still working at the diner, Rory had brought her grandmother for a tour of the town. Ella remembered how odd the chunky white sneakers looked on Emily’s feet, as she had also been wearing a stuffy, expensive skirt set and some Chanel No. 5.

“Ella! How nice to see you!” Emily received them, her voice raspy and pleasant.

Regaining her composure, hoping the flustered roses on her cheeks had cooled, Ella plastered on her best smile. “Good to see you, Mrs. Gilmore. Thanks for inviting us. Your house is incredible.”

“Ah, thank you,” Emily said gratefully, then looked quizzically at Jess. “And I should hope this is a boyfriend, from that little display I just witnessed.”

Ella’s face fell at the tight, irritated tone in Emily’s voice. Her skin flushed once again in embarrassment. She cleared her throat and grabbed Jess’s hand once more. “Yes, this is Jess Mariano.”

“Hi,” Jess said shortly, extending his free hand to Emily.

“Hello, Jess. I’m Mrs. Gilmore, Rory’s grandmother,” Emily replied cordially, reciprocating, though the distaste was still very evident in her voice and her face. She turned back to Ella as she broke her handshake with Jess. “How are you? It’s been so long. Are you still doing those little doodles?”

Her smile came to look even more forced, but Ella maintained the facade. It was Rory’s party. The least she could do was avoid a scuff with the hostess. “Yes. I’ve only got a year of grad school left. Studio art.”

Widening her eyes and nodding along, Emily made a small noise of acknowledgement. “Wonderful! And what comes after grad school for an artist?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella began to search her mind for a careful way to answer the question. The easy thing was to say she had no idea. But then, Ella had heard enough stories about Rory’s grandparents not to be entirely honest. “Well, I-”

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Emily exclaimed suddenly, brown doe eyes fixed on something over Ella’s shoulder. “I told him a million times to wait to serve the cheese cubes!”

Ella furrowed her brow, glancing behind her.

“I’ve got to go take care of this,” Emily said gravely. “Enjoy yourselves, you two. Make sure to try a Rory.”

“Um, pardon-” Ella began, but Emily had already begun her purposeful march back to the head waiter, who was apparently serving the hors devours out of order.

“Try a Rory!” a voice chirped cheerfully in front of them, and Ella jumped a little, turning her head forward once more.

Jess had a scowl on his face, so far unamused by the extravagant fanfare.

A waiter stood with a tray in front of them, a wide grin on his face. He stared at them expectantly for a moment, beaming, before they took the hint and each grabbed a drink from the tray. As they gave begrudging grunts of thanks, the waiter was already off to assault another group of partygoers with his enthusiastic exclamations. The drinks were those Ella had seen in the hands of other guests in the foyer, crusted rim martini glasses filled with pink, perfumy liquid.

“What the hell is this?” she thought aloud, inspecting the drink, swirling it around in the glass. She smelled it, and could only make out something fruity and the strong stench of alcohol.

Jess shrugged, staring down at his own glass inquisitively. “It’s a Rory.”

She scoffed. “Well, of course. I mean you haven’t lived until you’ve had a drink named after you.”

Snorting a laugh, Jess nodded. “I knew they were rich. But I didn’t know they lived in an Orwellian nightmare.”

“Me neither,” Ella said.

“Shall we?” Jess asked, raising his glass.

Heaving a large sigh, Ella clinked her cup against his. “We shall. Please don’t let Chris have any input in my eulogy.”

“No promises,” Jess quipped, before downing a big sip of his drink.

“Jackass.”

Taking a sip, Ella almost instantly regretted it. She never thought she would have the opportunity to taste the color pink, but she certainly wasn’t enjoying it now that it had come. As a child, her mother had sometimes stuck a bar of soap in her mouth when she let a swear word slip. Obviously, the technique hadn’t worked in the long run, but the taste was usually enough to elicit a weeks-long change in vocabulary. The drink instantly brought back the soapy memories. It was not quite Irish Spring, and not quite the orange bars of Dial her mother had eventually become partial to for punishments, but somewhere in-between. Her face twisted into a grimace and she swallowed with great labor.

Jess was already uttering a harsh cough as she finally managed to get the stuff down. “Are we sure they didn’t bring us all here to poison us?”

“Anything’s possible,” she replied, shaking her head at the taste. “Can we find a plant to dump these in?”

“I think it’d be wise,” Jess said, eyes immediately scanning the room.

He tossed a glance in her direction, then pointed subtly to a ficus in the corner by the sliding glass door. Meandering through the crowd of people, Ella did her best to look inconspicuous. She stood guard, blocking the view of Jess, as he drained his own drink into the plant and then took hers from where she held it out to him behind her back. After a few moments more of indecision, they placed their empty glasses on the mantelpiece and fled the scene of the crime into the dining room, where other groups were milling about.

“We might’ve just murdered that plant, Stevens,” Jess said as they finally came to a stop, lingering in the doorway between the foyer and the dining room.

“Well, death is a part of life,” Ella said dryly, still frowning at the taste in her mouth. “But if it does die, I’ll probably be the prime suspect. Maybe second to Lorelai. Mrs. Gilmore didn’t like me when she met me the first time, and it doesn’t seem like much has changed.”

“Why would she invite you, then?”

“Because Lane’s on tour and I’m pretty sure I’m the only other Stars Hollow friend she knows about,” Ella explained. It wasn’t hard to gather why her presence had been requested, with a formal invitation in the mail weeks earlier.

“Huh.”

“Can’t betray Emily Post, can she?” Ella said flippantly.

Jess smirked. “No, I think that’d get her twenty to life.”

Ella laughed, just as she finally spotted Rory approaching them from the opposite side of the dining room, with Logan in tow and Lorelai following behind. Rory looked radiant, hair curled perfectly and blue dress free of a single wrinkle. It reminded Ella of a dress Rory had worn to a school dance with Dean years earlier, the one she and Lane had squealed so loudly and girlishly over when Rory told them. The dress had been made by Lorelai, though. Ella didn’t doubt the dress Rory now wore cost more than the mansion door. She felt her stomach flip over when she caught herself in her thoughts. Ella knew she didn’t need to resent anyone’s wealth. She knew it truly didn’t make anyone any happier. But sometimes, she stopped the train too late and she’d already turned a bit green with envy.

“Guys! You made it! I’m so glad to see you!” Rory exclaimed happily. She hugged them both, then linked her arm with Logan’s.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t miss it,” Ella said. “We couldn’t find a scuba suit to buy you, though. Sorry.”

Smiling amiably, Rory gave a dismissive shake of her head, playing along. “That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll still be able to snag my Mrs. Robinson without one. Listen, Logan and I were on our way to find my grandpa, but I’ll try and catch up with you guys later. Is that okay?”

Ella nodded. “Of course. Go have fun, Thelma.”

The grin on Rory’s face grew, her teeth straight and white. “Thanks, Louise.”

Then, both of them were gone, Logan biding both Jess and Ella thin, compulsory goodbyes. Lorelai hung back a moment though, greeting the two of them. Her blue eyes were distracted and her voice was slightly frantic, but her usual warmth was ever-present.

“My dad’s been hiding from the party all night,” Lorelai explained. “My mother’s appointed us to seek.”

“Ah. I’ve had to do that more than once,” Ella said, giving Jess a playful nudge.

He rolled his eyes and flushed at her teasing. “I’m not a big party guy. Sue me.”

“As if you have any fortune worth chasing,” Ella shot back, then turned her full attention to Lorelai. “So, how does it feel to be the mother of a soon-to-be Yale graduate?”

“Honestly, sweetie?” Lorelai said, her eyes shining with pride. “Pretty damn good.”

“I’m glad,” Ella said.

“Hey, how did Adam’s go today?” Lorelai asked, taking another sip of her gin. “Did Father of the Year show up?”

Ella’s face fell and Jess cast her a glance. The two hours between the high school graduation and Rory’s party had been spent alternating between getting ready and hyperventilating. Maybe she hadn’t previously realized how unlikely she’d thought Jake’s showing up would be. His presence caught her off guard, trudging up old feelings which left the bitter taste of bourbon in her mouth. She didn’t know why she’d said what she had, when normally she could keep her mind and her mouth pretty well separated. Usually, her quips were calculated and deliberate. But Jake bringing up her mother right away after not speaking with Ella for so long? Saying she’d be disappointed in Ella’s choices? A burning rage Ella hadn’t known in years had flared up inside of her, and all her powers of restraint had short circuited. She’d said the first, most searing, most jarring, most hurtful thing she could think of.

“That he did,” Ella said shortly, looking down at her flats and wishing she still had a drink in her hand. Well, any drink but the pink monstrosity they were serving on the silver platters.

Lorelai scrunched up her nose knowingly. “Didn’t go so well, huh?”

“You remember that part in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly when Clint Eastwood blows up the bridge?” Ella asked.

“Yeah?” Lorelai replied.

“Well, it was pretty much like that,” Ella said. “Except, neither of us were trying to build a bridge.”

Lorelai hummed in sympathy, then pulled Ella in for another short hug. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“It’s alright,” Ella shrugged. “There’s about a hundred miles of distance between us on a regular day, so at least I don’t need to worry about any repeat occurrences in the near future.”

“Lorelai! Hi!” A reedy voice piped up from behind them, and Lorelai turned to see a small blonde woman and an even smaller brunette man nearing.

Lorelai’s eyes widened slightly. “Hi, Paris. Good to see you. Have you met Ella and Jess yet? They’re Rory’s friends from Stars Hollow.”

Paris. The name rang a bell in Ella’s head immediately. She finally got to put a face to the person Rory had complained and gushed about for years. The ultimate frenemy. In a way, Ella already admired Paris, though their paths had never managed to cross. Ella looked up at Jess, mouthing the name to him again. He raised his eyebrows, but then a thick shadow of recognition crossed his face, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

“I’ve gotta go find my dad, but I’ll be sure to catch up with you later,” Lorelai said, taking her leave sheepishly but gratefully.

“I’ll find you,” Paris said, nodding curtly at Lorelai as she walked away. Then, she turned back to Ella and Jess, immediately sizing them up. She stuck out her hand. “Paris Geller. I believe Rory’s mentioned you once or twice.”

Ella accepted the handshake first, smiling. “Ella Stevens. Pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Firm handshake,” Paris commented, with just a hint of admiration.

“Thank you for noticing.” Ella matched Paris’s strong gaze until their palms broke apart.

“Hi. I’m Jess,” Jess said as he himself shook Paris’s hand.

For a moment, Ella had to fight a smirk at Jess’s stand-offish shyness. Sometimes, he was so adorable she almost couldn’t handle it.

“And, this is Doyle,” Paris said, motioning to the man in the suit next to her. “My other half.”

After having finally finished exchanging their greetings, Paris glanced down at the photo on the t-shirt Jess wore. Ella saw immediately after he got dressed that he was wearing almost the exact the same outfit she’d found him in at Truncheon’s open house one year earlier. The blazer, the black and white t-shirt. Even the low-rise converse knock-offs. Only, now, he’d ditched the jeans for actual slacks, and a slightly better quality belt. She wondered at how much had changed in twelve months’ time.

“Interesting shirt. Joseph Szabo, huh?” Paris asked.

Jess hummed in confirmation.

“I always liked ‘Priscilla,’” Ella said, eyes flicking between Jess’s shirt and Paris.

“Personally, I think it’s a little derivative,” Paris said, arching a brow. “You guys are into photography, then?”

“Sort of. I’m an artist. Jess is a writer,” Ella explained.

“Ah,” Paris said, giving Jess a pointed look. “You looked like an author. Let me guess...Kerouac fanatic?”

Ella couldn’t hold back her laughter.

Jess didn’t let Paris’s accuracy shake his cool facade, though. “You could say that. He’s at the top of the list.”

“Along with?” Paris asked.

“Bukowski, Hemingway, Salinger,” Jess replied easily.

Paris scoffed, shaking her head. “What a surprise. God forbid one of you beatnik guys reads Jane Austen.”

“Hey! I’ve read Jane Austen,” Jess retorted, more insistent.

A wide smirk blossomed on Ella’s face as Paris and Jess continued squabbling over their preferences. Jess got even more heated, and Ella more amused, as Paris insulted the beats and eventually brought up poetry. It was already the highlight of the party.

“It seems she’s met a worthy opponent,” Doyle told Ella, watching his girlfriend argue.

Ella nodded proudly, humming in agreement.

.   .   .

Cicadas were buzzing loudly in Ella’s ears as she landed hard on the wood floor of Luke’s apartment. She let out a whoosh of air when her back hit the floor, groaning and muttering confused curses under her breath as she rubbed at her eyes. Getting her bearings, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around. She could barely make out Luke’s disheveled silhouette, snoring loudly on the old brown couch, in the darkness of the room. He’d already been asleep by the time they got back from Rory’s party, with a note on the kitchen table insisting they take the double bed. Taking in a deep, frustrated breath, Ella got up from the floor and was surprised when she saw the mattress entirely empty, save for the rumpled sheets and comforter. She had been in the midst of a dreamless sleep when she’d rolled off the bed. It was the first time she had done something of the like since she was a little kid. But it made more sense without Jess’s frame there to block her from turning over too far. He may have been the lighter sleeper, but he didn’t move around nearly as much as Ella did when he finally shut his eyes for the night.

With furrowed brows, Ella padded silently over to see the tiny bathroom empty and dark, the door ajar. She didn’t see him at the kitchen table either, and his shoes were sitting by the door where he’d left them earlier. His watch and his wallet sat on the nightstand. Though she did her best to swallow it down, an awful, familiar panic began to rise in her throat. Her rational mind knew there was no way Jess had been snatched out of bed in the middle of the night without she or Luke noticing, and there was no way he could’ve been kidnapped in a place like Stars Hollow, no matter how zany the residents sometimes were. But, still, anything was possible.

Her thoughts wandered dangerously as she descended the rickety stairs into the diner. It, too, was empty. She even checked the kitchen, the stockroom, and the bathroom. Jess was nowhere to be found. Could he have left? In the middle of the night? It wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility, especially if one took his past into consideration. But as she made her way through the unlocked front door, she found her station wagon parked outside, the chipped, dark blue paint visible in the soft light of the half moon. The bus station? But why would he have gone without his shoes, without his wallet, without his watch? Without her.

She swallowed harshly, grimacing at the fear swirling in her stomach. Eyes roaming over the town, she racked her brain. But then she cast her gaze over to a beaten dirt path, to the right of the high school, and she felt just a touch less frantic. She crossed her arms over her t-shirt and hurried down toward it. The night air was welcome against her legs, mostly bare in her soft pajama shorts. As she rounded the corner below one of the town’s few streetlights, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding in. His form was hunched over, sitting on the bridge above the lake. Always the bridge, she thought to herself, and would have smirked if she wasn’t feeling so shaken. She neared him, her steps sounding dully on the bridge. She could see Jess’s bare feet, below the cuffs of his plaid pajama bottoms, dangling just over the water. The lake rippled, the bluish-white moonlight reflecting against the water and shining on Jess’s face. His jaw was set tensely. She could see the silver chain around his neck glinting where it peeked out from beneath his worn t-shirt.

Shaking her head, Ella took the seat beside him without waiting for an acknowledgement. She knew he would’ve heard her coming. He didn’t startle when her arm brushed against his. She looked down, her toes, painted purple, swinging underneath her as she hung her legs off the bridge.

“You’ll get an infection walking around without shoes,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

Jess uttered a low, half-hearted chuckle. “Not in Stars Hollow.”

She let a nostalgic smirk cross her face for only a moment before she turned her head to him. “Jesus, Jess. Leave a note next time.”

He ran a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “I fell off the bed.”

“She’s beauty and she’s grace,” Jess teased, though his heart wasn’t hardly in it.

“It’s true.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice laced with concern as he finally met her eyes. He looked tired, eyes red-rimmed. She wondered vaguely if he’d been crying.

Ella nodded. “Yeah, cutie. Just a bruise or two. I’m fine. Are you?”

Jess shrugged and looked away from her again. He couldn’t make out the trees across the water in the darkness. It must have been the middle of the night, two or three in the morning; the darkest hours before the dawn would break. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She nodded again, and was almost certain he’d had a nightmare. But it must have been exceptionally bad to have him retreating to the lake in the middle of the night, so she didn’t ask. She only pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and watched the water again, waiting.

There was a long pause before he spoke. “Elle?”

“Hm?”

“How do you…” he stopped to sigh, running a hand over his mouth once more.

“How do I what?” she asked gently.

“How do you do it?” he blurted out, unable to find a way to phrase the question better. His fatigue seemed to be clouding his verbal skills, which were never the best to begin with. “I mean...you just seem so okay with everything. You have it all together. You don’t believe in fate, or God, or anything. But you just...keep going.”

“I don’t have it all together, Jess,” she said.

“No, but you do,” Jess continued quietly, staring down at the small movements of the water. “I mean, maybe you don’t have your entire life figured out. But you know who you are. You don’t care what anyone thinks. You don’t believe in anything but you. And nothing shakes you, y’know?”

Tilting her head at him, she searched for an answer. He’d caught her off guard again. Smacking her lips together, she furrowed her brows and began undoing the french braid in her hair as she spoke. Partially because it felt too tight all of a sudden, and partially to have an outlet for the nervous energy in her hands.

“Things shake me. But...I don't know, Mariano. I think at some point I just sort of...accepted them. I can’t change what happened to my mom, I can’t change my dad, I can’t change much. I can only solve the problems I can solve, and there’s not many.”

He nodded, biting down hard on his bottom lip. “I guess you’re right.”

Heaving a sigh, she finished shaking the braid out of her long hair, and laid back against the bridge. Above, the sky was so blue it was almost pitch black. Stars shone brightly against the backdrop, numerous without the light pollution of a city like Philadelphia. She felt a sudden pang of homesickness, unlike anything she had experienced since moving away. There weren’t many things she missed about the small town in which she grew up, but the view of the night sky was one of them.

“But doesn’t it ever...bother you?” Jess asked, still unsure himself of exactly what he was trying to say.

“Sort of. Sometimes,” Ella said, gaze focusing on the little dipper. She felt her muscles relax, and the ache in her back quieted down a bit. She knew she would be a bit sore in the morning. “When I was a kid, I used to go out with my big brother in the summer and catch fireflies. And then we would try to find constellations, though I’m pretty sure all we knew was Orion’s belt.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she echoed wistfully. “I loved the stars...In third grade, I knew this girl whose uncle worked at NASA. And for her birthday, her parents bought her a star and named it after her. I had no idea you could do that. And I begged my parents for like...fucking months to get a star. I didn’t even want to name it after me. I wanted to make up a name for it, but still...have it be mine. But...we barely had money for groceries...let alone a star. And I was pissed about it for a while. But, then, eventually, we learned about how the light of the stars we see is hundreds of years old.”

“Pretty good for a public school,” Jess interjected.

Ella giggled. “I agree. But, after I learned it, I didn’t give a fuck about naming a star anymore. Because any star I would’ve named was dead already.”

“So, you were a nihilist even as an eight-year-old?” he asked, glancing back at her. Her blonde hair was swept over her shoulder, eyes glittering greenish, skin dewy and pale.

“Pretty much,” she said. “But it’s like that, I guess. I can’t bring a star back to life, so why worry about it dying? Even after my mom...I tried for a while to get over it. I tried to...solve it. I thought if I just got over it, it would be done, and I wouldn’t have to think about it ever again. My dad wasn’t helping, and Adam was a wreck. He stayed with Julie for a few weeks after she died, actually. He said he couldn’t stand being around my dad and I.”

“Because you were fighting?” Jess asked.

Ella shook her head softly, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “No, actually. We were drinking.”

“What?” Jess turned his body to face her, sitting cross-legged at her side.

“Yeah, we were sitting around the kitchen table drinking. Pretty much all the time. Noah was off with his friends, doing whatever he was doing to get by. So, I didn’t want to leave my dad alone. We would just drink all night, whenever I wasn’t at school...Sometimes, I would cry afterwards, when I was alone or when the hangover hit. But never in front of him. And I thought it would get better, but it wasn’t helping,” she explained, stopping briefly to take a deep breath of the fresh summer air. “Eventually, I...I would sleep through entire weekends, night and day, just to pass the time. I didn’t eat much, but I wasn’t really hungry. I just slept and slept. I remember...being so tired. I didn’t see anyone...not even Lane and Rory those first few weeks. I started smoking, too. I kept up with schoolwork and everything...I don’t really know why. Maybe it was just a force of habit...the one constant thing. Nothing seemed important, though. Without her there, I mean.”

Eyebrows raised, Jess listened. He had never heard her talk so much about the immediate period of time after her mother’s death. Not even he knew the details. And it shocked him the way she spoke. She wasn’t crying. She was barely pausing or stuttering at all. She told him matter-of-factly, detached.

She shrugged. “But that only lasted a few weeks. I managed to go to school, but my dad pretty much just stopped going to work. Even after the leave they gave him. He lost his job, but he wouldn’t even try looking for another one. He was just too...he couldn’t do anything. So, I stopped drinking. I didn’t pick up any alcohol again until that night I stole his tequila. And I got a job at Luke’s, to get us some extra money. And Luke threw in leftovers whenever he could. I didn’t think about her really...not for a long time. There were other problems to worry about, I guess. So, I just...got up and kept going. That’s the way it’s always been for me, I guess. She was dead, and we needed money.”

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“Things shake me, Jess. But I’ve always been good at just sort of...getting on with it...not thinking about it,” she said, voice slightly strained but clear. “I still don’t think about her most of the time. Not in a real way. Maybe that’s why I got so fucking angry when my dad brought her up today. He’s just so...I don’t know. Maybe he wishes I kept drinking with him...that I never got a job or got up from the kitchen table. Maybe he would have an easier time looking at himself now.”

Jess hummed in acknowledgment, giving a small nod of his head. He cast a careful glance her way. “Are you mad at your mom?”

She averted her eyes from him and found Polaris, the brightest amongst all the other dots of light. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay to be mad at her,” he said.

“I know,” she replied softly. “I’ve had enough school counselors tell me that to know it. But...honestly...sometimes I feel like...if I think about it too hard...I’ll go back. I’ll feel like I did then. I’ll be like I was then. And I don’t see the point of going back there.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, then finally came to lay beside her. He shivered slightly as his back touched the bridge, though the air was warm.

Then, after a moment, she asked: “Are you worried about Doula?”

He didn’t answer. He only took one of her hands in his own, as they both gazed up at the sea of stars above, and squeezed it once. Hard, though nowhere near hard enough to hurt. She nodded knowingly, and didn’t ask anything more. A breeze blew past them, and she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. She felt her eyes threatening to flutter shut once or twice, but she willed them to stay open. Not only for the view they were enjoying.

“That was some party, huh?” Jess asked, breaking the silence. His tone was lighter than it had been since they had arrived in Stars Hollow. They’d talked about the party a little bit in the car on the way home, Jess driving. But Ella had already begun to doze during the ride, exhausted from the long day.

She snorted a laugh. “Fuck, I don’t know which I liked less: Emily Gilmore seeing us make out or drinking that battery acid.”

“I don’t know. I think her calling your art ‘doodles’ is also in the running,” Jess added.

She smirked. “No, she can call them whatever she wants. I’d never trust the taste of someone who thinks it’s appropriate to put a chandelier in a bathroom, anyway.”

Jess laughed heartily. “Agreed.”

“I’m glad you made a new friend, though,” Ella said.

Furrowing his brows, Jess tore his eyes away from the stars to look at her. “Who?”

“Paris,” Ella replied, as though it were obvious.

“Ah,” Jess said, nodding. “I don’t know if I’d call her a friend, but it was fun to listen to her accuse me of sacrilege when I said Bukowski was better than Elizabeth Bishop.”

“Well, she was right,” Ella said, bumping his shoulder playfully with her own. “She was cute, too.”

“You think so?” he asked.

“I think if you and Doyle didn’t exist, she and I would make for the most powerful couple on the East Coast,” she teased.

Jess snorted a laugh. “You could handle that level of intensity?”

“Please,” she mocked, rolling her eyes. “I live with you.”

Jess gasped, feigning astonishment as he brought his free hand over his heart. “Cruel woman.”

“I think you’ll survive,” she replied, smiling.

“I’m not so sure,” Jess said, continuing his bit.

Rolling her eyes, Ella disentangled their fingers, got up on an elbow, and looked down at him. She could see the shadow of stubble on his cheeks and the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smirked at her. Leaning in, she pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, lingering as he ran a hand through her hair. When she came up for air, she noticed again how sleepy he looked.

“You feel any better?” she asked.

He licked his lips. “I’m getting there.”

Only after one more long kiss did Jess agree to return to bed, walking hand-in-hand with her in the dead of night, back to Luke’s.

#jess mariano #jess #mariano #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano au #jess mariano x oc #jess mariano x original character #jess mariano x oc fanfiction #gilmore girls #gilmore #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #jess mariano imagines #gilmore girls oc fanfiction #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #emily gilmore #paris geller

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

Replay ch. 4

Callum gulped as he sent the text to Rayla.  She was fully in her rights to reject a drawing session in the woods.  Not only that, but he was asking her to bring her own clothes because he didn’t know her exact measurements.  Was he asking too much?  He read the text again.  ‘If it’s not too much trouble, I was really imagining drawing you among the trees, like a faerie or an elf.  If you have any flowy clothes that you are alright with getting dirty, please wear those. I’ll send you the location if you’re comfortable.  If not, we can do the beach or my backyard.  I just can’t imagine drawing you in a confined space like my studio. I don’t think it would fit your spirit.’

Callum internally screamed. Did he really send that?  She was going to rescind her acceptance of his request to draw her, wasn’t she?  ‘Her spirit’? He had met her once!  What was wrong with him?  It was true, though.  That was something about her that, despite the suit and the situation that they met in, made him feel like she would be more at home running barefoot through the forest or relaxing by the sea.

Either way, now all he had to do was wait for her to reply back.  If she rejected the offer, well, he didn’t want to think about that, because that meant he probably was never going to see her again.  Meeting her once was enough to make her haunt his every thought for the past three days.  While he and his friends had finally ironed out how they were going to go full-time with YouTube, she had been right in the back of his mind.  

He had looked up her name and ran across a few things.  She really was the daughter of two bodyguards of the British royal family and her adoptive fathers ran a famous Celtic jewelry shop in Aberdeen, the designs being a mix of traditional shapes and styles and new materials.  She did dance for years as a way to channel her energy. There was even a video online of her at sixteen doing a ballet routine to a Kylie Minogue and Madonna compilation. She had inserted traditional Irish step dance in a way Callum never would have thought worked but it did. Maybe that was because of the sheer joy on her face as she moved.  That made her departure from dance all the stranger and it’s also where information about her basically stopped.  The most recent thing he found was that she worked for Patel and Associates Anti-Fraud Law Office.  

A lawyer…his faerie was a lawyer.  It certainly explained the suit but it was almost absurd.  Here he was imagining her running through the trees and she was surrounded by paperwork in her daily life.  Did she enjoy it?  Did she like spicy food?  What was her type?

Callum hit his head against his desk.  He needed to stop letting his mind drift to her and whether or not she could ever be interested in him.  There was no way someone like him was her type.  She couldn’t hide just how toned her long legs her in her suit.  She probably worked out often while he was a lazy twig that indulged in sleeping in too much.  Also, she was a lawyer.  A lawyer falling for a YouTuber/artist?  Yeah, right.

A stray chip hit his forehead.  Callum looked up to glare at Soren.  “What?”

“You thinking about that hot girl at the cheese shop again?”

“What?  No!”  Callum could feel the blush creepy up on his cheeks and all the way to his ears.

“It’s fine if you were. She was smoking hot.  I never thought I would find white hair hot, but DAMN.”

Claudia hummed in acknowledgement.  “I’m calling it now; she’s Bi or Pan.”

“What makes you say that?” Soren mumbled around a bunch of chips.

Claudia winked.  “Gaydar.”

“Wishful thinking?”

“Maybe some of that, too,” Claudia shrugged.  

“She’s got two dads,” Callum mumbled.

Soren, Claudia, and Ezran all turned to him.  “Does she now?” Claudia asked.

“Yeah.  She told me at the shop.  It was the painting of Aunt Amaya and Aunt Janai that made her accept my offer.  She was raised by her parents’ friends, hence, two dads.  They run Gael Jewelers in Aberdeen.”  

Claudia immediately pulled out her phone, probably to look them up.  Shortly after, she whistled.  “Wow. She comes from a really good-looking family.  Her mom is a totally MILF.”

Soren rolled his eyes. “Claudia, you can’t just-” Claudia shoved the picture in his face. “MILF alert.”

“Mm-hmm.”  Claudia scrolled through.  “Ethari and Runaan and are also incredibly attractive.  Damn.  What is in the water in Scotland?”

Callum rolled his eyes. “Guys.  Let’s focus.  Do we need a production manager?”

Claudia shrugged.  “My vote is you’re in charge of creative for group projects, we run our own channels, and we hire an editing assistant.”

“We also need a social media manager.  Ez can’t do it all on his own while he’s in school.”

Ezran nodded.  “It’s nice that you guys do your own channel stuff, but, sometimes, it would be nice to have some help.”

“Do we need a strong social media presence?  We have YouTube and Twitter.  Isn’t that enough?”

Ezran scratched the back of his neck.  “Maybe? Claudia’s got a large following on Tumblr ever since she came out during one of her make-up tutorials.  Her super casual ‘my ex-girlfriend taught me how to do this and this is the first time I’ve done this eyeliner look since we broke-up’ just made her blow-up and our channel gained thousands of followers over-night.”

Callum nodded.  “We gained a lot of followers after I did that art tutorial with Janai, too.  A lot of people just went gaga over her and I see a lot of requests for her to come back on the channel.”

“Which is where a social media manager could come in handy.  Maybe they could track requests so we don’t have to?”

Soren sighed, taking another handful of his chips.  “We also need someone to help us with events.  Getting us into them, working booths…being famous is hard work.”

“We aren’t famous, Soren.”

“Beg to differ.  I get stopped all the time.”  Soren flexed his arm.  “And it’s not just because of these guns.”  The other three in the room rolled their eyes.  

“Himbo,” Claudia coughed, no-so-subtly.  

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! Stop using words I don’t know!”

“Stop being a himbo.”

“CLAUDS!”  

Ezran and Callum shared a look, snorting at their childhood friends’ teasing.  Soren and Claudia couldn’t go five minutes without teasing each other or making a serious situation humorous.  “Can’t take them anywhere,” Callum whispered.

Ezran nodded.  “Bait is better behaved.”

Callum eyed the frog in the glass bowl Ezran took with him wherever he could.  “He’s glaring at me again.”

“Because you won’t stop thinking about that girl.”

“It’s not my fault she won’t leave my head.  You saw her, Ez.”

“Yeah, she’s beautiful, but she’s not running through my head like she is your’s.  Are you even ready for another relationship?  After Melissa-”

“Melissa was a nightmare. She constantly asked to be introduced in our videos.  I didn’t know at the time, but you were right, she approached me because she wanted to piggyback off our growing fame.”  Callum ran a hand through his hair.  “I was an idiot.”

Ezran put a hand on his shoulder.  “I wasn’t going to say that.  I was going to say that Melissa really hurt you and I want you to be careful.  You didn’t even like her that much, if I remember correctly.”

“She was nice, pretty, liked some of the same things I did.  But she didn’t really inspire me to be better or push my art.  She only encouraged the YouTube thing, not what I actually like.”

“She is why we got almost fifty thousand subscribers in one week, though.  That story broke and you had to give that little video and it really stuck with people.”

Callum remembered that video.  As a way to quiet down any questions, he had made a short video detailing how they had met (in a coffee shop), why they had never gone public (he had wanted to keep his private life and his YouTube life separate), that she had met his family but they kept it hush-hush (impossible not to meet Ezran after knowing Callum for a week), and that the break-up had not been mutual.  Callum had broken-up with her because he had felt that it wasn’t working because they wanted different things.  Melissa pushed the YouTube thing, and there was nothing wrong with that, but, if Callum was going to be known for social media and videos, he wanted to be proud of what he put out into the universe.  He loved his art more, and, if he could, that would be all he did.  Melissa had wanted to do sponsorships and Callum hadn’t.  They just had different values and desires and no one else was owed this knowledge, but Callum had been forced to do damage control because people would not stop asking.  “Yeah. I was really surprised that that happened.”

“People value honesty. I think it comes across in our videos and your art tutorials that you are not in this for the fame.  We’ve done meet and greets and you are just awkward as anything.  Melissa showed her true colors on her own with posts afterwards.”  Callum didn’t even want to think about how Melissa had tried to monetize their break-up.  It had been bizarre to see her sponsored by a make-up wipe company to tell her side of the story, which basically confirmed everything in Callum’s video, but with the caveat that she had wanted him to reach new heights and that YouTube and not his ‘lame art’, as she had put it, was the way to do that.  Their fans had not taken kindly to that and Melissa had lost thousands of followers she had gained overnight in even less time.

“Social media is weird, Ez. No matter what, we have got to stay away from the drama.  We do not want to be involved in any of that.”

“Yep.  That’s why I think a social media manager could help.  A good one.”

“I’m all for it if that’s what keeps our noses clean.”  Callum straightened when his phone alerted him to a text.  

He opened it to see it was from Rayla ‘The woods?  OK.  I’m still bringing my friend.  When’s good for you?  It would have to be on a weekend for me because of work.  Sorry about that.’

“Holy shit,” Callum whispered.

“What?” Ezran looked over his shoulder to read the text.  “That text sounds weird.  Callum-”

“I know, Ez, but she didn’t say ‘no’.  She didn’t reject me.”  Ezran raised a brow.  “You know what I mean.”

“You’ve got it bad.”

“I just need to draw her to get her out of my system.”

“Either that or she is your muse.  Poor Aunt Janai.  She was having so much fun being your muse.  So was Khessa.”  Callum chuckled.  Khessa, Janai’s older sister, did enjoy modeling for Callum.  His exhibit on women of color had been a smash hit in part because of her always accepting when he asked.  She had once modeled with a crown while sitting on a throne and that particular piece now hung in her house in her living room, showed off to everyone who came over.  Callum smiled as he remembered that exhibit.  His crowing achievement, to this day, was the portrait of his mother, eyes softened, and an easy, loving smile on her lips.  People thought of her as this rough former military general and tactician who once taught at military academies.  They didn’t know that she had a sweet tooth or that her relationship with Callum’s father had led her to leaving the military because she saw that the push for peace was more important.  

She was now known for her discussions on US-South Korean and US-Thai relations because both her parents were immigrants and her own history in South Korea.  Sarai and Amaya had both spent half their childhoods in South Korea in Korean schools, helping Sarai learn how the rest of the world saw the States. She and Amaya and joined the military because it helped pay for university, but both found they were really good at it. So good at it, they extended their contracts before finally leaving to focus on family and peaceful negotiations. Callum was proud of his mother’s work and was proud of the picture showing the softer side of her so many people didn’t see.  

He shook his head and sent a quick text to Rayla that next Saturday worked for him if it worked for her.  This Saturday was in a few days and, if things went how Ezran wanted, they were probably going to be doing interviews all weekend for a social media manager.  “Let’s get a social media manager, Ez.”

“YES!”

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

Rayla smiled at the text. The woods was a bit of a strange option, but she was excited.  She hadn’t had a chance to go running through the trees barefoot in years.  She was going to have to ask Corvus if he was willing to head out early so she could do so.  She mentally thought of her wardrobe and realized she didn’t have anything flowing that she was willing to get dirty.  She was going to have to go thrift store shopping.  

Was she really going to go buy a dress so a random artist that she had met one time could draw her surrounded by trees?  Yeah, she was and she was going to look so good she was going to haunt his mind like he haunted her’s.  His voice followed her and she had watched all of his videos in three days.  She barely slept because she wanted to hear him more or see him smile or laugh.  She felt like one of those stalkers who was convinced a famous person was in love with them, but she had met him in real life.  He had approached her, he had asked to draw her.  Either way, she wanted him to be tongue-tied when he saw her and, hopefully, she was going to quell some of the fire that refused to leave her belly since they had shaken hands.

#replay #rayllum #rayllum fanfic #tdp #the dragon prince #au #moonbase fanfics

[johncookewrites]

My Dad and Peter Stuyvesant.

The Venezia was a much-loved Italian restaurant, with the most delicious ice cream, in Sea Point, one block from my High School.

Every other Friday, I would meet my father there after school for lunch. My parents were long since divorced and these Friday lunch dates alternated with the weekends I would spend with him and his new Austrian wife.

I would order a toasted cheese and tomato, and a strawberry milkshake, he would have something more substantial, along with cigarette after cigarette. I can still smell the acrid burning of his Peter Stuyvesants, a brand named after the Dutch peg-legged former governor of colonial New Amsterdam (New York) until he lost it to the British.

The slogan for this oddly-named cigarette was ‘Your International Passport to Smoking Pleasure’. The cinema ads depicted jet-setters touching down in New York on a luxury airliner in what seemed like some weird modernisation of the governor’s original colonial conquests. For white South Africans, it all made perfect sense.

So, after my father had asked me the same questions he asked every week, ‘how was school/rugby/that friend of yours etc’, things would lapse into silence and I would watch the ash on the end of his cigarette grow longer and longer and hope it wouldn’t fall into his coffee.

His habit was to stare at any woman in the restaurant that caught his eye. He wasn’t subtle, but preferred direct and continuing eye contact until I would tell him to stop, my cheeks blushing and wishing the red leather seats would swallow me up. He would pull his gaze away, mumble something, light another Stuyvesant, and then start staring again.

My Dad was tall, thin, with prematurely grey hair, lots of it. A teenager during the war, too young to join up, his height meant he was handed white feathers when walking in town with his mother by those thinking he was shirking his duty. When he did join up, as a dispatch rider, it ended up with him crashing his bike (allegedly forced off the road by pro-Hitler Afrikaners) and spending a long time in bed with broken legs. He never talked about it. In fact, now that I come to think about it, he never talked about anything much. He was from that ‘action, not words’ generation of men, the bread-winners, the head of the family, the kings of their Castle lagers. A man of action.

He did talk a lot to people in America, though. In fact, he hardly ever stopped. He was ZS1JD, his call sign as an amateur radio operator, or a HAM, as it was known. He bought and built huge pieces of radio equipment, receivers, transmitters, amplifiers, filled with transistors and glowing globes that smelled like burnt dust when they fired up. He would have long chats about whatever men of his 30-something age talked about.

In the age before TV came to South Africa, it was a crackly confirmation that there was another world out there, maybe the same place where the men in the Peter Stuyvesant advert cavorted with young women who wouldn’t mind you staring at them one little bit, in fact, they might invite you over to their table and light your cigarette for you.

These were the days of Vietnam, the Six Day War, space walks, and moon shots, so there was always something to talk about. But really the thing they all loved to talk about was their equipment, which model of this, the performance of that, tech talk turned them on.

One part of his ‘rig’ was the outside aerial that carried their signals through the atmosphere. This was nothing subtle again. In his case, he had a 50-foot iron tower standing on a reinforced concrete base constructed in our back garden, topped with a multi-pronged horizontal aerial.

The radio tower built by a crew of black labourers with a white boss man to oversee it all. As we watched the workers in their blue overalls swarm up into the sky, finishing off this grey metal edifice, suddenly a worker fell. He landed in the deep grass, winded and groaning. After a few moments, he got up and went back to work. Shocked at the violence of his fall, I looked at my Dad for reassurance. “Don’t worry, John,” he said, “you know they don’t feel pain like us.” The trouble is, he believed it. As a seven-year-old at the time, I had no reason not to.

As a travelling commercial salesman, he travelled throughout the Western Cape, hawking watches, crockery, cutlery and jewellery to small businesses. He stayed away for a week at a time, at least twice a month. Then, it was just me and my Mom in the house, and the ‘maid’, as domestic workers were called in those days. Things were a lot more relaxed with him away. We didn’t have to wait till his car finally pulled up outside in the evenings and we could eat our supper, now with meat grey from overcooking and vegetables equally worse for wear.  

I don’t remember much about those meals, eaten at the open window that looked over Table Bay, with Robben Island in the distance, with its prisoner who would eventually challenge those who thought ‘they don’t feel pain like us’.  I do remember how I mixed my mashed potato together with the gem squash to make something more palatable, and the tinned guavas covered with sweet evaporated milk that would be dessert.

Some nights, after supper, he would pull on a pair of grey trousers and a black polo neck, pack his drum kit and head out to play in various jazz bands. He wasn’t bad at it, he could hold a beat, but I think the point was to get out of the house, away from my mother and I.

It was such a strong urge that not much stood in his way. One evening, he managed to drop a carving knife into his calf, a deep wound that spurted blood, quickly staining his handkerchief and first one dish towel and then another one. Clearly, this was a wound that needed stitching and some rest.  But no, the show must go on, so he bandaged himself as best he could and limped out of the house Did he play that night? I don’t know, but he definitely got out of the house.

My Dad eventually left the house permanently when I was about nine, and then it was just me, my Mom, and Elsie the elderly, often tipsy, ‘maid’. She was there when I got home from school with sardines on toast, or baked beans, or toasted cheese and tomato.

I don’t think I missed him really, though I must have felt something. He was just gone, and became the Dad I would meet at Venezia every second Friday.

He stopped playing the drums from what I remember, he remarried (that lasted ten years or so), he built a large sprawling house in the Durbanville countryside, with a swimming pool and a bull terrier, and another aerial, even higher than the first one.

He still smoked Peter Stuyvesants, the butts piling up in his ashtray as he sat at his radio and called out to the world, “This is ZSIJD, how do you copy, who’s out there? This is ZS1JD.”

#capetown #southafrica

[fractallogic]

Full of melancholy thoughts tonight because all of the sewing notions I’ve been using are my grandma’s, which always makes me go back to various similarities between her and I... namely this proclivity to do a bunch of creative hobbies decently well

I mean, I have a bunch of her paintings hanging up in my house that she did to Bob Ross. (I don’t think you would have known if I didn’t say that.) I had her entire yarn/knitting/crochet stash (and still do, except for the yarn, because it was really gross polyester in awful colors). I have literally never bought normal sewing thread because I also have her sewing box, her button collection, a bunch of spare machine needles, rickrack, elastic that’s probably dead because it’s from the 70s or 80s, and I USED to have her sewing machine until my mom had to move and gave it away.

I wish I could have met her as an adult. She died when I was 11 or so from MS complications, and honestly... it was a relief at that point, because she couldn’t really walk, she was incontinent, she really couldn’t take care of herself even in the retirement home, and she was obviously not happy even to baby me. I grew up with her and even after my mom moved out of her house, she was my primary babysitter/secondary caregiver. We both loved orange foods and would regularly have orange dinners (stouffer’s mac n cheese, orange jello, orange juice, orange sherbet) while watching I Love Lucy and Looney Toons and the Andy Griffith Show; she had this amazing semi-finished basement with a huge cupboard full of canned vegetables (hell yes canned spinach), and one of the things I remember best is that she would just like, do crafts with me and for me. She made me a dress that I loved in part because I got to pick the little button at the top in the back, which was pearlescent and I was therefore convinced that it was magic. She told me about all kinds of different necklace shapes (or styles? Idk?) and she’d show me how to make them.

When she was still working it was SO COOL because I could see my two favorite caregivers at the same place at the same time because she was my dad’s secretary.

She chainsmoked Virginia slims and try as I might, I could never quite get the hang of both sneaking a cigarette and figuring out how to work the lighter (but also, I was like five. So. It’s fine.). I just wanted to be like grandma.

I still remember her phone number (798-1109) and her fake Christmas tree that we would always get to assemble, and all the strange stuff that was in the basement from my uncles’ high school days (because, you know, they also grew up there).

And to this day I’m PETRIFIED of getting her MS because it was so debilitating. She would only be in her late 70s now if she were still alive. I think of her contemporaries who either are still around or were until recently, and she was in absolutely abysmal health, and I wonder how much of that was caused by her smoking and diet versus how much of the smoking and diet was as a result of trying to cope with MS. I think by rule of thumb or whatever I have until I’m 35 to start showing symptoms, and I will tell you that every time I have a clumsy moment and sprain my ankle just by walking because I kinda forget how to for a second, my next thought is “this is how it starts. In 20 years I’ll be confined to a wheelchair and having to wear adult diapers. Fuck”, and so this happens a LOT

But like idk! Who knows! Maybe the sickly G****** genes are washed out by the stupid-healthy D**** genes that let my other grandma play basketball with me when she was in her 60s. Maybe all I inherited from her side was some of the curly reddish hair and the height and proclivity for doing artsy hobbies. Maybe the smoking and >4L of Coke a week were what was really detrimental, not the MS. Maybe I have 50 good years left instead of 5.

It’s been almost 20 years, but I miss you, Grandma. I think of you way more often than I think I do. I’ve gone to sleep looking at one of your paintings for at least 15 years. I wish I could tell you all this.

[archiveofidentityconstellations]

cass won't share her cheese nibs and bruce doesn't love me and i think?? that i deserve better??? than this???? i'm moving to alaska where NO ONE CAN TELL ME WHAT TO DO

the sequel to that one trix yogurt fic

I feel like I should tell you that I am MASSIVELY fucked up right now 

 like i am such a garbage heap that oscar the grouch took a look at me and said 

 “fuckk off!! i have standards!” 

anyways

it’s Brimothy, bitch

what is UP mothertrucksrs it is Me i am back here to write a report on the UNBELIEVABLE SHIT I JUST HANDLED.

okay so u know how Gotham city is on crack cocaine all the time. with like some LSD and heroin and never ever any weed except for like who is that pig guy?? nevrm he doesn’t have weeeed but like he is definitely a Pig. what the fuck is his name. what the fuck.

 okay so anyways 

 is it Goyle

 Doyle

 Pigoyle 

 tin foil? lmao

OKAY FUCK anyways the City, who Also May Be My Lover, is in a constant life crisis (which i relate? a Lot) and do you want to know this s h i t

Crocodile

Killer Croc

who Steve Irwin would be v disappointed in

Is climbing

into people’s FUCKING TOILETS

???????????????

THIS ISN’T FLORIDA

THIS IS NEW JERSEY

WE WEAR SHOES IN THE WINTER

WHAT SORT OF FLIP-FLOP WEARING CUCKER DOES HE THINK HE IS

okay so obviously KC is a big guy. a Dude. a whack-o whaler of a Male. a Big Boh. the largest banananana in the pack. he is Big. so he cAn’t fit into most people’s toilets. he can, however, fit into Big People’s toilets (big as in wealthy, not As in Tom Hanks)

so KC (crispy,,,nuggest…i wonder if fried alligator is good—not that im thinking of eating him, though someone really should threaten him with cannibalism, like if you’re going to be a bitch about it then you deserve the same done to you, it’s just manners) is in cahoots and canoodles with Someone Who Shall Not Be Named (not bc i don’t know, I do, that’s how detectives work. it’s my JOB to know, and i was a prodigy) but bc there is a whole other report detailing this person and their movements and its case file #4461 if u don’t believe me, but i ain’t no snitch, but i will say that tonight’s events connect to file #4461 so Dad if you’re reading this you should already have it out bc it’s your JOB

speaking of jobs ding ding here is mine coming round the mountain as she comes bc the apple bottom jeans the boots with the fur will be coming round the mountain when she comes shE’ll be coming round the mountain she’ll be coming round the mountain she’ll b e coming round and getting low low low low low l ow low

It was a crisp October night. The sun was blinking its sleepy lids, setting the ballroom with an incandescent glow. Bruce Wayne strode across the floor, his daughter Cassandra accompanying him. They wore matching expressions that the privileged always wear: guarded, yet hungry. Hungry for what? Probably for the crab cakes just out of reach. Neither of them had an allergy, and Cassandra in particular had a propensity to shove anything edible in her mouth, so it really was a tragedy that those crab cakes were all the way across the room. There should really be a table right in the middle of the dance floor just for snacks. That way caterers wouldn’t have to do so much leg work, which is actually a good thing, because that ballroom floor is slippery af. This narrator should know, he has Died A Few Times getting there. Suddenly, the night’s festivities were interrupted by a social faux pas: a scream.

You don’t just scream at regular parties, it’s uncouth and hysterical. But you can scream if the social boundaries have already been crossed, and boy, were they crossed.

You see, Dear Reader, there was a man in the toilet.

I use the term “man” loosely, as his glaring yellow eyes do wonders when you might just crap your pantaloons. You start imagining things, like dinosaurs whcih i am personally a big fan of bc Jurassic Park has a kid named Tim in it and I am also Tim.

 hI y is our toilet so big that Killer Croc could wiggle his way up? also how long can he hold his breath. 

 it seems to be impressively long

 hey Bdad how long can he hold his breath? please let me know if you can, and if you won’t i will eat all your wafers becauzs i wa

Mrs. Trenton screamed and fled the impertinent bathroom guest, who wasted no time in ripping the commode to pieces. There was a roar and all the guests paused, unsure if it was merely pipe problems or if they were under attack.

Reader: They were, in fact, under attack. 

The guests, deciding that Mrs. Trenton was a social entrepreneur, followed her lead and began to scream. Killer Croc had made it to ballroom, standing at an impressive height just outside the doors.

He was Not wearing a shirt.

okay have u ever noticed that Killer Crog hasn’t got any nipples????? where are they? he’s got pecs but no nipples?? 

where did they go where are his nip nops i kno people don’t like to think about this but i hAve wondered since i was like 13 like where did they go. has anyone ever asked him. 

did they fall off

“Take the crab cakes!” shouted Matthew Fielder, a lil bitch.

“No, take me!” said Cassandra Wayne, who would literally rather die than give up those crab cakes.

Killer Croc paid them no heed. He desired one thing and one thing only, the sweet satisfaction for his carnal craving: Humain Flesh.

(alliteration hell yeah hell yeah take that Mrs. Johnson i do know shit and im creative as well u jusy don’t know how my brian works it’s like a golden goose egg trap ye ye ye)

 i just Realized 

 i am…a high school drop out

 i don’t know why im doing this

Dear Reader, as an Aside: Smoking can lead to many health issues, especially if one begins smoking at a young age. Harmful side effects include increased risk of stroke and brain damage; muscular degeneration, eye cataracts; cancer of lips, nose, tongue, and mouth, and nipple loss.

 Jason you may want to have a talk with you and your mipples

The terror in the air was stifling. Cannibalism conduct was not something conveyed in etiquette classes. Rich people never expect to be eaten.

Reader, everyone hardly breathed. Something deeply primal had occurred. 

From the doorway the golden eyes struck. Deadly. Lethal. Hungry. 

This was more than vengeance. It was a sadistic occasion of play.

  okay good thing Dames wasn’t there because he fucking HATES KC he gets all huffy and shrieky about him like “he’s a HYGIENE PROBLEM” and it’s like,,,,,.ur right but i don’t want to agree with you because where do we stand if i do that?? as brothers???

 i think the fuck not 

anyways i just realized i’ve been calling Waylon Jones KC the entire damn time (NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE) but to be fucking h, he wants to to be called that. i called him Allen once and he was so PISSED so i can only think of actually calling him by his name. he wouldn’t even be chill with me naming the sewer alligators even tho they were awesome names. i called one Dundee. that’s fucking genius. that’s just. i’m fucking amazing. stupenous. and unappreciated.

 maybe his nipples fell off because he swims in shit every night?????

 question: why do i swim in shit almost as often 

 what the dfck

 what are my life choices

 i feel like there should have been some fine print involved here 

 “Robin duties include scraping shit off your asschreks 3 times a week”

 mahbe,,,,maybe not what i want 

 personal choice

though i haven’t really seen any alligators in the sewers for years now, which is

oh my god OH MY GOD HE ATE THEM  HE ATE THEM OH MY GOD  OH MY GOD !!!!!!!!!!

HE FUCKING  HE FUCKING. HE. HE ATE HIMSELF  HE FUCNING ATE HIMAELF AND HIS FAMILY HIS COUSINS HIS CPOUSINS  HIS FAMILY OH MY GOD  THIS IS LIKE MY 8TH GRADE GRADUATION ALL OVER AGAIN

im so disturbed……..i like, need to eat something. Fucking hell. this Not what i had in mind when i decided to be alive.

i feel like as if i woke up one day and i was the only one in the entire world who remembered Caillou. also could pull off my face and eat it like taffy. imw so. i.

mom i know i refused to go to Shabbat when i was ten so i don’t get to say this but:

this is Not kosher 

oh heyy i want some pIckes

i was also thinking of takin a spin class?? like fuck it i like to bike. fuck it. and maybe iwdont want bruce and nigtwink fucking watxhing me with their beady eyes. like get those off my calves. my cleavage is up here, gentlemen. stop talking about proper form. some people can do things and suck at them. i’m never going to be like a professional ice curler. and i shouldn’t feel bad about that. who the fuck curls for fun. maybe Canada???????

note to self: look up the history of the sport of curling 

i’m going to get good at it to piss off Jason

Back On Topic:

Killer Croc took a step forward. His mouth trembled, watering in anticipation. He took another step.

Mrs. Trenton drew in a breath. 

The room was silent. 

Far across the room, Bruce Wayne clenched his champagne glass. Cassandra Wayne stopped chewing the crab cakes.  Reader, I won’t mince words: Waylon Jones crossed the threshold.

  and the instant he put his foot down on the ballroom floor he fucking slipped like a drunkass toddler

like when Damian is really really tired bc he’s like 2 years old (only an evil 2 years old like chucky) and Jason tries to give him a high five 

gremlin still doesn’t get that “down low” precedes “too slow” 

and he like. faceplants

onto the fucking concrete 

and then Bruce yells at Jason 

and then Jason yells back

“I NEVER ASKED FOR SIBLINGS”

like it was something we all did, like wrote it down on our batmas lists for Brucie Claus 

and im sitting there, a perennial Forgotten Middle Child

and Damian is like still. on the ground.

anyways KC is just slipping across the ballroom, slippering and sliding bc the floor was just waxed and it’s silent except for the wet slaps of his feet against the floor and the screech his tail makes every time he trips (sort of like this) and when he sometimes falls it makes that sound of when your thighs SLAP against the mats and it sounds like a wet walrus coming to cheer you on while a Giant simultaneously swallows a liquid-filled gummy worm down his throat like QAWAGGHHHHHHH only his falls reverberated against the ceiling panels and the cherubs looked down in like. disgust.

Cass began chewing the crab cakes again by the time Killer Croc fell for the twelfth time so idk it was an embarrassing situation

 we all did that Thing people do when a social barrier is breached 

 we like…..avoided each other’s eyes and made light conversation 

 meanwhile Killer Croc’s body screeched in the background

anyways Matthew Fielder was like “so I hear you dance ballet” and Cass responded “uh huh. tap too” and the chewed up crab cake crumbs fell out of her mouth and onto the floor

 i CAN’T

scrambled cock on a cracker, Cass why does Alfred let this happen????? what is this??????  like she can snort creme puffs like cocaine but GOD FORBID i put my elbows on the table and call damian “a poisonous little bitch” because he ate my croutons

 the standards in this family are unbelievable

So everyone is just talking and Mrs. Trenton is sipping champagne now and Luis Alvarez is doing that thing where he starts trying to eat caviar one teeny tiny egg at a time and KC is just like WHUMPH for the thirtieth time

finally dad takes pity on him and crouches down and is like “hey how you doing slugger” which???? Offended me. Very Much.

that’s MY nickname 

has Waylon No-Nipples Jones been adopted by Bruce Wayne??? has Waylon No-Nipples Jones retrieved HIS sorry ass from time?? i don’t fucking think so 

the audacity of this man

but before Killer Croc can reply

Red Hood

BURSTS INTO THE ROOM

guns out, voice modulator kind of fuzzy like a broke refrigerator that makes an “eeeeeeeeeee” sound ever since i tripped over it and fell on it

 which wASN’T MY FAULT 

 IM NOT “deformed baby zebra clumsy” FUCK YOU JASON 

 MAYBE HE SHOULDN’T KEEP HIS EXPENSIVE HELMET ON THE FLOOR THEN 

 you know what? I’m GLAD i tripped over it.

 yeah. suck it. 

 im glad you sound like a 90s japanese transistor radio 

 off brand too

 fuck you 

 I GOT A BRUISE NOT THAT ANYONE CARES 

 even Bruce was like “hey tim you need to watch where you’re going”

 ???

 how about YOU watch where YOU’RE GOING 

 “where” as in TIME TRAVEL 

 REMEMBER THAT BRUCE 

 REMEMBER THAT?!???????

 HUH BIG GUY?!???????!!???

 no one is allowed to criticize me from now on

 i am Above Reproach 

    anyways yeah Red Hood appears at the party and shoots KC and Bruce was like “why the FUCK would you SHOOT HIM” as if he has some misplaced paternal feeling for Waylon No-Nipples Jones because he called him slugger which is something he calls one of his other kids but whatever im not bitter im just insecure and sad all the time but don’t worry about it maybe i’ll die one day and you’ll all be sorry especially about Certain Things like not sharing cheese nibs huh Cassandra

so RH and Bruce Wayne kind of argue. like. literally sniping at each other bc SOMEBODY forgot that Red Hood is a criminal and not their misplaced son and RH is like “it’s!!!!! a tranquilizer!!!!! ya big hoe!!!!!” only he doesn’t really say it like that but everyone isn’t even listening at this point because this party has already been so goddamn weird and we’re all suffering from secondhand embarrassment

i am Assuming,,,,,that Killer Croc Jones “Jonsie No-Nipples” has been taken away to be put into jail and studied for his non-nipple properties but at this point i’ve been sitting here huffing that cold medicine or whatever Bruce gave me. which

 oh yeah i was crushed earlier 

 it was by “slugger” but whatever

 yeah his body broke mine 

 it was because Bruce and Jason were fighting again and not paying attention so 

 KC was tranquillized and like 

 fell on me 

 he drooled on me too 

 those ballroom floors really hurt 

 like my head feels like mush 

 Alfred’s oatmeal 

 on its second day 

 because i refused to eat it on the first day 

 that man has a spine of Steel and he Does Not Let You Waste Food 

 btw he fell on me because i pushed Luis Alvarez out of the way 

 he was really transfixed by those tiny fish eggs 

 it’s fun to put them on your tongue and let them like slide around 

 so i pushed him out of the way and was promptly crushed to death 

 B said something about a broken collarbone 

 i am more worried about a broken butt 

 fuck

 my coccyx

PROFESSOR PYM wait no shit that’s a comic book character

anyways my butt is broken and im hungry and dad wouldn’t let me get out of the chair so i write up this report because I am A Real Life Detective and I do my JOB

once again im the best

hey red jood can you get me some cheese nibs cassandrA won’t share which is p mean especially since i was all for being eaten to give her those crab cakes  red hoof red  why isn’t he responding to me i want xheese nibs red hanz  red  red  Red Hood please I require sustenance  red fhau red gjji red hhood ted joood redb hood red red edds red red edd dedd red red red red red wd red  what the fuck what a right bastard sometimes oh hi Badaman

EDIT: His name is “Pyg.”  Fucking. Pyg. Points taken off for unoriginality.

decided to have a tumblr version too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#take this and put it on my grave #in remembrance of me

[virtuallytakenby]

Hmm, odd numbers babe!!

Thanks for asking hun :D 

1: Full name

Hmm, I’m not ready to answer that just yet. You can call me Pari though :) 

3: 3 Fears

Dying before I do anything meaningful in life/dying too young, insects and losing loved ones. 

5: 4 turns on

Eye contact, good personality, voice (like Raleigh Carrera’s, haha), neck kisses. 

7: My best friend

I have 3 best friends who know different things about me lol. I’m too scared to trust one person entirely. Plus these three don’t talk to each other since they’re not close or even in the same country. 

9: My best first date

I’ve never had a date despite being in a relationship for 2 years. We were both in boarding school. 

11: What do I miss

I miss living with my roomies in boarding school. It was a strict school but we had fun breaking rules and not getting caught. Like sneaking in junk food from outside, etc. 

13: Favourite color

Blue and Green

15: Favourite quote

“Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” — Lilo & Stitch 

17: Favourite food

Veg Enchiladas from this restaurant near my apartment. 

19: What am I listening to right now

Flames by Zayn and R3HAB

21: Shoe size

6

23: Hair color

A mix of dark and light brown (natural) 

25: Ever done a prank call?

YES

27: Meaning behind my URL

It means exactly what it says. Virtually taken by [so many fictional characters] ;)

29: Favourite song

Icarus Falls album by Zayn. I can’t choose one! 

31: How I feel right now

Sleepy.

33: My current relationship status

Single (been single for almost 3 years)

35: Favourite holiday

Songkran Holiday in Thailand. It’s like a water festival.  

37: Tattoos and piercing I want

I want a tattoo of Stitch with the Ohana quote. A few more probably but not sure what (I have no tattoos at the moment). I already have 6 ear piercings (4 in the right ear and 2 in the left) so I want an industrial piercing in my left one day. 

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

I used to hate him. I think he probably did too cause I broke up with him. But he apologized to me a couple months back after asking what went wrong. I forgave him, but I still don’t like him. The hatred is gone though. I’m pretty sure he doesn't hate me. 

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

Nope. 

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

30 to 40 mins tops (includes shower and shampooing, getting dressed, light make up, packing my bag for uni). 

45: Where am I right now?

In my room. 

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

I like it loud when I want to drown everyone out. Which is most of the time. 

49: Am I excited for anything?

I don’t know. It’s more like excited/nervous about my future. 

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

Too often. 

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

I’d probably turn away or something. Not because it’d hurt me, but because I don’t want to be staring at them.

55: What is something I disliked about today?

Crappy singing (by my sister)

57: What do I think about most?

My senior thesis for college. My senior year is still 9 months away but I’m already thinking that I’ll direct a short film for my thesis. 

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

I don’t think so? I’m afraid of swimming in a water body with fishes (I’d prefer the swimming pool). So I’m not exactly scared of fishes per se, it’s more like scared of swimming with the fishes. 

61: What was the last lie I told?

That I had a subway sandwich when I actually had McDonald’s fries with cheese dip. 

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

I don’t believe in ghosts. Maybe aliens but gosh I need a solid sign that they exist. 

65: Do I believe in luck?

Sometimes. 

67: What was the last book I’ve read?

Supernova by Marissa Meyers. 

69: Do I have any nicknames?

I do. A lot of people can’t pronounce my real name so I have many variations of my name. 

71: Do I spend money or save it?

I save it usually. But I do spend on food. 

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

Yep. 

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

Watching YOU season 2 

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

I honestly have no idea. 

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

I’ll probably be burned and my ashes scattered. 

81: My top 5 blogs on Tumblr

I’m new so I don’t know a lot of people. But here are the ones I scroll through @dailydoseofchoices @oneemofungirl @kayden-vescovi @meindraws

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

Nope. 

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid, to tell the truth on?

Hmm, I don’t know. I’d be afraid of my family finding out that I even had a boyfriend. 

87: Had sex?

Nope. Glad I didn’t with my ex (not that we could in boarding school anyway. It was hard enough to make out). He’s asked me towards the end of our two-year relationship and I said no. 

89: Gotten pregnant?

Nope, still a virgin. And I doubt Jane the virgin scenario would happen to me. 

91: Kissed a boy?

Yep. 

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

Nope. 

95: Left the house without my wallet?

Yes, once. I freaked out. 

97: Had sex in public?

Still a virgin. 

99: Smoked weed?

Nah. I stay far faaaaar away from it. 

101: Smoked cigarettes?

Never. Nor do I want to try. 

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

Yes, I’m vegetarian. It’s a choice. My dad eats non-veg, but I never acquired a taste for it. I do eat eggs though. 

105: Been underweight?

No. 

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

Yes! 

109: Been outside my home country?

Yes. I’ve been to Singapore, Hong Kong, and a few places in the U.S. And I live in Thailand. 

111: Been to a professional sports game?

I went to a tennis match in the 8th or 9th grade. 

113: Cut myself?

Accidentally? Many time. I’m clumsy AF. Purposely? Once. 

115: Been on an airplane?

Many times! 

117: What concerts have I been to?

Sadly, none.

119: Learned another language?

I can speak 3 languages fluently, including English (which is my 3rd language) and I know basic Thai. I used to be fluent in Thai as a kid but I forgot most of it in boarding school. 

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

Still a vIrGin. 

123: Dyed my hair?

I’ve highlighted it gold before. Just a few stripes. 

125: Rode in an ambulance?

Nope.

127: Met someone famous?

Once, yes. I don’t remember who. I was an 8-year-old kid or something. 

129: Peed outside?

As a kid, yep.

131: Helped with charity?

I’ve been to old age homes to give away some supplies and money. 

133: Broken a mirror?

Cracked it a little. Not on purpose. 

135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

2 to 3? I’m not sure of the names yet. 

137: Do I like my handwriting?

Nah, it’s messy AF. It also keeps changing LOL. 

139: Favourite Tv Show?

The 100, Orphan Black, Full house, Fuller House, Arrowverse shows, etc. SO MANY.  

141: Play any musical instrument?

I can play a little bit of the following (I learned in school but never kept up with it): recorder, keyboard, violin, xylophone, harmonium, sitar. 

143: Favourite pizza topping?

CHEEEEEEESE. 

145: Am I afraid of heights?

Nope. 

147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

A lot of times. 

149: What my greatest achievements are

It’s yet to come. 

151: What I’d do if I won in a lottery

pay off loans, pay for tuition, save whatever’s left for emergencies. 

153: My closest Tumblr friend

@dailydoseofchoices

155: Any question you’d like?

I don’t know haha. 

[noradarhkpalmer]

Darhkatom + Ray feeling guilty/them moving into his apartment

“So...” Ray asked after they laid on her bed for a while, just soaking up each other’s company, Ray especially soaking up each and every movement he could feel from their daughter growing inside Nora’s belly.

“So...?” Nora lifted her head off his shoulder.

“Do we wanna start packing your stuff?”

Nora shook her head. “No need.” She pulled a duffle bag from the floor on her side of the bed and smiled. “Other than my toiletries, this is everything I have. I keep it packed in case I need to run and run fast.”

Ray hated that moving her out was so expedited because she had lived in fear the past five months. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “I’ll help you get your toiletries together.”

Within ten minutes they had cleaned up her room and he held Nora’s entire life for the past five months in his arms. They exited her room and he made his way down the steps first, heading over to, to Nora’s surprise, a truck, and put them in the back seat and then met her back at the top of the stairs to help her down them.

“I’m not an invalid. I can walk by myself, you know.”

“These stairs do not look safe and I’m not risking either of you. I just got you,” Ray replied when they reached the bottom of the steps. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and she held on tight, not used to, yet craving this kind of closeness.

Ray kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. He guided her over to the truck and opened the passenger door.

“I never really imagined you to own a truck...”

Ray shrugged. “Height of Palmer Tech me was kind of an overcompensating asshole.”

Nora flashed him a coy smile and glanced down at his crotch. “Overcompensating for what, though?”

Ray coughed and his cheeks flushed red. “Oh well... umm... confidence I guess.”

Nora climbed into the passenger’s side and Ray rounded the truck. She buckled herself in and turned to look at him. “If we hadn’t met because I was trying to kill you and take over the world with my dad you don’t think you would’ve been able to grab my attention or something?”

Ray shrugged. “Something like that, I’ve always ended up second to someone else regardless so it’s not like...”

Nora pulled Ray in by the collar of his shirt and kissed him firmly. She pulled back with sadness and determination in her eyes. “You’re my first choice, always. I’d pick you out of a group of complete strangers every time, in any time, in any universe.”

Ray swallowed hard and pulled her in for another kiss. He threaded his fingers into her hair and deepened the kiss, which Nora gladly reciprocated.

They finally broke for a bit of air and Nora pressed their foreheads together. Out of breath, she murmured, “if we don’t stop, I’m going to ask you to take me in the back seat.”

Ray let out a soft groan and pulled back, trying to shift to a comfortable seated position in his seat, and adjusted his pants. “You’re right. Later?”

Nora nodded, trying not to stare directly at his crotch, and pulled down the mirror above her to check herself over, hair mussed, lips now thoroughly kissed. “Later.” 

xxxx

They ended up at grocery store first. They had finally got to Star City when Nora’s stomach rumbled, Ray’s too. He said he would need to go on a grocery run eventually and he would love nothing more than to cook her dinner when they got home.

Home.

The thought filled Nora’s belly with a pleasant feeling that made her shiver when it occurred at the same time as a comforting kick from their daughter. She knew they would eventually buy a house to move into, to raise their family in, but Ray was still referring to his apartment as their home. She had a home now. With him.

It turned out that going grocery shopping with a still slightly horny and definitely hungry pregnant woman was more dangerous than a hungry college student grocery shopping with their financial aid refund burning a hole in their pocket.

They loaded up the backseat of Ray’s truck with probably more groceries than they would need (Nora cited that after eating ramen noodles for five months her pregnant ass would eat anything and probably crave it in all sorts of combinations) and they were headed to his apartment. 

A probably too helpful doorman to a very fancy looking apartment building helped Ray and Nora carry all the groceries up (Ray wanting Nora to only carry the lightest dry goods, which made her roll her eyes). When Nora entered his apartment, she gasped. It was huge.

“Welcome home!” He grinned as they sat the groceries on a spacious kitchen island. He tipped the doorman for helping and the man shut the door behind him.

“It’s...”

“I know that it’s definitely the size of a bachelor pad, I definitely don’t have a spare bedroom big enough for an adequate nursery but hopefully it’ll give us a good transitional space before we move into a house.” He came to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist. “How do you like it?”

Nora placed a hand over her mouth and blinked back the tears. “It’s perfect. It’s a home. A home for you and me and our baby girl. I don’t even care if we get a house at this point. I feel pretty well cared for right here.”

“I still want for us to have a much quieter place. The building is safe and is very nice and everything, but the city is still too loud for my liking. I don’t want you or our baby girl to have a worse sleep schedule than you already will because she’ll be a baby up at all hours of the night.”

Nora looked up at him and pulled him in for a loving kiss. “This is more than I ever could’ve dreamed of.”

xxxx

Nora Darhk sat at their kitchen island (she loved that she could call it that) and watched Ray cook enchiladas. There were a myriad of other Latin American side dishes also being prepared simultaneously. She had offered to help, but Ray said to just sit back and snack.

For once she didn’t want to argue.

So she snacked on a large platter of cheese and crackers and grapes and watched her man (now clad in a tight fitting black crewneck t-shirt and sweatpants that hugged his ass, to her advantage, closer than most) cook her dinner. When all was said and done, Ray plated her food with everything she had requested and they sat next to each other at the island, gratefully digging into their meals.

Nora finally took a break from stuffing her face and smiled up at him. “This is really good, thank you for dinner, Ray.”

“Anything for the love of my life.” He leaned in for a kiss.

Nora smiled against his lips. “I never thought I’d be anyone’s love of their life.”

“I could both go on and not really articulate very well what you mean to me, Nora. I just feel so drawn to you, always have. You weren’t dealt a fair card in your life and something deep inside me just wanted to be there for you, as you finally gained the freedom to explore who you were always meant to be. You’re funny, beautiful, I know how caring and loving you are deep down. You’re going to be an amazing mother. You’re already an amazing woman.”

Nora threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“It is I who is undeserving of you.” He pulled her in for another kiss.

xxxx

That night after dinner was cleaned up, Nora changed into some pajamas, which she would admit, were on their last days of fitting in any capacity. Ray frowned and offered her some of his but she turned him down. She wanted her clothes.

Ray understood, more than understood.

But as they laid in bed that night it was almost as if they had gone backwards. When they were in his truck, they had nearly torn each other’s clothes off. Now Ray was laying stiff as a board and quiet as a mouse. What was going on in that head of his?

Nora was facing him, trying to insinuate she wanted to be close, but Ray never made eye contact with her. She tried to fight the tears back. Maybe he didn’t actually want to build this life with her as much as she thought he did.

Ray felt the sleeve of his shirt dampen and looked down at Nora, who was trying to hold back the tears but because of the way she was laying, a single tear slipped from her right eye. 

“Nora? Is everything alright? Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

Nora shook her head. “No... I just... maybe I read too much into earlier...”

“What do you mean?”

“About how much you want this life with me... maybe I should go sleep on the couch. To keep our boundaries clear.”

Ray’s brows furrowed. “What? Wait, Nora, no. I’m sorry. I just... realized how much I’ve missed out on. I don’t deserve this, Nora. I’ve already messed this up by having you go through this alone for the last five months. It’s not fair of me to swoop in and start playing family with you.”

Nora sat up and shook her head. “No. Oh my god, Ray, that is all I want from you. We are a family. I want you to hold me and our daughter and for us to fall asleep together. Wrapped around each other. I know that you not showing up until today wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry that guilt is eating at you, but I promise you deserve this just as much as I do.”

Ray didn’t meet her eyes during Nora’s speech and he felt a small hand press against his cheek and force his eyes to meet hers. 

“Ray, promise me you’re going to try and realize that I just want you and you don’t have to feel guilty for what you missed.”

Ray solemnly nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

“Okay. Now will you please hold me? She’s really kicking so you’ll be able to feel her too.”

Ray smiled and pulled Nora into his arms and placed a hand on her belly where their daughter was kicking. He kissed her slowly and Nora eagerly reciprocated. His hand started moving her shirt up her belly until it was exposed as they laid there kissing. Ray realized what was happening and pulled back to see Nora’s eyes, now a dark smoke grey.

“Are you sure we should.”

“Please.” Nora nodded into another kiss.

xxxx

When they curled up together after, Nora immediately fetched his shirt. Ray remained naked (not that Nora was about to complain) and she curled further into his embrace.

“You’re gonna be here when I wake up? Just like this?”

Ray nodded. “Unless you kick me out and hog the bed.” He chuckled and tickled her sides. “And don’t think I don’t realize what game you’re playing at. You rejected my offer to get you pajamas earlier just so you could sleep in my shirt and me be shirtless.”

Nora blushed. “Well it does smell the most like you since you just wore it and it fits me perfectly with my little bump. See?” Nora pulled the shirt taut and showed off her bump under his shirt proudly.

Ray’s throat went dry. She continued to show him things that topped his definition of beauty every minute. Nora laying there, pulling his shirt that she wore taut to show off her baby belly, where she was carrying their baby, with the biggest grin on her face was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I do see. The most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“What my naked body not do it for you?”

Ray tickled her sides again. “You know it more than does it for me. And you know what I mean.” Ray kissed her and pulled the covers over them. He pulled her close and rested his hand on her belly. “Goodnight, Nora, I love you.”

Nora curled into his chest and let his heartbeat sooth her to sleep. “Night, Ray, I love you too.”

#darhkatom #ray palmer #nora darhk #legends of tomorrow #ask #fanfic #mine #for noelle

[what-my-bones-said]

do dem asks you fine ass bitch ✌🏻💕

Wow I hope this is my wife 

GET IN MY BUSINESS PLEASE:

The meaning behind my url: Words from my favorite @andrewgibby poem

A picture of me: at the bottom of the post. From my wedding 

How many tattoos i have and what they are: one tattoo on my shoulder blade that says “Fear is only a verb if you let it be” from an andrea gibson poem (can you tell I have an obsession?) & another on my thigh for autism awareness

Last time i cried and why: probably some time this week because the world lol

Piercings i have: my ears, used to have my belly button pierced

Favorite band: Dixie Chicks 

Biggest turn offs: people who don’t use their blinker, people who chew with their mouth open, arrogance

Top 5 (insert subject): places you want to visit: Italy, Greece, Hawaii, Spain, Brazil 

Tattoos i want: a map tattoo, another Andrea Gibson tattoo, lillies down my side, something in remembrance of my grandmother

Biggest turn ons: intelligence, Ambition, a good sense of humor... so my wife

Age: 24 

Ideas of a perfect date: going to a place and sampling beers/wines with my wife. And then going somewhere with a meat and cheese board for dinner 

Life goal: don’t know if I have a specific one?? Be happy?

Piercings i want: I’d like to get my cartilage re-pierced

Relationship status: Married to the love of my life <3

Favorite movie: Us 

A fact about my life: I went to Catholic high school

Phobia: flying

Middle name: Megan

Height: 5′4″

Are you a virgin? LOL no

What’s your shoe size? 8

What’s your sexual orientation? in love with my wife

Do you smoke, drink, or take any drugs? i drink like... for fun? 

Someone you miss: MY WIFE

What’s one thing you regret? Not leaving a toxic relationship sooner

First celebrity you think of when someone says attractive: Jessica Alba

Favorite ice cream? Salted Caramel Core from Ben and Jerrys 

One insecurity: my skin

What my last text message says: lol...

Have you ever taken a picture naked? none of yo business

Have you ever painted your room? yes

Have you ever kissed a member of the same sex? lol yep my wife

Have you ever slept naked? hasn’t everyone?

Have you ever danced in front of your mirror? yes

Have you ever had a crush? yes 

Have you ever been dumped? definitely 

Have you ever stole money from a friend? never

Have you ever gotten in a car with people you just met? people I just met? no. People I don’t know very well? yes and never again 

Have you ever been in a fist fight? nope

Have you ever snuck out of your house? nope

Have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back? yes definitely 

Have you ever been arrested? nope

Have you ever made out with a stranger? no I haven’t

Have you ever met up with a member of the opposite sex somewhere? ummm yes?

Have you ever left your house without telling your parents? nope

Have you ever had a crush on your neighbor? no way

Have you ever ditched school to do something more fun? i mean... i ditched morning mass once or twice. 

Have you ever slept in a bed with a member of the same sex? oh yes

Have you ever seen someone die? no

Have you ever been on a plane? too many

Have you ever kissed a picture? lol no

Have you ever slept in until 3? never

Have you ever loved someone or miss someone right now? i miss someone right now

Have you ever laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by? probably

Have you ever made a snow angel? yes 

Have you ever played dress up? when I was younger

Have you ever cheated while playing a game? i don’t think so 

Have you ever been lonely? yes right now

Have you ever fallen asleep at work/school? lol no 

Have you ever been to a club? like three times

Have you ever felt an earthquake? i don’t think so 

Have you ever touched a snake? i wish!

Have you ever ran a red light? by accident yes

Have you ever been suspended from school? never  

Have you ever had detention? nope

Have you ever been in a car accident? I’ve been rear ended

Have you ever hated the way you look? i mean we were all in middle school once 

Have you ever witnessed a crime? i don’t think so

Have you ever pole danced? no lol

Have you ever been lost? probably 

Have you ever been to the opposite side of the country? yes

Have you ever felt like dying? no

Have you ever cried yourself to sleep? probably

Have you ever sang karaoke? yes many times 

Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? yes, oh yes. worked out in the end though

Have you ever laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? yuck no

Have you ever slept with someone at least 5 years older or younger? not quite five years but four

Have you ever kissed in the rain? probably

Have you ever sang in the shower? constantly 

Have you ever made out in a park? probably?

Have you ever dream that you married someone? yes lol

Have you ever glued your hand to something? no

Have you ever got your tongue stuck to a flag pole? no haha

Have you ever gone to school partially naked? hell no

Have you ever been a cheerleader? another hell no

Have you ever sat on a roof top? yes!

Have you ever brushed your teeth? i hope that everybody brushes their teeth my god

Have you ever been too scared to watch scary movies alone? yes but i still do it

Have you ever played chicken? nope

Have you ever been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? nope

Have you ever been told you’re hot by a complete stranger? probably. gross. 

Have you ever broken a bone? yes my arm

Have you ever been easily amused? maybe?? 

Have you ever laughed so hard you cried? definitely

Have you ever mooned/flashed someone? only my wife lol

Have you ever cheated on a test? nope!

Have you ever forgotten someone’s name? yes ugh it’s so embarrassing 

Have you ever met someone who didn’t seem real? umm... no

Give us one thing about you that no one knows. no thanks I’m all set

[katjacksonbooks]

Preorder EVERY NEW YEAR

When Ezra Posner was eighteen, he met Candace Garret and fell in love. When Candace met Ezra, she instantly knew he was the boy for her. In the middle of their first year at college, Candace and Ezra share a clumsy kiss that should have been the beginning of an epic love affair, but it's not. Instead, it begins a nearly two-decade journey of never quite getting the timing right for love. For almost every New Year's Eve after, Candace and Ezra stumble into one another's arms, but can’t manage to hold onto each other for more than a single night. They live with the expectant giddiness of being able to spend New Year's Eve with the person they love, always hoping that next year will be their year. Until eventually, their annual trysts ruin even the friendship that held them together. As 2019 ends, Candace and Ezra are both running away from their broken hearts. They board a plane hoping to finally move on from their relationship, only to run right into each other's arms. Every New Year is a friends-to-lovers romance that takes nearly twenty years to bloom. It's also the first in the Love At Last series, where happily ever afters might take some time to mature, but they're always worth the wait.

Read on to see Candace and Ezra’s first NYE kiss!

DECEMBER 31, 2001

 Ezra Posner really didn’t want to be at this party. Actually, if he’d realized that his roommate, Miles Jefferson, would force him to leave the comfort of their dorm room and trek halfway across campus and then halfway up a hill, he would have pretended to be asleep until Miles left without him. He didn’t like parties. And he certainly didn’t like New Year’s Eve parties in the woods with the kids who’d decided – or had no other choice but – to stay on campus over winter break. They’d hiked into the hills surrounding their semi-rural campus to have their own New Year’s Eve celebration; all crushed together around a bonfire and listening to someone’s cheap boombox on low so they could keep an ear out for campus police.

The smell of smoke and cheap vodka made Ezra’s stomach turn. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to spend his New Year’s Eve and he was growing more annoyed that he’d let Miles drag him up here by the minute. But when he turned toward his best friend, he saw him sloshing that cheap swill into a red plastic cup with a frown. When he saw Ezra looking at him, he chuckled and then poured nearly half a bottle of orange juice into the cup “for taste,” meaning he needed to hide the burn of bottom barrel liquor. He held the cup out to Ezra and raised his own in toast.

“Cheers,” Miles said, smiling at Ezra with raised eyebrows. He’d given him the same smile when they’d met at summer orientation and then immediately suggested they become roommates.

Ezra raised his eyebrows at his friend, took the smallest sip he could manage and cringed. Miles didn’t notice. He was too distracted by Mei Barnes, the actual reason they’d come out tonight. She’d been the singular object of his attention all fall semester. Every week – sometimes every day – Miles had subjected Ezra to very detailed lectures about how Mei was literally the best, most perfect, beautiful girl on campus; maybe even in the world. Miles was the king of hyperbole. Ezra watched as Miles clutched his cup and began to inch through the crowd toward his crush and once again marveled at seeing his normally confident and sociable friend tur into a ball of nerves even though it was obvious that his attraction was completely reciprocal. Ezra stepped away from the glare and heat of the bonfire into the shadows and hoped – for Miles’s sake and the sake of his productivity – that those two would finally get together.

But just because he was rooting for their relationship, didn’t mean Ezra had to sacrifice his liver in celebration. He dumped his drink into a nearby bush, tossed his cup into the trash bag by the “bar” and went in search of a place to sit, hide, and wait for this all to end.

He settled onto a cold flat-topped rock and wished he’d worn a thicker sweater. He pressed the button on his digital watch to check the time. Eleven o’clock on the dot. He sighed. He didn’t think he could last another hour out here, but he didn’t want to leave Miles, especially not with how fast he and Mei were guzzling their drinks, smiling nervously at one another as if this was the first time they’d ever met. He wished again that he’d pretended to be asleep when Miles had burst into their dorm room, a towel around his waist, his shower caddy in one hand and excitedly told him to “get ready nerd, we’re going to a party.” Ezra also wished he hadn’t paid such close attention to the refrigerator magnet they all received at orientation about drinking responsibly and looking out for your friends, so he could have slipped down the hill without feeling guilty.

Either way, he wished that he was back in his dorm room working, because these were peak productive hours, and work was the entire reason he’d come back to campus immediately after Hanukkah. If he was going to submit his 3D scale model of his efficient train engine on time and with even half a chance of winning the Gilder prize, he needed to be giving it his full attention during every free moment of every day. He couldn’t afford to waste these few precious weeks before spring semester started observing someone else’s teenage romance and edgy underage drinking in the woods. He checked his watch again. One minute after eleven.

“Anybody sitting here?”

Ezra jumped at the voice. He looked up and couldn’t quite see who was standing in front of him with the bonfire behind them casting shadows over their face, but he didn’t need light to recognize her. He would have known that voice and silhouette anywhere.

Candace Garret was tall, almost as tall as him, with big curly hair that framed her head and gave her a few inches more height, wide hips and the brightest smile he’d ever seen. She was also way out of his league. He knew that. She knew that. Everyone knew that. Because Candace Garret was way out of everyone’s league.

“Hello,” she said again, leaning close and waving a hand in front of his face.

His vision adjusted as her lips spread into a small smile. Ezra was mesmerized by that flash of her bright white teeth and her even, flawless, deep dark brown skin that seemed to drink in every bit of light around them.

“Anybody in there?” she laughed.

He jumped from the rock and their heads collided.

“Ow,” she whined and rubbed at her forehead.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Ezra said, panicked, his own head beginning to throb. “Shit.”

His face heated and his eyes widened. What if he’d given Candace Garret a concussion? She was rubbing small circles on her forehead but still smiling at him. This only made the embarrassment he felt intensify. But ringed around that shame was the same awe he always felt in her presence.

“Calm down, Ezra. I won’t press charges. This time.” Her voice was calm but playful.

“I- You know my name?”

She laughed and shook her head.

Ezra loved Candace’s laugh. So much so that he’d catalogued and ranked his favorite moments of becoming absolutely mesmerized by it. In descending order, Ezra’s top five Candace Garret laughs were:

5. Once in the middle of their Chem II lab. He’d become distracted and accidentally ruined three days of an experiment.

4.  Once in the dining hall during the lunch rush. He’d heard her above the din and mistakenly dumped an entire ladle of ranch dressing on his grilled cheese sandwich rather than the salad he’d forgotten to make because he’d been too busy trying to get a glimpse of her across the room.

3. He’d been rushing from English to the engineering lab when he’d heard her distinctive twinkle wafting along the late fall breeze. His head whipped around as he searched for her on the Oval. When he’d found her, Candace was surrounded by half the basketball team and they were fighting each other for her attention. She was ignoring them and reading a comic book, laughing as she turned the pages.

2. That one time Miles had begged him to tag along to Mei and Candace’s dorm room. Ezra had spent the entire hour leaning awkwardly against her desk – too terrified to take her up on the offer to sit on her bed – while Miles had entertained them with jokes Ezra never heard because Candace’s laughter took over all his senses.

1. Well actually, he’d forgotten his number one favorite laugh because it was immediately replaced by this one. Every other time he’d heard that throaty melody, he’d been a bystander; accidentally infringing on someone else’s moment with her or her own moment with herself. But when she finally laughed with him – at him – it felt so much better, even if it shouldn’t have. It sounded so much sweeter.

“Of course, I know your name,” she said pulling him out of stasis. “My roommate and your roommate have been playing cat and mouse with each other since orientation.” She laughed as she turned and pointed at the party.

Ezra assumed she was gesturing at Miles and Mei. The two had basically imprinted on each other from the moment they’d met, and he and Candace had been unwitting spectators to the inevitable. But he didn’t look their way, so he couldn’t be sure, because for the first time all semester Candace Garret was looking at him. Talking to him. Laughing at him. And it was heaven.

When she turned back, her smile slipped slightly but only for a second. “Why are you over here all by yourself, Ezra?”

Her voice was different than he’d ever heard it. Deeper maybe? Intimate, he hoped for a fleeting second.

“I don’t like parties,” he admitted quietly.  

Her smile narrowed to a grin and it made him feel like they shared a secret. “Yeah, neither do I,” she said. “Especially not outdoor parties with cheap liquor and a severely high chance of starting a forest fire.”

He smiled or at least he thought he did. “This is really irresponsible.”

“Totally. But we’re supposed to be the brightest of the bright. The best of the best,” she said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. He always liked that about her; that she could seem older and wiser and smarter than everyone else around them with a simple inflection of her voice, a wry smile and a graceful tip of her head.

“I-if you don’t like parties, why are you here?”

She moved to the rock he’d jumped from and lowered herself onto it gracefully. She did everything with grace. Candace was the exact opposite of his awkward, gangly mess of an existence. She looked up at him and waited until he sat back down. Next to her. His hands started to sweat as he lowered to the rock, perching on the edge so he could leave room between them because he knew she hadn’t meant for him to touch her; not even accidentally. She couldn’t have meant that, life couldn’t be so perfect as to give him his most cherished – albeit secret – fantasy.

“I’m here for the same reason you’re here probably,” she finally said. “To watch out for my roommate.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Ezra said. This time he did look at the party and his eyes zeroed in on their roommates. They were standing in the middle of the clearing making out, swaying slowly together even though the loud rap music blaring from the stereo was up tempo. Ezra might have thought their first kiss after months of pining would be gentle and slow like their swaying. It was not. They were attacking one another’s mouths. Aggressively. And they didn’t seem to care who saw them.

“So gross,” Candace muttered under her breath.

“Exactly how much have they had to drink?” He could feel Candace shift on the rock, closing the distance between them. Clearly accidentally.

“Too much. Not enough. Who knows? I think tonight was just a reason to make it official. That gross kiss is what young love looks like, my friend,” she snorted.

He turned to her and gulped before speaking, he was so nervous. She’d called him ‘friend.’ “What would you be doing if you weren’t here?”

She really seemed to think about her answer before she made eye contact with him and shrugged, “Don’t know, actually. Maybe reading or washing clothes since the laundry rooms are empty for once. Something boring for sure.”

He frowned slightly. “That’s not what I would have imagined,” he breathed.

She slid across the bench; her left thigh pressed against his right. Ezra swallowed a gasp. “I’m not nearly as deep and interesting as everyone thinks,” she said, almost shyly. And then she straightened, her elbow grazing his ribs. “What about you? What would you be doing?”

He had to force himself to breathe normally before he could answer. And even when he was able to speak, his voice sounded strained, tense. “Easy,” he croaked. “I’d be working on my submission to the Gilder engineering competition,” he said. He could still feel the sharp, sweet pain of her accidental touch.

“And what’s that?”

“Engineering innovations prize. The winner gets half a million-dollar investment to build a real model of their submission and career mentoring.”

“That’s amazing. When is it due?”

“Senior year.”

She blinked rapidly. “What?” She turned fully toward him, her left leg bent, and the dull point of her knee dug into his thigh. “It’s not due for three more years and you’re already working on it?”

He gulped. So much of her body was touching his. He tried to regulate his breathing and slow his heartbeat by sheer force of will. “It’s a huge deal,” he croaked. “They only give one prize every four years. There are people who’ve been working on their submissions since high school. And some alums are coming back to enter. Technically, I’m behind. I really should be in my room working on my project.” He said the last sentence – the same thing he’d been thinking for the past hour – but for the first time he didn’t mean it. For this beautiful, unexpected moment, Candace’s leg touching his was so much more important than the prize that had been his singular obsession since high school.

And then what would surely be the best night of his life got even better. He tried not to tense when her hands landed on his shoulders, but he did. Because Candace Garret was touching him on purpose. She turned him toward her.

She was beautiful. Her lips were parted in shock. Her eyes were wide. And then her mouth shifted from that wry grin to a full on, prize worthy, brighter than the sun smile that took his actual breath away. “You’re an interesting guy, Ezra Posner,” she whispered. “Real interesting.”

And then she kissed him.