#tbh half the time when thinking about it I forget that gabriel asked her to do it at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

obsidianfr3sk · 4 years

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Humon + all the questions 👀👀👀👀👀👀

*Cracks her knuckles* My time has come

100 Otp Questions (✨Humon edition✨)

1. Who loves flower crowns more? Simon. I think that during most of his childhood and teen years he tried to repress a lot of his more "feminine" interests so when he became an adult and a little more confident, he started to kinda obsess over them 2. Who is the one who likes to cuddle? Hugh 3. Who has awful taste in music? Hugh (? HE JUST SEEMS LIKE HE HAS SHITTY MUSICAL TASTE, OK????? 4. Who is the meme lover? Simon, and Hugh always goes like "I don't get it" 5. How did their second date go? Better than the first one:) 6. How many children do they want/have? They always wanted to have a lot of kids 7. Who hides the weapons? Simon 8. Who is the better dancer? Hugh. Simon's super clumsy, but it’s kinda adorable:) 9. Do/Did they have a theme wedding? No, they went to the courthouse after a few weeks after they defeated Ace Anarchy and had a small ceremony with friends (they were still mourning Georgia u.u) 10. What do their parents think of them dating? Well, according to my headcanons (? Hugh didn't actually meet his parents (because Mr. Everhart didn't want t prodigy son) but Simon lived with this dad! Mr. Westwood didn’t like Hugh that much because he thought he may be a bad influence:) But after they started dating he started to notice Simon was so happy with him, and at the end of the day, it was all that mattered. But yeah he still didn't like Hugh that much lol his son was too good for him (? 11. Are they a super sappy couple? When they're drunk, yes (? 12. How did they get together? Simon was the introvert Hugh, an extrovert, adopted 13. Who asked the other to get married? They asked each other at the same time:) 14. Who stays up too late and makes stupid jokes? Simon. 15. Who is the nerd? B O T H 16. Who knows the most obscure facts? Hugh: *drinks water* Simon: you know... drinking too much water can actually kill you. Hugh: *nervously drinks water* 17. Who makes the other a flower crown? Simon, but one day Hugh tried to make one for him (it was a little bit... ugly, but Simon liked it) 18. Who likes to read? Simon. 19. Who bothers the other person while the other person reads? Hugh 20. Who tutors the other? Hugh 21. Do they have similar taste in movies? Yeah, for some reason I think they both like Marvel movies lol 22. How do their personalities complement each other? Simon is more sensitive, calm, and proactive, while Hugh is more dense, social, and reactive 23. How do they tell everyone that they are going to be having a kid/adopting a child soon? If you've read my fic Catch Me if I Should Fall, you know I believe Georgia asked Hugh to take care of Adrian if something happened to her. So when something did happen to her lol I think Hugh told Simon about the conversation they had, and Simon accepted without hesitation. Simon was the one who told the rest of the team, and honestly, nobody objected, because they knew they were the most capable of taking care of a child. 24. Who has better fashion sense? Hugh:) 25. Who will punch someone out if they are rude to their partner? Both 26. What songs do they sing together in the vehicle? OKAY SDAJFASFJD hahaha just imagine (? Adrian's on the car with them and Simon just starts singing at the top of his lungs "Stacy's Dad" but instead of saying "Stacy" he sings "Adrian". Adrian is super embarrassed because omg the cringe and he goes "dad tell pops to stop" while Simon is "ADRIAN'S DAD IS ACTUALLY PRETTY RAD HE'S ALL I WANT AND I'M OBSESSED JUST A TAD". So Hugh looks at him dead in the eye and says: "OH ADRIAN CAN'T YOU SEE YOUR DAD JUST THE GUY FOR ME" and then they both go "I KNOW IT MAY BE BAD BUT I'M IN LOVE WITH ADRIAN'S DAD" and Adrian jumps out of the car 27. What other couple would your otp get along with? I think they would get along with Tamaya and her husband:) 28. Who likes to prank the other? Okay so dskbsajfdjsd I think Simon, but like, he would make sexual jokes (? and Hugh would be like "I don't know how to respond to that". But he likes them xd 29. Who is the one who loves to take pictures? Both. 30. How would they react if they found out they were soul mates? Sweetie, they already know it 31. Where would they live? It's not like they don't like living in their mansion, but they would be more than happy if they lived in a small house:) As long as they're together 32. What type of dragon would they own, if they could have one? *googles types of dragons* so apparently Quetzalcoatl is considered a dragon... yeah, they would own a Quetzalcoatl :))) 33. If they were both vampires, what type of vampires would they be? Okay there are too many types of vampires what the actual fuck askdhsjakfdj but yeah, I think they would be your standard vampire lol 34. What would they dress up as, for Halloween? THEY WOULD DRESS UP AS EACH OTHER SDFBSHFBJ The Dread Captain and Chromium Warden (? 35. Can they name each other’s favorite food? Yes!!! Hugh knows Simon favorite food is pupusas (a traditional Salvadorian dish) (yes I headcanon Simon as half Salvadorian fight me) and one time he tried to cook them for him but he almost set the kitchen on fire. Ah, and Simon knows Hugh's favorite food is apple pie:) 36. Do they have pet names for one another? Hugh: *calls his husband dear/hun* Simon: *call his husband dude, amigo, bro, captain, and sometimes love, when he's in a good mood* 37. How do they cheer each other up? "I love you" "I know" "And I know you know. I just wanted to make sure you remember. Do you wanna talk about it?" "No" "It's okay. I'm here for you tho." "I know. And thank you" 38. Do they show a lot of PDA? At first, Simon had problems with PDA because fucking homophobes are everywhere, but now he hugs Hugh in public every time he can. And Hugh doesn't have a problem with it:) 39. How old were they when they got together? My headcanon is that they were 16, almost 17:) 40. Who is the one that would bring the puppy home? SIMON ASAJDBJSD and Hugh would be the one who's like "i don't want animals in this house Simon you have to find him another home i'm the patriarch and I've spoken" but then two months later he's like "Simon the dog sleeps in the bed tonight he's a puppy and there's a thunderstorm he will get scared:(((" 41. Can they do yoga couple’s poses? Some of them 42. What is their song? YOU FELL ASLEEP IN MY CAR I DROVE THE WHOLE TIME BUT THAT'S OKAY I'LL JUST AVOID THE HOLES SO YOU SLEEP FINE Tear in my Heart, by TOP 43. What does their room look like? LIKE A PINTEREST MOM ROOM LOL 44. Who would be the one to kill zombies while the other keeps them grounded? Hugh kills the zombies, Simon keeps him grounded 45. Who makes the other breakfast in bed? Añis, I think both of them:) 46. Who loves kids more? Simon. Hugh likes his kids and kids sometimes like him, but they're sticky and loud and just... no:) 47. Do either of them have a crazy ex? Does Ace count? 48. What are their favourite colours? Simon's favorite colour is purple and Hugh's is blue 49. Who likes to cook? Both, but Simon cooks better:) 50. Who is the forgetful one? I think Simon lol 51. Does either of them know how to fight? They do!! Like you cannot be a superhero without knowing how to fight lol. But I think Simon is more of thinking before every movent and Hugh tends more to using brute force 52. What do they do for Valentine's Day? They send each other flowers to work and have a romantic dinner at their house, is a tradition. 53. Who swears more? When they were younger Hugh used to curse more, but when they got older, Simon started doing it more than him 54. Who has the better comebacks? Simon. Sometimes Hugh is just... mean with his comebacks 55. Who would start a fight with another parent at a bake sale? H U G H (he's a soccer mom trapped in the body of a gay superhero) (Hugh: FIGHT ME TINA!) 56. Who reads buzzfeed? Both, but Simon does it ironically, Hugh doesn't (? 57. Who is the hopeless romantic? Both:) 58. Do either of them know how to do a handstand? Yes, Simon. 59. Who can rap better? S I M O N (One time Hugh was having a rap battle with Tamaya and Simon went “GO WHITE BOY GO”) 60. Do either of them want to go sky diving? No, they're too old for that 61. What do they usually text about? The kids, work, "i'm gonna order pizza" "all right" "but hurry up u r paying and i'm hungry", and "love ya" 62. Who is the dramatic one? It depends xd but I think Hugh lol 63. Is either one confrontational? Have you seen Hugh in Supernova?? the guy is batshit crazy i see why yall don't like him tbh 64. What is their favourite cuddle position? Spoon!!! (those basic bitches) 65. Who are their favourite musical artist(s)? JUAN GABRIEL AND SELENA QUINTANILLA 66. What are their parenting styles? Well, for what I saw in the books, they're not really super strict, but I think Hugh is more strict than Simon:) 67. Who would be the more laid back one? Simon. He would sneak his kids a cookie after Hugh told him not 68. Who listens to more vulgar music? I think Simon, but he just listens to it when Hugh’s around because he goes like the lady from this vine and is hilarious 69. Do either of them have secrets even the other doesn’t know? Hugh doesn't like papusas that much:) 70. Who is their go to couple for a double date? Tamaya and his husband! 71. Do they tip the waiter/waitress on their date? Yes, they're nice:) 72. How do they work out a fight? I think they give the other their space to think and calm down, and then they talk about it. 73. Who brings home an illegal pet? SIMON BUT BECAUSE HE DOESN'T KNOW THE PET IS ILLEGAL UNTIL HUGH TELLS HIM 74. What side of the bed do each of them sleep on? Hugh sleeps on the right side and Simon on the left side 75. What is their favorite photo of them two together? A candid photo Georgia took a few weeks after they started dating. They are at Simon's basement, shyly holding hands and looking at each other completely smitten 76. Who takes longer in the bathroom? Hugh lol 77. Who has more songs on their ipod? Simon!! 78. What movie did they first see together? Matilda xd 79. What do they like to see each other in? Their supersuits (? 80. Who makes jokes during inappropriate times? Simon skdfhjsdjhs 81. At what age do they discuss the possibility of children? Right after Adrian was born they started to think about it, but never really talked of it until they were like 24-25. 82. What do they love about each other the most? They both think of each other as the bravest person they have ever met. 83. Who is the one that sees the big picture, while the other focuses on the small details? Hugh sees the big picture and Simon focus on the small details 84. What would they write on their partner’s social media for their anniversary? Something really cheesy lol 85. Who is bad at math? Simon 86. Who googles everything? Hugh to win arguments, Simon out of anxiety 87. Who does stuff on impulse? Hugh (fucking obviously) 88. How do they comfort each other when they are helpless to do anything about the situation? I think they just... hold hands. Like “maybe we cannot do anything about this situation, but if the worst happens, we’ll be together and that’s the only right thing in this world right now.” 89. What is an inside joke they have? "rEnEgAdEs???? More like RENEGAYS" 90. Who makes the other smile with almost no effort at all? Hugh 91. What is their favourite holiday? Christmas!! 92. Who is the one that is calm and collected while the other is angry and destructive? *Supernova flashbacks* 93. What is their favourite board game to play? Pachisi 94. Who accidental sets something on fire? Hugh 95. Who has the car ready while the other is robbing the store? Hugh has the car ready and Simon robs the store 96. What artist/group did they go to for their first concert? SELENA QUINTANILLA 97. Who sleep talks? Simon 98. Who is the more social one? Hugh 99. What are their karaoke songs? Don't Go Breaking My Heart, Dreaming of You, and Te Quiero Tanto (but Simon is the only one who can sing it; he's been taking Spanish classes because after his mother died, he forgot all his Spanish. He does what he can) 100. Who would get up on stage and make a fool of themselves just to make the other laugh? Hugh

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #humon #hugh everhart #simon westwood #forgive my grammar mistakes xd #im kinda tired #hope you like my headcanons #they take a while lol

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collidingxworlds · 3 years

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✩ Interview with a Mun ✩

➊ How many ships do you have on this blog?

(( For now I have three confirmed romantic ships on this blog: Crowley & Aziraphale ( @omniishambles ), Dean & Castiel ( @awaywardboy-andhisangel ), Sara & Ava ( @xstabcastx ). I’ve other partners who are open to ship with me, but it’s still a work in progress! ))

➋ Have you ever roleplayed with someone that just left an unforgettable impression on you?

(( On this blog (and counting also the two RP I put together to create the first version of this one), yeah, I had the luck of running into a few great RP partners. With three of them I’m still interacting, which is a blessing for how I see it (which would be @paradiseturnedhell {even if we mostly write on my sideblog for the moment}, @omniishambles and @awaywardboy-andhisangel ). There have been another couple of people, but I lost contact with them a long time ago. ))

➌ Which of your ships on this blog is the fluffiest?

(( Crowley and Aziraphale without doubt. It’s just in their nature to be, even if, of course, there are other shades to their relationship xD ))

➍ Would you say you’re a decent roleplayer or do you have any self doubts?

(( Technically speaking, both. I know that I’m a decent writer generally speaking, which however doesn’t automatically mean that I’m a good RPer. ))

(( I doubt my writing quite often, but never as much as I doubt my ability of being a decent RP partner. It’s harder at times to write RPs, because you need to get in sync with the person you’re writing against and, if said person has a specific style / way to RP that’s different from mine and wants to stick to that, it can become a real struggle for me to conform to it. At times I really have the feeling that I’m failing at it, so...that definite fuels my doubts a lot. ))

➎ Have you made lots of friends on this blog?

(( Not a lot, also because I’m not much of a people person and I tend to have few friends in general, but I made a few. Not counting the ones I interact with on my sideblog, I’d say 4. ))

➏ What’s the one thing you especially love about roleplaying your muse(s)?

(( I guess I have to list one per each muse xD ))

Crowley: I love writing his inner contrasts. The need to put on a certain facade and pretend to fit into a certain crowd, while he is nothing like them. And the need to know and understand and care on one side versus the fear of the consequences.

Dean: He has this dual struggled inside himself too, but unlike Crowley, Dean wants to fit in the mental image he has been forced to build for himself. And that comes clashing with his more sensible sides, not to mention all the trauma he has to bottle up because that’s how it should be done.

Five: I live that he’s a very complex character, but what I enjoy the most is writing his sharp edges. Sarcasm, cynicism, violence. I never forget where they are sprouted from, because I don’t want to reduce him to that, but it doesn’t make them less fun to write.

Gabriel: He’s a bit like Five, tbh. I love to write his malicious trickster persona, but I must say that what really wins me over is his extremely complex relationship with his family and with whom he used to be. It’s hard to try and put the pieces together after such a long time. Some have been lost, some have changed their shape. Plenty of possible scenarios.

Michael: My fave thing about writing Michael is that I get to write three characters in one (even if, of course, they still have their fundamental traits in common, because they are the same character): pre-Fall Michael (who is more malleable, more prone to emotion, even if he’s still a strict teacher and commander); post-Fall Michael (who has reduced himself to what he thinks being his mission, isolating himself from everyone else for millennia till the End comes); post-Cage Michael (I follow my own HCs for that, who is someone who has lost everything, including a purpose, and has to struggle to find his place in a world that’s suddenly foreign to him);

Sara: What I love about her is that she isn’t just someone who has survived the hardships life has put her through, but she has always become a better and stronger person because of her trauma. And now she is there for others and still willing to go through hell and back for the sake of what she thinks it’s right. She is an inspiration to me in that sense too.

➐ Are there any people you’ve been to afraid of approaching?

(( No one specifically, ‘cause I’m just pathologically bad at approaching new people in general. I find it very hard to make the first move, so I usually wait for the other person to come to me, which most of the times doesn’t happen. I’m trying to work on strategies to overcome the issue, but...I’m still bad at it. ))

➑ Give us a rough estimate: How much time have you spent on your graphics? (icons, theme, banners, promos, etc)

(( Too much considering the poor results. I try not to waste too much time on graphics. I mess around a bit, but once I find something that works and looks half-decent, I tend to stick to it. I’m the kind of RPer that prefers practicability over fanciness. I’m here to write, not to make graphics. If I had to give a rough estimation...I’d say 3-4 hours? ))

➒ Got any memorable threads on here? Care to mention a few?

(( This blog is relatively new and considering that it’s also slow activity, I haven’t gone super far with my threads yet. I can mention a couple of threads I had when I still had my muses on separate sideblogs, tho! In no particular order: ))

A small and sweet thread for New Year’s Eve (2019) I had with @awaywardboy-andhisangel

A still ongoing thread I started on my Crowley’s sideblog with @omniishambles and that’s basically an extension of the Bus Scene in the show (with the two dorks being dorks)

An AU I had built with @paradiseturnedhell back when she wrote Crowley too (yep, two Crowleys)

The concept of an AU I had come up with and started with @gaily-gavotte

(( Aisde from these, I currently have quite a few threads I’m really excited about and that looks absolutely great. I have no doubt that they’ll end up in the list of the memorable ones! ))

➓ What were some of the most frustrating moments you had with your muse(s)’ interaction with another muse?

(( I have a couple of examples in mind, even if there’s surely been more. ))

(( One was when I was writing with this one person and they focused completely on their character in their replies, to the point that I had the impression that they didn’t even read my answers, or barely skimmed through them. I had to be the one to make the thread flow and I found myself having to write a particular point in three different replies in a role before it was acknowledged. I’m not writing with that person anymore, because I have little free time and I really don’t want to waste it on people who don’t care about my side of the thread, but it still irks me thinking back about it. ))

(( The other thing is starting a thread, even after having plotted a bit, and having the other person continuously dropping it without a warning. I put muse and effort in all my replies and seeing them disappearing into the void every single time eventually got on my nerves. Especially since the other person kept coming to ask me for more interactions and I think we both knew that they would have ended up dropping them after a few replies. Again, that’s not the sort of thing I like to use my little free time for. ))

[meme template]

#(( mun scotty's personal log ::ooc:: ))#(( about the mun ))#long post #long post cw #(( munday ))#(( beam me up scotty ::queue:: ))

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burninghoneyatdusk · 4 years

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The only thing good about this last season of the100 is I had a new appreciation for Raven. Girl you should have had your own spin off. Forget this BS about the prequel. But, I still wouldn't have watched it if Jason was producing so moot point.

Hmm tbh I disagree with this. To be fair, I bowed out after 7x12 but from what I hear, aside from taking the test, what did she actually do this season? Maybe that’s unfair because her character arc in s7 was certainly better than s5 & s6, but I didn’t think she stood out this season like Octavia, Diyoza, Gabriel, Murphy, Emori, Indra and even Echo did.

I think I loved Raven a lot in S1-4 and they never really got back to that woman. You can say this about most t100 characters, but there were a lot of missed opportunities for her character in terms of story lines in the second half of the series. I think I never got past the strange OOC antagonistic, self-righteous Raven they tried to pull in S6. They tried to correct that with Raven understanding the consequences of her actions and acknowledging Clarke’s strength in S7, but to me it came off as her asking Clarke to comfort her during her time of need when Clarke never even got an apology.

I do think LM did a great job playing Raven over the years. The faults were those of the writers, never with how she was played. Despite some of the personal issues I have with LM, there’s no denying she’s a great actress. I’ll be curious to see if her new show takes off.

#raven reyes #the 100 #the 100 s7 #the 100 cast #asks #anon

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echoes-of-realities · 5 years

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it takes so much tremble to love

* * *

[Fanfiction] // [ao3]

Summary: “So where are we going for this date?” Brittany asks.

“It’s a surprise,” Santana says, grinning at the thought of what she has planned.

“Is it a carwash?” Brittany deadpans.

Santana gasps and glares at her in mock insult. “As if I’d take you on a date to a carwash.”

Brittany shrugs. “Why else would you pick me up in a dirty truck?” she teases.

Or: Now that Santana knows that this whole thing they’ve been doing since the summer was dating, she has the perfect plan to take Brittany out on their official first date where they both know that they’re girlfriends.

Notes: Guess who’s finally back :)

I just finished the last semester of my degree (which is So Weird) and wrote this to get me back into the Groove of writing again! I’m planning on finishing off the last seasons fic next before I move onto Longer fics!!

The excerpt and title is possibly my all time favourite quote from Andrea Gibson. (I have half a mind to do a Small Series based on my favourite quotes by her tbh……)

///

call in your royal heart

tell it bravery cannot be measured by a lack of fear

it takes guts to tremble

it takes so much tremble to love

every first date is a fucking earthquake

— Andrea Gibson, “Royal Heart”

///

Santana borrows her cousin’s truck because he owes her for that time she didn’t tell his mom that he went on a bender last Easter instead of coming to dinner with the family; Santana never forgets when people owe her favours.

It’s this dusty old pickup with fading red paint and mud up the sides from a surprise autumn rain a couple days ago. The windshield is cracked in about four places and Santana worries a bit because she’s pretty sure that it will completely shatter if it gets hit another rock. The passenger door sticks more often than not and the backseat behind the driver’s side has a long rip in it that Santana would rather not think about. Teenage boy garbage covers the floor and Santana grumbles as she cleans it all out, wrinkling her nose as she finds a pair of panties that definitely don’t belong to her cousin. She carefully extracts them with her hands wrapped in paper towel and seriously debates burning the fabric off and replacing it for tonight. She eventually decides against it (but only because they don’t have a fire pit in the backyard) and adds using industrial level disinfectant to her mental To Do list. She stares at the plastic dancing Hawaiian girl bobblehead stuck to the dash and immediately decides it has to go. Not just for her intended purposes, but because its possibly the worst thing in the entire truck, including Jane Doe’s panties back there. She’s just tossing the bobblehead in the garbage when she realizes the time and curses, haphazardly finishing up before hurrying inside to get ready.

Her mom is in the process of pulling on her shoes to head to work for the first night shift of her rotation and Santana gives her a cursory greeting as she heads further into the house, having every intention of immediately jumping in the shower so her mom can’t question her.

“Where are you going with Gabriel’s truck?” her mom asks as she’s halfway in the clear.

“Oh,” Santana says blankly, pausing in the living room. She kind of forgot about this part. “Uh, Britt and I are, um—”

Something’s looking out for her because her mom’s phone rings at that exact moment, giving Santana precious few seconds to think up a solid idea.

Her mom sighs as she hangs up on a telemarketer and shoves her phone back in her pocket, turning back to pulling on her running shoes before glancing up at Santana expectantly.

“Britt and I wanna go to the mall and movies. And then to sleepover at her house later,” Santana says easily, lying right through her teeth, “And since you’re working tonight and Brittany’s car is in the shop, Gabriel said I could borrow his truck since he’s out of town with his girlfriend for the weekend.”

“Okay,” Maribel says skeptically, having listened to people lie at triage for most of her adult life. She knows what teenagers are like, but she’s running a little late and doesn’t have time for an argument with the most stubborn teenager she’s ever known right now (and, okay, the stubborn thing is probably Maribel’s own fault, but she ignores that fact). At the very least Brittany will be with her daughter, and Maribel trusts her with Santana’s wellbeing because she has a good head on her shoulders; has every since her and Santana got lost at the mall when they were eight and she went and found an employee to help them while Santana just cried into Brittany’s shoulder.

She sighs and checks her watch. She does really need to get going. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Maribel finally concedes, stepping forward to give Santana a quick hug and kiss on her forehead.

“Yes, mamí,” Santana says obediently, having no intention of listening.

Maribel shakes her head as she turns to leave, listening to Santana scamper down the stairs with suspicious eagerness.

Teenagers.

Santana forgot about the mud until she’s heading out the door to pick Brittany up, cursing under her breath because she definitely doesn’t have time to take it through the carwash. Which means she’s going to have to pick up her girlfriend for their first official date—the first one where they both know it’s a date because now they both know they’re dating—in a dirty old truck.

She debates calling a taxi, but dismisses the idea immediately. This whole date thing hinges on Santana having her own vehicle, even if it’s muddy. She tosses her stuff in the backseat on the passenger side, out of sight of curious blue eyes, before quickly rounding the truck. She’s not going to be late or anything, but she hurries because it’s been three whole hours since she last saw Brittany and that’s far too long.

As she drives to the Pierce’s house, she resigns herself to the fact that this whole first official date thing is going to happen in a muddy truck.

She just hopes Brittany doesn’t notice.

Brittany notices.

Santana spots her heading out of the house and quickly bounces out of the driver’s seat, stumbling a little because she’s not used to exiting vehicles so high. She greets Brittany with a shy smile because Brittany is beautiful in her jeans and sweater and beanie and that knowing smirk of hers. Santana makes a small fool of herself as she yanks the door open and gives Brittany a mock bow when the door finally cooperates, delighting in Brittany’s bright giggles.

She only got out to open the door because she knows the trick to getting it unstuck and Brittany doesn’t, and maybe because she wants to check Brittany out a little bit, but not for any other reason at all. Definitely not.

(Okay, fine, maybe the real reason is that she’s trying to be a gentlewoman because that’s what girlfriends do, right? She’s still new to this whole thing and she can’t think of anything worse than all those smarmy teenage boys doing the same thing on the first date and expecting something in return for being polite but this— This is different. Because Brittany is already her girlfriend and Santana’s pretty sure that this is, like, the chivalrous thing to do or whatever and— And, well, the quick kiss Brittany gives her cheek kind of makes Santana want to follow Brittany around and open all her doors for her forever, cause, that part is kind of really, really nice.)

Once Brittany’s settled Santana lets her close the door herself because she knows that Brittany hates it when people close car doors for her, ever since that boy in sophomore year who did just that and caught her foot in the door. Brittany had to miss dance class for almost two weeks because of the bruise and the boy started to skip English class because of how much Santana glared at him.

Santana rounds the truck and climbs into the driver’s seat and smiles softly at Brittany. She really really wants to kiss her senseless right now because she’s so adorable in that beanie, but it’s still light out and Santana can feel the familiar churn of fear in her stomach at the thought of the Pierces seeing her kissing their daughter in their driveway. She forcefully pushes the fear away and pulls out of the Pierce’s driveway, knowing that everything will soon fade away in Brittany’s comforting presence.

“So where are we going?” Brittany asks, and Santana forces herself to not even glance in Brittany’s direction because she just knows she’ll cave and tell her with just one look at Brittany’s killer pout.

“It’s a surprise,” Santana says, grinning at the thought of what she has planned (and ignoring the lingering butterflies because, seriously, Brittany’s already her girlfriend, you’d think they’d calm down just a little).

“Is it a carwash?” Brittany deadpans.

Santana gasps and glares at her in mock insult. “As if I’d take you on a date to a carwash.”

Brittany shrugs, her blue eyes sparkling bright and teasing in the evening light, the sunbeams streaming in through the window behind her turning her hair to spun gold. “Why else would you pick me up in a dirty truck?” she teases.

Santana groans and resolutely doesn’t glance at Brittany, knowing she’s failing to fight her smile as Brittany giggles and continues to tease her from the passenger seat.

Brittany waits until the exact moment they pass the Thank you for visiting Lima sign before casually reaching over to grab Santana’s hands in hers. She brings it up to her lips for a quick kiss before settling their clasped hands in her lap, absently playing with Santana’s fingers as she fiddles with the radio.

Santana’s pretty sure she’s never loved Brittany more than she does in that moment.

Brittany grows more curious the further they drive from Lima, and Santana is secretly glad that Brittany has such an awful sense of direction because otherwise she would definitely guess where they’re going. Santana just grins as Brittany turns confused eyes on her once they’ve been driving for almost forty minutes, sealing her lips and stroking the back of Brittany’s hand with her thumb.

It’s not until the lake comes into view that Brittany sits up a little straighter, glancing sidelong at Santana with wide eyes. “You didn’t,” she gasps.

Santana shrugs. “My aunt has a cabin out here,” she explains, biting back a smug grin for planning possibly the best official first date in the history of the world, “She doesn’t care if we use it.”

Brittany shakes her head, eyes glowing softly as Santana turns off the highway and chicken trails across the backroads she still remembers from childhood trips out here. “You,” she says simply, shaking her head. Santana knows that Brittany really wants to kiss her now, but she’s driving on dirt roads now and trying to make sure she takes the right turns. Instead, Brittany just lifts their still clasped hands and presses a long kiss to Santana’s knuckles, never taking her eyes off the girl in the driver’s seat. Santana spares Brittany a glance, smiling widely and knowing that, despite how many mistakes and stumbling steps she’s taken over the last couple years, she definitely got this one right.

Santana parks to the side of the driveway, under a tree that still has most of its orange and red leaves clinging to its branches, and out of sight of the main road; she’d rather not advertise that there’s anyone here to random passerbys.

“We’re here,” Santana says unnecessarily. Brittany unbuckles her seatbelt and before Santana can blink she has a lapful of her girlfriend and soft lips pressed against hers. Santana sighs at the welcome feeling, having not been able to kiss her girlfriend since Brittany picked them up for school that morning. Brittany’s hands are cupping her jaw to tilt her face for a better angle and Santana just submits to Brittany’s direction, sliding her own hands up Brittany’s thighs and around to her back until she can scratch softly at Brittany’s skin under her shirt. Brittany shivers and kisses her harder, both of them lost in each other until a horn honking startles them apart.

It takes a moment for them to realize it was Brittany who accidentally scared them, and they both giggle against each other’s mouth as their lips find each other again.

“Hi,” Brittany mumbles against her mouth.

Santana’s laughter vibrates their lips as she slides her hands along Brittany’s back, revelling in the stretch of warm skin under her palms. “Hi,” she manages to mutter in between kisses, “I missed you.”

Brittany laughs against her jaw as she trails kisses across her skin. “You saw me, like, all day.”

“I know,” Santana whines, guiding Brittany back to her mouth, “But—”

“Yeah,” Brittany whispers just before recapturing her lips, “Me too.”

It takes them long moments to finally break away from each other, and even longer moments for them to untangle and get out of the truck. The autumn air is unseasonably warm and the leaves crunch under Santana’s sneakers as she hopes out. She kind of has a feeling that this date will probably be perfect.

She’s already collected the duffle bag of their clothes (they’ve been best friends—and now girlfriends—for so long that they always have necessary stuff at each other houses, so Santana just packed for Brittany and delighted in how domestic it felt) from the backseat by the time she realizes that Brittany is still sitting in the passenger seat, staring down at the door handle in confusion.

Santana chuckles at the look on her face, slinging the duffle bag strap over her shoulder before she comes to Brittany’s rescue. The door finally yanks open on the fourth tug and sends Santana stumbling backwards a little bit.

“Well that was rude,” Brittany says to the door. Santana just grins and slams it shut, locking the truck before grabbing Brittany’s hand and leading her to the cabin. The path winds around to the front door that overlooks the lake, and Brittany stares around in awe at how pretty the place is; Santana just stares in awe at Brittany and tries to fight the butterflies trying to crawl up into her throat.

Santana’s hands are shaking and she doesn’t even realize it until Brittany stops them. She gently guides Santana to face her and takes both of Santana’s hands in hers. They halt on the dirt road; the absence of gravel crunching under their feet makes the peaceful night sound shockingly silent. A small tendril of fear races up the back of Santana’s neck as she realizes how horror-movie-y this could get.

“You’re trembling,” Brittany whispers. She stills Santana’s hands and presses their foreheads together, just letting Santana breathe her in until she’s settled again. “Why are you nervous?” Santana shrugs a little, sighing when Brittany presses a soft kiss to her lips.

“This is like, you know, kind of a big deal,” Santana murmurs when they pull apart.

“We’ve been on hundreds of dates before,” Brittany soothes, releasing Santana’s hands only to slowly trail her warm palms up and down Santana’s arms.

“I know but I never— I mean this time it’s—” Santana struggles to articulate herself before shrugging and dropping Brittany’s gaze. “This time I know that for sure and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

When she finds the courage to meet Brittany’s eyes, they are so warm and soft that Santana melts into them. Brittany lifts one hand to cup Santana’s jaw, tilting her head back until she can kiss Santana long and gentle and deep.

“I love you,” she whispers as soon as she pulls away, “so much.”

Santana swallows thickly and smiles, amazed that this girl is somehow inexplicably and completely hers. “I love you, too.”

Brittany’s smile is small but her eyes shine, bright and adoring, in the evening sunlight. “Tonight will be perfect because we’re both here, so just breathe and relax, okay?”

Santana nods and quickly presses a chaste kiss to Brittany’s lips before drawing back and taking one of Brittany’s hands again.

“You know,” Brittany says conversationally as they continue down the driveway, “you couldn’t fuck it up even if you did take me to the carwash.”

Santana sputters a laugh and elbows Brittany’s side, right where she’s the most ticklish, and grins as Brittany giggles and tries to dance out of the way.

“Careful, you’re going to give me second date ideas,” Santana warns.

Brittany glances up with a grin so hopeful that Santana falls in love all over again. “I can’t wait.”

Brittany gasps as they walk in the front door, taking in the living room that’s decorated like it’s the height of the nineties. “It’s so tacky I love it!”

Santana giggles and directs Brittany to the bathroom when she asks. She used to spend summer weekends out here with Gabriel and their other cousins while her mom worked and Gabriel’s parents went on business trips all over the country. Her and Gabriel used to share a room when they stayed out here and they were by far the closest out of all their cousins. Sometimes she misses those days when everything was simple and her greatest wish in the world was that she could bring Brittany out here too because she would have loved the lake.

Now, even after so much has changed, she finally gets to fulfill that greatest wish from when she was a kid, and she’s almost giddy with excitement.

Gabriel already stocked up the fridge for her with food and alcohol. She grins, glad that he was dumb enough to let slip why he wasn’t coming home for Easter last spring and that she was smart enough to save that little tidbit of information until now. He thinks she’s just throwing a party with some of her friends not bringing her girlfriend out for a romantic date night, so there’s probably too much of everything in the fridge, but Santana figures she’ll just leave it for Gabriel when he inevitably brings his girlfriend around next weekend.

The cabin is their cool aunt’s, the one who is always travelling and bringing back wild trinkets and even wilder stories. She’s cool with her nieces and nephews using the place for whatever they want so long as it stays in one piece, and while Santana has never taken advantage of it before—because the Lopezes only have one car and she can’t imagine her mom would be cool with her taking their old Honda Civic all the way out here without adult supervision—she’s glad that her aunt gave all the nieces and nephews keys to this place years ago, and even more glad that her and Gabriel are the only ones still in Lima that are old enough to use this place.

She’s still looking through the fridge when two strong arms wrap around her and a chin finds its rest on her shoulder. Santana grins and sinks back into Brittany’s embrace, tangling their fingers together. “Whatcha doing?” Brittany asks, kissing Santana’s jaw as they look through the fridge together.

“Figuring out supper,” Santana answers. Brittany hums and Santana wonders if she adores how domestic this feels too. “I didn’t tell Gabriel exactly what I was doing out here so he apparently stocked the fridge for a party.”

Brittany giggles into Santana’s ear before nuzzling it with her nose. “I’m good with sandwiches.”

Santana grins and nods. “Good, because we’re having a picnic.”

Brittany gasps and wiggles in excitement behind her, and Santana just grins harder.

“I wanna go swimming,” Brittany announces after they’re finished eating.

They’re sprawled on the grass at the end of her aunt’s lawn, the retaining wall just a few feet away to separate the grass from the sand cooling in the setting sun. It’s still surprisingly warm, but her and Brittany are still cuddling close together under the spare blanket Santana found in a closet. It smells of mothballs and dust, but it keeps their body heat trapped between them and makes the evening feel even warmer. The sun has already dipped below the far shore of the lake in the distance, turning the trees miles away completely black in the growing night, the pink of the setting sun on the water already faded into inky darkness.

Santana laughs and shakes her head. “The water’ll be fucking freezing, Britt-Britt. Plus we don’t have swimsuits.”

Brittany throws the blanket off her shoulders and stands up so abruptly that Santana falls over into her now vacated spot. “Who says we need swimsuits?” she teases, and before Santana can respond there’s a shirt covering her head. She sputters as she emerges from beneath Brittany’s growing pile of clothes, her protests getting caught in her throat as she takes in the sight of Brittany in the moonlight, her skin glowing like porcelain and her hair wild and staticky.

Santana’s about to say something else—or swallow her tongue, most likely—when a bra hits her in the face. She groans and hears a splash, scrambling up to stare at the ripples disturbing the otherwise smooth surface of the lake. Brittany comes up laughing and gasping for air a couple feet from the end of the old wooden dock, turning over to float on her back with a satisfied chuckle.

“You’re going to catch hypothermia and die, Britt!” Santana shouts, “And then I’ll have to somehow explain to your parents why you got naked in the middle of nowhere! And then I’ll die of embarrassment!”

“Then you better come and warm me up before that happens,” Brittany calls back, all seduction and suggestion and Santana has no clue how she lost control of this date so quickly.

Santana curses under her breath, but already knows she’s going to join Brittany because she’s not strong enough to ever say no to her. She grumbles to herself even as her face flushes under Brittany’s appreciative wolf whistles. The cool night breeze makes goosebumps rise up all her body over before she’s even touched the water that she knows will be absolutely freezing.

“Only you’re crazy enough to jump into a lake in November,” Santana complains as she hurries down to the dock, half-way hoping that Brittany will climb out and she won’t have to actually jump in the water.

Brittany eyes her appraisingly and smirks knowingly. “And only you’re crazy enough to join me.”

Santana shakes her head and barks out a laugh before bracing herself. Brittany starts cheering her on like the complete goof she is, her voice echoing across the silent lake around them, and then Santana is jumping through the air and cursing herself for actually doing this.

She comes up shrieking and sputtering. “Fuck that’s cold!”

Something brushes her lower back and she panics as she spins around and ends up shoving Brittany underwater in her terror. Brittany emerges unfazed but Santana’s eyes are wide and guilty. “Jeez, Britt, I didn’t mean to—”

Brittany stops her with sure hands at her waist and warmth in her eyes. Santana shivers but it has nothing to do with the freezing water. “I knew that would happen,” Brittany grins easily.

Santana sucks in a sharp breath and gets a little lost in Brittany’s eyes, dark and inky like the twilight sky in the pale light of the moon. “Still,” she says absently, trailing her fingers across Brittany’s collarbone and wanting to cover it in kisses. She realizes with delight that she can, and is thankful Brittany’s such a strong swimmer and treads water for them both as Santana ducks forward to nip gently at Brittany’s skin. Brittany gasps above her, hands sliding to hold Santana more firmly as she keeps their heads above water. “Sorry,” Santana mumbles against Brittany’s soft skin.

Brittany makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat in acknowledgement. Santana smirks into Brittany’s neck as she trails her lips up to Brittany’s ear, finally having regained control of the date.

Or, at least she thinks she has until Brittany’s hands slide up her back to her shoulders and dunks her under the water.

“Brittany Susan Pierce you are so dead!”

Brittany just giggles as she flees.

Eventually, they both grow accustomed to the chill but Santana manages to coax Brittany out of the water before they turn into icicles.

Both of their teeth are chattering by the time they get back to the sprawl of food and clothes on their picnic blanket. Brittany grabs the one they were using to cuddle under earlier and wraps it around her shoulders before opening her arms to Santana.

Santana doesn’t hesitate to step into Brittany’s embrace, their cold skin against each other doing nothing in terms of warming them up. “S’cold,” Santana mumbles, burying her face in Brittany’s chest.

Brittany hums and hugs Santana tighter. “We could have a warm bath,” she suggests.

Santana shakes her head and snakes her arms around Brittany’s torso. “No tub. Hot shower and fire?”

Brittany kisses the top of Santana’s head. “That sounds perfect. But we’ll have to actually move for that.”

Santana sighs and shakes her head, nuzzling against Brittany and dropping a soft kiss to the top of her breast. “Don’t wanna,” she whines childishly.

She can feel Brittany smile against the top of her head and it makes her feel warm inside—she’s still fucking freezing on the outside though. “You go get the shower running, I’ll clean up here.”

“But this was my date,” Santana protests half-heartedly, “I should be the one cleaning up and—” Soft lips on hers cut her off as Brittany quickly soothes her worries.

“And you did all this work already,” Brittany whispers as she pulls back, “So it’s my turn.” Santana sighs and concedes, letting Brittany wrap the blanket more fully around her before bending to grab the picnic blanket and wrapping it around herself. “Now go,” Brittany teases as she smacks Santana on the ass, “I expect there to be steam coming out of that bathroom when I get there.”

Santana just giggles as she hurries back to the cabin.

The shower ends up taking longer than probably necessary because, once Santana’s fingers aren’t completely frozen, she kind of can’t keep her hands off her girlfriend, which is totally okay because Brittany can’t either.

They dress up in the pjs and Cheerios hoodies Santana packed. Brittany makes them hot chocolate because she makes it the best, and Santana goes out to start the fire. Her aunt has two fire pits, one down in the grass and one on the deck surrounded by smooth wooden benches. She opts for the one on the deck and hunts for cushions in the storage box beside the house. She pulls out the fluffiest cushions and pillows and arranges them in the corner of the benches, still close enough to the fire that they’ll be nice and warm, piling the blankets she brought out on top. There’s roasting sticks hidden in the box too that Santana pulls out and sets on one of the other benches, hoping that Brittany doesn’t notice them. She finds dry wood around the side of the house and grabs a couple logs and stuff for kindling that’s tucked in beside the logs.

The fire is warm and strong by the time Brittany wanders out onto the deck, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in each hand and a bag of marshmallows under the other. Santana pouts as soon as she sees Brittany’s treasure.

“Those were supposed to be a surprise,” she whines.

Brittany chuckles and holds the mugs away from her body as she leans in to place a long, soft kiss against Santana’s lips. “They were,” she promises, “But I figured this would save you a trip inside.”

Santana sighs and concedes to Brittany’s logic and kisses. “I guess that’s fine,” she mumbles. Brittany laughs and pulls away. She sets the mugs down and crawls onto the cushions, pulling one blanket around her shoulders and stretching out so Santana can settle between her legs. The pass the mugs of hot chocolate back and forth as they settle and Santana pulls the second blanket over their legs, both of them deciding to save the marshmallows for after they’ve finished their hot chocolates without having to say a single word.

“This is nice,” Santana says as she sinks into Brittany’s embrace, but what she really means is I wanna do this forever.

Brittany just hums in agreement and tightens her arms around Santana. They sip their hot chocolates and watch the fire dance, gossiping and making fun of their classmates and stealing chocolatey kisses.

“I’ve been thinking about coming out,” Santana says suddenly, and her whole body tenses for a moment in Brittany’s arms until she feels a soft kiss against her temple.

“Yeah?” Brittany murmurs, and there’s so much patience and no pressure in the single word that Santana breathes out in relief.

“Yeah,” she whispers, watching sparks fly high into the sky, a flicker of defiant brightness against the darkness. “Not to— Not to everyone. But to— To my mom,” she says quietly.

Brittany lifts a hand to brush Santana’s dark hair to the side, her lips finding the skin of Santana’s neck, fire-warm and smooth. She presses a long kiss there before nuzzling her nose against the hinge of Santana’s jaw. A tension melts out of Santana that she didn’t even realize was there.

“And maybe, like, Mercedes,” Santana finally continues. “And I think— Gabriel would be— You know.”

Brittany sighs, soft and content, against Santana’s skin. “I’ll be right there with you,” she promises quietly.

“Yeah?” Santana whispers, her voice cracking a little.

“Always,” Brittany promises, “My brave, brave girl.”

Santana sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out slowly. Most of the time she doesn’t feel very brave, but with Brittany’s arms around her she feels a little bit bigger, a little bit stronger, a little bit more like the person she thinks she could be. “I’m glad that you’re insides match your outsides again,” Brittany admits quietly, “That you’re starting to show everyone your awesomeness.”

Santana sighs and snuggles further into Brittany. “Well, with a girlfriend like you I’ve got be pretty damn awesome.”

Brittany snorts and kisses the top of Santana’s head. “Jerk.”

“Your jerk,” Santana says cheekily.

Brittany rolls her eyes fondly and pinches Santana’s side, causing her to spasm and giggle in surprise. “Yeah,” Brittany finally says when Santana tips her head back to grin up at her, “my jerk.”

Santana’s eyes soften and she knows Brittany can see the sincerity and gratitude in them. She’s overcome with love for this girl holding her, with the fact that she’s her best friend in the whole world, with the fact that they can switch from serious to goofy and back again in the span of a few minutes, with the fact that Santana loves her with her entire being.

With the fact that she’s finally able to love her and be loved in return without the fear and the self-hate and the shame of sophomore and junior year; in fact, loving Brittany just might be the one thing that she is the most proud of in her whole life.

Brittany leans forward and kisses Santana firmly, upside down like Spiderman, and Santana can feel Brittany’s smile all the way to her bones.

Santana is only half awake as Brittany coaxes her up to stumble to the bedroom. She manages to find the duffle bag and locate her toothbrush, sleepily brushing her teeth as she waits for Brittany to finish putting the fire out. Brittany joins her a couple minutes later, far more awake than Santana is. She tickles at Santana’s elbow and gently shifts her to the side so she can brush her teeth too.

Santana smiles dreamily as she finishes, wrapping herself around Brittany’s from behind and nuzzling against her shoulder blade, making brushing her teeth decidedly more difficult for Brittany. She doesn’t complain, just pats at Santana’s arms as she leans forward to spit and finish up.

She guides Santana back to the bedroom, flicking off lights as they go, her hands warm and firm with intent against Santana’s waist, and Santana yawns and desperately tries to wake herself up more.

“I’m sorry I’m so—” her apology is interrupted by another yawn, making Brittany giggle as she guides them onto the bed, “sleepy.”

Brittany ducks her head down from where she hovers above Santana, pressing a trail of sucking kisses along Santana’s jaw. “I’ll wake you up,” she promises. Santana smiles and lazily runs her hands down Brittany’s back.

She has no doubt about that.

Santana wakes up to blonde hair in her mouth. She sleepily swats at her mouth to get it out and immediately curls further into Brittany’s side, yawning against her neck and smiling when Brittany grumbles in her sleep and tugs Santana closer, tangling them up in each other even more.

It takes her a moment, to remember where they are because neither of them have curtains that ugly. Her aunt is awesome and always brings her cool stuff from her travels, but she has godawful taste in patterns.

Brittany seems to sense Santana is awake far too early, because she turns further towards Santana and nuzzles into her hair, sighing out a deep breath and tightening her arms around Santana so she can’t escape.

Santana grins at the move, because as if she’d ever want to leave Brittany’s embrace. The sun is only just creeping up the sky and they don’t have to be back in Lima until the afternoon when her mom will wake up before her next night shift start to worry, so Santana just sighs and closes her eyes, nuzzling into Brittany’s bed-warm skin.

She can’t wait for thousands of mornings, just like this one, where there’s no worried parents to deal with.

Except they’ll have better taste in home decor.

#brittana #brittany pierce #santana lopez #glee #brittana fanfiction #glee fanfiction #my writing #story: it takes so much tremble to love #I'm literally so excited to get back into non-academic writing again now that I have free time again #I hope I haven't lost my touch for creative writing because it's been Months LOL #also this fic spawned from that andrea gibson quote above but I listened to their 'Honey' to get the Mood!!

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chiseki · 5 years

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Figured I’d make this an intro post, since I’m pretty much using this alternate url as an “out” url compared to my usual vagueness.

I’m Joshua. Yes, that matches the sidebar, so it’s not really surprising here.

And that would surprise an entire two people following my main blog that know me irl because the rest were previously informed. Maybe three people, I forget if the last one is on tumblr or not.

Which is, by the way, ““““““““fun”““““““““

Yup, having like three local friend circles that had relations to each other outside of myself, and only one of them being in the know is fun.

You can basically stop reading at this point, because from here on out is just gonna be a massive time rewind to.....jeez, fuck if I know when, my childhood? I promise there will be time skips, we don’t need that mess played at normal tempo. (Also some funny stories after the giant gap in the text, if you want to scroll for that).

Most of this story is actually located in college, but the only real indicator (aside from having a general dislike of dresses) was way back when I was in all of second grade--apparently I was so damn insulted I burned all these facts into my memory--and an older kid was brought into the classroom, gave us this cool sales pitch about do we want to learn to shoot a bow, go camping, build campfires, etc

and then was like “OH YEAH THIS IS THE BOY SCOUTS IT’S BOYS ONLY”

I was so hyped lol.

Wound up being in a mediocre girl scout troop later, and my brother obviously got directed into boy scouts. At which point I got to find out that their camping trips were mostly getting rained on and finding black windows and getting taught woodworking by a dude missing a chunk of finger.

So more suffering than child me would have expected, but they still got to build fires and go REAL camping and shoot bows and rifles and shit.

Meanwhile, in girl scouts, we went to this one set of cabins every year. We never stayed in the damn cabins, because someone would find A Bug in there, or a spider, and then someone ELSE would have the same issue, and no one wanted to be in a cabin alone let alone be the only one in the cabins at all, and we always wound up sleeping in the air conditioned lodge that was visible from the damn cabins.

Except the one year where we went to a different camp, stayed in the legendary caboose, and there was a bat sleeping on the outside of the window so no one wanted to sleep there except me.

My scout group was weak.

I miss the cookies, though.

Anyway, due to not being forced into gender-targeted toys and getting to play with whatever the fuck I wanted, I also have jack shit for anything resembling an early warning sign aside from the above.

Actually, scratch that, I was not really a fan of dresses. I mean, this was fair in general, since they were usually scratchy, didn’t fit my arms/shoulders right, were designs I had no say in, and everyone would get on my case if the dress might get even a LITTLE dirty. Had some skirts I liked in middle school, but even that was a mess of having to wear tights because my genes have never resulted in anything resembling a thigh gap.

And I was like, constantly trying to play with the guys in grade school. And they’d periodically get that “NYEHHHHHHH GUYS ONLYYYYYY” shit going on. That was never not infuriating tbh.

Flash forward to high school, still basically left to my own devices. Only indicator here was that I was just tickled fucking pink whenever I heard that I either passed at cons or was at least tossed in the “maybe.......?” zone.

Flash forward to college. I honestly don’t remember what set me off on thinking about it, but started eyeballing my gender with a microscope. Unfortunately I couldn’t apply a litmus test like sexuality, so there was a lot of “uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhfuck” going on.

Actually, I think part of it was that on the forum I hung out on, a lot of the old regulars had assumed I was a dude until a childhood friend had dropped a pronoun several times in succession & asserted its correctness, which then led to a discussion along the lines of “whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat”.

But yeah, started testing the waters.

Also tried going to a LGBT+ club like, once. With the gal I was either dating at the time or was about to be dating, my memory is shit tbh. “HEY SO HOW ABOUT WE ALL JUST COME OUT TO EACH OTHER, A BUNCH OF STRANGERS <33333333″ still freaks me out, honestly. I get why it’s generally done, but like, no thanks. But I was horrendously obvious in ducking about the gender question and she totally called me out on it later in private lol. Also got me my first binder, but I digress.

Anyway, basically spilled on “I’m.....probably..............? a dude...........? jsyk??????” to my immediate friends, which was met with a lot of “.....YEAH ACTUALLY THAT MAKES SENSE” and a “hang on I need a dictionary........ok I get it”

I think I was the least smooth part of anything resembling a coming-out just due to like, me not wanting to have to tell people to do things for me? It’s something I find extremely awkward, like I know it’s that horribly stereotypical dating thing of “what’s wrong, bby, what do I have to do” “I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO TELL YOU WHAT TO DO” but.

And that’s an entire digression about how my relationship with my mother often included me saying a lot of shit I had to say convincingly, but didn’t mean at all, and probably led to me having fuckall faith in what people say, most especially when under a forced prompt. I could do an essay on that, but not here.

Which, admittedly, I’m gonna rewind here because I think it’s funny in hindsight, but it means the dictionary reaction went like “SO...........I’M.............TRANS?” “What?” [thinking this is pushback on the idea] [PANIC MODE] “UH” “Like, literally, what does that word mean, I've never heard it in my life.” “OH. WELL. Heh. Uh. That internal reaction I had was embarrassing then, oops.”

Anyway.

Then the collective action was, “well, have you picked a name what do you MEAN you haven’t picked a name, we can’t just run about calling you by your deadname after all that”

And I tossed some names out, that I’m not going to list, because they were just fucking awful. So I got interventioned and the method became throwing names at me until they stuck.

Adam? Nah I knew an Adam and I can’t unassociate with that

Noah? Violin teacher’s third kid was named Noah. Same issue with Gabriel and Caleb.

Benjamin? I fucking grew up with a Benjamin he would kill me.

you get the idea.

And those were like, actual reasonable rejections. At least half the time I was just like “I DON’T LIKE HOW IT SOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNDS.” Take, for example, Josh. I 1) knew one in high school and he was a piece of work and 2) I just, inexplicably, don’t like how the word sounds.

Which is part irony and part masochism that JoshUA stuck.

I mean, that name had pre-existing connotations for me. I had played..........a game.........in high school. And given that my options were pretty shafted to Stereotypical White Boy Names if I didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb, some positive(?) pre-existing connotations were going to be needed.

Incidentally, I had a v. sweet trans girl offer me her deadname, which was a cool name, but just, like, didn’t fit me in particular so. She also picked her name by RNG tournament, with the top 10 baby names for her year being the competitors. Which was neat and worked well for her, but I know I would have just re-run the fucking tourney if I didn’t like the winner lol.

But anyway, continuing on to a less flowery story. I’ll add some blank lines so it’s skippable. No need to set off every other person with gender issues here.

Decided to come out to my family. Apparently time fuzzed down my memories of being devoured by mosquitos outside while my parents were trying to decipher that their kid was holding hands with a girl in the back of the van and that girl had been planned to sleep over that night, and despite the fact that booth teens wouldn’t be jumping to sex that fast nor had the equipment to make a kid between them....it was Reason For Concern like a straight couple sharing a bed.

I mean, my mom was convinced that anything touching the nether regions was SEX and PREMARITAL SEX was EVIL. But I digress.....again.

So. I tell them. And the reaction ranged from “well ok I mean you’ve always been weird” (thanks, bro) to “uh I guess my last name’s odds of getting inherited just doubled........?” to “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME”

Yeah. That last one was word for word. Some stuff was thrown, lots of crying (”I CAN’T EVEN DO MY MAKEUP AND IT’S YOUR FAULT”)--both of which were not my doing, though I got shocked(?) into my own set of tears iirc.

I think I set a speed record for climbing back into the closet. Like, a week later, everyone was pretending it never happened. I sorta emotionally cut ties with my mom at that point--kept it civil, but Did Not Want to discuss my life or friends at all with her or in any way that would get back to her.

So obviously, no one in my family knows I go by Joshua. If they asked, I would tell them, but lo and behold, zero questions, they never brought it up again, etc. And I’ve been very careful about not letting that knowledge spread, not putting it on the internet in a way that connects back to my legal name, being primed at any point to pretend “Joshua” is a mutual friend and to not respond to that name if someone accidentally calls me by it.

Incidentally, during Yet Another Family Counseling that was at least performed at an individual level this time, my mom apparently told the counselor that she thought she handled that well. Last I checked, making the situation about yourself and doing the whole “woe is me, the mother, with a child like this” shpeal was not “well”.

And I mean the WHOLE shpeal. If you’ve ever had the misfortune to see the posts by parents of trans kids that wax soliloquy about losing their child and mourning their “death” (especially the ones that aren’t all “but I got a new kid!”) like, the ones especially cut from the same cloth that would be like “my child is autistic but ~I~ am the inspiration for waking up in the morning” like no, your kid is the inspiration for dealing with you.

And if anyone is wondering, this is basically the Midwest Stereotype for....LGBT, interracial dating, etc rejection imo. Seemingly ok with it, but NO WAIT HANG ON, NOT MY CHILD. Like, I legit had trans kids explained to me (albeit without terms for it) at a relatively young age by my mother and yet. “X exists but not in our good christian neighborhood” attitude. Ugh.

So where was I? Hmm, yes, funny Joshua stories. Ok I have like ONE story. One of my friends that was in the know finally got me to play Trails in the Sky. Now, this sucker has a chunk of text lead-in with a ~mysterious~ boy that young Estelle’s father has brought home, and the whole discussion skips his name, ending on “my name is....”. Then it time-skips to present day, finally casually dropping this dude’s name, which, obviously, is Joshua.

My friend did not tell me this.

No warning, nada. Only Estelle had really come up in conversation.

And then we collectively dragged another friend into the abyss with us, except he wasn’t in the know. We also had him streaming his playing sessions when our schedules coincided, which led to--because of a shitty accuracy stat--him yelling (as we did) “JOSHUA!” frequently in combat.

I debated on just responding “Yes?” randomly one day in the most casual closet-exit possible. Then procrastinated by deciding to just be out with it at the end of the first game since he’d also played twewy.

Some of you have probably started to eye my avatars with judgement in your hearts. That’s fair.

Anyway, we had forgotten about another character that practically had his name, so at least I had someone to share my weird feelings with.

And then, he started the second game, and I didn’t hold back on responding “yes?” every time “Joshua” was used as an interjection.

Also because of that one post about biblical names, I will respond to any use of “Jesus”.

#chiseki talks about chiseki

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puckish-saint · 7 years

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hiya~ just passing by and thinking about reaper76 (no reader insert) and their pretended marriage au 😏 whatcha' thinking 'bout that love? p.s. just wanted to tell you that your writing always bring smile on my face, the way you have with words captivated me from your first posts and i don't think i will ever forget your style (just really love your humour the jokes in it work every time) (although i find your blog only when you started writing overwatch fics i wish i found you sooner)

(my jokes work, thank god. You have no idea how long I’ve been chewing on that one, waiting for someone to tell me if my attempts at humour land. This really made my day Also Fake Marriage, yes pleas.Because just, hnnngh. Gabe more or less reluctantly teaming up with Overwatch after it turns out he’s been set up/lots of misunderstandings/shenanigans. But he and Jack have been drifting apart for so long and even though both technically know they’ve been played out against each other, knowing it and acting accordingly are two very different things. They fight, they argue, they can’t stand being in the same room and it’s worse because both remember they used to be inseparable.So, shit happens and they have to pretend to love each other. They have to dig deep under all the baggage to find that affection they used to hold for each other, and what’s scary is that it’s easy.The first morning Gabriel shovels six spoon fulls of sugar into his coffee cup, hesitates, then just upends the whole damn sugar bowl into his coffee, Jack doesn’t have a problem hugging him from behind and kissing him good morning.And when Jack loses horribly at some video game because he’s too busy admiring the scenery (”look at those trees, Gabe, they’re all handcrafted. Every one of them. Look at the trees.” “Will you please look at the giant venomous spider instead?”) Gabriel laughs like he hasn’t in ages.

I will go down with that trope tbh, and because I have no restraint, I wrote just under 2k words which may or may not be the beginning of a multichapter fic I’ll be putting on AO3.

Gibraltar base in low energy mode creeps out everyone. The lights are low, turning longhallways into twilight suffused tunnels with no end in sight, entireportions of the base void of life and activity. Only the dormitoriesand kitchens still have full power, a warm haven surrounded bymonsters in the dead of night. Everyone deals with the creepiness intheir own way. Lena drives her accelerator to its limits, skipping inand out the darkness as fast as she can. Mei asks a friend toaccompany her, whereas Hanzo plain refuses to go.

Lúcio talks.

“I’m here one time and theymake me go to the damn locker rooms to get some trivial shit nobodycares about,” he mutters under his breath, chasing away theoppressive silence. “First time in months we see each other and Ibrought them all souvenirs, but they’re all like, oh Lu-lu can youdo us a huge favour and get this random shit from our demon cellar,and if you get eaten do we get your skates?”

He turns a corner and comes face toface with a demon. Black holes where the eyes should be, a being ofpure darkness melds from the shadows to take his soul. Lúcio’scomplaints stick in his throat, hiding just like he wants to be. Theshadow seems to stare right through him. Then it moves.

“Gabe! Puta merda, you scaredthe crap out of me.”

Gabriel chuckles deeply and the grimreaper hunting for his innocent soul becomes the latest addition totheir ragtag bunch of misfits. They fall in step together, Lúciomuch more at ease now that he has someone tall and strong to protecthim from Overwatch’s version of a haunted house.

“Wimp,” he says good-natured.“We’re needed in the conference room. Something came up.”

“What, now?”

“No, the next Saint Patrick’s day.”

In the beginning Gabriel’s sarcasmput him off, but by now Lúcio has learned to appreciate it. Theyspend more time together than most anyone on base, seeing as hismusic is what’s slowly but surely healing Gabriel of his specialproblem.

“Your skin hurt again?” he asks,gesturing to the mask he wears again. Lately he can go mostly gowithout, but every now and then the degeneration flares up again andforces him to protect himself. Gabriel shrugs.

“It’s nothing compared to what itused to be like.” he says.

“Still. I can write you something tohelp, okay?”Gabriel argues only a little and by the time theyenter the conference room he has convinced him. Half the team hasgathered, including Fareeha through video conference from Cairo.

“... spotted them twice coming in,but they have an alternate route for leaving. I’m on it right now.”

“Good work, Amari.” Winston turnsto face the team. “We have eyes on Vishkar’s top suppliers. Idon’t need to tell you this op could make or break our effortsagainst them. Yes, Lúcio, you’ll be on the team to take them in.”

Lúcio has barely opened his mouth andnow grins, leaning back as they watch the low-res pictures Fareehamanaged to take of the couple they’ve been after for months.Vishkar’s increasingly unsavoury activities rely almost completelyon these two people, elusive as they are efficient, supplying Vishkarwith everything from stolen technology to weapons. Whatever thecorporation needs, they can get it. And now Overwatch knows wherethey are.

“We need to send in a strike-team,”Jack says once they’ve gone over the bullet points. “And quick. Idon’t suppose we can get Miss Song on such short notice, but withmyself, Lena and Fareeha we can move quickly enough to evade a drawnout fight. Lúcio should stay back until we’re well into it. Ifthey spot him before-”“Hey,” Gabriel barks. “Who died andmade you boss?”

“I don’t see you contributinganything of value.” Jack shoots back with just as much venom.

“You wouldn’t let anyone get a wordin edgewise, golden boy.”“You act like I’ve beenmonologuing for hours, it figures you have to make up something to beupset about-”“You don’t even hear yourself speak, doyou?”“Guys? Stop fighting.”

Both Jack and Gabriel fall silent underLena’s soft but firm rebuke. They won’t look at each other, sitwith crossed arms through the rest of the briefing. Two teams will goin, one lead by Fareeha closing in on their targets, the other leadby Reinhardt blocking off their escape. Winston reminds them to atleast try and bring them in alive for interrogation.

A few hours later the team sets out.

A few hours after that, a furious duetof Amaris relays the mission to Winston.They’re speaking over eachother, curse the sky green and look one wrong word away from becomingphysically violent.

“-completely disregarded theplan-”“-charged in there like madmen, fighting each other,like they didn’t even see all those damn turrets-”“-Reinhardtkept shouting at them to listen but they were too busy with theirpissing contest-”“-had to double back and bail them out, TeamB got pinned down by drones-”“-targets almost got away, if ithadn’t been for my daughter, we’d be back to zero-”

“-can’t work with those two, theycompromised the mission, the team, themselves-”“-likechildren in a playground, no professionalism-”“Alright,alright!” Winston interrupts holding up his hands to protecthimself from the Amari wrath. He doesn’t want to know what Jack andGabriel had to hear before they called. “I’ll talk to them. Inthe meantime, what about our targets?”

The targets are secure and brought tothe base and surprisingly accommodating. They have no loyalty forVishkar and eagerly share everything they know in return for a deal.Jack and Gabriel are taken off the mission roster for the time being,although both had to be persuaded to stay at all, ready to walk outafter this latest fiasco that proved to them trying to work togetherafter everything that happened is a moot exercise.

“We used to joke they could read eachother’s minds,” Reinhardt says while they wait for Winston andAna to finish up with the intel they gathered from their targets.“You have never seen closer friends.”

Lúcio looks up from his tablet to giveReinhardt a look of pure doubt.

“Hard to imagine, I know” Jessesays, smoking despite everyone’s subtle and not so subtle-nods tothe no-smoking rule. “But it’s true. Took the UN almost twodecades to push them apart, and that’s sayin’ somethin’...”

Lena makes to answer but is interruptedby the arrival of Winston, followed by Ana and, surprisingly, Jackand Gabriel.

“Thought we were benched.” Jackvoices everyone’s thoughts.

“Something came up,” Ana repliescurtly and loads their info up on the main screen. “We got ourtargets just in time. They were ready to retire and Vishkar promisedthem new identities and a safe home.”

“If Vishkar made them disappear, we’dnever have found them,” Lúcio says and then whistles when Anabrings up a picture. “That what I think it is?”

“Jannat, Vishkar’s top-secret gatedcommunity. It’s their magnum opus, located an hour’s drive fromUtopaea. The families of their top executives and scientists all livethere. It’s also where they keep all their records.”

“So what?” Jesse says. “We’regonna wire them and let them go?”

“Better,” Ana shows a grin that’sall teeth and even though she hasn’t so much as glanced at Jack andGabriel, they both swallow, knowing whatever she has planned, they’llbe the butt of the joke. “Our targets were extremely careful. Noteven Vishkar knows who they are. They have a vague description of twomales in their fifties or sixties, one of which is black or latino,which puts us in the prime position of being able to send two of ouragents in their stead.”“Fuck that.” Gabriel says, wellaware of who’s going to end up playing the part. Jack at leasttries to be a bit more subtle about it.

“Reyes and I aren’t exactlynobodies. They’ll recognise us.”

“They’ll recognise your faces, butit won’t matter. We can fool their DNA sensors.”

“Still, they might getsuspicious.”“It’s a risk we’re going to have to take.This is our only chance to get into Jannat and we don’t have thetime to hold castings.”

Jack knows when he lost a fight, butGabriel keeps arguing. He damn near flips the tables when Winstonwon’t be persuaded to use someone else, gets into a shouting matchwith Ana that lasts for hours. Mission prep lasts a little under aday and when it’s done and their identities forged, they have todrag him kicking and screaming onto the plane, less metaphoricallythan anyone would prefer.

“He’ll get us killed,” Gabrielspits while Lúcio walks him through the last few points. “He didit before.”

Jack tenses but says nothing, sittingat the opposite end of the aircraft and pretending to read the news.

“It’s going to go fine,” Lúciosays cheerfully. “Mister Jack’s got you. Now listen, because asfar as we know there’s a sort of quarantine and we won’t be ableto talk for at least a month. I’ve built you a miniature version ofmy sonic tech and packed every song I ever wrote on that. Nothingwill go wrong with our treatment plan, but if it does something onthere will help you, okay?”“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Gabrielswats at him, cheeks hot with embarrassment at being mothered bysomeone half a foot shorter and almost three decades younger thanhim.

And then it’s just them and Lena inthe cockpit, flying them to their destination. In less than an hourthey’ll be Sam and Steve Carter, married for thirty two years,criminals for slightly longer. They’ll have to kiss and hug and saystupid corny shit and for all that Gabriel wants to forcefully ejecthimself from the plane, he knows they can’t blow this one. The endof Vishkar for good lies just within their reach. If he fucks this upbecause he couldn’t play nice he’ll never be able to look Lúcioin the eye again. The kid was the only one who accepted him with openarms after the whole mess with Mercy and the UN was over. When evenReinhardt and Ana kept their distance, it was Lúcio who sat with himfor breakfast, who included him, who went up to him in all his 5’3’’glory and asked to spar because even Jesse wouldn’t. He can’tfuck this up.

They step into the sweltering Indianheat arm in arm and gritting their teeth.

#overwatch imagines #reaper76 #reaper #soldier 76 #no reader #i call this The Intro #also i love the idea of reaper and lucio together #platonically or romantically #dark and brooding versus neverending sunshine is my jam #rustedrobonerd

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bisymmetra · 7 years

Text

i. title: détente

ii. fandom: overwatch

iii. characters/ships: jack morrison, ; gen, background ships, might be reaper76 if i make this a thing but rn it’s shipless

iv. warnings: uh, discussion of ptsd/panic attacks/nightmares, but like vaguely? like nothing triggery really but if youre sensitive, brief mention of alcohol, more specific champagne and the pop of it setting off a panic attack

v. tags: dogs, im using forty nine for jack’s age bc the timeline’s all over and i put 45 - 55 in a rng and got forty nine, angela ziegler has #connections, this is five pages and just short of 2k words wtf, tenatively, bonnie the dog, therapy dog, this is jack centered tbh but if i write more hana’s getting a cat, idk if i truly like this

vi. summary: “Uh,” Jack says, the stumble coming out before he can stop it. “That’s a dog.”

“It sure is,” Angela says agreeably, depositing it in his arms and sipping her coffee. “Merry Christmas.”

“It’s June,” he deadpanned, as the wriggling little thing laps at his visor.

vii. notes: i wrote this in an hour and i dont know if i truly like it but bonnie the dog is a thing now. i literally just listened to alberta by eric clapton while writing this. will be on ao3 in half an hour. @snowsheba saw these hcs that inspired this first.

It’s four in the morning the first time he tells Angela about the dreams.

Nightmares, really. The kind that leave him grasping at catching his breath, the sweat on his brow chilly wet and clingy in the Spanish night. The kind that leaves your heart thrumming in his ears. He doesn’t - he doesn’t think this is anything important, really. It should be expected, really. He’s old, now, and he’s been military for forty damn years. He’s seen some shit.

Most people who got up real early to find him already awake didn’t question it - dreams of their own, he guessed, or maybe just expecting career military to be up at the crack of dawn. And they weren’t wholly wrong - years on a farm and years in the military have him waking up earlier than most the base, on the nights where he doesn’t wake up around two or three.

It’s the fourth time that Angela’s woken up at three in the morning to find him awake. The kitchen. this time. The practice range twice before, and once in between that in one of the commons, a book on his lap. (He didn’t much like being there, on one of those nights, but he’d had a nightmare about an incident in Kuwait, and the walls of the room had been suffocating. Hana had also been sitting there, playing some vintage game in the low light. He figured they were there for similar reasons, and didn’t say a word for hours.)

“Jack,” Angela said. The clock on the wall is a bright, neon blue 3:49 AM. Jack, to his credit, manages to look up from his coffee and at her. In the fluorescent kitchen light, her dark circles look more prominent, the mess of her hair tied in a loose not. She has a bottle of water in her hand. She looks exhausted. Momentarily, he wonders how much sleep she’s getting, then feels like a hypocrite.

“Angela,” he musters, swallowing. “Lovely morning.”

“The sun won’t be up for another few hours,” she said. “Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, which - it isn’t a lie, really. He couldn’t get back to sleep, after tonight.

“Doesn’t seem like you ever do,” she says, sliding down across from him. “That’s not good for your health.”

“I get a few hours,” he says. Three and a half, tonight. “Could be worse.”

“Jack,” she admonishes. “This isn’t - have you been dreaming?”

“Most people do sometimes,” he says, which - technically correct, but not what she’s asking. There is a beat, which is mostly filled with Angela frowning deeply at him and Jack staring at his coffee. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Except it doesn’t really work, because Angela is phenomenal at seeing through bullshit, and this isn’t the first accident she’s seen. (There was once, with a bottle of champagne, and the noise and laughing sounds like screaming so easily and. Jack had excused himself, mumbling, hands shaking. Angela had followed when everyone was distracted. Angela knows. How could he think he could win at lying to her?)

“There are people who can help with - everything,” she says. “I know a few that are - they’re good.” Jack fixates on everything but Angela’s face, feeling naked without the visor. He instead stares at where her neck meets her shoulder, the marks Fareeha had left. There’s a stain on her shirt’s collar, of what’s chocolate, coffee, or blood. It’s dried brown, almost reddish brown in the light. Out the window, the Gibraltar night is interrupted with crickets.

He wonders what Angela dreams of. People she couldn’t save, his mind fills in. Genji’s corpse-body, when they first brought him in. People she can’t save. Gunshots.

Jack sighs. It’s a gesture that makes him feel older than he is.

“They’re just bad dreams,” he says, voice low and deep. It feels like a confession. “Omnic Crisis. Overwatch. Old things. I’m an old man, Angela, it doesn’t mean anything’s wrong just because it keeps me up.”

“You’re not that old, compared to the average,” she muses absently. “You’re only forty nine.”

“Fifty in a few weeks,” he said, hoping for a diversion. “I’m not a young man anymore, anyway. And I can’t really see a therapist, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Why not?”

“I’m legally dead, remember?” Angela nods, clearly contemplative. He closes his eyes. “‘s just dreams, either way. Doesn’t matter a bit.”

There’s a long pause. Angela rises from her seat. “Good night, Jack,” she murmurs.

For days, he waits to see if Angela brings it up again, or tells someone, or something. He’s worried about it.

It’s just dreams, and anxiety and - it doesn’t matter. He just doesn’t want people to look at him differently. But no one does and Angela doesn’t say anything. It’s almost as if their early morning conversation is forgotten.

It’s been nine days when he first realizes Angela didn’t forget at all. He’s sitting in a common room, talked into joining most of the other agents. People are mostly in their own groups. Hana and Genji are playing some Mario Kart thing, the engineers at a table discussing - schematics, he thinks, but he’d heard the words Pop Tarts and doubted himself - Jesse and Hanzo and Fareeha talking in soft voices. Lena, Reinhardt and Ana at a table, Wid- Amelie, he corrects himself - Amelie joining them. Sombra and Lucio at a table hollering about the game Hana and Genji are playing. Who had cajoled two thirds of their ex Talon agents and how is lost on him, but he’s almost glad Gabriel wasn’t here, even knowing - this is a talk for another day. Jack is at one of the old, worn seats, an old book in his lap.

“Jack!” Angela’s voice comes in from the hall, and most look up as she pushes the door open with her hip. It takes only a moment to discern why: in one hand is a mug of what is definitely coffee, and the other is a -

“I got you a present, you’re welcome,” Angela says.

“Uh,” Jack says, the stumble coming out before he can stop it. “That’s a dog.”

“It sure is,” Angela says agreeably, depositing it in his arms and sipping her coffee. “Merry Christmas.”

“It’s June,” he deadpanned, as the wriggling little thing laps at his visor.

“Happy early birthday,” she replies. “You turn fifty in two weeks. There.”

The puppy - which, relatively, is pretty big, a St Bernard if he had to guess - laps at his cheek next. “This is a dog,” he repeats. “Where did you get this?”

“Her,” Angela corrects. “She flunked out of being a therapy dog because she liked to lick strangers or something along those lines. She needed a home. Dogs, I’ve been told, lower stress. You’re going to give yourself a stroke or a heart attack at this rate.”

In that moment, he realizes this is about what they discussed but Angela doesn’t want to say it in public. He can appreciate that much. “Can we even keep a-”

Lena is by his side, scooping her up in a second. Her, the dog, not Angela. “Why are you protesting? It’s a dog! Accept it and move on.” The dog licks Lena’s face delightedly, and everyone resumes talking over each other about - well. Jack rises, giving Angela a look. She just grins back, satisfied.

“Fine,” he acquiesces. Arguing isn’t going to do much, anyway. Angela’d kill him if he tried to return her, anyway, even if he hasn’t had a dog since he was a teenager. His family had kept hunting and herding dogs, all of which loved his mother more than anything. She gave them the most scraps. Lena shoves the bundle of fur back into his arms after one last lick, and he stares at her as she returns to licking his face. Her, the dog, that is. Not Lena.

The dog follows him around all the time. When he sits, she sits on his feet, gets comfortable. Angela tells him she’s a six month St. Bernard. They called her Nessie in training, but she never learned the name and really, it just makes him think of conspiracy theories. (Dimly, he remembers Reinhardt rambling about - he really wants to say Bigfoot, but the memory is twenty five years old.)

He mostly just calls her Dog, which outrages an alarming amount of people. Expectedly, Ana, Lena, and Angela are most fond of Dog. Unexpectedly, he’s caught Hanzo giving her scraps four times in three days. When he enters a room that Hanzo and Bonnie are already in, she’s in his lap and he looks like a deer in the headlights. (It’s actually really fucking funny.)

He sets her on the floor before bed, but she’s always curled up next to him when he awakens, like a really furry pillow.

It takes five days for him to really get used to the idea she could provide actual help.

It’s - another bad dream, because of course it is. Jack gasps for breath, kicks off the blanket, brow slick cool with sweat. His heart pounds in his ears. Him kicking the blankets must of woke the Dog, as she bounces up, presses next to him.

She shoves her head and back against his hands, in a way that would be petting if it was his hands moving, not her body. She licks his face tentatively, as if seeing if that helps. Jack can feel his heart start to slow, faster than his normal calm down times. He moves his hands, callouses running against soft fur. Dog takes this as encouragement, licks him more excitedly. Jack closes his eyes.

Normally, he’d get up. He wouldn’t be back asleep regardless, so he may as well get up. But Dog settles in next to him, and petting her evens him out, makes it easier to settle. He lets himself be lulled to sleep.

In the morning, he names her Bonnie. It seems fitting, somehow. She seems like a Bonnie. He’ll talk to Angela about a collar, soon.

In the meantime, he sits down at the cafeteria table, Bonnie by his feet, and pretend he doesn’t see no less than five people feeding her scraps.

He goes on a day long mission on July 3rd. His birthday’s the next day (he’s getting old, he thinks). It’s a short thing, mission wise. Fifteen hours securing a payload in the heart of London and back.

He’s with Lucio, D.Va, Genji, Mei, and Sombra for it, all these young kids making him feel much older than he is. (Mei, Genji, and Sombra are all in their thirties, he remembers. But he’s fifty tomorrow. They’re kids to him, anyway. They all have much more.. zest than he does.)

He gets back late, and he’s a little sad to not have Bonnie at the door when he enters the room. He discards his jacket to the desk and changes fast, glancing at the bed to locate his dog. She’s sleeping in her exact normal spot, with an approximately Jack sized spot next to her. Jack slides in next to her, and she shifts awake, moving to press into him. She licks his face hello, and he calms her by petting her back for a few minutes.

He breathes easy, relaxed. After a few, he glances at the clock. 12:02.

“Happy birthday,” he hums warmly, closing his eyes.

He sleeps well that night.

now on ao3!

#jack morrison #my writing #overwatch #soldier: 76 #snowsheba #bonnie the dog #is this any good? we just don't know

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