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#maybe 2 hours is a little dramatic but i really do spend a concerning amount of time on that hellsite
themultifandomgal · 3 months
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From 2010- Moving
2011
Part 8
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“Thank you for helping me and dad pack up my room” I smile at Emma as she’s packing up some clothes into a box
“Of course! I’m going to miss you like crazy though” she pouts. I stand up and wrap my arms around her
“I’m going to miss you too” I sigh
“Remember when we would just knock on each other’s doors and go to the park when we were like 10”
“Or the amount of times we would end up just sleeping over at each other’s houses” I reminisce on our childhood
“Who wants snacks?” Dad asks walking in to my room with a tray and 2 glasses
“Yes please. We’re dying over here” I say dramatically making dad laugh as he places the tray down on my bedside table
“Whens James coming round? Thought he was going to help since he said he’s done”
“Errrm..” I check the clock. He was supposed to be here an hour ago now “anytime now I guess”
“Ok well I’ll leave you girls to it while I finish up packing your books downstairs” I watch as my dad walks out of my room and get up to get something to eat
“Are you sure you want to move in with James?”
“Yeah of corse. He’s my boyfriend after all. Why?” I frown at emma
“It’s just after the party he’s been rather distant don’t you think?”
“Well maybe, but to be fair I’ve been really busy with the band, writing and recording”
“I know, but… I’m just worried that’s all. We’re still young, only 17. It’s just such a huge step that’s all”
“I appreciate your concern, but James and I are absolutely fine and anyway the boys will be around so I’ll be safe in London”
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“Call me when your home” I say to my dad hugging him as tight as possible
“I will. And remember there’s always a room for you if you ever need it”
“Thank you dad”
“Now” dad says pulling away from me and looking at James “you look after my little girl”
“I will”
“I love you YN. Your mum would be so proud of you”
“I love you too dad” and with that I watch my dad get back into his car. I manage to hold off the tears until he turns around the corner and I can no longer see the car anymore
“Come on. Let’s get unpacked” I nod my head at James and follow him into the complex and into our place.
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“Ello, ello, ello” I hear Harry’s voice walking into mine and James apartment. We all gave each other spare keys just in case, but now they’re used so the boys can come and have their washing done
“Hey H” I smile from the sofa
“I’ve got mine and Louis washing”
“Leave it on the counter I’ll do it after mine and James load. Is it a white load, coloured or darks?”
“Erm…”
“Please tell me you've been separating your washing before I moved here”
“Yeah course we have” they definitely haven’t been
"I'm also making dinner tonight since we're all off so wanna text the boys to come over?"
"James if you don't wife her up, I will" Harry says making me laugh. I turn to James who doesn’t look amused. If anything he looks scared
“He’s teasing don’t worry” I pat his shoulder and get up off the sofa
“Actually I’m heading out with some friends tonight”
“Oh.. ok. I just thought since this was the first night where we were actually settled in and none of us have to work we would spend time together”
“Sorry YN. Maybe tomorrow night” James gets up and kisses my cheek before heading into the bedroom. I look at Harry who gives me a sorry look
“Promise we will have a good night”
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introtae · 3 years
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i always open up my laptop with the intention of being productive but when i open chrome i blink and end up scrolling through vhope pictures for two hours instead
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rayofsunas · 3 years
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baby daddy | kaeya [2]
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A/n: so already, in the first five minutes of me beginning to write tumblr decided to delete stuff again, so that’s pretty swag ;-; but nonetheless, I’m alright lmao, I’ve been super happy this week ever since I pulled xiao AND mona after wanting to give up plsss. also, I can’t exactly remember if I gave Klara a age in the last part, so I would just like to clarify that she’s one lol. anyways, here’s part two and I hope you guys enjoy!! it took me four hours to write this
Summary: kaeya wants to set a good example for his children, naturally. so he’s given up a lot of things, one being his excessive drinking. but being a knight is hard, despite how nonchalant he seems and he finds himself slipping sometimes… when you find out about it, you’re less than happy and decide spending time with the children would be a good idea for him. he’s more than happy to spend time with the three little monsters, but, he never realized what a normal day was for you when taking care of them.
Parings: Kaeya/Fem! Reader
Warnings: children, fluff, reader and kaeya are mid 20s, alcohol, Klara and Katheryne are friends because I said so, stan Katheryne she helps us so much-
Word count: 2.3k
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The sun was slowly but surely rising, leaving beautiful orange and yellow hues to paint the usually bright blue sky, and Kaeya couldn’t be happier. Unlike the last couple of days, he’d been able to wake up, eat a quiet breakfast with you before the kids woke up though he tried and successfully tried to flirt his way into your already claimed heart, and then when Klara woke up, he got the chance to contently feed the wailing little girl; something he shockingly missed. 
Even if at that moment, the tears and cries were a lot more than he could handle, he was more than happy to do something too trivial, just because he was spending more time with her. And unlike the other days, he’d been able to take her for her morning walk, before he’d have to report to headquarters.
Most citizens were still asleep, though very few could be seen preparing for the days work, a few stall owners he noted, as he held Klara’s tiny chubby hand and helped her walk through the town, though she greatly seemed to like speed, already worlds ahead with her mobility. 
“Slow down, my little Mist Flower.” She was moving as fast as her little legs could take her, straight towards Katheryne who sometimes gave the little girl trinkets, saying adventurers had brought back things they didn’t wish to keep or had no use for. Even if Klara couldn’t really speak, she knew little things, “Thank you” was one of them, so she was always grateful despite not knowing exactly what they were. And although Katheryne seemed to not be human, some sort of machine with a very robot-like tone, she also made sure to let little Klara know how happy she was to give the youngest Alberich little trinkets. 
“Good morning, Katheryne.” Kaeya called, grinning when his daughter’s eyes widened at the mention of the kind receptionist. As the pair approached the young woman, Klara yanked on her father's white cloak, instructing him to lift her into his arms, so she could get a better look, and Katheryne, usually behind the tall wooden counter.
“Oh- good morning, Captain Kaeya!” The woman exclaimed, eyes lighting up when she saw the little girl she adored very much. “And little Klara, good morning.” She was happy to see the pair well, seeing as though she hadn’t seen Klara in days. 
“Hi, Kat...” Klara whispered with a shy smile, Katheryne smiled even more because of the use of the nickname she’d been given.
She was just the most adorable little girl ever, Katheryne couldn’t help but think. 
All three Alberich children were the sweetest, though obviously, Klara had a sweet place in her heart especially. Adrien was an identical copy of you, sarcastic, very stubborn, but very respectable for such a young age. And Elena was a smart cookie, a young girl who enjoyed questioning and correct everyone and everything that she came across. Lastly, little Klara, who had much growing to do was the pride and joy of the large Alberich family. Everyone adored her and she continuously swayed hearts wherever she went, just her cute curiosity alone was enough to bring a smile to even Wagner’s face, who typically seemed grumpy. 
Katheryne felt very lucky to have met them in this lifetime, they were a gift from the Archons, truly. Everyone knew Katheryne as the Adventurer Guild's Receptionist but to Klara? She was Kat, a generous friend who gave her gifts. 
Though a sad frown graced the young woman's lips, Kaeya ever so observantly caught on, something was wrong.
“I’m very saddened to say this, but I’m afraid there aren’t any new trinkets suitable enough for little Klara today...” Yes indeed was the receptionist saddened, evident by every feature on her face. “There’s been a shortage it seems of adventurers and travelers willing to take the commissions.” The brunette stated.
“Why is this?” The Cavalry Captain questioned, silently huffing when the one-year-old attached to his hip kept chewing on his white fur cloak, closest to his neck. Great, another issue added to the mix. Maybe she had begun teething again? Archons, Kaeya really felt as though he’d missed so much, seeing as though he couldn’t remember the last time his youngest daughter had teethed or even if she'd stopped entirely together. In short, he probably hadn’t been there for that either, courtesy of his position and job. 
“From my understanding, there have been more hoards of monsters, and something about a mutation as well,” Noted Katheryne, watching as the curiosity built upon the man's features. “Would you like to take a few of the commissions? To show Acting Grand Master Jean?”
The part bout there being an abundance of monsters did sound familiar, he’d been hearing about that a lot recently, but mutated forms as well? That was new... He’d have to bring that up today at the briefing, maybe Jean would know more than he currently did. 
“None of that will be necessary. I’m heading there now, after I drop Klara off back home, I’ll just forward the information to her personally.” Katheryne nodded, seemingly getting sidetracked and entranced by the bright violet-eyed toddler staring at her, with her father's white fur cloak still in her mouth. 
Adorable. 
She still couldn’t help but feel bad though. The only trinkets that had been brought back from any scarce, but recent missions were partially damaged swords waiting for Wagner to fix or scrap into new materials.
Such a thing did not belong in the hands of a child, nonetheless the ever so gentle Klara Alberich, she was too sweet for this world to be handed a complimentary sword, even if she had heard Kaeya say the countless amount of times that he wanted to eventually teach each of the children how to use a sword, preferring to start earlier, rather than later. And from Katheryne’s overheard? She now knew it had been somewhat of a topic of discussion between you and Kaeya, causing mini spouts of anger and frustration. 
Archons, how she wishes she had something suitable to give the little girl...
Katheryne nervously fidgeted. “Oh and about the trinkets-”
The usual daily gifts Kaetheryne would give to Klara, were absent today. Due to one big factor; adventurers and travelers weren’t taking commissions, therefore, they weren’t bringing back what Katheryne saw as unique finds, but they claimed to have no use for.
“No worries,” He was more worried about the fact that adventurers weren’t taking commissions instead of the usual trinkets Katheryne would give his daughter, nonetheless he offered reassurance. It really was no big deal.
Kaeya indeed was something else entirely, Katheryne concluded. A mind reader, some sort of witch- just different. How had he known without her even saying anything?
She was stunned for quite some time, though still feeling guilty despite his supposed reassurance. The guilt partially stemmed from the fact that Klara was staring so intently at her, with big blue-purple-hued eyes, unknowingly being one of the main stressors of Katheryne’s guilt... 
“Klara has too many nicknacks anyways,” You and Kaeya were sure she’d be some kind of trinket collector when she was older, seeing as though she had so many already. “Y/n says you spoil her.” Kaeya’s statement almost sounded like he was scolding her, but if not for the grin and chuckle he offered that immediately followed, she wouldn’t have known he was being entirely playful. 
“That is not my intention. She’s just so adorable, I cannot stop myself,” Kaeya laughed, glancing down at the toddler. She was adorable, his little Mist Flower.
“If it bother you or Miss Y/n, I’ll-”
“It’s quite alright, Katheryne, no need to worry,” Kaeya announced smoothly, dramatically waving his hand to show he was dismissing her statements of protest and concern.
“Alright...”
Eventually, Kaeya did take his leave, much to Katheryne’s dismay. She’d probably see Klara tomorrow, if he stayed true to his schedule, so she remained hopeful and excited for tomorrow. 
Before he knew it, Kaeya was bringing Klara home, giving you and Elena - who was now awake - hugs and kisses, telling you both to let Adrien know he loved him and that he’d return soon - he was still asleep. And then just like that Kaeya was out the door again and off to headquarters.
-
No one expected him to be at the Cat’s Tail this late at night, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected nor rare by any means, he was a familiar face after all. 
It was unexpected because Kaeya claimed he had given up the incessant and excessive drinking years ago when his firstborn, Adrien graced Teyvat. Sadly, it was expected, because it seemed he’d been in here more in the last week than in the last few years... Though, patrons who often visited the tavern were all betting on the fact that you were entirely clueless to how much he’d been drinking; they were right. You were too busy taking care of the children and training to hopefully join the Knights again, to even keep up with your husband's drinking habits. So, it went unnoticed. 
Diluc though, who was often at the tavern, noticed it unlike you. Kaeya had been a great pretender, a great spy; good at keeping secrets, but when he had secrets, somehow Diluc always found himself finding out first, if not second, closely behind you. And unfortunately - Diluc thought - he was on the more personal spectrum concerning the certain Knight... He was his brother, your brother in law, an uncle... He disliked what Kaeya was doing, greatly. Especially since it felt as though his idiotic brother was going behind his family's back. No, he hadn’t promised to quit entirely, but he’d made it seem that way to you. Probably a fabrication so you wouldn’t worry... 
Diluc should’ve known he'd find himself back here again, trying to get his once again, idiotic brother, to leave and go home. The pyro user couldn’t understand. His brother had everything he didn’t. A beautifully devoted wife, three amazingly easy children, a status many simple Knights and Guards would kill for; Captain. And he’d rather risk it all for a drink or two, maybe three.
You thought nothing of it. Kaeya was out late a lot, more often than not patrol and paperwork held him from returning home, but on the rare occasions that he had a sliver of free time that wasn’t spent with you and the kids, he was drinking. 
You always knew when he wouldn’t be returning, in the form of a letter from Kaeya, stating he was alright but would be staying to do paperwork, etc. It would be brought by one of his underlings, Knights or Guards in training. But when that letter never came, you panicked. 
Was he alright? He never forgot to write... Maybe he was held up?
Thankfully, Lisa had decided to come over for tea earlier and had still been here trying her best to reassure you, after seeing how worried you’d been after not receiving any letter. 
“You should probably return home, I’ll be alright.” You kept reassuring the librarian, though she wasn’t falling for it. She could practically feel the stress and anxiety oozing off of you, it was concerning. 
You could only be thankful Amber had been busy and couldn’t come over for tea or else she would’ve ripped Kaeya a new one when she got ahold of him. He’d never be able to leave for missions again, without getting a reminder from Amber to reach out or else...
“Darling, I’m not leaving until he returns.” She took your hands in hers, hoping to offer you comfort. Lisa had always been there for you, which you were very thankful
She had no prior experience with children, though she was incredible with your own. You figured because she was one of the older members of the Knights of Favonius, she had taken more of a big sister role and the youngers looked up to her wisdom. Though she wasn’t much older than you, only by five or six years, so she was really like an older sister towards you as well. Lisa was a very kind woman, you appreciated her tons.
“Maybe I should go find him? I could ask around...”
“Please don’t stress, Y/n,” Lisa said. “You’re too beautiful to stress. I trust that he’ll be here soon.”
Lisa was in fact right. Kaeya returned soon after she had said he would. Master Diluc knocked on the door close to midnight, hanging off his arm was your drunk husband. When you saw him slumped on his brother's shoulder, you immediately assumed the worst. Maybe he’d been physically harmed. You were under the impression he had stopped drinking. 
But then, when you allowed Diluc to step further into the house, you got a huge waft of what you quickly recognized as alcohol. Surprisingly enough for Diluc, you didn’t yell, instead, you just stared at Kaeya with disappointment, gravitating towards him to try and take him from his brother's arms. 
“Thank you Diluc, I’m sorry you had to deal with this so late.”
The Ragnivndr wanted to scold his brother, for making a fool of himself and you, leaving you worried and disappointed. But, using better judgment, Diluc just nodded and offered an understanding and apology, on behalf of his out of it brother. 
“It’s quite alright, I-”
“I’m sorry he had to come home this way,” Diluc stated, glaring at the taller man.
You hummed, helping Kaeya stumble into your living room, both Lisa and Diluc watching with worried gazes from the door. “Don’t worry, I’m just glad he’s safe.”
Diluc once again, realized his idiotic brother did not deserve you or your kindness and understanding. He was one lucky man, that was for sure.
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[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)
@gladly-olus , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree​
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2.10.21, rayofsunas
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norarigby · 3 years
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フェア関西のルームメイト二名 (The Two Roommates from Fair Kansai)
Chapter 2: The Typo
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Description: In which while typing a roommate ad online, the famed Miya Atsumu, (23) MSBY Jackals Setter, makes a detrimental typo that leads to an influx of women applicants. Confused, but not completely opposed (the idiot), Miya Atsumu lands on a formidable candidate. Y/n L/n. A Biotechnology major at Kansai University, looking for a change after her last disastrous roommates and some space from a particular complication. It’s odd, but it’ll work. Maybe a little too well.
Pairings: Miya Atsumu x Reader
Warnings: None!
Word Count: ~1.4k
A/n: Cross posted from my AO3. I update there first, so if you want the chapters sooner, check it out!
To say Atsumu was overwhelmed would be an understatement. When one of the athletic directors approached him saying how his phone kept going off in the locker room, he was concerned something was seriously wrong. As a precaution, they assure him that if it was an emergency that he should feel free to take the day. But upon closer inspection, he quickly realized that wouldn’t be necessary. He scrolled through what seemed like pages of messages and missed calls about the ad. And not just any inquiries, but…
“ALL WOMEN!” Atsumu exclaimed loudly in the busy shop. A few annoyed heads turned to the source of the outburst.
Osamu rolled his eyes, “‘Tsumu, we talked about this. Having you come during busy hours is already enough of a nuisance, but could you keep it down? This is still a public place.”
“But ‘Samu! What am I going to do?” Atsumu whisper-shouted like it would help his outburst, but it still elicited a few head turns, “I already didn’t want to room with a stranger! And now all of the applicants are girls? This has to be some sort of joke.”
Osamu helped with the line and handed out a few orders to customers before focusing some energy on his dramatic brother. “Well, did you specify that you were only looking for male roommate?”
Atsumu picked at the stray rice grains on his plate as he tried to remember what he wrote. He couldn’t remember specifying anything about the roommate themselves; focusing mainly on the apartment itself. He voiced his thoughts to his brother.
“Hmm, well Atsumu can be a girl's name. Maybe that’s why?”
He tried not to be offended at his brother’s comment, mainly because he was partially right. It’s possible that they’re assuming he’s a girl. But that doesn’t make entire sense either. Is it possible his fan club found the posting? That seemed pretty possible. Atsumu knew fangirls could get crazy when they wanted to be.
Osamu finished some things behind the bar and went over to sit by Atsumu. The two contemplated his conundrum over a fresh plate of onigiri. After Osamu’s second, he spoke up, “Just for science, can I see your ad?”
Atsumu gave him an incredulous look, but pulled up the ad anyway, “I mean, sure, but I don’t think-”
At Atsumu’s sudden silence, Osamu’s curiosity was piqued, “”Tsumu? Everything okay?”
Wordlessly he handed the phone over and Osamu read through the ad. Immediately after reading, he burst into laughter.
“‘Samu! This isn’t funny!”
But Osamu was laughing so hard he couldn’t even speak. Some of his employees turned out of concern and curiosity at their boss’ sudden burst. Eventually, he calmed down enough to choke out a “you are in some trouble, ‘Tsumu”.
Roommate Wanted.
Master Bedroom available with a private bath in a 100 sq m apartment in Osaka. In-unit wash, AC, dishwasher, internet, etc. Fully furnished (besides bedroom available). Rent with utilities is 62784¥. Near public transportation. Feel free to contact with questions or offers.
06-XXXX-XXXX
Text/Call
Miya Atsumi
--
“Alright, that wraps it up for today. Finish the calculations on your own time and be sure to bring back your completed form by next class. See you Tuesday!”
The sound of chairs scraping against the floor harmonized with the zipping and unzipping of backpacks as the classroom got up to leave. Y/n pulled out her phone to finally check her messages.
From: Mom
Found a listing in Osaka that looks interesting. Good apartment with really good pricing. You should give them a call.
(link)
Y/n typed a quick thank you before clicking on the link. Her mom was right. It looked like a decent location and a not too bad price. Trying to look for any information on the roommate (roommates?), all she could see was a number and a name at the bottom of the ad. What a strange listing. It was probably the shortest listing she’d ever come across--and definitely the most to the point.
Y/n sat and stared at the listing for a little bit while weighing her options. She just got out of an interesting situation in Suita, but she was now living with her parents. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but both her and her parents weren’t exactly jumping at the idea of her moving back in, especially with her graduating college next year.
Making up her mind, she copied the number and sent a quick text to the number on the ad. A silent prayer was sent to whoever was listening. This wouldn’t fix all of her problems, but this would solve a big one and she swore she would be able to handle the rest.
--
“And you told me I was loud,” Now Atsumu was getting antsy about the amount of people staring at his hysteric brother. “”Samu, you need to calm down.”
This had been going on for at least ten minutes now. Osamu would read through the ad, get sent into a fit of laughter, finally calm down, but then would read it again and the cycle would start all over again. Not used to being the responsible twin, in addition to being extremely embarrassed by his brother’s reaction to his typo, Atsumu was at a loss for what to do. He tried sending reassuring smiles to patrons and mumbled some apologies, but that was the extent of his capabilities.
Finally, Osamu calmed down and pushed Atsumu’s phone back to him. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Osamu tried to console his brother, “Hey, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing. Surely, there’s at least one of those girls that you could at least be civil with.”
Atsumu scrolled through his messages again, exacerbated, “Even if that’s true! There’s too many! I don’t really have the time to sit and go through all of these.”
There were at least 100 people who had responded to his ad and where the messages definitely weren’t flooding in as much as they had earlier that day, he would get a notification about once every 15-20 minutes. By the time he got through the original applicants, there would be another 100-200 to take their place. In between practice and conditioning, there was no way Atsumu was going to be able to get through these all by himself.
“Tell you what,” Osamu leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, “Since this was partially my idea, I’ll help you tonight after I close up. And if we can’t find anyone, I’ll help you write up a better listing and we can delete this one.”
Atsumu’s other issue with all of these applicants is that he really didn’t want to spend energy looking through dozens of descriptions and deciding if he would like them or not. He assumed it would be like the dating app he had for a couple weeks, but worse. Atsumu really didn’t like the idea of judging someone based on a single paragraph they wrote about themselves. He preferred a more personal approach. Like with the various spikers and teammates he’d played with over the years, he was really good at reading people in person. Within a short conversation, he could pretty accurately lay out a person’s personality (what things they might like, what might make them tick, what things they were indifferent to). Over the internet it was much more difficult.
He guessed he could always ask them to meet in person, right? That was something people did. They could meet at his brother’s restaurant so then Osamu could get a feel for the other person. Atsumu figured it would also get one glaring issue out of the way: he was a guy.
It was a fool proof plan. Osamu and him would sort through the applicants tonight and he would invite them to meet him in person. This way he can see if it’s going to work or not and if they aren’t comfortable with rooming with a guy they can just leave. Genius!
Atsumu recounted his plan to his brother and Osamu was in agreement. With that, the blonde brother left to go to afternoon conditioning, planning on returning just before close to sneak in a few more onigiri from his brother before the long haul.
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Comin' At My Friends Like a Missile
| Part 1 | Part 2 (you’re here!) |
Paring: 12th Doctor x Reader
Word Count: 2,280
Warnings: none
Summary: After the awful encounter with the alien ironically named Karen, you and the Doctor end up on a short adventure to get some of this renowned candy floss. The mission? To put back a smile on Bill’s face.
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You were waiting outside, behind that brilliant tent - which was surprisingly quiet considering what the front had been like. You and Bill sat on the ground, sitting on your jacket to protect yourselves against the dirt. You had your arm wrapped around her, holding her close as she processed what just happened.
Nardole suddenly emerged, carrying a tray of four candy floss cones. He held them in the air and Bill whooped in delight. “Finally!”
Which was when Nardole tripped on the uneven ground.
The four cones of candy floss flew into the air. The sun shone behind them, casting them in a warm yellow glow and making them shine. You watched in awe as those sugary clouds changed colour, from indigo, pink, teal, and deep blue. They were ethereal.
Then, along with Nardole behind them, they smacked dramatically into the dirt.
You gasped, running over to help Nardole up. “Oh my goodness, Nardole, are you okay?”
He nodded, dusting off his pants. “Who, me? Nah, I’m freaking bullet proof.”
“No you’re not,” the Doctor said, and Nardoles face fell. The Doctor shrugged. “I didn’t have the budget.
Bill hissed, and you turned to follow her gaze. You winced at the sight, the candy floss cones were sitting there rather pathetically, sticking out of the dirt mounds on the side of a stall.
They looked like lost, dejected relics of a bygone era from when candy floss was something feasible and realistic for you to consume.
Or maybe you were just being dramatic.
Bill let out a dejected sigh. “It’s not surprising really, the path is super uneven.”
Nardole rubbed the back of his head, looking for all the world like he had just committed a war crime – which, was actually probably a terrible comparison considering what you knew of Nardole’s life. “I can go back and get more…”
The Doctor gave the lost cones one look then turned around, stalking off. You groaned, chasing after him, Bill and Nardole following behind you. “Doctor – oh, you can’t just storm off in a huff. We can always go get more.”
He paused his movements, turning around and waiting for the three of you to catch up. “Come on you lot, I don’t do dawdling, not when I’ve got a plan.”
Bill scoffed. “Oh, you’ve got a plan,” then she frowned. “Wait, a plan for what?”
The Doctor just rolled his eyes and continued walking, pushing through the crowd as he did so. You weaved through them as best you could, apologising to those who the Doctor rudely shoved aside.
You had to keep looking behind you to make sure Nardole and Bill were following, and, eventually you latched onto their hands so you couldn’t lose them.
It was disorientating and confusing, almost like navigating yourself through a maze; that is, if the maze was made of aliens pressing up around you because of a heavy crowd, and you had to constantly apologise and ensure that their feelings were in check.
Eventually the crowd thinned as you made it far enough away from the fair. The three of you paused for a moment, taking a few, clear breaths. You took the moment to clear your head and focus on your surroundings. The grass here was delightful, made up of a green vine that spread and wrapped its way across the landscape, and danced in the soft breeze. It was soft under your feet as you walked.
You combed your fingers through your hair, getting loose strands that you hadn’t realised had fallen into your face, out of your eyes.
You finished your trek slowly, you and Bill marvelling in how every leaf of the ground covering vine seemed to be an entirely different from the next. You wondered if they were like snowflakes, each unique from the others.
The Doctor was standing impatiently next to the TARDIS, which was parked at the top of the small hill. He was leaning against the door and tapping his foot against the wooden trim.
He took one look at you all then went inside. You hastily followed him in and before you realised, he was already punching in coordinates and pulling levers and buttons.
“Wait, Doctor,” Bill said. “I still want to try this magical candy floss-”
The groan of the TARDIS’ engines drowned out the rest of what Bill had said. The Doctor leaned back for a moment, then pointed towards Bill and Nardole. “You two,” he said. “Stay here – do not move. Do you understand?”
Bill blinked a couple of times. “Uh – yeah, alright. No moving. Got it?”
Nardole narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you planning any-”
“And you,” The Doctor turned and pointed to you, completely ignoring Nardole. “Follow me.”
You didn’t have a moment to question the Doctor, or protest it, before he was out of the door. You gave Nardole and Bill and a regretful look and followed the Doctor outside - if you didn’t follow him he’d probably find trouble.
Well, he’d find trouble regardless, but, if you were with him, then at the very least you could do something about it.
The first thing that hit you was the sudden and biting chill. You wrapped your arms tight around your frame, doing your best to try and get warm. “Where are we?”
It was dark, extremely so. Firelit torches were sticking out of the dirt ground, lining different coloured tents and helping form a makeshift path. The area seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place why that was.
The night sky was clear, with thousands upon thousands of stars, so many stars, just tiny pinpricks of light perforating the sky to paint a picture above you. They provided a canopy for you both, stretching wherever you were to make it seem larger.
“Candy floss,” The Doctor said. “We’re getting candy floss.”
You raised an eyebrow, confused. “And we couldn’t just get more earlier because..?”
“This is the night the stall opens,” The Doctor said, tactfully avoiding your question, as he often did so. “We have to be quick, I can’t remember if I’ve come here before.”
You blanched.
Oh, okay.
Well this went from 0 to 100 very fast.
“There won’t be any crowds here,” The Doctor continued. “The stall should be packing up in a few hours.”
You hummed, falling in step beside him. “So…” You drew out the word. “May I ask why you just stalked off at a moment’s notice without telling us?”
The Doctor huffed, grumbling something under his breath.
“Doctor,” You gave him a wry grin. “We don’t all have super-duper timelord hearing, I didn’t-” You let out a small cry as you tripped on the dirt path, flinging forward to the ground.
You were pulled upwards before you landed in the dirt, with an arm wrapped around your torso and another hand holding your shoulder. You blinked as your back collided into the Doctor chest, as he steadied you upright.
He was holding you.
Oh.
You stood there for a moment, letting yourself be held. He felt secure, he felt safe. You felt heat crawl up your neck, and you weren’t sure if it was because of embarrassment of if it was because of, well, because.
The Doctor cleared his throat abruptly, and took a step away from you. It was immediately colder without his arms around you, you had forgotten that it was a chilly night.
You hid your face away, trying to get your flush under control, so you didn’t notice that the Doctor was doing the exact same.
“Bill,” he said suddenly, and you turned to face him. He was wringing his hands together awkwardly. “She just, she’s…”
You clicked on to what he was talking about, what he was trying to say. “Had a really shitty day and so you wanted to make it just a little bit better?” You suggested.
He gave you an appreciative nod. “Yes that, exactly.”
You gestured towards the path. “I’ll actually look at where I’m going now,” you laughed lightly.
The Doctor waved his hand towards you, suggesting you lead.
You screwed up your face. “Doctor, I don’t know where I’m going.”
“Oh,” he blinked, as if just realising that you were literally reliant on his direction. “Well then, let’s get candy floss.”
~*~
The pair of you meandered back to the TARDIS, each holding a tray of two cones each. You walked in comfortable silence. Occasionally he’d point out things to you; he explained why the grass was actually leaves, how the people had invented a cord to use instead of a phone, hell, he even discussed gender studies here.
It was really nice, you loved spending time with him
The Doctor snapped his fingers to open the door, since he couldn’t really balance a key and the tray, then, as he crossed the threshold, he stopped abruptly, and you skidded to a halt. You were not going to spill these candy floss cones.
He scanned the TARDIS console, even though there wasn’t any indication that anything was of the ordinary, at least, as far as you were concerned.
Bill and Nardole were sitting on two of the small chairs on the upper level by one of the bookshelves.Nardole had a book in his lap, and Bill had been sitting with her legs over the arm of the chair. When she saw you, she flung her legs into the air, twisting her body so she could sit up. “You’re back!”
“You moved,” The Doctor said.
Bill frowned. “You weren’t actually serious about that?”
You rolled your eyes, side stepping the Doctor and holding up the tray. “You guys want candy floss?”
Bill grinned, running down the stairs. “Oh hell yes, the day’s saved.”
Nardole stuck his head up from where his nose had been in his book. He gave you a wry grin. “Did you two have a nice time?”
You ignored him, passing Bill a cone of candy floss. When her hand wrapped around the cone, the candy floss changed colours, running through green, pink, blue, and orange.
“If you want candy floss,” you told him. “You need to come down from there.”
“Oh alright,” Nardole huffed. “I was only curious.”
You hummed noncommittally, and threw the tray into the recycle bin, which you had set up once you had learned of the exorbitant amount of chip boxes Bill and the Doctor managed to go through.
Nardole came up down the stairs and wagged his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes in response and passed him his cone, watching in temporary awe as the candy floss changed from orange, purple, and then to pink.
“Oh come on,” Nardole groaned. “How come mine went a normal colour.”
“Pink is actually quite rare here,” the Doctor said, passing you your cone. “The locals would be jealous.”
Your fingers brushed against the Doctors as you took your cone from him, a jolt of electricity sparking up your arm. You locked eyes with the Doctor, and he was looking at you in shock, like he’d felt the same thing.
There was an awkward silence.
“You need to stop dragging your feet as you walk,” you said, even though the Doctor most certainly did not drag his feet when he walks. “Creates all sorts of static electricity.”
“Yes,” The Doctor said. “I must get on top of that.”
He took his hand back. You ignored the twinge of loss you felt.
Out of the corner of your eye you saw Bill and Nardole give each other a look. You elected to ignore that too.
You took a bite into the candy flood and your mouth exploded in flavour. You couldn’t even begin to describe it, it was rich and sweet, fluffy yet dense, this absolute feat of sugar engineering.
“Oh my,” you held your cone in front of you, and watched as it rippled and changed colours, settling on a warm deep blue, the kind of blue that the TARDIS was painted in. “This is amazing.”
Bill nodded in response, humming and leaning against the railing. You joined her. “Yeah, it is. Thank you so much for this.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with such awfulness,” you said to Bill, leaning your head on her shoulder.
“It wasn’t fun,” Bill said. “It was better once you and the Doctor were there though, I’m glad you had my back.”
You sat up so you could nudge Bill lightly. “Yeah of course! We’re your friends.”
Bill’s mouth stretched into a cheeky grin. “Nah, you two are more like my parents.”
You gawked. “Like your…” your voice trailed away as your mind caught to the implications of Bills statement. “How old do you think I am?”
The Doctor popped his head up. “I don’t think that’s supposed to be your line.”
“You can stop eavesdropping,” you scolded, turning back to Bill. “No seriously, that was a serious question.”
Bill laughed, bright and loud, and Nardole was soon laughing with her. You watched in slight hesitation as the Doctor joined in, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with them.
“You have to face it though,” Nardole said. “You’re practically the mum of the group.”
“The mum?” You shook your head. “No wait, why can’t I be the dad?”
Bill scoffed, nodding towards the Doctor. “What, you think he can be the mum?”
“I was a mum once,” the Doctor said offhandedly. “Or maybe I was a dad, I don’t remember what gender I was back then.”
You left the Doctor’s comment alone, there was a lot to unpack in that statement. You looked back to Bill. “What makes me the mum?”
“Come on,” Bill laughed. “You’ve got all the stereotypes. You fuss us but in a ‘wear your coat’ sort of way.”
“Fussy,” you said softly, your brain whirling around the word. “Fussy.”
“Which would make me the cool uncle,” Nardole announced.
“Oh,” Bill smirked at him. “So you’re cool now, aren’t you.”
The Doctor nodded towards Nardole. “He insisted on going to Woodstock, once.”
Both you and Bill cocked your head to the side, picturing Nardole at Woodstock. Huh. It fit.
Gosh, you had such a weird family, and you loved every moment of it. The candy floss was pretty good too.
But the company was better.
168 notes · View notes
cupidcreates · 3 years
Text
Love You Equally
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Chapter Twenty-Six: Splintered
Part 2: The Sleepover
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NS//FW MATERIAL, VIEWER DESCRESION IS ADVISED
Also this is my first time writing sm//ut so please be nice 😖
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Tamaki took another twenty minutes before finally emerging from the bathroom, puffy-eyed and still sniffling his lanky frame drawn as far into itself as he could manage. He pressed his palms into his eyes as he approached you, screwing up his face in an attempt to suppress the tears undoubtedly still on the threshold of escaping. You immediately rose from your spot on the bed and pulled him into a tight embrace, allowing him to lay his head on your shoulder and rub his cheek into you, still trembling with the effort of quelling his emotions.
It killed you inside to see him like this; the devastated look on his face when you both realized your other four boyfriends had gone off for a date without you, without even thinking to invite either of you, or even tell you they had made plans together. It felt like a deliberate exclusion, a purposeful rejection of your company and it was very hard to not take it personally.
You tried to rationalize the situation; you really shouldn’t be upset, should you? After all, you and Tamaki had spent Saturday together without informing your other four partners of this plan, why would it be different that they’d done the same? However, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that this was different somehow; like it was more deliberate and planned than your spontaneous trip home with one of your partners. It was less like your random adventures you frequently drug one of them along on and more like retribution for something you and Tamaki might have done. It felt personal, you couldn’t deny that.
However, what you could deny was your responsibility in handling it for the night. It was already very late, you and Tamaki were both exhausted and it was indisputable that it was better for you both - for your relationship as a whole - that you both get to bed and worry about it in the morning. Everything could be sorted out after a good night's sleep.
You took Tamaki by both hands and led him to bed, laying him down on his side and tucking yourself in next to him, pulling his head to your chest and stroking his hair. Tamaki shuddered and sniffled for a while after this before eventually falling silent, breaths evening out and body slackening with sleep. You gazed over his head and out your window for a while after he drifted off, the frost had settled back over the grounds, making the grass and barren trees shimmer in the moonlight with an ethereal luminescence only present in the winter months.
You weren’t sure when you fell asleep but you must have, because when you opened your eyes again you were in a different position than before. At some point in the night Tamaki had pulled you down so your face was level with his. He shifted and sighed in his sleep, hot breath ghosting across your face bringing with it the pepper-minty smell of your toothpaste. He’d pulled your bodies flush against one another, so that every bit of you save for your face was in contact with a part of him. He was hot against you, on the cusp of feverish and if it had been any other season but winter it would have been too much. However, even the excellent central heating of UA could only do so much against the blistering winter winds and bone-chilling cold that seeped through even the most miniscule of cracks.
Shifting slowly so as not to wake the sleeping man next to you, you lifted your head to check the clock on your nightstand. The time read 2:34am, you’d only managed to be asleep for a little over an hour and a half. You doubted very much that you’d be in the right headspace for class at 9am and doubted even more that Tamaki would either. You sighed and resigned yourself to a Monday in bed, laying your head back down and gazing into the peaceful face of your lover. Tamaki was extraordinarily pretty, unfathomably soft and gentle; his sweetness was only compounded in sleep. You pushed your face into his neck and inhaled his scent, the light smell of fresh linen relaxing you and bringing a soft smile to your face. You couldn’t help but pepper his neck with small kisses and gentle nips, reveling in the feel of his skin on your lips and between your teeth.
This, however, effectively disturbed Tamaki’s slumber and he quickly awoke with a soft groan and a sigh. He opened his eyes slowly and moved back just enough to peer down at you through dewy dark eyelashes; you gave him a comforting smile and a small bunny kiss. He blushed as you rubbed your nose against his, making you giggle. His blush deepened as he turned his head to bury half of his face in his pillow, gazing doefully up at you and smiling. You placed a kiss on his exposed cheek and pushed your fingers up through his hair, earning you another soft sigh.
“Hey you,” you said, massaging his scalp, “Are you feeling any better after having slept a bit?”
“A-a b-bit,” he replied, voice hoarse with sleep, “a-a-are you d-doing okay?”
“I’m fine, I’ve been fine honestly,” you said “I was more worried about you, I hate seeing you so sad like that Tama, it breaks my heart.”
Tamaki sighed and began shifting himself, re-adjusting your already close position into one a bit more comfortable “I-I think,” he stammered, “I t-t-think I m-might have o-overreacted a b-bit. I m-maybe assumed the w-worst and r-reacted d-dramatically.”
You nodded understandingly and allowed yourself to be moved into whatever arrangement Tamaki saw fit. “Your feelings are valid though Tama, you should never feel bad for having them. It’s better to acknowledge and express them than it is to bottle them up and repress them.”
“I-I know,” he said, still shifting you both around, “But I-I still think I c-could have-”
Suddenly Tamaki’s body went rigid, his eyes snapped open as he let out a startled gasp followed by a deep, guttural groan. You lay puzzled for a moment wondering what could have brought about this reaction, until you felt a hardness push directly against your crotch.
This wasn’t the first time this week Tamaki had gotten hard while in bed with you, in fact it was more common for him to wake up with an erection than not. You weren’t unfamiliar with the term morning wood, so you had expected it to happen at some point. You didn’t blame him for it, you knew it was completely normal for genitals to be ready to go for no reason at all; in fact  you knew that from your own experience of drenching yourself without any external stimuli that this was just a thing that happened sometimes.
This time, however, felt different. This time Tamaki didn’t stammer out a hasty and sheepish apology before rushing off to the bathroom to hide his embarrassment from you. No, this time Tamaki simply froze, crotch still pressed directly into yours mid-grind. Not finishing the motion, but not necessarily pulling away from you either. His face was completely blank, his blush still present but expression completely unreadable.
It was then, fuck, it was then that you felt him throb against you.
Your mouth suddenly felt very dry as a soft whimper escaped your boyfriend, he covered his mouth and ducked his head to avoid making eye contact with you. You immediately moved to pull his hand away, only for him to suddenly grab your ass and grind his heard length directly against your clit.
Sparks of pleasure danced up your spine and something between you two broke. Before you even knew what was happening your lips were crashing onto his in a searing kiss, your tongue immediately finding his and winding it way around it. You gripped his hips and matched his movement, pushing and grinding against him and swallowing the groans he emitted into your mouth.
You quickly found yourself pushed down into the mattress, Tamaki overtop you pushing his hips into yours with the perfect amount of pressure. You made a mental note to ask him how much time he’d been spending with Dabi because his hip movements seemed to mimic Dabi’s to near perfection. His grinding was slow and filthy, completely controlled and unhurried; he seemed to want to revel in every push against your core, circling his hips in a way that hit your clit with every motion and made you see stars. 
You cupped his face to control the kiss, only for him to pin both of your hands above your head and tongue-fuck your mouth. You were quickly getting dizzy from the overwhelming heat between your bodies and you felt the wetness of your cunt cling to your underwear, spreading across the fabric with every thrust of Tamaki’s hips.
He pulled back, a thin line of spit connecting your lips for a fraction of a second before breaking. He was panting and quivering above you, a concerned look on his flushed face.
“Is this, is this okay with you right now?” He asked. You couldn’t help but notice the lack of stutter as he spoke. Seemingly his ability to speak without stammering was only present when he was pushed into a lust-fueled haze.
You swallowed, mouth still too dry and replied, “I’m okay with this if you are, I’ve done this before so it’s up to you how far we go tonight.” You were already wishing for the warmth of his kiss back, the cold air feeling like a slap to the face after the extreme heat you were under assault from a moment ago.
Tamaki’s face went lax and his eyes glazed over, as if he could read your mind he immediately resumed the kiss, tongue thrusting back into your mouth and wrapping itself around your own, making you groan.
“I want to,” he spoke between kisses, “I want you. I want to do everything with you. I - fuck - want to do everything to you. I want to fuck you.”
That simple declaration sent a series of electric shocks up up your spine and had heat pooling in your groin instantaneously. You wrapped a leg around him and ground yourself up into him, earning you a guttural moan and two hands underneath you groping your ass. He lifted you up and pushed you into him, controlling the motion and fucking himself against you, head bumping your clit with every movement and making you shudder.
You broke the kiss and pressed a hand to his chest, he let down your hips and you flipped him over, straddling him and immediately resuming the kiss. He groaned as you stuck a hand down his pants and grabbed his cock, gasping as you pumped the head several times. You pushed your other hand into your own pants and sunk two fingers into your wet heat, pumping them in time with your fist around Tamaki’s cock.
Just when you thought he was close you pulled back, swinging yourself off of him and making your way over to your nightstand drawer. You hadn’t started the year off with condoms, but you’d decided to stock up after your first kiss with Dabi. You’d figured it was only a matter of time before things got physical with one (or maybe more) of your soulmates. Though you hadn’t expected it to be Tamaki who made the first move, you couldn’t say you were upset by this development. Next to you Tamaki pulled his underwear down and off one leg, moving the blanket to cover his now exposed and throbbing cock from the chill of the room.
You returned and shucked your own pajama bottoms off along with your underwear, you didn’t bother with the shirt but instead bent down to capture his lips in another kiss as you rolled the condom onto his cock. Tamaki wasn’t the longest you’d ever seen, probably no more than six or seven inches at best, but he was definitely among the thickest you’ve seen. 
In any case you placed a hand on his chest and positioned the head of his cock outside your drenched entrance. You lowered yourself slowly onto him, reveling in the stretch and burn of his cock sinking into you. Below you Tamaki gasped and twitched as you sunk onto him, excruciatingly slow. He squirmed as you seated yourself onto him, whimpering at the feeling of being fully enveloped in your heat.
You allowed yourself a moment to adjust to the feeling, Tamaki was thicker than you had previously realized and he stretched your walls nearly to their limits. Tamaki gripped your hips hard enough that you knew you’d have bruises come tomorrow. You didn’t mind and instead focused on making small circles with your hips to relax your body and allow yourself to accommodate his thickness.
Once you felt comfortable enough to move you braced yourself against his chest with both hands and lifted about halfway off of him before slamming back down, making you both cry out. Tamaki groaned and thrust up against you as you repeatedly impaled yourself on his cock, pleasure building in the pit of your stomach as he brushed the sweet spot inside of you with every other movement.
Tamaki, you quickly found, was very vocal, whimpering and crying out underneath you, every thrust accompanied by a desperate noise or a whispered beg. You shifted and laid yourself flat against him, swallowing his words mid-sentence with a kiss. You pushed your tongue into his mouth as you rolled your hips against him, the head of his cock now putting a constant pressure against your g-spot. Tamaki adjusted his thrusts to sink into at this angle, grabbing your ass with both hands and fucking himself into you, pace forgotten as he used your body to chase his pleasure.
You managed to get a hand in between your bodies to push and circle your clit, the added pressure and constant massaging of your g-spot sending you racing towards your impending orgasm. You could feel Tamaki was getting close as well, if the stuttering of his hips and increased volume of his cries were anything to go by. You were so close, you could feel it, you were right there. You just needed a few more thrusts, a few more moments before you were pushed over the edge.
It was then that Tamaki gave a particularly hard thrust and your dam broke, your orgasm crashed against you like a wave against the rocky coast. You cried out as you came, clenching around the cock buried inside you and pushing Tamaki over the edge into his own orgasm. He gave one final cry and released inside of you, twitching and shuddering as he came down from his high.
You fell atop him, completely stated, body leadened and lethargic as you panted against his skin. He rubbed your back as he caught his breath and pressed small kisses to your forehead. It was several minutes before you were able to right yourself and pull Tamaki’s softening cock out of you and roll off of him; curling up underneath his arm and laying a hand on his chest. Tamaki tossed the condom into the trash beside your bed and wrapped himself around you. You both fell into a comfortable silence, allowing yourselves to catch your breath as the post-orgasm tingles abated. It wasn’t long until you both drifted off to sleep, still curled up in each other's arms.
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notveryglittery · 4 years
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birthday prince (2)
summary: roman had no idea it was possible to die from too much love but logan sure is trying. words: 2,000 / ship: logince (logan/roman) author’s note: this is part two of my Giving The Gay Anything He Wants series for roman’s birthday (june 4)! all ships are written implied romantic but i’m not stopping you from interpreting it otherwise. check the end notes on ao3 for credit on these gifts (bc i don’t know where to put them in this post)! i hope you enjoy!!
part 1 (roceit) | part 2 (logince) | part 3 (prinxiety)  part 4 (royality) | part 5 (dlampts) read on ao3
— — —
Roman woke to the smell of bacon. And eggs. And hash browns. … Cinnamon rolls too, maybe? He groaned, rolling over onto his back. Kicking his legs up, he used the following momentum to swing himself into a sitting position. There was a little bit of vertigo at moving so quickly, but this was how he always got himself out of bed since it usually provided him a sudden surge of energy. He squinted, looking towards the door, and trying to decide how badly he actually wanted to get out of bed in order to have breakfast. On the one hand, it all smelled absolutely mouthwatering. On the other hand, he was very warm and comfortable.
Three precise knocks made the decision for him.
"Roman, are you awake?"
At the sound of Logan's voice, a smile lit up Roman's face. "Yes! Come in!"
The scents of all the tempting foods were much stronger now and, as Logan entered carrying a tray in one hand, it became clear as to why. Logan was still wearing an apron and there was a smidge of flour on his forehead. He moved carefully so as not to spill or drop anything. Roman hoped the mug was filled with coffee made with too much cream and sugar. Before he could offer any help, Logan gestured at him to sit back; in the same moment, he flipped the legs of the tray open. Once Roman was settled, Logan set the stand down over his lap. His nose had been right in picking out eggs, bacon, and hash browns. There was a small bowl of fruit (with green grapes, his favorite!) and yes, the coffee was the exact color as he liked it.
"There are cinnamon rolls baking still," Logan said, sitting down on the mattress and reaching forward to brush Roman's hair back from his eyes. His smile was so soft and fond, Roman thought he might melt if it were directed at him for too much longer. "Did you sleep well?"
Catching Logan's hand before he could pull away completely, Roman pressed a kiss to the bottom of his palm. "I did, thank you. So, what's this for, then?"
Logan shook his head, as if he didn't understand the question. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. Eat. I'll return momentarily."
He was up and gone by the time Roman remembered that his birthday was later that week. He laughed a little, burying his face in his hands. The food was delectable, all of it still hot and fresh. Somehow, the coffee was even better than usual; perhaps because it had been made and served by someone he cared for so dearly. He scrolled through social media as he ate, feeling happy and relaxed. It was an exceedingly nice way to start his morning, especially knowing that he had plenty of things to deal with later on.
True to his word, Logan was back in roughly twenty minutes. He had a plate and two glasses of milk. He seemed satisfied that Roman had finished all his food and, with a snap of his fingers, removed the breakfast tray. He left his things on the bedside table and pulled a notebook from thin air. Roman recognized it as one of his many planners. He sat down again, posture slightly stiff, but Roman could tell it was because he was resisting joining Roman in bed. He wondered how he could convince him…
Flipping through the pages, Logan adjusted his glasses before beginning. “As far as I’m aware, the tasks you had scheduled for today were the following: selecting the name and song for Shoutout Sunday, washing the linens, preparing April’s shorts for compiling, and… corralling Remy to ensure Thomas sleeps well tonight.”
Roman snorted at Logan’s choice of words. “That’s all of it. Thank you for breakfast, darling. I’ve got plenty of energy to get started now!”
Logan tutted and held up a hand to stop Roman from getting up any further. “It is taken care of.”
Roman frowned. “... Pardon?”
“Your chores. The last load of laundry is in the dryer now. I’ve spoken with Thomas regarding Sunday’s video. Bargaining with Remy did take some time. However— Are you crying?” Logan’s voice hitched in sudden concern and he reached over to cradle Roman’s cheek in his hand.
Roman sniffled. “It’s okay, Lo. I’m happy… Just a little overwhelmed.” He pressed his own hand against Logan’s and gave him a shaky smile. “Why did you do all of this?”
Logan shifted so that he was better facing Roman. “You deserve to be taken care of. That is a constant, of course. In particular, this is in celebration of your birthday. I am well aware of the shenanigans made for the day itself so I thought I would ‘jump the gun,’ so to speak.”
Roman didn’t want to be dramatic or anything (hah) but he was pretty sure Logan was trying to kill him. “I haven’t the faintest idea how I could begin to thank you.”
“That’s just fine,” Logan reassured him. “I wouldn’t want you to, anyway.”
Roman laughed under his breath and gently moved away from Logan’s hold. He wiped at the tears that lingered on his eyelashes. “Well, it seems I have more free time than I thought I would. Have you got anything else up your sleeves?”
“Seeing as this garment lacks the necessary amount of fabric to do so, no. However, I did have something in mind that I believe you would enjoy participating in?”
“Lead the way, my star.”
After giving Roman some time to freshen up and change, they left his room, snacking on their cinnamon rolls and milk as they walked. It was still early, not yet noon, and Roman appreciated the peaceful atmosphere more than he thought he would. Normally, there would be music playing, or the television on as background noise in the living room, or the kitchen full of clanging utensils. This was pleasant. Having Logan with him made it all the better.
Eventually, Logan paused at the door between his and Patton's rooms. It was decorated with stickers, paint, glitter, buttons — any and all crafts that would fit basically, for that's exactly what was on the other side. Simply called the Crafts room, it was a creative space available for anyone to use however they pleased. Roman most often honed his vocal talents but he knew that Virgil liked to paint murals on the walls. When Logan led the way inside, the room transformed to match his vision. Warm sunlight spilled in from multiple windows. There was a rolling cart filled with every color of paint Roman could ever think of and more. There were a handful of easels, all holding various sizes of canvases. On the table in the center of the room was a stack of paper bound by ribbon, numerous pens, and a platter of snacks. Speakers set up in the corners of the room were already playing music.
"Will this suffice?" Logan asked, breaking Roman out of his daze.
"Suffice… Moonbeam, this is wonderful! And that smell… Is it—?"
"Jasmine to produce feelings of confidence and Eucalyptus to boost creativity."
“Well, they certainly are doing the trick!” Roman exclaimed, skipping fully into the room. He darted for the nearest easel, grabbing the handle on the cart as he did and pulling it over with him. His head was already full of ideas, sprawling landscapes and detailed portraits and, and, and!
The next hour passed in comfortable silence. They did, occasionally, duet along to various Broadway or Disney love songs that came through on their playlist. Sometimes, they dissolved into giggles afterwards, or they’d pause in their work to send each other sappy smiles. Sure, Roman was immensely curious about what Logan was working on, but he knew best what an awful thing it was to be interrupted while spending time with one's muse and motivation. Besides, he wasn't sure he could find a moment to pause in his own projects even if he wanted to. He moved from canvas to canvas smoothly, a new creation springing to mind the second he finished the last. There was an open expanse of night sky, stars dotted in yellow, blue, and red; a portrait of the lovely Valerie, dressed up and imagined as one of Roman's fellow knights; some abstract thing that was only recognizable from upside down and depended on the viewer having seen Parks and Rec at least two and a half times.
Eventually, though, his energy waned, and he set down his paintbrushes to take a break. He dropped a kiss to the top of Logan's head as he stepped by before taking a seat at the table, and reaching for the snacks. He went for a bagel but appreciated the variety of fruits and veggies, too. A few minutes later, Logan looked up from his work. He looked satisfied.
“All done?” Roman asked, interest piqued once more.
“Yes. Thank you for your patience.”
“Oh. Lo, that’s nothing you need to thank me for. This was really nice. Honestly, I didn’t realize how badly I needed it.”
Logan leaned closer, startling Roman when he kissed him quickly on the nose. Logan licked his lips after, smirking. “You had a bit of cream cheese…”
Roman made a sound akin to a tea kettle whistling.
Wasting no time, Logan stood and positioned himself in front of one of the windows. He looked as handsome as ever, silhouetted by the sunlight. He seemed relaxed and confident and Roman quite suddenly began to worry about his well being again.
He squinted at the brightest star in his sky. “... What are you up to?”
Logan cleared his throat. And began to sing.
It felt like the floor gave out underneath Roman. He might as well have no longer been tethered to his body. It was a miracle he stayed present enough to continue listening; he assumed it had something to do with knowing that missing even a millisecond of this would be the biggest regret he could make. Not only was Logan singing, completely of his own volition, he was singing about Roman. Lines about his bravery and his recklessness, his confidence and his ego, his creations and his work ethic. It was balanced, neither too praising nor too harsh. There was mention of how much love he carried, of how he deserved to receive as much as he gave, of how there was magic at his fingertips.
By the time Logan finished, Roman was outright sobbing. It wasn’t fair, how someone he loved so much, so so much, could make something so beautiful and heartfelt for him. How was he ever supposed to return the favor? When Logan pulled him up and out of the chair, he fell easily into his arms and tried to quiet his weeping.
“I would apologize for making you cry but that would be apologizing for the things I said, which I cannot do. I mean every word. My life is better with you in it. You inspire us all to be our very best and that is so admirable. Happy birthday, your highness.”
“Stop, stop,” Roman argued weakly, pouting up at Logan. “You’re killing me. You’re so cruel.”
Logan smiled down at him. He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and patted Roman’s face dry. “I suppose you’ll do something about it?”
“Yes,” Roman answered vehemently. “Your punishment is to be trapped in a pillow prison. A blanket barricade. Confined by cuddles.”
“Oh no. That final one might be the worst sentence of them all.”
Roman pressed a kiss to Logan’s jawline before firmly grabbing his hands. “I’ll have to stay and make sure you don’t escape, of course.” He began to pull Logan out of the room, cheeks starting to hurt from his wide smile.
“Of course,” Logan agreed, in a tone so gentle, it should have been impossible.
Perhaps Roman kept this thief of his heart wrapped up extra tight and snug in his arms, but that wasn’t really anybody else’s business, now was it?
290 notes · View notes
Text
Febuwhump Day 2 - Scream
Summary: Written for Febuwhump Day 2. Set in RttE. Before deciding to make Hiccup talk about the Dragon Eye lenses, Krogan chooses to make him scream instead.
Warning: /
Rating: Mature
Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Stoick, Krogan
Pairing: /
Words: 3 254
Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon
Prompt: “I can’t take this anymore”
Whumpee: Hiccup
Author’s Notes: Lost a little bit of steam halfway through proofreading this thing and then towards the end. Didn't quite know how to end it either.
Constructive criticism is appreciated.
Enjoy!
Ao3
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Hiccup is no stranger to torture. It's a sad thing to acknowledge, but he isn't. So when he's captured by Krogan and Johann, that is what he expects, and he's prepared for whatever these two plan on throwing at him.
Or that is what he thought when he was brought to this room and strapped to this chair. Because it isn't a beating that they give him, they don't whip him or hold his head underwater. Instead, they put him through something he could never have prepared for.
Tied to a chair, his everything hurts. He's bruised all over, his nose is bloody, but so far, it's nothing he hasn't suffered through before in any other scuffle or battle he's been in before. The strangest part is that his current injuries are mostly caused by the crash that resulted in his capture, including the possibly broken wrist.
A little suspicious as Krogan loves squeezing every little bit of fun he can out of every chance he gets to torture someone, especially when that someone is someone he has a particular dislike for.
Sniffing and smelling a mostly metallic tang in his nostrils from the blood, Hiccup flexes his fingers curiously, not quite as able to on one hand. They haven't been dislocated or broken, his ribs are fine, besides those bruises. He's just fine and that is a worrying thing.
His prosthetic isn't even missing and his tunic and armor, everything is still in place.
What are they planning on doing to him to get him to talk? Do they have some sort of ace up their sleeve?
But he shouldn't jump to conclusions. Doing so will only result in him stressing himself out for nothing. Who knows, maybe his friends are keeping them busy and that's why no one, but the guards right outside of this room are here and he's fine.
Wouldn't he hear the sounds of battle if they were, though?
No, again, he shouldn't worry.
But then, there are footsteps and Krogan enters. He looks just as pleased with himself as he always does, his hands together behind his back.
Hiccup doesn't like it, because this means that he might've brought that little surprise with him.
He wants to stress, can't help his worrying, but all he can do is the one thing he can do whenever he's captured.
"Finally, a visitor! I would've rather had Viggo because he's more interesting to talk to, but I guess you'll have to do." He used to be scared of Viggo, of what that man wanted him from and was willing to do to him, but ever since the destruction of his empire, he's somehow different.
He almost seems... less likely to hurt him. Hiccup isn't sure how much he can rely on this character growth, but maybe it's better than spending his time with Krogan.
"Even when you're captured, you will not stop running your mouth, will you?" Krogan asks, standing before Hiccup with an air that is at least a little less amused than when he came in.
"Not likely," Hiccup tells him. He plans on keeping the sass going for however long he's still able.
Krogan hums, just sigh of sighing deeply. Does Hiccup know how annoying he is?
"No matter, I have my ways of silencing your sarcasm." Upon saying this, he removes his hands from his back and shows what he's been hiding. It appears to be an opaque bottle of some kind.
Hiccup leans forward as if it'll help him look through the bottle to see the contents inside. He may not know what it is, but he can tell it's nothing good. He sits back and eyes it warily.
"Any guessed to what this could possibly be?" Krogan asks, but Hiccup simply stares at him, not answering.
And then.
"Do you want to find out?"
"I'd prefer not to actually." But Krogan isn't about to listen to Hiccup and he uncorks the bottle.
Grabbing him by his possibly broken nose, he forces him to open his mouth if he wants to breathe, to then dump the contents of it in his mouth. Dropping the bottle and still pinching his nose closed, Krogan covers his mouth next and Hiccup has little other choice but to swallow it.
Only once he's sure that Hiccup has swallowed does Krogan let go and Hiccup can finally breathe again. He coughs, his lungs attempting to draw in as much air as they can at the same time.
What was in that bottle? It tasted horrendous.
"Want to make a guess before it sets in?" Krogan asks, grabbing the nearest stool he can find and sitting down in front of Hiccup. This is something he wants to see up close.
Another concerning thing. Hiccup, in response, tries to lean away from Krogan as far back as he can, which isn't very far at all.
"No, no guesses." Besides, Hiccup has a feeling he's about to find out soon. Krogan specifically used the words "sets in". Is it poison? If so, will he survive? They need him for information, so surely, they won't just kill him?
Is it just because he's stressing out over this that he suddenly feels a little warm? Or is he coming down with something?
It worsens and it does so quickly. Hiccup begins to pant as he feels his temperature rise dramatically.
He looks around him, but there is no fire in here. So where's the heat coming from? Is it really coming from within him? Is it even heat? No, it begins to feel different, like electricity tingling underneath his skin, like lightning.
No. No wait, it's different again. It's turning into a burning sensation, like something inside of him is heating up, becoming warmer and warmer. He can't help but sweat, his body attempting to cool itself down, but it doesn't help. All sweating does is make him feel even more uncomfortable than he did before.
Something is burning up inside of him. Something is boiling. His blood... His blood feels like it's beginning to boil inside his vein, spreading the fire from his center to the very tips of his fingers and toes.
Within seconds, it's everywhere.
"It's... It's Triple Stryke venom." Hiccup recognizes the sensations and states, swallowing.
Krogan smiles in satisfaction.
"Can you tell which one?" He asks next, happy to see the effects take hold so quickly, but then, he did give him a good dose.
Hiccup is already flushing red, already panting, and attempting to control his breathing when it wants to become faster and faster, his heart palpitating inside his chest. The boiling of his blood grows more intense.
"The-the painful one." He gasps and it's all he manages to say. It's not its scientific term, but he can't even remember what it is. All he thinks is "pain".
He begins to shake in his chair, the symptoms of the venom unpleasant, but not wanting to show how much of an effect it already has on him.
But Triple Stryke venom isn't known for being slow and the symptoms intensify with such speed that Hiccup wants to panic.
No, he can't let it get to him, that's what Krogan wants. He wants to see him cry and scream.
He's sitting opposite to him, smiling expectantly as he watches the panic take hold despite Hiccup's best efforts to keep a level head.
He's trying to hold on.
A shaky moan breaks free and Krogan's sadistic expression grows deeper, satisfied with such quick and pleasing results. Oh, he can already tell how much he's going to enjoy this.
"I'd ask you about the Dragon Eye lenses, but Johann implied that we should let you suffer first and I was not about to disobey an order, was I?" Krogan says and, of course, he wasn't going to disobey that order.
Hiccup can already imagine the way he must've gleamed when Johann implied that Krogan could go ahead and torture him before asking questions. Compared to Viggo, Krogan takes more after Ryker in smarts, but his cruelty is without a doubt unparalleled.
Hiccup is experiencing first-hand how cruel he is. Krogan could've done anything to him, beat him, break his bones, cut him, whip him, instead he's making him feel like he's being boiled alive. And because he won't be dying, the pain will continue for however long Krogan sees fit.
Tears grow in his eyes and he wonders how long the dose given to him will last. An hour? Two? Three? How many?!
"The antidote. Krogan, please?" Hiccup doesn't like to beg, his pride doesn't allow it, but as the pain intensifies and the tears glide down his face, it's becoming harder and harder to hold on.
Oh, it hurts so bad. It hurts so, so bad and it hurts everywhere.
"Oh, that silly thing? I don't happen to have it on me." Krogan replies nonchalantly because, of course, he doesn't. And he doesn't intend to go get it either, if they even have it. He is much too content to watch Hiccup suffer and writhe.
His blood continues to boil, new surges of pain course through his veins, traveling through every little part of his body from his head to his toes.
And then he can no longer stop himself. He screams and Krogan's smile breaks out into a smirk. That sounds like music to his ears.
How much time passes between his first scream and now? Everything is a blur, the concept of time slips from his grasp, but it feels like hours have passed and Hiccup is still screaming.
His face a deep red, streaks of tears and snot on his face, and his voice is hoarse. Still, the pain draws more shrieks out of him and it might give up on him any minute now. And the excruciating sensation of boiling alive, it's still going strong.
Hiccup doesn't know the amount he's been forced to ingest and at the current time he's not in the right mindset to think about it either. His every nerve screams with him and Krogan enjoys it too much.
He hasn't moved from that chair, still smiling fondly at Hiccup's display of pain.
"I was going to ask you what you knew about the Dragon-Eye lenses, but it would seem that you're a little preoccupied." Going back on what he said earlier, he speaks to him again. If Hiccup even hears him over his own yelling, Krogan doesn't know and he doesn't care.
"Oh please!" Somehow, with a voice so tired and strained, words are still possible.
"Please, I can't take this anymore!" Hiccup begs him, writhing and squirming and finding no relief anywhere. The ropes are digging into him and he's starting to wonder if it isn't possible that his skin might be peeling and his flesh might be slipping from his bones. It certainly does feel that way, yet it never happens.
And he can see now why they left his clothing on his person. His woolen tunic scratches and itches his sensitive skin and his armor weighs heavily on him.
"Krogan, please!" But Krogan doesn't move from his spot. His rear is feeling a little numb from the sitting, but he doesn't mind.
"Krogan! I can't- Please, I can't!" He cries and he begs. How much longer until the pain subsides? His throat hurts and he can't stop screaming.
But then completely out of nowhere, Krogan stands up and leaves with anger on his face.
Does he suddenly have enough of Hiccup's suffering? Is he no longer a joyful sight to him?
With the assault on his senses, body, and mind, Hiccup misses the explosion rocking the cave system the Flyers and Hunters are using.
The Dragon Riders are here and not a moment too soon.
"No! No, don't go! Please!" Hiccup begs him to stay, the only one who he believes can take this pain away from him.
But Krogan walks away without looking back once, leaving him behind.
"Krogan! Please! I can't take this anymore!" He wails, pulling at his unforgiving restraints as if to chase after him.
Oh Gods, he's leaving him! He's going to die now, isn't he? He's not as fun to watch anymore because he's about to die, that has to be why Krogan left.
Hiccup continues to howl Krogan's name, begging him to come back and bring an end to his misery. He no longer cares how it ends, so long as it ends!
And then suddenly, his screaming stops.
His blood still boils, that hasn't gone away, but his voice has. Maybe it really has been hours and his vocal cords have finally given up on him. If so, how much longer will this torture go on?
At least with his screams now soundless, a mere pitiful wheezing, he can hear the rumblings of a battle raging outside. Though still going mad with agony, he knows now that the Dragon Riders are coming for him.
Where are they? When are they coming? The battle outside stretches on endlessly.
Eventually, even his silent screaming comes to an end and it's not because the torment has ended.
After however long he's been in this chair, it's almost like he's shutting down. His struggling has stopped, his tears merely fall with every blink, he shivers, and stares ahead.
The explosions and shouting outside continues, but a new sound just barely registers in his ears. Footsteps come running his way and there's more than one.
Opening his eyes, he can't remember closing them, Hiccup sees a dark shape coming in from the hallway through a blurry gaze.
"Toothless?" He mouths silently.
It is his dragon. Within an instant, he's in front of him and his dry and scale nose nuzzles his face. It hurts so bad and Hiccup turns his head away.
That puzzles the dragon, who realizes very quickly that something is wrong.
"Son!" To Hiccup's surprise, his dad is here as well and he lays a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Hiccup no longers writhes and screams, but at the strange expression he's wearing, Stoick can still tell that something is off. Is he tired? In pain? Now if only he would realize he's the one doing the hurting.
"What's wrong, Hiccup? Where does it hurt?" His father asks, grabbing his other shoulder as well, which he doesn't take kindly to either.
"Everywhere!" Hiccup croaks out inaudibly, going unheard by his dad.
At the very least, Stoick manages to figure out why the screaming he'd heard upon first entering this confusing cave system suddenly stopped. Hiccup lost his voice and Stoick can only imagine for how long he must've been screaming for that to happen.
But Toothless perks up, the only one still able to hear his Rider, and bites down with his gums on Stoick's arm to pull the limb away.
On any other day, he would've given the dragon a look, but fortunately, he understands what Toothless is trying to do.
"Oh Gods, I'm so sorry, son." He apologizes when he realizes he must've been hurting Hiccup somehow and he lets go. But whether Hiccup understood him is up for debate, his lost expression betrays little.
All that's left for him now is to stare listlessly in front of him, head slumped at an angle.
"Son? Hiccup?" Stoick tries to make him look at him, kneeling in front of him, but it's as if he's looking right through him.
Whatever mindset he's sinking deeper into to escape whatever's been done to him for hours, it's taking him far, far away.
He can see him fading away, it's almost like falling asleep without actually falling asleep.
What if this is a permanent thing? Great endless pain can do strange things to a person's mind and Stoick feels the much too familiar twinges of fear in his heart. Gothi needs to take a look at him.
Toothless can see it, too, and he whines at Stoick.
"I know, Toothless, we have to take him out of here." He agrees. He may still not be able to understand the Night Fury as well as his son does, but he understands that much, at least.
Assuming that Hiccup can no longer "be hurt", he takes this opportunity to undo his restraints.
Hiccup slowly looks over, but that's about the only reaction Stoick is getting out of him.
"Don't worry, Hiccup. We'll take you out of here soon enough. We'll make the pain go away." He promises, Toothless moaning in agreement and nuzzling his human's face again. Unlike moments earlier, he doesn't receive a response. Instead, Hiccup closes his eyes.
Once he's untied, Stoick cautiously lifts his light weight into his arms. They can meet with the Dragon Riders outside and head for Berk.
The Edge would be closer, but with Hiccup in the state that he's in, Stoick would rather go straight home and not wait two to four days for Gothi to be brought.
Hiccup stirs ever so slightly in his arms upon being moves, but whether he's unconscious or not, his father doesn't know. His head rests on his chest.
"Come, Toothless, we're leaving." He tells the Night Fury and they make their way out. The sooner they can meet with the rest, the sooner they can leave for home, the sooner Hiccup can be helped.
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It feels like his mind must've somehow turned itself off, because Hiccup doesn't remember leaving that chair or the long trip home. It's like he fell into a long sleep, just like he did after the battle with the Red Death when he lost his leg.
When he wakes up, he's on Berk. He can gather as much from seeing his room when he opens his eyes.
He's sitting in bed and Toothless is at the foot end of it. He appears to be resting, but he isn't asleep. Hiccup can tell, because when he moves just a tad, the dragon's eyes open and look at him.
Purring happily, the Night Fury comes closer as quietly as he can and he nuzzles Hiccup's face.
"Oh, Bud." He gasps, his skin still sensitive, but no longer as unbearably hot as before. He feels strange, but fine.
Hiccup smiles and pets his Bud on the nose, happy to be home and to be rid of the sensation of his blood boiling. It is such a relief.
But there is one more thing that draws his attention.
His hands scratching Toothless' chin, Hiccup looks behind him to see that he's sitting up in bed because it's his father he's lying against.
The man is asleep with his back and head leaning against the headboard and the wall behind it. There's a secure arm around his son to keep him close.
He must've been keeping watching over Hiccup while he slept along with Toothless. Hiccup doesn't remember being found, but evidently, something must've scared his father for him to keep this close of an eye on Hiccup.
This brings him a sense of nostalgia as the last time Hiccup was held like this, he was still a very, very young boy.
So Hiccup decides against waking the man up. He settles instead, choosing the safety of his father's hold over rising him.
Besides Krogan and the blinding pain, he doesn't remember much. But he hopes it's okay to stay like this for a little while longer before he eases Stoick's worries, sinking deeper into his father's hold with Toothless' head on his lap.
16 notes · View notes
71tenseventeen · 5 years
Text
Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)-18
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17
Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story.
Perpetual credit to my betas, @queen-alia and @icosahedonist as well as the GC and @ljummen.
Sid’s awake before Geno the next morning, feeling like he hasn’t eaten in days. He’s scrambling eggs when Geno comes shuffling in and tries to take over. “What you doing? You still sick, should be resting. I cook.”
“I can cook some eggs. I’m not that sick.”
Geno doesn’t look convinced and Sid finally sighs and goes to sit at the breakfast bar. “Fine, but I have to do something besides sleep all day. It’s getting old.”
“We find something to do, I’m promise.”
Except “something” turns out to be watching TV quietly on the couch which Sid grumpily tolerates until Geno fluffs a pillow and says nonchalantly, “Should kick back, relax a little,” and Sid is done.
Before he even has a moment to think about it, he’s on his feet flinging away the blanket that Geno had tried to tuck around him and stomping toward the back of the house.
Geno follows, wide eyed. “What you doing?”
“Anything, Geno! I will literally do anything right now that isn’t laying down and resting!”
“Was doctor’s orders!” He follows Sid through the back door and looks on with shock as Sid yanks his shirt off and tosses it to the side, charging towards the pool. “Sid, come on! What you even doing?”
“I,” Sid says, turning with a flourish, “Am going to take a swim. And then, I think I’ll take a walk. Hell, maybe I’ll join a fucking marathon. All I know is I. Am not. Laying down. Anymore!” With that he turns his back on Geno again and stomps down the pool stairs into the water.  
Geno watches from the edge, looking dumbfounded. “If you want to do something so bad could have just say so.”
Sid glares. “I did say so and you ignored me!”
“Only trying to do what doctor say!”
“Yeah, well, I just don’t seem to remember her saying I had to lay down until my brain fucking rots.”
“Don’t you think you being a little dramatic? No one say you have to do that. Just trying to make sure you rest! What so wrong with that?”
Sid narrows his eyes but instead of replying, he sticks his tongue out at Geno and then lets himself float onto his back, eyes drifting shut.
“Oh, that’s nice. So mature, Sid.”
“Can’t hear you! I’m swimming!”
And for a few moments Sid thinks maybe Geno has given up. At least until he feels the splash, tossing him onto his side. He surfaces, sputtering and glares at Geno again. “What the hell?”
“You want to swim! We swim!” Geno swans his arms out dramatically and floats onto his back—kicking copious amounts of water in Sid’s face in the process.
“Are you kidding me?” he sputters, once he’s cleared his eyes. Pursing his lips at the smug smile on Geno’s face he does the only thing he can. He leaps forward and wrestles Geno under the water.
Five minutes and lots of flailing later, Sid is leaning against the pool wall laughing so hard, he’s in tears. Geno is stretched out beside him still trying to stifle his own laughter as he leans his head back against the ledge. When he finally cracks an eye open, he grins at Sid. “Guess I’ve been a little bit pain in the ass.”
“Yeah. But I get it.”
“I’m sorry. All this is new to me, little bit scary. Sometimes feel like want to keep you in bubble—anything to keep you safe.”
“I haven’t given you enough credit for that. I’m sorry I was such a brat.”
Geno shrugs. “Is okay. You were right. Still need to live life, get exercise, do things.”
“That’s all I want.”
“I’m try to lighten up.”
“Thanks.”
“You ready to go in and nap now? Get some rest?”
Sid gapes at Geno in disbelief until he cracks a huge grin and laughs—at least until Sid tosses water in his face.  
They spend the next couple of hours swimming, walking around the property and making lunch together. And if Sid maybe naps a little on the couch afterwards, Geno is nice enough not to be too smug about it.
Geno’s up early for practice the next morning and he looks surprised to see Sid come into the kitchen fully dressed. “You’re up early,” he starts as Sid carefully avoids eye contact. He knows this isn’t going to go over well.
Sid sighs. “I have school.”
Geno narrows his eyes.”Sid—”
Sid cuts him off. “Geno, please don’t do this. I feel better and I have to go to school.”
Geno looks like he wants to say a lot more but, thankfully, he finally shakes his head. “Fine. You come back after school, though? Maybe I drive, drop you off and pick you up after classes.”
This is the part that Sid is dreading the most and he avoids Geno’s eyes as he zips up his bag, sucks in a breath before saying, “I have to work later.”
“You kidding me?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Sid really shouldn’t be so short with Geno but he knew this was going to be an issue. “Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
Geno shrugs. “More concerned about your health right now.”
“The doctor said I could go back.”
“She say you can go back if you feel completely better. You don’t.”
“Geno, I’m fine.”
“You forget dizzy spell yesterday? You forget needing nap?”
Sid hasn’t forgotten and he doesn’t need Geno to remind him. There are a lot of things he wants to say but most of them would make him look like a petulant child so he settles for, “I’m going,” before he turns and walks out.
Guilt hits before he’s even on the highway but there’s nothing he can do about it. He has to go to school and work, there isn’t any other choice. Besides, he’s felt better every day and he feels fine now. He’ll text Geno when he gets to class.
Classes go fine. If Sid’s being honest, he’s definitely more tired than usual but he’s not dizzy and doesn’t feel sick so he counts it as a win. Geno still hasn’t replied to his earlier apology for leaving so abruptly but he sends another text anyhow, hoping it will help.
<Just thought I’d let you know I’m feeling okay, promise. Been to two classes and only two more to go.>
There’s no immediate reply but Sid doesn’t really expect one, knows that Geno had a full day of practice and meetings so he shoves his phone away and tries to focus.
His last class is a struggle. He’s tired, more tired than he expected to be and yeah, okay, he’s been taking a nap every day but that’s just not an option today so he pushes though. By the time it’s over he’s dragging. Just the thought of walking to the car is overwhelming, nevermind working his five hour shift.
He wishes things were different, that he had a choice.
By the time he gets back to his car he’s lightheaded and sweating. He sits with his head on the steering wheel, air conditioner running for several minutes and thinks of Geno. Maybe he was right. Maybe he shouldn’t be going to work like this.
But then Sidney remembers the stack of bills sitting on the desk in his apartment and he shoves all thoughts of calling in out of his mind. He has to go to work. He has to.
He’s cooled down and feels a little better by the time he gets to work. He thinks, hopefully, that even though he’ll be on his feet a lot it will be in the air conditioned shop so it will be fine. As long as he’s out of the heat, he’ll be fine.
It takes less than an hour for everything to go to shit. His boss is furious, griping in the background as Sid hunches over the toilet bowl, vision swimming. He’s not really sure how he manages to pull himself together enough to leave work, much less make it back to his apartment but, somehow, he does. If he can just lay down, just cool off and drink some water, he’ll feel better.
The cramping starts before he makes it to the couch, a sudden aching twinge spreading across his abdomen and lower back. And that—that’s new and Sid tries to swallow down the rising fear as he lowers himself.
“Okay,” he says to the empty room. “It’s okay. It was just from all the walking. It probably won’t happen ag—”
Another cramp, sharp and clenching, has him scrambling for his phone, panic rising in his chest. All he can think as he listens to the other line ring is that Geno was right and he was stubborn and rude and stupidly put the baby at risk for—for what? A job at the coffee shop? The call goes to voicemail and Sid lets out a desperate sound as he quickly calls again and then again, panic nearly choking him.
This time Geno picks up on the second ring, sounding out of breath. “Sid? Sorry, was in meeting.  What—”
“I’m cramping and I think it’s bad,” he blurts, cutting Geno off, voice shaking.
“Okay, need you stay calm. Where are you?”
“My apartment,” Sid says, eyes burning.
“Okay, listen to me. Want you to lay on side while you wait. I’m come get you.”
Sid shifts around until he’s laying. “Okay.”
“You laying down?”
“Yeah.” He swallows back a soft sob as he feels another cramp.
“Good. Just stay right there. I’m on way.” Sid has no idea how Geno is staying so calm but he’s never been more grateful.
“Geno I—I’m sorry. I’m so scared. You were right and I should have listened to you, I—”
“Hey,” Geno cuts him off and Sid can hear the jingle of car keys in the background. “Everything going to be okay.”
“But—”
“Sid, you have to listen. Going to come get you, take you to hospital, they take care. Everything will be okay. I’m promise.”
“Okay,” he croaks, lower lip wobbling.
“You doing so good, Sid. I’m going to hang up now for couple minute, call doctor. Then call you right back. You keep phone right there, promise you answer.”
“I promise.”
“Good. Keep laying, keep breathe. I’m on my way.”
“Okay. Okay. Hurry.”
“I’m hurry. Promise.”
Sid swallows hard, clutching the phone to his chest while he waits.
Part 19
130 notes · View notes
awesomenightfall · 5 years
Text
[the wicked & the divine]
part of the "dragon age protags are terrible adults" modern!AU [Cassandra/Varric (eventual), humor, modern!AU, no tw, mild language, super unfinished] -- Seekers/Templars are pretty much police in this world and someone has it out for Cassandra (surprise, surprise). Varric gets a very unwelcome visit from Leliana (who wants to cash in a favor, natch) and an injured Cassandra.
---
In retrospect, the whole premise was so cliche that, as a writer who had built an entire career on delivering the unexpected, Varric almost laughed himself sick at the irony.
Cliche #1: It was, of course, a dark and stormy night. The place was Kirkwall-- The Hanged Man, to be more exact. The pub was one of Varric’s more profitable business ventures. For a crime ridden, dirty, rundown town, there had been a surprisingly lack of places for local degenerates to get wasted before Varric stepped in.
He was a very hands off owner that preferred to let management run the show. Still, Varric liked to frequent the bar to see his friends, play cards, but mostly to make sure Hawke wasn’t pissing away all of the profit by doling out free drinks to men and women she wanted to sleep with.
He trusted Hawke with his life, but with his wallet? Not so much.
The bar had closed for the night and Varric was reconciling the books. It was terribly monotonous but it was a nice break from his usually hectic life filled with a ridiculous amount of dramatic extraverts that demanded pretty much all of his attention. He also tended to get his best ideas at The Hanged Man late at night when he was decompressing from the day.
Then again, he had written his tawdry, bodice ripper Swords & Shields at this very barstool, so he had to concede that maybe not all of his ideas were very good.
Cliche # 2: The quiet was interrupted by a sharp, somewhat mysterious knock at the door. There were only two types of people who came by this late at night -- robbers or booty calls. Robbers didn’t usually knock and Varric had indulged in all of zero booty in Maker knows how long, so he was intrigued. And maybe a little afraid.
Please don’t be demons or bill collectors or ex-girlfriends, for the love of all that is good and holy, please don’t be a possessed ex-girlfriend looking to cash in on a debt...
It felt very dramatic, very film noir-esque, and Varric could almost hear the saxophone music queuing up in the background as his internal monologue began.
“‘Okay Tethras,’” Varric narrated, “‘I said to myself, ‘“You’re a tough guy. You’ve been shot at, possessed, faced down the Carta, forced to go to Bertrand’s social gatherings.” Now let’s see you do something really tough—like answering the door.’”
With a deep sigh and ignoring that niggling little thing called self preservation that was screeching at him not to do it, Varric walked over to the door. His hand hovered over the knob. “Any chance you’re selling cookies for charity and not here to mug me and/or rope me into some hairbrained scheme?”
“Varric,” a familiar, accented voice replied. “It’s Leliana. Open up.”
Crap. “So no cookies, I’m guessing,” Varric said as he unlocked the door against his better judgment. “Nightingale, if you wanted to have a private tête-à-tête, did you really need to wait until the asscrack of --?”
In Leliana’s arms was one Cassandra Pentaghast, currently white as a ghost, hunched over, and bleeding out from her skull.
Plot twist.
“What the hell happened?” Varric ushered them inside, wincing at the amount of blood dripping on the dingy bar floor. He had very little lover for the Seeker (and the feeling was undeniably mutual, for so many reasons, but mostly because he prided himself on being a fabulous liar and her job was to literally seek out the truth), but that didn’t mean he wanted her to die inside of his bar.
Then again, it might do something to add to the intrigue of The Hanged Man…
No, Varric decided, he didn’t need any more death on his hands. He might have had a little bit of a hate-on (“It’s like a hard on,” Isabela had said wisely, “but for someone you want to hate-bang right through the floor”) for Cassandra since the time she took him in for a grueling six hour interrogation concerning Hawke’s whereabouts, but he wasn’t a monster.
Besides, Cassandra would just haunt him from beyond the grave and did he really want to risk having to spend eternity listening to her make that little disgusted noise she always made when he spoke?
“Ugh,” Cassandra grunted when her eyes focused on Varric. “It’s you.”
And there it was. Cassandra was nothing if not dependable and predictable.
Leliana hefted Cassandra up on the chair; no easy task, considering how tall (unnecessarily so, in Varric’s completely unbiased opinion-- what does a woman need with that much leg?) and well muscled the Seeker was. Cassandra groaned, hazily blinking blood out of her eyes. She looked… well, she looked like complete and utter shit, Varric thought, and that was being charitable.
“Assassins,” Leliana confirmed. “We’re looking into it.”
“And no doubt you’ll find them.”
“By hook or by crook,” Leliana said simply and Varric shuddered. Leliana was sweet and pretty and it was easy to forget that she was a powerful spymaster with a whole network of followers at her disposal. But when she got that look, well… Varric didn’t envy the person who had been stupid enough to go after one of Leliana’s people.
Varric grabbed his first aid kit -- always fully stocked, thanks to Hawke’s penchant for getting into fights -- and set it down on a wooden table. “So. What’d the Seeker do to get the attention of assassins?”
“I imagine it’s some kind of personal grudge.” Leliana pulled on some latex gloves and got to work on the gash on Cassandra’s forehead.
“Wow,” Varric said, voice chalk full of exaggerated surprise, “imagine that. Someone doesn’t like the Seeker? Nightingale, call the presses. The world needs to know.”
Cassandra glared at him and hissed as Leliana pressed on the wound above her eyebrow. “Such a comedian, dwarf,” she drawled, voice slightly slurred from what Varric imagined was excruciating pain. He winced in sympathy and grabbed some ice from behind the bar, wrapping it in a towel and leaving it as a peace offering. Cassandra looked surprised and suspicious, not making a move for it just yet.
“Surprised you let them get a hit in,” Varric said, leaning back in his chair dangerously. “I thought you slept with your sword under your pillow.”
He might have imagined it, but for a moment it looked like Cassandra actually blushed. Must have been a trick of the light. “I-- I was indisposed.”
“Indisposed,” Varric echoed.
“Shut up. It was nothing.”
His thoughts raced. Indisposed? The Seeker? What did that even mean? Varric imagined -- not that he thought about her that often, because that would be weird -- that she spent 24/7 in her stiff, buttoned up uniform, sword at her side, vigilant and composed as she chased down criminals and ne'er-do-wells.
She was horribly embarrassed about it, whatever it was, and that only further fueled Varric’s curiosity.
“Well now I have to know. ‘Indisposed.’ How indisposed are we talking about here? Where does it rank on a scale from 1 to Hawke, Zevran, and a team of double jointed Antivan contortionists?”
Varric was rewarded with Cassandra’s patented disgusted noise and it was music to his ears. And that’s one win for the dwarf.
Leliana tried to hide a grin and failed miserably. “She was in the shower,” she loudly whispered.
Varric nearly tipped back in his chair but caught himself before he fell. “They attacked you in the shower?”
He had so many questions like:
Did she fight naked?
Did she bring the sword into the shower?
Wait, if she was in the shower then that meant that she wasn’t wearing --
For fuck’s sake, don’t. Don’t even go there.
“Ugh,” Cassandra groaned. “Be quiet, Leliana. And don’t you even think about telling anyone about this.” She shoved a finger into Varric’s chest, each word punctuated with a strong poke. “Not. One. Word.”
“Perish the thought, Seeker,” Varric said, moving out of reach before she gouged his heart out. “Would I ever tell anyone about you fighting assassins au naturel?”
“Yes,” Cassanda and Leliana said in unison.
He waved his hand. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Cassandra snorted again. “So, you were in the shower and assassins attacked. What happened next? Did you defend yourself with a loofah? Rubber ducky? Leave no detail out. Hard in Hightown has been missing bathroom shenanigans and honestly, this is just the inspiration I need.”
“Varric.”
“What? I said I wouldn’t tell anyone, I never said I wouldn’t write about it.”
“Varric!”
Andraste’s blessed ass, was it fun to mess with her.
Leliana cleared her throat politely. “Varric, you may be wondering why we’re here.”
“I, too, would like to know why we are here, Leliana.” Cassandra’s voice was as cold as the ice starting to melt on the table.
And here it comes, Varric thought. Should he just resign himself to whatever favor Leliana was going to cash in? Beg for mercy? Skip town for a bit so he could finally get some writing done? “You want me to find the attackers?”
“Well, since Cassandra’s apartment is currently being searched and it’s not quite safe for her to return, I thought, since you have a few extra rooms upstairs, you could let her stay here.”
“What.” Cassandra’s fury was palpable and it sent a shiver down Varric’s spine. He wondered who would win in a fight between Cassandra and Leliana. He wondered if the staff would be able to get all the blood out of the carpet. Mostly, he wondered why he always got caught up in all of this shit.
Leliana looked at Cassandra evenly. “There is a hole in your roof, Cassandra. How are you supposed to stay there?”
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself--”
“You have a concussion and possibly a broken arm, along with a few ribs,” Leliana said. “Not to mention there is a group of people who want you dead. Until we isolate the threat, you shouldn’t be there, Cassandra. You know that.”
“Ugh. Do not baby me, Leliana, I am a grown woman who--”
The bickering continued in the background as Varric thought deeply on the newest crisis foisted upon him.
Varric wasn’t angry, per se, but he wasn’t jazzed at the thought of having Cassandra as a temporary roommate, either. This bar was his oasis, his anchor in the sea of chaos known as his life. Now he was supposed to let Cassandra “I’m going to tie you up and not in the fun way” Pentaghast stay there?
But then again, if her life really was in danger… and while they weren’t best friends, they were still acquaintances that had worked together… and she wasn’t completely awful when she wasn’t preaching or yelling or shoving him into walls...
… shit, he hated having a conscience.
“It’s fine,” Varric conceded. “Stay. You’ll be safe here.”
Cassandra opened her mouth to retort, but Varric got there first. “Hope you’re not a light sleeper.” He tapped his broken nose. “Deviated septum. Possible sleep apnea. So much snoring.”
“Ugh.”
Two wins for the dwarf.
18 notes · View notes
jbuffyangel · 5 years
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Unconditional Love: Arrow 7x09 Review (Elseworlds Part 2)
The crossover was only five minutes long. Wow! It went by so fast.
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Source: whoeveryoulovethemost
(Fair warning: if you are a Fl*sh fan I wouldn’t read this.)
Let’s dig in…
Olicity
I watched a lot of insufferable bullshit to get two scenes, but they are really good scenes. I love y’all and this couple a lot. Suffering builds character as they say, so maybe I’ll ascend to heaven body and soul because I put up with The Fl*sh for an hour. I’m also being a little overly dramatic, but that’s just details.
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We didn’t start out great though. Oliver, B*rry and K*ra show up in Star City and rather than tell Felicity directly what is going on, Oliver chooses to keep her out of the loop. He feels they have enough problems as it is and he doesn’t want to pile on. 
Sure, absolutely. Totally right call, Oliver. More lies are exactly what are required to fix your marriage. Since Felicity is angry about lying you should lie even more, so she trusts you again. Your logic is spectacular. I couldn’t be prouder.
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I honestly had a very low bar as I sat down to watch the Arrow hour of the crossover. I just didn’t want to throw things at the television like I had the night before. I did not achieve my goal. The bar was much too high.
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I don’t know why Arrow thinks they need to add drama on top of drama. The writers do this all the time particularly with Olicity. It’s not enough Oliver didn’t discuss going to prison with Felicity before he made a deal with the FBI. Nope! He has to make the same mistake again, so the characters are triggered to discuss it in the current episode. 
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Lying about prison is plenty to work through. Oliver doesn’t need to lie again, so they can talk about lying. One asinine, disrespectful, they’ve-already-dealt-with-this-issue-in-previous-seasons problem at a time please.
Then, Cisco and Caitlin try to pass it off like Ir*s knew immediately B*rry wasn’t B*rry and, once again, this proves they are true soul mates. Felicity immediately feels terrible about herself and her relationship with Oliver because she didn’t realize her husband wasn’t her husband. Maybe their disconnection is even more serious than she realized.
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IR*S DID NOT KNOW IMMEDIATELY. She spent the better part of an hour figuring it out. When she wasn’t pawing Oliver like a cat, she was throwing B*rry and Oliver in prison because she thought they were crazy. Oh by the way, one of them was her husband, so she knowingly threw her spouse in meta human jail. She very slowly and reluctantly began to believe them 20 minutes into the episode. Yeah, that’s right. I clocked it.
When B*rry (Gr*nt G*stin) tells her, “No matter what mask I am wearing I will always show you my true face,” and tries to hold her hand she does not grab back (as far as I could tell).
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That was a hell of a line. Perfect time for some kissing, but Ir*s is more concerned about B*rry becoming Oliver. She couldn’t bring herself to return any affection from the man she believed was Oliver Queen. Sorry kids, this is not how I define “belief.” But you know soul mates.
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Felicity does not spend anywhere near the same amount of time with B*rry and Oliver as Ir*s did. 
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Source:  hollandrooden 
They show up in Star City, nobody tells Felicity what is going on, she leaves to work out the lightning problem with Curtis, and the trio heads off to Gotham City. 
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Source:  hollandrooden
Felicity spent 30 seconds with Oliver and B*rry compared to Ir*s’ 20 minutes. Yes, I clocked it again. Maybe if Felicity was given the same amount of time then she would have figured it out too.
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Nobody tells Caitlin and Cisco Felicity doesn’t know, so they accidentally tell her about the body swap. Of course, it’s totally insane Caitlin and Cisco assumed Felicity’s husband told her the friggin truth right? *bleeped for barrage of expletives*
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Source:  hollandrooden
Felicity: It’s not every day that you find out your ex is your husband and vice versus.
Does B*rry count as an ex? I guess they had a mini date and she did wear that dress. 
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Also there was kissing. Yeah, okay ex it is.
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Caitlin tells Felicity she shouldn’t read too much into Ir*s immediately knowing B*rry wasn’t B*rry. (I agree, particularly since she didn’t know immediately.) Caitlin says Ir*s just has more experience with B*rry screwing things up. Okay, she didn’t really say it that way, but she should have. What Caitlin says is Ir*s has more experience with alternate realities.  She also shares how Team Fl*sh locked B*rry and Oliver up in jail when they tried to explain what happened.
Felicity: I appreciate you saying that but it’s just another excuse in a long list of excuses for Oliver’s behavior.
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Felicity is tired and she should be. Oliver always has a reason for keeping her in the dark, but it doesn’t make it okay. Those reasons don’t excuse all the lying. What Felicity wants, what she has always wanted, is Oliver’s trust and respect.
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Source:  oliverfelicitygifs
I really love this scene between Caitlin and Felicity because it captures the struggle of marriage so well. Your partner will hurt and disappoint you at some point. We marry imperfect people. A very large part of marriage is learning how to move past the anger and find forgiveness. 
There are aspects of my husband’s personality I don’t like, but I know will never change and vice versus. Unconditional love doesn’t require you agree with everything your partner does. It doesn’t mean you can’t be angry with your spouse. However, it does require loving your spouse in spite of the things you don’t like. Unconditional love requires acceptance.
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Source:  unicornships
This is essentially what Caitlin is telling Felicity. Yes, they have pretty big problems right now, but the only way through it is love. You have to hold on to the love you have for your spouse and let it guide you through the times you don’t like them very much. It’s the only way bridge the anger and separation. This is how you find your way through a fraught relationship.
I am not as angry with Oliver over his lie about prison as I was about the William lie. I don’t believe Oliver’s intentions were to exclude Felicity from his life. I believe he was trying to protect her and, to some extent, himself. Oliver knew Felicity would convince him not to go to jail and at the time he didn’t see any other way. At the end of the day, his actions were heroic even though they hurt Felicity in the process.
However, Arrow has done an absolutely terrible job of explaining Oliver’s point of view. They’ve never allowed Oliver to verbalize his reasons or even offer an explanation for why he didn’t include Felicity in the decision. The viewers shouldn’t have to get their explanations via interviews with executive producers.
I know we’re all as tired as Felicity is with the lying. However, this isn’t just about Oliver lying. This is about what will never change in Oliver. He will always be the one to fall on the sword. His heroic actions will often be detrimental to his relationship with his wife because those actions require sacrifice. It requires Oliver to put other people and other things before his own happiness. His selflessness won’t always be what is best or healthiest for his marriage.
This is why it’s important they are hashing this out. Oliver hurt Felicity. He shouldn’t have excluded her from the decision, even if he was afraid she’d talk him out of it. Felicity needs to be part of these decisions, so it’s easier for her to deal with consequences. At least then she can feel like she has some control or say in her own life.
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Source:  hollandrooden
While Oliver was away, Felicity had to become someone else. Oliver left Felicity to the wolves and she had to learn how to protect herself. She is exploring her concept of morality and justice. Something Oliver has done a million times. 
However, when Oliver returned home and saw firsthand how Felicity has changed, she wasn’t treated with the same respect, trust and unconditional love she’s shown Oliver all these years. Felicity encouraged Oliver to find another way, but she was never judgmental about it. Felicity believed in Oliver no matter what.
Felicity’s darkness still pales in comparison to Oliver’s. She may be exploring the moral grey, but it in no way compares to Oliver’s forays. Felicity was greeted with disbelief and, “This isn’t you,’ admonishments instead of understanding and love. 
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As I said, I have no problem with Felicity owning a gun, but I didn’t agree with how she used the gun in “Unmasked.” Oliver may have cause to be concerned, but he wasn’t asking the right questions to help Felicity. He was focused on what she was doing rather than listening to what she had gone through. Felicity trusted Oliver even when he was dropping bodies on a weekly basis. His judgment felt like a lack of belief and trust, which he has never felt from her even in his darkest of moments.
After spending some time as B*rry All*n, Oliver realizes he may have overreacted a bit to the changes in his wife. 
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His speech is monumentally important for several reasons. Oliver has acted like a supreme jackass for the better part of seven months. He lied, excluded Felicity from decisions in her own life, and then judged his wife for the decisions she made in his absence. Homeboy needed one hell of an apology. As I said in the Watchover podcast this is bases loaded, two outs, bottom of the ninth, and in the last game of the World Series. Oliver needed to man up and be the husband (and superhero) Felicity deserves.
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As speeches go, this is a spectacular one. If you are a long time Arrow fan, then you know this another role shift for Oliver and Felicity. Typically, it is Felicity fixing problems with a grand speech. She’s the one who expounds on how long and how much she loves him. It doesn’t mean Oliver loves Felicity any less, but he is more quiet and simple in his declarations.
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Source: oliverfelicitygifs 
Not this time. This is really the first time Oliver has tried to quantify his love for Felicity. Oliver finds the English language falls woefully short as he tries to explain how much he loves Felicity, . There isn’t truly a word for how much he feels for her.
Felicity is on edge when Oliver begins talking. He tells her everything will be okay and acknowledges people change. However, none of that eases her anxiety or anger. It’s only when Oliver reassures Felicity his love for her will never change that we see her relief. Oliver may be right about all the other stuff, but what hits home for Felicity is his unconditional love. We can see how worried she was that the person she is becoming is going to cost her Oliver. What Felicity really needed to hear was that could never happen.
It’s also one of the first times Oliver’s love declaration is focused on Felicity. I love his vows, both sets. 
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However, when Oliver is telling Felicity how much he loves her in these moments he focuses on the impact she’s had on his life. It’s a lot about what Felicity’s love has done for him rather than what he feels only for her.
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It’s not bad thing. It’s doesn’t make his vows any less powerful or amazing, because Felicity has had a life altering effect on Oliver. However, I don’t believe this was the kind of speech Oliver needed to make in this moment. He needed to focus only on Felicity and how he feels about her.
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Source: oliverfelicitygifs
And Oliver does focus on Felicity. BIG TIME. His judgment is gone and in its place are respect, love and understanding. Change is not a bad thing. Oliver understands as life goes on both Felicity and he will become different people, but no matter who Felicity becomes Oliver will always love her. He marries every version of Felicity Smoak, now and forever.
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Of course, we knew Felicity is the love of Oliver Queen’s life. Hearing him say the words is another thing entirely though. Oliver quantifies his love for Felicity just as she has done for him. 
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Felicity made it clear she fell in love with Oliver the moment he walked into her office. I suspected as much, so I never tire of hearing Felicity say this.
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I also believe it took Oliver longer. He didn’t know what to make of Felicity Smoak at first. 
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She sparked something foreign, yet familiar inside of him. Oliver came alive again when he met Felicity, but he didn’t know what it meant until later. Oliver fell in love slowly and then all at once.
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“Love of my life” puts a stamp on his relationship with Felicity in a way Oliver has never done before. There never was or ever could be another woman in Oliver’s life who he loves more than Felicity Smoak. 
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The petty side of me is also gleeful because when LL used this same terminology Oliver greeted it with silence. 
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There is a vast difference between love and in love. LL stands at one of the spectrum and Felicity Smoak the other. 
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Source:  felicitysmoakdaily
There is only one worth living for though and this is what Oliver is declaring. Felicity will always be Oliver’s life no matter who Felicity becomes. He will always choose her.
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Trust is Felicity’s love language. Apologies don’t mean as much as Oliver’s belief and trust. So, Oliver saying he loves every version of her, and will be with her no matter what, is exactly what Felicity needs to hear. Oliver is giving Felicity the same love, trust and belief she’s always given him. This is the kind of husband and superhero she deserves. 
If Felicity is going to continue to examine her morality, and I think she should, then Oliver needs to give her unconditional love so A) she has the freedom to explore a darker side and B) so he can pull her back if she crosses too many lines.
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Source:  felicitysmoakdaily
Oliver and B*rry have not switched back yet. Felicity believes she’s married to Gr*nt G*stin and the man standing before her, Stephen Amell, is not Oliver Queen but B*rry All*n. However, as Oliver speaks and Felicity listens to his words and hears the emotion in his voice, she knows it is him. Felicity knows this is her Oliver.
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Source: oliverxfelicity
She whispers a sweet and soft, “Hi,” in recognition of who he truly is and then Felicity kisses him. I love how soft hellos are Oliver and Felicity’s way of reconnecting and reassuring. What was there in the beginning is still here today. What is most important remains unchanged.
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It doesn’t matter to Felicity what body Oliver is in (although this was a serious upgrade, let’s be real). She recognizes her husband anywhere. 
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What I love even more is Felicity initiates the kiss. There is no reluctance or hesitation. Felicity embraces her husband and accepts everything about him, as he has with her. 
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They are both becoming different people (Oliver quite literally at this moment), but the love that binds them remains intact and will for the rest of their lives.
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HERE ENDETH THE CROSSOVER! 
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Yeah, I’m not kidding. We could stop right here. I care about nothing else. Here’s another kissing gif. *munches on popcorn*
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Source: oliverfelicitygifs
Flash Mitch Leary shows up and interrupts Oliver and Felicity’s much needed make out session though. Probably would have led to sex. 
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Way to go Flash Mitch Leary!
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Because I do. Screw you Flash Mitch Leary. 
Did you notice Felicity clung to Oliver even though he’s technically still in the wrong body? All we do is win fandom!
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Source: oliverfelicitygifs
Mr. Let’s Lay off the Public Displays of Affection doesn’t seem to mind at all. Oliver has no problem with PDA. It just depends who he’s PDA-ing with.
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There are a few smaller moments in the crossover which shows us the miracle Felicity Smoak has been for Oliver Queen’s life. Oliver and B*rry are comparing notes on all the ways they’ve over simplified each other’s lives. B*rry has underestimated all the pain Oliver has survived. Oliver believes B*rry’s life is easy.
Oliver: B*rry I always thought you had it easy. Sunshine and rainbows… everybody likes you.
Stephen’s reading of “everybody likes you” is spot on perfect. Oliver is a little envious of the way everyone just accepts B*rry. Through the entire crossover Oliver has been the odd man out. He even remarks, “I guess I’m running alone,” when Kara zips off with B*rry to Gotham. Everyone has been taking pot shots at Oliver and stripping him down to his most basic and unpopular attributes. He’s a dark and hopeless man who fuels his anger via a mask and calls it heroism.
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This is not the Oliver we know or Felicity knows. She is one of the few people who took the time to look beyond the surface to see the deeply good man underneath. 
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Felicity has always believed in Oliver’s light. She’s always seen the hero Oliver truly is and his ability to inspire hope. Her belief is what made Oliver believe. He became that man because Felicity Smoak loves him.
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This is why the unconditional love they share with each other is so important. Even among “friends” Oliver is treated with condemnation and judgment. Felicity is a rare gift and Oliver knows it. So, he chooses to give her the same unconditional love she’s given him. Oliver experiences the loneliness of judgment and never wants Felicity to feel alone with him. This is how you bridge the gap and build a marriage which will last until “death do us part.”
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Source: oliverfelicitygifs
The Trashing of Oliver Queen
The theme for this year’s crossover is “Trash Oliver Queen.” It was two hours of nonstop dragging. 
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Source: stephen-amell
The only reprieve we are given is during the Arrow hour of the crossover. At least those writers somewhat understand his character. Let’s run down the comments shall we?
"Oliver's life is completely defined by anger and vengeance."
"Please don't become Oliver Queen."
“Deck him B*rry! What? He’s a jerk.”
“Oliver Queen, the man who channels his hubris and anger and calls it strength.”
“One time Oliver cheated on his girlfriend with her sister.”
There’s probably more, but that’s plenty. 
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Ir*s spends the majority of The Fl*sh episode terrified she’s married to Oliver Queen or B*rry will become Oliver Queen. Since it is the female protagonist making all these statements about Oliver Queen, it is simply accepted as truth.
What’s worse is Oliver doesn’t act like our Oliver.  Ir*s says Oliver is defined by anger, so he has over the top temper tantrums. I’m not saying B*rry wasn’t insulted too. However, when Oliver gets his digs in at B*rry he’s yelling. B*rry refuses to engage and walks away. This reinforces everything Ir*s has said about Oliver. It feels like the writers are saying, “See? We’re right! He’s just a horrible, dark, muscle bound hulk of angry. Isn’t B*rry so much better?” It’s disgusting. This is character assassination. Plain and simple.
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It is so bad it became distracting. I couldn’t appreciate some of the genuinely funny moments because I was too busy fuming. 
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I mean, B*rry is telling K*ra how slutty Oliver was back in the day. 
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Source:  olivergifs
Alright, this was a tiny bit funny, but why are we rehashing the Sarah/Oliver/Laurel debacle? IT WAS TEN YEARS AGO. 
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This is all an effort cast Oliver in a terrible light, while K*ra and B*rry gloat over it because he’s Gandhi and she’s Mother Theresa. Here’s a hot tip: If you are trying to get Arrow fans to watch the other shows then don’t insult their favorite characters.
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The Oliver being described in this year’s crossover hasn’t been around since Season 3. In fact, it feels like neither The Fl*sh nor S*pergirl writers watched an Arrow episode after 3x02. I am willing to acknowledge Oliver has some anger, but he has not been controlled by it or fueled by it for YEARS. I’m not talking a few episodes or a season. I’m talking actual years of character growth being ignored to write this bullshit. SEVEN YEARS to be exact.
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Oliver is defined by the love he has for his wife, son, team and city. This is a man who is willing to sacrifice everything for the people and city he loves. If Oliver was merely fueled by anger and vengeance he would have been done or dead years ago.
In Defense of Oliver Queen
Oliver suffered unimaginable nightmares for five years. He was tortured. Every single person he ever loved either died for him or because of him. He could never fully trust anyone. He had to make life and death decisions every day. He had to forge himself into a weapon, strip himself of his humanity, to survive.
The process in which Oliver Queen became the Arrow and the process in which B*rry All*n became the Fl*sh are night and day. B*rry was struck by lightning. But Oliver? Oliver became the Arrow through sheer force of will. He worked for it, trained for it and bled for it.  His survival depended on it.
B*rry didn’t lose himself when he became The Fl*sh. Oliver had to stop being Oliver Queen. He had to stop trusting. He had to stop believing. He had to stop hoping. He had to stop caring. He had to stop loving. He had to stop being a person. It was the only way for him to survive.  Humanity was just another thing that could kill him.
And yet, despite everything Oliver suffered, he retained his goodness. He fought his way back from the depths of hell and held onto his humanity. He found a way to love and hope again. Oliver Queen is a miracle.
This incessant need The Fl*sh has to compare B*rry to Oliver is a foolhardy endeavor. There is no competition, but writers confident in their character don’t need to trash another one to feel superior. Maybe The Fl*sh has to insult Oliver Queen because deep down they believe their hero doesn’t measure up. It makes me wonder because I’ve never seen television writers treat the characters that launched their show so terribly – and yes I include Felicity and Diggle. Oliver is written as a violent monster, Felicity is a ditzy bimbo, and Diggle could care less B*rry erased his daughter. Every time I watch an Arrow character on The Fl*sh they are a stranger to me. 
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I don’t know y’all. This all feels like a massive inferiority complex.
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Arrow has clearly shown there is a light in Oliver Queen just as inspiring as B*rry All*n’s or Sup*rgirl’s.  Oliver has evolved far beyond the man who came home from Lian Yu. He isn’t Season 1 Oliver no matter how hard The Fl*sh and Sup*rgirl try to characterize him that way.
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He has evolved far beyond dough. Oliver is a baked cookie Felicity gets to munch on and enjoy.
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In fact, Oliver’s heroism is what inspired B*rry to become the friggin Fl*sh to begin with! 
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Yeah, that’s right Fl*sh people. I am not letting you forget your fave is a spin off launched from ARROW. No matter how much you trash Oliver Queen it isn’t going to erase history. The DCTV universe became a success because Arrow is a success. This is like pretending Ironman had nothing to do with Marvel’s movie franchise. Give me a friggin break. RESPECT YOUR ELDERS.
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We also have to deal with severe continuity issues. Ir*s tells Oliver (who she thinks is B*rry) about how angry Felicity is he cut a deal with the feds without discussing it with her. Oliver looks shocked to hear this. 
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Source: oliverxfelicity
SHOCKED. 
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Oliver knows Felicity is pissed about him going to prison. He’s known it for seven months. If Oliver forgot then it was explained to him again during the massive fight he had with Felicity about it last week. It is clear The Fl*sh writers have not watched a single episode of Arrow this year, which is just aggravating.
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This is all evidence to Ir*s that Oliver is a horrible person and she is so grateful she married Rainbow Brite. There is absolutely no way she could be married to Oliver Queen. Listen, cutie why don’t you take your moral condemnation and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine?
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I seem to recall Rainbow Brite, aka B*rry All*n, made the exact same decision a few seasons ago. Didn’t B*rry go into the speed force without discussing it with you? Sure he did. In fact, Mr. and Mrs. Gold Standard went to couple’s therapy over it.
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If there’s a storyline on Arrow then chances are The Fl*sh has copied it. I would be careful with the examples of how awful Oliver Queen is because I can match you example for example with how awful B*rry All*n is. At least Oliver pays for his mistakes.
If these characters had said Oliver’s life is completely defined by anger and vengeance during the first crossover (and they did) I would have said this is an incomplete picture of him. However, I could understand why someone who just met Oliver would feel like it is true. But we’re in SEASON SEVEN of Arrow. These people have fought side by side together for four years.
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Ir*s’ attitude towards Oliver doesn’t even make sense. She was at his friggin wedding while he was bursting with sunshine and moonbeams. Ir*s knows Oliver is a good man, so this is equally an assassination of her character as well. But what else is new on The Fl*sh?
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Even B*rry’s reactions to Oliver’s interactions with Ir*s are insane. He tells Oliver not to touch Ir*s. When Oliver assures B*rry he hasn’t he responds with, “You thought about it.” 
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ARE YOU KIDDING ME? NO HE HASN’T. All Oliver has wanted from the second he woke up was to go back to his own bed where his REAL wife is.
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The one climbing Oliver like a tree is Ir*s. The fact Ir*s is attracted to him isn’t a surprise to Oliver. 
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Source:  supercanaries
This is not a detail she’s kept quiet over the years, but is also not something Oliver has encouraged. 
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He practically glued himself to Felicity anytime Ir*s came near him. 
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Source:  supercanaries
Oliver is frozen with shock and horror she acted on it. This was not the face of a man who has “thought about it.” Take up your insecurities with your wife Bartholomew and leave Oliver out of it.
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However, if we’re talking about who “thought about it” then I submit this as evidence.
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Source:  amunetblack
Spot the difference? This is the face of a man who is clearly enjoying himself. If there’s anybody thinking about touching his friend’s wife then it’s B*rry. Not Oliver. I don’t think either of them “cheated” but what annoyed me is the only one we’re commenting on is Oliver. B*rry, you dated Oliver’s wife. You’ve had TWO non platonic kisses. You are lucky to be alive. So, let’s cool it with the accusations.
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Frankly, this year’s crossover feels like a retreaded ground. This argument B*rry is light and Oliver is dark was one made in the first Arrow/Fl*sh crossover. Both men had to learn and appreciate the kind of hero the other was. All the lessons B*rry and Oliver are learning this year are ones they’ve already learned. Only this time B*rry and Oliver have to switch lives. This is what running out of ideas looks like.
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I mean, come on y’all. They actually had a scene where B*rry is held hostage, but convinces Oliver not to kill Deegan because “there’s a better way.” 
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Source: olivergifs
WE. DID. THIS. EXACT. SCENE. IN. SEASON. 2.
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I cannot even with this nonsense. 
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Oliver stopped killing in Season 6!!! But it’s because of B*rry Oliver decided to find another way.
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 Unbelievable. 
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Do I think Oliver is going back to “I’m full of darkness” during the regular Arrow season? No. I don’t. We’ll go back to our regularly scheduled programming. Oliver will be our Oliver, complete with all seven seasons of character growth, and acting like the man we know and love. What happened in the crossover is all ridiculousness to sell the crossover story, which is continuing into “Crisis on Infinite Earths” in the fall of 2019.
If you think I am overreacting to how The Fl*sh characterized Oliver’s character then I would simply ask you to flip it. How would you feel if Felicity was talking about B*rry the way Ir*s spoke about Oliver? How would you feel if all of B*rry’s mistakes were dragged? How would you feel if the other characters believed B*rry’s selfishness represents everything he is? How would you feel if Arrow ignored five years of B*rry’s character growth? How would you feel if the other characters responded to B*rry as anything other than the hero he is? How would you feel if this wasn’t the first time B*rry All*n was insulted guest starring on Arrow? Methinks you would have a problem with it.
I am a little disappointed in myself for being so surprised. This has been a problem on The Fl*sh for a very long time. This behavior never happens on Arrow, I might add. The Arrow writers do not insult and trash B*rry’s character, so Oliver can look morally superior. So, thank you “Elseworlds” for reminding me why I stopped watching The Fl*sh. The writers are incapable of being respectful towards the character that launched their show.
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What Did Oliver Promise?
Oh Lord Oliver. Why do you have to be so damn heroic all the time? It is highly problematic.
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Source:  olivergifs
I didn’t pay much attention to the plot, because the plot made no sense.
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Source:  clevercloudpoetry
This was fine for hours one and two, but then crap actually started to matter during hour three.  
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I couldn’t understand why people were freaking out online about what Oliver promised. If you’d like to hear my realization in real time then listen to the latest episode of Watchover.
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Oliver: You said I’d past the test if I knew my true self. Well, my true self is filled with darkness, but B*rry and K*ra are different. They inspire hope. They inspire people because they are the best of us.
Did Oliver promise his life to the Monitor in exchange for those ungrateful twats, B*rry and K*ra? 
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Source: @olivergifs​
You bet he did.
This is why they are trashing Oliver so much in this year’s crossover. Oliver will sacrifice his life and B*rry, K*ra & Co., will realize he was a true hero all along. 
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I might have to start saying a rosary to get through this.
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OR they could have simply treated Oliver like the hero he is and the plot in the crossover would have made sense. I’m just brainstorming here. Don’t want to get too crazy with the ideas.
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Source:  someone-like-robsten
Yup. Oliver will be a hero because of B*rry kids.
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Oliver is not so subtle alluding to exchanging his life for Barry’s, hence his “I’ll get there some day,” but the line irritates me because this whole crossover irritates me.
Arrow has been moving Oliver toward a more defined moral code. He’s becoming the light for Star City. However, everyone acting like there’s been no character growth in this man for the last 7 years simply to sell this “Oliver is going to die” storyline in the crossovers is pure madness.
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This dovetails nicely into the flash forwards doesn’t it? Essentially “Elseworlds” confirms, or at least heavily hints, Oliver dies and everything goes to shit because of it in the future. Well played, Beth Schwartz.
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Are they going to kill Oliver? Yes, but it won’t be permanent. I mean, just say it out loud with me and you’ll hear how ludicrous this sounds.
Oliver dies during the “Crisis of Infinite Earths” or sooner. Felicity raises their children on her own. Star City goes to hell in a hand basket in 20 years. Felicity becomes an evil super villain determined to destroy the city and then she’s murdered. 
HERE ENDETH THE SHOW.
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No. Absolutely not. I reject all of this. This is what Arrow (and the crossovers) are telling us happened, but these are same people who said Oliver is all darkness. So pardon me if I find their word suspect.
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I believe there’s a high likelihood Season 8 could be Arrow’s finale season. In the midst of all this trashing of Oliver Queen, there also seems to be a consistent “passing of the guard” mentality. B*rry and K*ra are the heroes the world needs and Oliver is a piece of crap that kills people with arrows. It’s all in an effort to disentangle the Arrowverse from Arrow and Oliver Queen. Then they re-center it around B*rry All*n.
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If Season 8 is the final season then Arrow just spoiled how their show ends. Oliver dies. Everything goes to crap in the future, but then his band of legacy heroes save the city 20 years later. Is it possible? Sure, absolutely. A hero’s journey can end with death, but announcing it or heavily foreshadowing like this takes away the shock factor.
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This is classic diversion and red herrings. The writers want the fans freaking out Oliver is going to die while they are doing something else entirely. This reminds me a bit of Season 4. Everyone was so busy worrying about Felicity dying, and the red herrings pointing to her death, that nobody was noticing how Arrow was setting up Laurel’s death at the same time.
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Yes, they are setting up Oliver’s death. 
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Source:  olivergifs
However, they also set up Oliver’s happy ending. 
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He wants to hang up the hood and live in peace with his family. The point of the “Elseworlds” promise is for Oliver to sacrifice his happy ending so the world can have the true heroes like B*rry and K*ra fighting for it. However, Oliver sacrificing his happy ending proves he’s just as selfless a hero as they are. But balance I guess.
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All the “Oliver is darkness” nonsense is so heavy handed too. When Arrow introduces plot lines like this so early on, basically telling us how it all ends, then I give it major side eye. If Season 8 is the finale season then they aren’t telling us how Arrow ends a year before the next crossover.
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So what is “Crisis on Infinite Earths?” Here’s a link explaining it more in detail, but essentially an evil version of The Monitor begins destroying the multiverse. Let’s call him Satan Monitor. A bunch of superheroes die and there’s only one universe remaining at the end. Satan Monitor has a side kick named Psycho Pirate. This is the masked man talking to the professor in Arkham. “Crisis on Infinite Earths” is also when B*rry All*n disappears (which has been a major plot point on The Fl*sh) and Sup*rgirl dies in the comics. This is the sum total of my knowledge.
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We are supposed to believe the Green Arrow sacrifices himself for the universe and this is the ending of Arrow. However, “Crisis on Infinite Earths” will air in the fall of 2019. This is the beginning of Arrow’s 8th Season. Not the end. The other crossovers have always aired in the winter. They are not killing Oliver Queen in the beginning of Season 8. Nope. Not happening.
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The fact they are threatening to kill Oliver so early is good for us. We always want the premiere and mid season to be a shit show, so we can get a happier ending in the finale. Consider the last time Oliver “died.” 
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Things worked out okay for him in the end. 
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And yeah, that’s also my hang up. They’ve already written the perfect death scene for Oliver Queen. It aired four years ago. Been there. Done that.
The Monitor: Are you truly that eager to die? No, not eager, but willing. Ready to.
Oliver willing to sacrifice himself is not a shock. This is not a man who fears death. When Oliver returned to Starling City, he did not expect to survive. He thought he would come back, save the city, but die in the process as some kind of atonement for his sins. 
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As the season progresses, Oliver’s humanity begins to return and he becomes more and more attached to those he loves. This creates a struggle for him because he does not expect to live. This is why he told Tommy as he died,
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So, it’s tough for me to see death as the ending for Oliver Queen. Yes, it’s possible. I won’t deny that, but I feel it is the more unlikely scenario. Particularly since the writers are heavily hinting at Oliver’s death and want us to be worried about it.
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David told a fan at HVFF San Jose the flash forwards are one of the possible futures and we’d understand more in the crossover. 
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@callistawolf and I were so confused because this is directly opposite of what Beth had said in interviews. TV Guide said Beth, “…confirmed that this is a fixed future, so we don't need to worry about B*rry All*n (Gr*nt G*stin) turning up and resetting the timeline or anything.” 
However, went I looked back at her Collider interview that’s not exactly what she said. She merely confirmed this future is not connected to Legends and the characters don’t know what happens in the future.
Is this a fixed future that we’re seeing, or is there the possibility that they can change things?
SCHWARTZ: This is not connected to Legends. This is our own future. They don’t know what happens in the future. Legends is like that and The Flash is like that, but on Arrow, they don’t know. This is very much for the audience. They don’t know what’s happening to them, in the future. It’s better that they don’t know.
She dodged answering the “fixed future” portion of the question. I have yet to find an interview where Beth comments on permanency. Sorry, David. We were wrong to doubt you.
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We’re thinking whatever happens to Oliver is fixed during next year’s crossover. Maybe Oliver dies in the Season 7 finale as a fulfillment of his promise. Whatever happens during “Crisis on Infinite Earths” could trigger a change in the flash forwards. Right now, they can kill Oliver and explore what Star City is like without the Green Arrow in the flash forwards. If Star City has gone to hell then obviously this proves the Green Arrow is needed in the world, because he is also a true and inspiring hero. Oliver ultimately survives “Crises on Infinite Earths” and is able to save his city in present day. Then we are given a totally different future.
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How are they going to fix it? I have no idea. Superman was ushered off to his happy ending with a pregnant Lois. So, maybe he comes back and exchanges his life for Oliver’s. Not sure. I’m just spit balling here. There’s lots of X factors I can’t answer, but this gives the Arrow writers the chance to write both an unhappy and happy ending. We don’t have all the details worked out. Maybe Oliver dies during “Crisis on Infinite Earths” and is brought back another way. It’s totally possible Oliver promised something other than his life too. 
However, they want us to believe Oliver Queen is going to die so I wouldn’t expect to see him in the flash forwards any time soon. But it makes no sense to kill Oliver Queen at the end of Season 7 or the beginning or middle of Season 8, when we know Arrow still has a whole season to film and Stephen Amell is under contract. 
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The big question is does Oliver tell Felicity what he promised? I want to say yes, but I’m not holding my breath. Oliver’s heroic actions tend to run counter to his happy life with Felicity. Do I imagine there’s a world in which Felicity will be okay with Oliver sacrificing himself for B*rry and K*ra? NO. It’s the same issue we had with the prison arc. I absolutely think Oliver should tell Felicity, but I just don’t have confidence he will at this point. Hopefully, I am wrong.
Stray Thoughts
Stephen Amell and Gr*nt G*stin have amazing chemistry. They are the perfect straight and funny man team. There are genuinely hilarious moments throughout the entire crossover, but most of the funny occurred during The Fl*sh hour. Stephen Amell truly cracked me up. I wish I could have enjoyed it more.
I'm still comfortable with my hot dog meets sperm description for Stephen in The Fl*sh suit.
Are B*rry's abs photoshopped too? I have questions.
"There's no way I could be married to Oliver Queen. I mean babe come on. He's not my type." This gag will never get old for me. I love it. 
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Oliver going all alpha male around Superman is the realest thing about this crossover.  Source:olivergifs
“I think a night in jail would do them some good.” HAHAHA Bl*ck S*ren left Oliver in jail for the night. Classic.
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Oliver’s pettiness over Batman will never not be funny. Source:  dailydcheroes
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Kate Kane is awesome. Something about her suit bugs me though. Can’t figure out what. Source:  veronica-lodge
Joe Wilson is a scarier villain in the two minutes he had on screen than Diaz has been in a season and a half.
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I like how Felicity refused to dumb her genius down for Diggle. He is so in the dog house with her. Source:  felicitysmoakgifs
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Who is going to tell Sup*rgirl she is gay or bi? Because she is. There was a lot of flirting coming from Batwoman and K*ra D*nvers didn’t seem to mind at all. Don’t even get me started on her chemistry with Lena Luthor. So yeah. Somebody tell her. Facts are facts. I’m with you SuperCorp! Source:  amunetblack
If we’re talking Oliver’s worst fear I’d pick Adrian Chase over Malcolm Merlyn, but whatever. Nice to see you again John Barrowman.
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I love how they showed how good Oliver is with computers. Nice moment of continuity from the Arrow pilot. Source:  oliverfelicitygifs
Arrow filmed a whole new opening with Gr*nt G*stin, but was Stephen Amell afforded the same on The Fl*sh? NOPE. It was weird.
I think Sup*rgirl got the shaft story wise. She spends all her time refereeing B*rry and Oliver. I think we could find better uses for her character.
Jimmy Olson has facial hair and nothing makes sense anymore.
Is Dante alive in this reality? If not, maybe don't bring him up B*rry.
Is Superman getting his own show too? This is a lot about Superman. (Superman proposes to Lois and they move to Argo to raise their love child.) Nope. Superman is not getting his own show.
I think if you can make your own diamonds you could go at least 4 carats Clark.
Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 7x09 gifs credited.
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doux-ciel · 5 years
Text
Personal Trainer CH. 8
A/N: Hey my angels!! Not gonna lie I’ve been binge watching t.v. shows on Netflix when I get home from work so that’s kind of why I haven’t been posting like I should be. But it has helped me like a lot with different stories ideas and possibilities in my writing, so I’m looking forward to that. Anyways here is the next chapter to The Personal Trainer, Enjoy ♥
Tagged: @erinisawriter @jess---writes @lefttowritee @fannistwrites @delphwrites @riftversus @requiemdelune @theouterdark @thewishingpages @youngdumbxlit @bzrtales @between--alleys @jadeswritinggarden @velvet-moss @viviscreams @seraphilth @writing-in-the-margins @blackandwhitesunsets @godxblooded @ghost-possum @sauwrites
*if you want to be tagged in my work let me know!*
It been about 2 weeks since I got that news that Henry is becoming the new department head, but my mind was somewhere else like on my match last weekend, which I won by the way. 4 rounds in I finally got my opponent, |Kiki “the monkey” Nicks: lost by KO|
I was dreading going back into work though. I didn't stop by the cafe this morning just because I couldn't stand seeing Jacob hurt and not doing anything about it, I barely get past the front desk when I hear Mr. Gerald yell. “Azalea you're late!!”
I pause, momentarily stomping my heel on the gray tiled floor, I look over at him. “Sorry I lost track of time I was at the gym”
He sighs, annoyance is clearly written on his face. “Breakfast is for eating not for working out…boxing comes second”
I start to walk away from him, sighing loudly. “Damn get off my balls…”
He speed walks over to me pointing his finger in my face. “Your testing me Azalea don't try something you can't start.”
Cameron walks past not even acknowledging my presence, I literally had to follow to her to her desk for her to finally look up at me. My eyebrows mush together confused as to why she is not speaking to me. “Hey”
Silence.
Her eyes look away from my face as she signs into her computer. I chuckle softly, “Damn who pissed in your cereal?”
Her eyes slowly shift up to me, “You bailed on our drinks”
My mouth forms an O, “The drinks!!”
She nods her head all dramatic like and she begins with sarcasm, “Yeah the drinks, I sat at that bar for 2 hours looking like a loser.”
I'm relieved to know it isn't anything serious, I shuffle over to her chair and fling my long arms around her. Laying my head on her shoulder an evident frown on my face. “I found out Henry got the promotion I had to let off some steam and I saw Fiona”
I could feel her body tense up once I mentioned Fiona, she starts to roll her shoulders backwards, trying her best to get me off. “Oh Fiona? So I'm guessing she's your new bestie now huh? Well that's nice you two get to spend so much time together.”
I squeeze her body firmly shaking her a little bit a joyous tone hidden in my voice, I didn't like my best friend not speaking to me over something so silly. “Forgive me please I'll buy lunch?”
“Depends are you actually going to show up?” She scoffs, a second later I hear laughter coming from her.
I start to smile as well. “You can't stay mad at me”
“Hey Belinda is Henry here?” I hear Mr. Gerald ask the receptionist, his normal hard and tight lipped face now has a look of concern.
Belinda shakes her head. “No”
“There's an entire board of directors in there and he's nowhere to be found!” He exclaimed, scratching the back of his neck causing it to turn a strawberry red color. I'm a bit concerned as well. I remove my arms from Cameron as we both walk over to the front desk to see what's going on.
“Have you checked his apartment?” Belinda asks.
Mr. Gerald sighs as he puts his fingers it a fist and bring his left hand up, he starts to hit the side of his head, bringing his hand back and forth. “His cellphone….his mother’s cell phone, I even called the guy who walks his dog; nothing”
For a second I thought I saw a smile appear on his face and it's rare that I see my boss smile. He brings his hand down and walks towards me, he places both hands on my shoulders. “Azalea… you can do the presentation for me, you know the report better than anybody.”
Is he serious? Now because his minion isn't here I'm the backup plan?....No no no no I'm no one's second choice. I bounce my leg up and down repeatedly and I can see Cameron right next to me, arms crossed having a scowl on her face. “Oh so now you need me?”
He starts to plead with me, I could tell he was desperate. “I was wrong ok, do you need an apology?...I'll scream it out the window if you want me to.”
“The promotion?” I asked, my eyes slanted towards the 5’9 plump male.
His expression turned sour for a moment but then it turned into a look of defeat. “I'll think about it; just please.”
He removes his hands from my shoulders, that’s when I hear my best friend chime in. “And a raise for me?”
Mr. Gerald turns to her, giving her a stern eye.
She starts to stomp like a young child, her plump lips form into a pout. “Damn I can't get anything”
I'm ready for this presentation but I totally forgot my folder at the desk,“Ok just let me go get a copy”. I start to walk away to go retrieve it when he stops me midway, holding a folder up in his hand he gives me another smile. “I've got one right here”
After he hands me the folder, we both quickly walk to the meeting room. Before he puts his hand on the doorknob, his eyes focus on mines.“I'm going to I introduce you to the board and then you can come in and blow them away...again thanks so much”
I give him a smile, “I got it.” Once he opens the door to step inside I could see the different faces inside sitting down in the tall white chairs that surround a large frosted glass table. Now I'm getting a bit nervous, my palms start to sweat and my stomach starts to turn. I place my hand on my abdomen breathing in and out slowly, taking a couple of breaths to just relax.
As I hear my name being presented on the other side of the door, I was about to place my hand on the door knob when I hear my cell phone ring.
I quickly grab the phone from inside my bra and place the phone up to my ear, not checking who was actually on the other line, but to my surprise it's Fiona.
Her usual bland voice was very hearty, cheerful almost. “Hey just called to wish you good luck today”
I take a moment to process what she just said to me, I didn't understand. I needed some clarification, I start to ask her. “What do you mean?”
She chuckles as if something is funny, “Well for your report thing” she says in a matter of fact tone.
Ok now I'm really confused. I start to walk away from the door, “How did you know?”
I don't know why but I sensed some strange in this next statement she said to me.  “I just have a feeling everything will work out the way it should”
“Wait how did you-”
She quickly speaks over me and starts going on about how she has this new workout plan for me and how it's going to be killer. She is Garrulous, just talking up a storm. But still in the back of mind I wanted to know what she mean by her previous statement about how things should workout. I try to say her name but she keeps on talking over me, after I hear her voice stop I quickly call out her name. “Fiona”
She quickly said she had to go and hung up the phone.
                        ¤ ¤ ¤
After the presentation as I promised Cameron and I were out for lunch my treat of course. Plus knowing her she will take whatever food you will offer her, I already know this bill is gonna be high because this girl can eat. Don't let the her tall and lanky frame fool you she can eat for days. As we were waiting in the front for an open table Cameron flings her arms around me, “Congratulations!!!”
I almost fall down, she is literally leaning on me, I playfully push her off laughing in the process. “Thanks”
I turn my head over to her as she speaks, she nudges my shoulder with a grin. “The office is buzzing, they say your presentation was the best they’ve ever had.”
A small smile came on my face as I brush my shoulders off. “I know, I'm amazing...Gerald should be on his knees begging for me to be the new department head”
“Yes he totally should” I see her eyes following a nearby waitress who is holding a Margherita pizza. I can practically see her drool almost falling out of her mouth, this hostess needs to hurry up before Cameron runs to the back and demands the cook to make her some food.
Finally after 5 more minutes of waiting and of Cameron complaining about how long they were taking, we sat down at a booth. Cameron immediately being paranoid didn't want to sit on the side that had her facing the crowd, she didn't like when people looked at her while she ate. Her anxiety got the best of her sometimes, so me being the good friend I switched with her. Once our menus were in our hand we waited for a waitress to come tend to us.
I skim the menu and my eye lands on the crab dip with Naan, I think I'm going to get that. As I place my menu back down on the table, I watch Cameron who is literally listing off the foods she wants. I stop her mid sentence when she said she wants steak.
“You know what? We should get some wine, excuse me!!” I flag down a waiter, a male who approaches us with an obvious fake smile on his face.
“Ma’am?”
I place my elbows on the table resting my chin on my now locked fingers. “Can we get some Pinot Grigio please?”
He nodded his head and said he’ll be back with our wine in a minute, I quietly thank him and stare off into the crowded restaurant full of people. I start to wonder again, about Henry.
I focus my attention back on Cameron. “It's just weird you know..Henry really wanted that position and then he didn't show up.”
Cameron shrugs, “Maybe he got cold feet”
“Wouldn't he have just called in sick?” I ask, my lips twisted. The waiter comes back with two glasses and pours us a generous amount of wine.
“Well it doesn't matter now..the job is yours you should be excited”
I know…” I trail off not able to finish my sentence.
Cameron sighs and takes a sip of her wine. “It's not like you did something to him.”
I hear my phone buzzing against my thigh, I pick the phone up from my lap and when I check to see who it is Cameron snatches the phone of my hand, her long nails barely graze my hand as she brings the phone up to her ear. “Who is this?”
I'm looking at Cameron for some verification on who just called my phone, I could see her demeanor change drastically. Her mouth formed a straight line as she was listening to whoever was on the other end, “Oh hi Fiona...yes it's Cameron her best friend...she’s out right now so if you could just stop riding my friends dick, that would be great. Oh and she won't be going to practice today goodbye” She pulled the phone away from her ear and proceeded to place it on the table.
I am seriously appalled by the way Cameron acted towards Fiona on the phone just now. I shake my head side to side quickly as I snatch my phone up from in front of me.
She rolls her eyes at me and drinks the rest of her wine. “What? That lady doesn't scare me..what's she gonna do? Make me run around the track after school”
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Standing In The Outfield (1/2) + A CS Fanfic
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A two part fic about baseball, the friend zone, and what happens when your unresolved feelings bring you home after five years away. Inspired by the song 'The Outfield' by The Night Game.
Rating: T/M (pretty tame for now, but it gets steamy in the second part) Word Count: 3.5K
Hello out there! I apologize that it’s taken me so long to write/post anything. The past couple of months have been insane (school starting, a death in the family, various other drama, blah blah blah) but I’m back! I have a few little stories like this that I’m hoping to post between updates of my multichapter stories.  Here’s the first part of this one - also on FF.net and AO3.
To this day, Killian still couldn't exactly figure out how they'd ended up in such a comfortable yet confusing relationship. Ugh, he hated that term - relationship. Well, it was Emma who really loathed that word. He'd just come to share the opinion because….well, because he liked sharing things with her.
Many things. Okay, all things.
Sharing was perhaps a vague way to put it though. She rarely asked for much and he'd always been all too willing to give her everything he could - several answers to the dozens of tests Mr. Gold administered in their junior high algebra class, the black windbreaker he tossed over the fence to her when she came to every single one of his baseball games, and even some really crappy dating advice when it came to who she should go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with. He should have asked her to be his date before the lead pitcher of the varsity team managed to, but he didn't - and therefore, he'd had to support her choice to accompany Storybrooke High's most eligibly overrated idiot to the decorated gym he was now sure as hell going to avoid come Friday night.
It wasn't like he wanted to go anyway. With the first round of the playoff tournament scheduled for the following Monday, the batting cages were probably a much better place for him to be. After all, it wasn't like Neal Cassidy was going to be throwing consistent strikes if he was out all weekend trying to score with the girl Killian had dropped the ball with for years now.
Sure, he loved America's favorite pastime, but as thoughts of figurative "bases" crossed his mind, Killian realized how much he truly hated sports analogies.
It had been tough to encourage Emma to accept Neal's invitation, but he was fully convinced that karma was paying him back in good faith when she still ended up on his doorstep after the formal. He'd been surprised to see her standing there in her post date glory, her pale pink dress clinging to her figure and her tangled blonde hair loose against her shoulders. With her lightly colored high heels hanging from her fingers, she'd asked if she could come in - and once again, he couldn't deny her - not that he actually wanted to.
Their pattern of give and take with no protest picked right up as she changed into a pair of his sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt she plucked from his dresser drawer. He'd tried not to smile at how tiny she looked in the baggy clothing, using the distraction of making hot cocoa and trying not to read the 'SB Sluggers Club' title that stretched across the front of the shirt too many times.
He hadn't ever struggled quite this much when it came to staring at her as she scanned his limited movie collection. Her fingers skimmed the titles lightly, tracing the letters as she contemplated her options. He wasn't sure what had brought her to his humble home's living room after a night out with that Cassidy git, but he liked the outcome - the fact that she'd seemed to end up there with him so automatically.
"It's amusing that you're pretending to think this through, love," he grinned as handed her a mug and flopped onto the couch. "I'm pretty certain that any other film beyond your usual choice would be….inconceivable."
She smiled big at his fast conclusion, plucking the movie case from the shelf and tossing it to his lap. Taking her seat at his side seemed rather easy and he allowed himself to relish the way her leg bumped against his when she tugged a light quilt over her body.
"I know you don't like it as much as I do," she acknowledged as she snuggled beneath the blanket. "You can turn it off when I fall asleep."
He rose quickly and cued up the old movie player before glancing back with a dramatic eye roll. Killian admitted silently how much he loved her little retorts and facial expressions as he pressed play. Yes, refusing her requests was an ability he'd lost years ago….or maybe he never had such a skill in the first place.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he shook his head, moving back to the sofa and enjoying the way she leaned into him. "Staying here then, love?"
"Maybe," she mumbled with a yawn, his arm tucked around her. "Probably."
He'd never been quite so quick to accept such perplexing circumstances - well, at least not up until then. It would be a lie to say he ever thought twice about it after that.
He should have kissed her though - and lord knows he thought about the fact that he hadn't many times after that night.
Though he wasn't certain how they'd grown quite so close, the roots of their friendship were simple and perhaps even a bit fated. Emma lived only a few streets away and the sunny days of their childhood had brought her to the baseball field that sat on the block between their two homes. He was one of the youngest players on the club team and still very much a bench warmer when he'd first noticed her climbing the bleachers. It took him less than two innings to determine who she was - the younger sister of David Nolan, the three time captain of their rather talented group of athletes.
The fact that he'd ended up being such good pals with the popular leader of their team was something that still perplexed Killian, even now that David was competing at a junior college level a few hours away from their small hometown. The timing of their friendship had evolved when Killian most needed it - a mere two lonely months after his own older brother had passed tragically in a military accident. David had taken him beneath his wing quickly and with the man's consistent will to keep an eye out for his younger teammate, Killian soon found that he almost fit in perfectly with the Nolan family.
They spent loads of time together - summer days at a nearby lake, study sessions with friends and dozens of snacks, and even an occasional holiday gathering or two. Killian's own father was often working late nights or drowning in rum fueled misery which made accepting an invitation to a pick-up game in the park or the Nolan family's annual Fourth of July celebration an easy thing to do. He was beyond grateful that David had taken a liking to him and even more so when Emma seemed to as well.
It didn't take him long to like her just as much - well, maybe even a little more.
By the time David graduated, Emma had instantly stepped up to fill the role of Killian's best friend. If they weren't playing catch and quizzing each other on SAT prep, they were making late night movie plans and debating the proper amount of salt needed on some freshly popped popcorn. He made sure she always had a ride to school in the morning while Emma made sure he knew how to get the grass stains out of his uniform pants. She was always there for him whether he needed a pep talk after a tough game or a high five over the fence after he closed out a tough inning. Killian had never imagined he'd ever meet someone who understood him the way she always seemed to.
There was something about Emma and the way she made him feel - something wild and exciting that he couldn't totally explain. She made him feel hopeful - like maybe he could be something more than just Killian Jones, the relief pitcher for the Storybrooke Knights. He sure as hell wouldn't ever be meant for shining armor or hero status, but Emma almost made him believe in happily ever after - maybe a new beginning that even somehow included her. Well, maybe if he could ever work up the courage to suggest it.
He didn't though. Instead, April turned to May slowly, the green grass of the baseball diamond and a need to keep his curveball sharp about the only things keeping Killian from spending every second with her. Emma never told him about the dance or the date she'd apparently ended earlier than expected, not even the one time he'd worked up the courage to ask.
He was kind of grateful for that - he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.
Their senior year floated by in some sort of odd dream that Killian allowed himself to get used to - probably one of his more naive mistakes - and when she'd show up to his typically lonely house to indulge in a poor romantic comedy from the eighties or when she'd swing by the field to walk home with him after practice, he tried to convince himself that getting comfortable was a bad idea. It was a near impossible task when she observed him with those deep green eyes and a clever smirk. It was completely impossible when she fell asleep against his shoulder or took the leap of being candid with him about some little detail of her life.
He'd wanted to tell her how he really felt for ages by the time she mentioned another date with Neal. Everyone deserves a second chance - that's what she'd prefaced that conversation with. Then once she'd rescheduled their movie night again, Killian couldn't help the speculation that perhaps the third time really was a charm where Neal Cassidy was concerned. It only took one solitary and very repeated viewing of The Princess Bride to realize how much he loathed that number.
He knew he owed her his honesty, but giving in - maybe even telling her the whole truth about what she meant to him - wasn't a fear he ever dared face. It was cowardice in its worst form and Killian wondered why he was so afraid each time they ended up in one another's company on the porch swing to the side of his front door.
They were in that exact setting the night before the semifinal game when it all came to a head and he realized that his failure to put himself out there had led to an awful conclusion. Emma was his teammate's new girlfriend - yes, that teammate - and that meant his own position was now extremely obvious.
Killian Jones had somehow become trapped in the friend zone - and lord knows, he had absolutely no one to blame but himself.
"Bloody hell, mate," Robin grimaced, tugging his glove off and shaking his catching hand with a wince. "Save it for the mound."
Killian let out a deep exhale as he ignored the warning of the first baseman. Lifting his forearm, he wiped the light sweat from his brow before adjusting his cap. The blue brim felt firm between his fingers as he tugged it down over his stare just a bit. Emma had told him once that his uniform hat matched his eyes and he wasn't sure if he'd ever forget the way her mouth had curved at the corner when she'd said that. He peeked over toward the packed stands briefly as he reminisced that moment and immediately found himself grateful for the barrier the baseball cap was providing from the view that had him fuming.
"A few more, Jones," Robin nodded, crouching down with his mitt as he noticed what had Killian distracted. "I wouldn't be surprised to see you get called up tonight, especially if Cassidy doesn't get his head in the game."
He huffed at that, trying to ignore the comment as he wound up and threw a fastball right down the middle into Robin's glove. The loud smack of the rubber and cowhide against the inside of a leather mitt was a decent diversion, but it didn't totally keep his mind from wondering just what Neal was flirtatiously saying to the beautiful blonde standing just behind the fence.
Killian wasn't actually sure that the pair were an official item, but they'd certainly been spending a fair amount of time together for the past couple of weeks. He'd seen less of her, something he noticed rather quickly - especially on the nights they usually spent with a well known film or immersed in endless conversation. Killian supposed he missed her and as he peeked over to where she was chatting with the captain of their officially undefeated team, he admitted silently that he was getting awfully tired of it.
She looked beautiful all clad in casual jeans and a t-shirt with the name of the school he'd played for since their freshmen year. It was a familiar outfit she'd once completed with his jacket, the borrowed article of clothing drowning her in a wealth of black fabric. She looked almost incomplete without it and he tried to ignore how much he wanted to dig the old windbreaker out of his duffel bag. Maybe she didn't need it anymore. Maybe things were different now - and lord, that thought hurt.
"Looks like we better go," Robin said with his head tilted toward the dugout. "Ready, Jones?"
"Aye," Killian answered with a start toward the cement enclosure, knowing full well that his initial position on the field would be right between second and third while Neal lined up on the pitcher's mound. "Let's go."
He looked at her one more time as he jogged toward the bench, his feet snagging slightly on the grass when her gaze drifted to his. He could almost swear he saw it then - how much she'd missed him and their curious friendship - and he entertained the idea of telling her he felt the same way she seemed to.
Maybe he would. Maybe someday he'd be that brave. Maybe eventually he would finally spill his feelings to the girl watching him from a distance...or maybe he'd always stay in that same place - standing quietly in the outfield, sometimes literally and almost always figuratively.
They'd lost the game - not that the defeat was the hardest part of that evening. No, that honor belonged to the moment when he'd looked up to catch her reassuring gaze while walking toward the dugout and saw only a glimpse of her long hair blowing in the breeze as she jumped down from the bleachers to meet her boyfriend. The sight made his heart sink as his cleats grew heavy and he tried to settle with the knowledge that this was just how it was going to be now - she wasn't his. They were just friends.
Killian spent the rest of their last year of high school realizing how difficult it was going to be to accept that - but after three years in the minor leagues, two hundred miles of distance, and five years apart, he decided that maybe letting go of the golden haired girl from his small hometown was truly outside of his talent range.
But she was happy from what he could tell - and that was all that mattered, even if such a conclusion broke him into pieces.
He wasn't sure why he'd decided to take the coaching job at Storybrooke High when it opened up. The longtime patriarch and leader of the team, Marco Wood, had finally stepped down to pursue a well deserved retirement and when that announcement had caught his eye in the Daily Mirror - which he still subscribed to despite the fact that he now lived in New York - Killian had found himself with an odd desire to consider it. The sudden idea of returning to Maine was almost surreal. He hadn't crossed that town line in years and he'd certainly done his best to leave that life behind, but it was almost like a sign - and it wasn't like he had anything going for him since he'd opted to throw in the towel on his baseball career.
It wasn't much of a career anyway - several seasons of riding the pine and concrete in the minor league dugout for the New York Pirates, a relatively unknown team that rarely led anyone to the majors. Sure, the opportunity had allowed him to remain close to the game he had always loved, but it had pulled him away from the girl he probably could have loved if given the chance.
He'd likely never forget the night he'd told her he was leaving. The few tears she had shed and the image of her forced supportive smile didn't make up a fond memory.
He had managed to pick up a job for a local athletic magazine in the off season, his need to stay busy prodding him into being okay with reporting game scores and stats for sports he didn't know extremely well. The work was easy enough, but giving two weeks notice and moving out of his apartment one weekend in late February was even easier. It was probably all a bit impulsive - how he'd jumped at a chance to move back with very little prodding, especially when he had left Storybrooke in a very similar way only half a decade earlier. He couldn't help the way it just felt right and as he loaded up his car with a few sparse boxes and his old memories of home, he decided not to fight it.
It was a task that turned out to be rather easy once he settled into his new role back on that familiar field, fresh chalk lines and intricately moved grass a welcome view. The school's new principal - another town native named Archibald Hopper - was thrilled to have him there and made it known by updating the team's uniforms and equipment before the first practice took place in March. He'd even offered Killian an office….well, the small room attached to one of the abandoned locker rooms in the old wing of Storybrooke High. It was a quiet space and Killian found out instantly how much he valued that while he organized his things on the built in shelves and the old desk that rested near the single window.
There wasn't much to display - his few team photos from over the years, several small trophies, and a couple of baseballs signed by players he'd idolized as a younger man. He was sorting through his box of collected cards when his fingers fumbled over an old picture, one he'd almost forgotten about until that nostalgic moment.
It was her - well, them, and the faded film provoked an elated memory of the first summer tournament win he'd been a part of. The image made him chuckle softly - and not just because David had managed to sneak into the picture by jumping up behind them. Killian himself had been a sweaty mess when the candid shot had been snapped, his buttoned jersey half untucked while covered in dirt and grass stains. Emma looked brilliant, of course, with her hair woven into a loose braid but covered partially by a beat up baseball cap. She had one arm flung around his neck while her other hand held up a finger claiming they were number one. He remembered how he'd sure felt like it in that instance as she pulled him close, not caring that he was downright filthy after playing his heart out. He'd pitched two perfect innings and brought in a few runs with his triple in the eighth, but neither of those stats were the ultimate win of his evening.
No, that highlight had been the way she'd cheered him on all night and the way her face lit up when he'd winked at her while crossing home plate. Seeing her so proud and happy meant more to him than any victory.
He quickly dug an old empty frame out of the box he'd plopped down near his feet. Sliding the photograph behind the thin glass, he took one more glance at it before stationing it carefully on the second shelf with a sigh. It seemed like the proper place for the past to sit and remind him - or perhaps even haunt him. He wasn't sure which was preferable.
"Nice picture," a soft voice offered from the doorway. "I haven't seen that one for a long time."
Killian froze briefly, the air leaving his lungs in a surprised gasp as he worked up the courage to turn and face the words he hadn't expected to hear. He knew that voice though - even if he hadn't heard it for a number of years. It was the same one that played as the soundtrack of his childhood and the one he'd thought about more than he could ever admit. It was the one he had let slip away, but ultimately, it was the voice that had truly called him back here anyway. With his heart pounding in his tight chest, he spun slowly to meet the owner of the smooth tone and those gorgeous green eyes.
"Emma," he breathed, wondering if he sounded half as wrecked as he felt. "Hi."
Tagging some folks: @optomisticgirl, @xpumpkindumplingx, @laschatzi, @jennifer-morrison, @spartanguard, @teamhook, @kat2609, @thesschesthair, @timeless-love-story, @its-like-a-story-of-love, @shady-swan-jones, @kmomof4
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Garbage Crack Fic -Teatime/Stibbons (2)
Between the treatment, resurrection, and how draining his contract had been, Teatime slept a day and a half. He woke up with a start and only relaxed once he saw that, even though he had been moved to a proper room, the sword was still laid out for him. Only, now, it was joined by his freshly laundered outerwear.
Perfect, because Susan Sto Helit had to pay.
She'd killed him, of course, and that wasn't something that should just be let go. Far worse than that, though, was that she'd undoubtedly undone all of his brilliant work by then. The Hogfather was likely resurrected and back into place like Teatime hadn't killed him off, and there was no real chance of returning to the tower to set it up again. Everything would be like he hadn't even been there.
That would have been unforgivable enough, but then, then! She'd decided to dig up certain... aspects that he'd very much liked keeping buried. She'd put them out for everyone to see, and had even grinned and slapped him for emphasis. Frankly, death wasn't a good enough punishment. She needed to be humiliated. And, for that, he needed a plan.
Unfortunately, his body was somehow even stiffer than when he'd fallen asleep. While he wasn't in searing pain anymore, his back certainly didn't feel particularly functional. Just getting out of the cot and to the bathroom was an ordeal that required gratuitous use of the wall. He was in no condition to seek any kind of revenge, much less against an enemy of unknown ability. So, for then, he'd spend his recovery time conducting research
And, what luck, there happened to be a rather famous library right on campus!
His outerwear had been placed beside a set of day clothes, made of tragically cheap fabric in far too bright of colors. Evidently, he was expected to stay during his recovery (probably for observational purposes). And that would likely allow for some freedom of movement within the facilities. It wouldn't take much to sneak in, and...
Someone was coming. Teatime went for the knife that was no longer at his belt (what kind of day clothes didn't have holsters?). He prepared, uncouth as it was, to use his fists until he realized that it was the young wizard from the other day. Only then did he return to a more neutral stance.
"Oh, you're up," Ponder said, seemingly oblivious to what had nearly happened. "I had though you, ah, you might sleep another day. You were... really banged up."
Teatime gave him a wide smile, "I've always been very resilient."
"That's great. I'd... I'd just like to run a few tests. See how you're coming back and all..."
"That'd be fine. I'd love access to the library, afterwards. I don't have a lot of strength right now, but I could certainly read."
"I'll... I'll see what I can do. It really is the Librarian's call, after all, but I think I, ah... Or I think maybe we could get that to happen." He pulled a notepad out. "Let's start with your reflexes."
Teatime sat down, and let Ponder move his limbs this way and that. He let his spine be examined, mostly with fingers running down his back.
"You're, ah... You're well put together," Ponder said. "I guess it must be part of being an Assassin. Wizards don't get much time for that sort of work... And even if we did, we'd probably just spend it on another feast." His face was slightly pink, again, as he listened to Teatime's stomach with a stethoscope.
"I'd love the chance to read like wizards do, though," Teatime said. "There can be an unfortunate disinterest in research."
"It's here, too, I'm afraid. Especially with the holiday, they all just want to slack down to the main hall."
Teatime tsk'd. "This city is far too obsessed with Hogswatch."
"Thank you!" Ponder exclaimed as he scribbled down his notes. "It's just a solstice festival, but the world will end if we don't dedicate everything to it..."
"That's what I say," Teatime shrugged. "But my way of thinking rarely lines up with anyone else's."
"Same here. I think it can be a good thing sometimes, though." He closed up his notepad. "You wanted to see the library?"
"Yes, please."
*****
The Library was still rather empty, and likely would be until the new year where the majority of faculty and pupils admitted it was time to get back to work.
The Librarian enjoyed the break. His area was silent, truly for once, and books were always where they were expected to be. Though, of course, perfect order could get dull after a while, and he would take his time to watch the visitors a little more closely. Generally that only amounted to Ponder, or a student sent to look something up for him. But tonight...
The guest, as Ponder had referred to him, was not in and of himself magical. He had enough of an aura to be allowed to sit in the magical areas of the library, but it certainly didn't seem to be his own.
And Ponder had originally seemed ready to just drop him off there. But, when he heard his guest would be studying a topic he'd never tried before, he joined in covering a table with an absolute mountain of books.
They chatted excitedly as they filled page after page with notes. And, since they could hardly show one another things on opposite ends of the table, they took chairs closer to one another. And were forced to move closer again when their available space shrunk.
In what they would consider organic, within an hour they were shoulder to shoulder. Which, of course, led to an awful lot of accidental touching. Elbows bumping into one another, a hand on the shoulder while they looked over something the other had found, brushing fingers that lingered a little too long while they passed books...
And neither seemed to get it. Really, it was questionable if they even noticed they were doing it.
Just as it seemed that at least one had caught on, the guest gave a strangled cry and clutched his back. Ponder, in the mild panic he always lived in, looked at the Librarian in a desperate apology for all the books he'd have to re-shelve.
The Librarian waved them off, and rolled his eyes as they headed out. Leave it to Ponder to find someone as oblivious as he was.
*****
Laying on an actual mattress felt better. Or it would afterwards. For the moment his back was once again burning, and Teatime kept his face buried in the pillow.
"Here we are!" Ponder said, quickly, as he let the green cloud dissipate and grabbed a handful of the mixture. He ran a thick line of it down Teatime's spine, then started to massage it in.
"That feels really good," Teatime said, dreamily, as he let his head loll to the side.
"I'm glad," Ponder replied. "It's my own personal blend. Hex isn't, ah, it isn't good for the wrists..."
"Mm..."
It made sense that resurrection would not be a one-and-done sort of thing. Certain body parts were inevitably going to wake up slower than others. And certain body parts were far more eager to announce themselves than others. One in particular had a penchant for the dramatic.
Teatime's eyes, which had been drifting shut only a moment before, snapped open in concerned intensity. There'd been a twitch in the Library which was easily ignored, but now there was a growing heat. Being face-down on the mattress was nowhere near as comfortable as it'd previously been, and staying still nowhere near as easy. He realized, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that it was only getting worse.
He didn't want the massaging to stop, though. It felt incredible, and more so now that it almost felt like his muscles were being lovingly traced. But the whole thing was sending fairly urgent signals elsewhere. That was, likely, quite bad for a working relationship with someone who seemed to be rather useful.
Teatime tried to forcibly regulate his breathing and keep his hips still. But when Ponder was less than careful, and let his nails scrape along the skin, it sent a jolt through him that...
"I really should get to sleep," Teatime said, quickly.
"O-oh, sorry," Ponder said. He jerked his hands back, and to cover it up by quickly grabbed the bowl. "You really should... Well... I'll see you in the morning?"
"Sure."
"Great... See you."
When there was a reluctant click of the door latch, Teatime rolled over and slid a hand gratefully under his waist band.
It had picked a horrible time to wake up, which was the nature of the beast he supposed. But it did give him the recent memory of hands on his skin to concentrate on. And his mind could drift back to the faint smell of soap as Ponder had leaned over his shoulder to look at a picture, and the feel of the arm that'd been wrapped around his waist as the went back to the room...
In a way that he could convince himself was organic, natural, and meaningless, Teatime had a wonderful fantasy in his head to carry him through.
Elsewhere in the University, completely organically and meaninglessly, Ponder had the same.
Still elsewhere, the Librarian suddenly had the worst headache.
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hugee0715 · 5 years
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"I'll look back on this and smile because it was life and I decided to live it."
I read that quote on the wall of a trampoline park while standing next to the restroom, totally covered in sweat. I was waiting for my girlfriend to finish after our 1 hour of jumping around ended.
I was standing there, waiting for her. My girlfriend. The girl I mentioned so many times. I was there with her. In Manila.
On the 10th of April I went to the airport for the first time in my life. I had a ticket and a passport in one hand, a suitcase handle in the other. My brother wasn't believing that I was doing this. The sister he used to have would never do this. For fucks sake, she wouldn't even travel 2 hours to spend a weekend at his place for years.
But now, I was going on a 22 hour trip. 12k kilometers, spending 3 weeks in a place I knew almost nothing about.
10 hours later I was in Beijing. I went through all the checkings and I still had about 7 hours of waiting for my next flight. So I went to an information desk to get access to the wifi. I got a code, I logged in, it was all going very smoothly up until I opened Messenger and nothing happened. I guess all my excitement made me forget that I will be in China for 7 hours, where all kinds of social media that I am using in my everyday life is blocked. So I wasn't prepared and I couldn't do anything. No Facebook, no Instagram, not even Chrome and of course the app store wasn't working either. I managed to send out a few quick emails saying that I am safe and sound, but after a few minutes my gmail wasn't working either. I found myself completely cut off.
I tried not to worry, hoping that everyone would just go with everything as planned even though they haven't really heard from me ever since I boarded in Hungary.
So at 8pm local time I got on my flight to Manila, starting to hear more and more people talk in tagalog around me.
1 am came around and we landed. Stepping out, I felt hot and humid air suddenly hitting me, which compared to the cold and dry air of the plane was a bit shocking, especially because I was still wearing two jumpers and jeans.
I walked down the long, carpeted isles, pulling my little carry on case after me, holding the immigration paper I got on the plane tightly. I already filled it out and soon I was standing in a line, waiting for my passport to be stamped. I was prepared to be asked the usual "What's the purpose of your trip?" question, but the guy really did not stop there. He had tons of follow up questions, about who am I visiting, why, where did I meet them, where am I staying, where I'll be going. But in the end, I got my first stamp in my passport and I was one baggage collecting away from leaving the airport.
I made my way out, with my love on the phone, trying to figure out where I needed to go. My heart was beating fast, I was sweaty, struggling with the two suitcases and the phone. She was full of nervs as well, I could hear it in her voice. It was her mum who I spotted first, she was frantically waving at me from the upper level. I stopped, I was scanning around trying to spot her, she was saying she can see me, but even though I was looking, I didn't really see anything around me. It was all just noise and movement, nothing recognizable. When she was only a few meters away, that's why I laid my eyes on her for the first time. Phone against her ear, a big smile. The black turtle neck I love with jeans. It felt so surreal, I didn't even have the opportunity to freak out. I ended the call and waited till she came closer, her mum arriving shortly as well. There wasn't any of the dramatic things you see on the internet. No running and collapsing in each other's arms. To be honest that seems too cliché. As much as I knew this person better than anyone else, it was still the first time we were physically in the same place.
We went to the car where I met the rest of the family, her dad, brother and sister. I was stunned, speechless at first. I saw them so many times, I heard so many stories and now it was reality.
I sat next to the window on the left side, she was in the middle. Our shoulders were touching. I intentionally moved even closer, I wanted to feel as much of her as possible. The warmth, her smell. Driving through dark streets I never thought I'd see. I looked down and her hand was extended, her palm facing up, waiting for mine to grab it. I took it and soon her fingers wrapped tightly around it. A scene at the airport with running and crying and screaming? No, thank you. This was the best welcome I could ever imagine. So much better than any of that could have been.
Days went by fast after that. Soon her graduation came, on the 16th of April. On the day that marked us being together for a year and a half. We went to the Philippine Arena, the biggest indoor one in the world apparently, but you need that when close to 3000 students are graduating. It was long so so long, but seeing her in her toga, with the make up I put on her earlier made me too proud to notice that I was tired untill it ended at around 11 at night. We stopped to eat at a Jollibee again and then I fell asleep on her shoulder on the way home.
Our days together were full of comfort. No feeling of anxiety, no feeling of having to be a certain way. It was natural, we clicked like nothing else. We had our unspoken roles, working together, managing daily tasks. We cooked, cleaned, did our grocery. We were responsible for ourselves. And we loved every second of it.
I also learned many new things about her. She's taller than she claims for example. And also a lot more thoughtful than she ever made herself seem. The little acts of giving me a glass of water whenever she drinks or leaving me mouthwash in the cup after she used it. Getting me just the right amount of food on my plate and always knowing what to get me at places so I would like them. Waiting for me to get ready and helping me choose clothes. Being concerned about me getting burnt. Maybe half of those things are involuntary, but I don't mind that. It might even make it a little better.
She's the reason I never got scared for a single moment while I was there, no matter what places we went to, how late or crowded it was. I got to experience life like a local, all the filipinos might have been looking at me and seeing a tourist, a foreigner, but I wasn't feeling like one. It was home and now I feel homesick for a city I spent 3 weeks in. Coming back to Budapest was devastating, I don't know if I'll ever feel the same way about it. I used to think it's the best city, my happy place and now? It feels foreign. Like it was never really my home.
On the day I left my brother said that he's going to get a completely different sister back after the trip. I shrugged him off, but he was right. There's nothing I feel the same way about. Especially Ileana, my love for her changed tremendously. I used to be in love with the idea of what we would be like. I remember that almost a year ago, on April 16, 2018, I made her a video as a gift for us being together for half a year. I remember talking about how lucky I am in it. Lucky, because I'll get to fall in love with her twice. And I was right, I did fall in love with her once again. The core parts of her were there, her voice, her mind, her ideas and the amazing conversations. But they all got upgraded. They all showed how there's so much more to her than what a video call can show. The angles I've never seen before, all the habits that she has. And it swept my feet right out of under me.
Malls, lemonade, Inasal, basketball, rice, nuggets, AC, sunburn, late night car rides, flamingos, donuts, happiness. Those words will forever be connected to our days in Tandang Sora. Or at least till we can be together again. Because our relationship is not about being on the phone anymore, that's not us. Us is when we are together. And we'll be together again soon, I promise.
"I'll look back on this and smile because it was life and I decided to live it."
That quote from that bathroom still crosses my head multiple times a day. I decided to live when I met Ileana. I decided to live when I realized that I'll have to do things in order to keep her. I decided to live when I left on this trip.
This is life. And I'll keep deciding to live it.
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proofsaretalk · 7 years
Text
rapidly barreling toward that 1k mark
The title is not what this post is about. (cw: five pages of boring navelgazing)
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Sometimes, when I get really close to going to bed after staying up for far too long, I will say things like “What are you doing?” And I normally think about that as just my not-quite-totally-mentally-healthy ass’s way of saying “go to bed bro”
But somehow when I said it tonight the question sounded a lot more urgent. A lot more confused. A lot more like a question, in other words.
And I think best in writing.
So here are the basic facts:
I am very tired right now (4am)
I was (less) very tired about four hours ago
I intentionally chose to not go to bed four hours ago, 
After watching a really good SGDQ run.
I actually very much enjoy SGDQ runs.
But I did not spend the intervening four hours watching SGDQ runs.
Primarily because I knew I would not stay awake by doing so.
I more or less knew, when I made that decision, that I would be awake at 4am.
See 3.4.
I have been going to bed around 2-3am for the last couple days.
This schedule initiated by me staying up way too late on Sunday of last week, for reasons that were equally unreasonable but at least more familiar.
I need to be awake in 3 hours, or, at most 4 hours.
I have known for several days that I would need to be awake at 7am on Monday morning.
Less basic facts, with notably more reporting bias, probably:
The reason that I need to be awake at 7am on Monday morning is because I am going on a road trip with my dad and my roommate.
I am mostly going on this road trip because I want to spend more time with my dad.
And also because I want to signal to him that I want to spend more time with him.
Which I definitely feel like I have not, although I have had dinner with him for three nights this week; in no small part because I was in Montreal when he arrived and have not done a lick of work to help care for my grandmother while he was in town. 
In particular I don’t really care about where we’re going or what we’ll do there.
I intended to drive both ways— which I never told anyone that I was intending to do, which I suppose was good because I will certainly not do that now.
Maybe we’re approaching the actual reason I am doing this obviously stupid thing, Part I:
My main goals this summer are, in priority order
to get a fucking advisor, 
a.k.a. to work hard enough and deep enough on commutative algebra to determine whether it is a good idea to be Christine’s student, and
if so, to then decide whether I should work with Vic anyway.
to reach the 1k posts in 1k days goal with OTAM, 
which requires essentially exactly two posts per day every day for the remainder of the summer
which is, to an unbelievably strong level of consistency (like literally I do not believe it), four hours +/- 40 minutes of work.
that’s it
i fucking hate it when my family asks me “what have you been doing lately” because it’s like
I’M READING
I’M BLOGGING
THAT’S IT
Anything I do beyond this is— though it be, to some extent, necessary for keeping my sanity— something I perceive as an annoyance and do with a fair bit of guilt (which I do try to put off until after doing the thing, usually pretty successfully).
and you know what, yes, if I’m being honest, that includes spending time with my family
even though this is 110% my own damn problem and if I had locked myself in my room this week, my dad (in particular) would totally have understood
although he lives 1600 miles away, and is only here for two weeks, and his birthday is tomorrow, and I missed out on seeing him the first week because Montreal, because my dad is a pure cinnamon roll lol no but is (in particular) genuinely understanding about this stuff; the whole midwesterner guilt trip passive-aggressive thing is very much not his aesthetic
and also I really haven’t spent that much time with my family besides this week so. [ At most 3hrs/week previously ]
I have two blog posts scheduled for tomorrow and another one besides; that is, enough that I can go on the trip and wake up late on Tuesday and I won’t experience any interruptions
I was highly embarrassed that I had to miss the second Friday post this week
I spent a lot of time on Saturday working with the specific intention of having a large enough buffer to make sure that this did not happen again on Tuesday.
aka 4 blog posts
aka 12 hours of blogging, because the rate of 2hr/post only applies to the first two posts in a day, after which the evidence suggests (more on that below) that it’s a complete shitshow.
aka nothing else got done, which is relevant because
For the first time on our regularly scheduled Thursday meeting time, Christine actually gave me something to do — previously it was mostly entirely me being like “I’m reading the book, here are my questions”.
I have done essentially no work toward doing that thing.
See 3.4
See also 2.2 from the previous section.
I have never felt happy about the amount of time that I’ve been devoting to the algebra 
See 1.3.5 oh god this is becoming a labrynth isn’t it
Christine seems oblivious to this, or perhaps thinks that, since I bring it up every week, I am just trying to preempt any criticism she might make
which to be honest isn’t wrong but
I have experience with being advised by someone with fairly low expectations of me and yeah it drives me right up the fucking wall
and I am definitely keeping my eye on her essential silence w.r.t. progress
In particular, I don’t feel happy about the fact that I have been spending so much more time on the blog than on the algebra because the latter is clearly infinitely more important for my continued ability to support myself by doing the thing that makes me incredibly happy.
There are good reasons I have made this choice but I definitely expected that these would disappear after returning from Montreal
which they have, and hence my continued inability to spend time doing algebra is even more disappointing to me
despite the fact that new reasons obviously exist that are also obviously temporary since dad will leave on the 4th.
and that I also do strongly value my familial relationships and am extremely bad at showing this; and I understand that what I have chosen to do for the past week is a very shrewd calculation to maximize the number of people who have firsthand experience with my show of commitment (however obviously performative it may be)
to be clear, I do not know if it is obvious that it is performative
I do not even know if it is performative
The fact that my algebra assignment for the week came from Christine, and not from a vague sense of “you should probably finish this book”, adds a particular urgency to the task... 
...and what seems to be my inevitable failure to complete it, since I have only Tuesday and Wednesday; and Tuesday is the 4th of July so that might as well not exist, productivity-wise; and I still have to write the usual two blogposts for Wednesday so it’s not like I can cram a 14-hour session (which I have done before).
I do not know whether I am more concerned about potentially disappointing Christine or myself
(even though the former is so unlikely that it is almost certainly anxiety)
Okay that’s nice exposition but doesn’t actually explain why you’re awake at 4am (hint it’s 5am now), Part II:
When I walked out of Christine’s office on Thursday, I definitely did not think that I would be spending all of Monday, and essentially all of Friday, and a good half of Sunday, to be spent with family. (Of course, I still expected Tuesday to be shot.)
However, all of that was clarified by Friday afternoon, so I’ve had a couple days to mull on this.
I certainly did not make the decision to stay awake in hopes that I would get any work done.
In fact, if I am being honest, this was an intentional part of my thought process and I made the decision in spite of this fact.
What I did not consider is that, if I have to cancel the plans for today because I did this stupid thing, I certainly will not be able to fucking do anything tomorrow since I will have to sleep through everything. 
Dear God, the sun is rising through my window
I closed the blinds, whew
What I did end up doing over this four-hour period is mostly read career posts on math blogs, and reading PhD, with a little bit of SGDQ and a pinch of assorted internet clicking thrown in.
It is perhaps not obvious to anyone else that this has the feel of a self-care session to me.
The only thing that I could possibly have been consciously self-caring for, though, was the expenditure of energy at my dad’s birthday party today.
(Anxieties about the Christine reading only started appearing in the later phases of this period.)
And surely sleeping would have been equally good dramatically better self-care.
I definitely have a sometimes-useful tendency to want to do a single thing for as long of an uninterrupted period as possible, up to and including completely destroying my sleeping rhythm (which accounts for much of the ‘sometimes’ in ‘sometimes-useful’).
The part of me that likes to make needlessly grandiose statements and read into shit too much, is squawking about how I probably feel like I had expectations for how I would be spending my time (I did), and feel like I’ve been forced into a time-consuming alternate direction (which, again: no), and therefore making this stupid decision is a juvenile way of exercising control by breaking from what would probably be “expected” of me (i.e. fucking going to sleep before a day-long road trip)
I am currently convinced of this but also
I am even more tired than when I started writing this post and
I don’t trust my tired brain to be right about anything of this scope (based on extensive experience with incorrect sleeping decisions).
That’s all I got.
No alternate theories.
So, shit, that’s gotta mean it’s right, huh?
Lambda
Actually, continuing on the sleeping-as-control riff, I am quite experienced with (and, if I may say so, fairly good at) managing an awful sleeping cycle. Perhaps the stupid decision was not about controlling how I spend my time but rather more direct: demonstrating control in my life via crisis management w.r.t. sleeping.
This is actually a testable theory, at least in the sense that if I have something similar come up soon, I could replace “not sleeping” with “playing Starcraft”
[ it’s not perfect because I would also not be sleeping in that setting, but then the not-sleeping is a side effect rather than the actual display of control; and I think that I could (after the fact) actually distinguish between those two. ]
(and arguably, this has already been played out in prior incidents, but I am way too tired to examine whether similar issues were at play in those cases.)
And finally
I am equally concerned with the fact that this post has cost me two hours of sleeping as it has cost me two hour of algebra work,
which is to say, not at all, in either case
although I do perceive very little of value was gained by my writing it
which is a very confusing triplet of true statements, to me, at this moment.
I may have to cancel the road trip.
Perhaps this was my subconscious goal all along.
But I’ll go to sleep take a power nap and we’ll see.
If your sorry ass thinks that I’ve been writing this shit for two hours without theorizing how I could sanitize it into an OTAM post then frankly you don’t know me at all.
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