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stillfrownyclownlol · 1 month

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@moonbiine got me with the Aiden bug

I thought a lot about how to start this and none of them were good so, here's this;

Frowny's Thesis on Aiden Clark having Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) based on the DSM-5 criteria, living with people with BPD (hi dad!), being...me!, and general vibes.

What is BPD?

Borderline Personality Disorder is defined by a prolonged disturbance of function marked by depth and variability of mood, pattern of unstable personal relationships, unstable self-image, marked impulsivity, and other symptoms. They can manifest in very different ways (the way it appears between my dad and my grandma for example is not the same), but generally includes this.

1. Fear of Abandonment

Nobody wants to be left behind, that's a given, but for people with BPD this fear can spiral into a paranoid phobia that impacts all their personal relationships. Because BPD is influenced by environmental factors, this often stems from children being abandoned in their youth (ex. My father was the child of a teen pregnancy and his parents couldn't care for him for the first few years of his life, letting him be raised by his grandparents. I also grew up alternatively without my mom and withouty my dad, and once for a time with neither of them)

It's been shown to us before that Aiden's parents are often absent from the house, for even months at a time. He seems very used to this and it's likely he grew up very isolated or passed around between different relatives. And I do think this shows in his attachment style; he is a very clingy and sort of "decides" to hyperfixate on a certain person (Ash *coughs*) in the hopes that they'll become friends, and he does this very quickly. Already so scared of losing Ash on that roof even tho he's only known her for like 3 months at this point. He really can't bear the thought of her not being with him.

On the subject of Ash he's idolized her sooooo bad she's so screwed. Pls the Angelic lighting filter he puts on her?? SHE CANT SAVE YOU AIDEN. YOU HAVE TO DO IT YOURSELF. (But i get it its hard) Ties back into how people with BPD see the world in strict black and white, he can't see Ash's flaws and that's how he defends her so much, she's literally like a savior to him and here comes the disciple complex.

He's been forced to move so many times, he's probably made friends who just couldn't keep up the effort of maintaining a long distance friendship and ghosted him, or even him doing the opposite, pushing people away just to avoid the sting of abandonment again. They can't hurt you if you hurt them first.

2. Unstable self-image.

He bleaches his hair end of story /j

No but really, tell me Aiden doesn't put up a persona- he's gone through the phases from quiet gifted kid to an impulsive extroverted mischievous mess. Don't you just look at him and feel the self-hatred coming off in waves?? Dyeing his hair, getting contacts, the ever present grin that must be painful at this point, it's like he can't...look at himself. Like he doesn't want to look at himself.

He can't even face his own problems; he literally paints a clown face on himself after dying cuz he doesn't want to process his feelings about it lol 🫠

Like genuinely, how exactly does Aiden want to be perceived? What is the point of this facade? For himself? For other people? I think he's just trying to shut away his past and start fresh without having to confront it, but...when the root is rotten, nothing healthy can grow, so he needs to get to the source of his issues.

3. Anger regulation problems

Unpopular opinion probably but he seems so angry to me. It's definitely WAY more present in the early chapters like when he goes tf off on Tyler, he was barely controlling himself there asdfghjkl- but I think it manifests more in him attacking the phantoms, it's obviously an adrenaline thing for him but I think he's taking out a lot of anger at the same time too. Even if some of this anger is coming from a righteous place; the desire to protect his loved ones (which ties into the abandonment too, you are still abandoned even when it wasn't their choice), because peope with BPD see the world as smth very...dangerous, I guess is the word? Even if maybe that doesn't apply to themselves

(Fastpass spoilers)

He's also not above taking his anger out on humans either considering he was about to take Alex's eyes out with that paintbrush and was gonna choke the life outta them-

(Done.)

4. Consistent feelings of sadness/worthlessness.

5. Self-injury, suicidal behaviour, suicidal ideation.

Aiden do be a sadboi even with all the smiley faces on his clothes. I think this is probably smth that was way worse when he was younger that led to that depression where he was locked in his room eating junk food and disassociating, and while he's probably coping with it differently it's still smth he struggles with. I mean shiiiiiit, because of his impulsiveness he does kinda cause problems but God he feels SOOOO goddamn bad about it lahdlsj, he was so guilty about the Ash situation, he probably beat himself up so much about that-

Emotions are very extreme, it's 'similar' to bipolar disorder with manic and depressive episodes, except they happen at a much quicker scale (in the same day for ex.) which seems to me how Aiden only lets himself experience positive emotions even tho he's in a deeply stressful situation (even tho there's good parts too like his friends) because he just can't handle having to fully experience those negative emotions.

Check, check, check! Aiden has zero self preservation instincts, he throws himself off walls, gets up close and personal with phantoms that could easily kill him, actually didn't give a fuck about dying?? Actually ENJOYED IT? But didn't wanna do it again because his Favourite person was worried about him and the absolute high of that feeling completely beat out anything else?? Okay man, we get it, you're living for somebody else at this point-

People with BPD suffer from chronic feelings of emptiness and pain is the best kind of distraction for Aiden (cue: him slamming his forehead on the table because he's bored)

6. Impulsive behaviors (aka a bunch of shit which can be summed up as addictions)

Well, for starters, he's an absolute adrenaline junkie, because he feels so constantly empty Aiden wants something to make him feel alive. And adrenaline is the flawless, biological, factual answer to this. Ergo all his octane hobbies and impulsive behaviors. Ties back into his obsessiveness, which, don't get me wrong this doesn't make him a bad guy or anything, we all get a little obsessed with things sometimes, that's just things humans do- but when you have bpd, it's very...difficult to just STAY happy, like an addiction, when the high wears off, they're empty again.

Maybe a bit of a stretch, but considering all the Ramen packets in his room when he was younger I wouldn't be surprised if he had some sort of ED or binge eats (Same bestie.)

Also for sure a reckless driver I'm 99% sure he crashed all those go-karts he drived before.

---

I don't really know where I'm going with this. It's hard to live with somebody who has BPD, it's hard to live with it yourself, it's hard to see other people go through it even when it's hurting yourself. I hate pushing people away, but you get so caught up in your own thoughts, and it just...happens...and when it's done...you really regret it, but it's too late...and you just wonder if things are better like this, being alone and not hurting anybody anymore, cuz they're certainly happy on their own

I don't think anybody who has bpd is automatically a bad person, they just have things harder than normal. People with BPD....they can be amazing artists, or good with animals, or really very kind. They have very big hearts, thats why they feel so deeply. And I think Aiden is a good person, because he has so much love to give, but has never been given an outlet to express that properly, but you can see him making great strides in learning how, with the help of his friends 🧡

Might edit this later when I get my thoughts more clear it's midnight here lol

#sbg #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard webtoon #sbg (webtoon)#aiden clark #tw bpd talk

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tlouxx · 9 months

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Electromagnetism - p. 2

~ ellie williams x reader

——————————————————————————

part one | part three <3

synopsis: you and ellie williams have been long time rivals. you're a physics majors at wellesley college, and you’re competing for the same spot in the prestigious dr. ramsey’s lab as ellie. suddenly neither of you can escape the other as you’re both trying to navigate your final year of college.

content: college!ellie, mean!ellie, modern au, academic rivals to lovers, forced proximity, swearing, banter, eventual smut i swear, tensions rising between ellie and reader

——————————————————————————

Day 22

PHYS 302: Quantum Mechanics

It’s only a few weeks into the semester, and this class is already demanding way too much of my time. Ellie and I are still sitting next to one another. I think both of us are too proud to move. Our first exam is coming up in less than a week, and to say I'm nervous is an understatement. I can tell Ellie is stressed out about it too. She’s been studying every free second, biting her nails down to a nub, and she wore that same shirt yesterday. Not that I’m keeping track! We are spending a significant amount of time together between our class schedule and work. I guess you begin to notice little details about someone when you’re with them almost everyday. Even if it isn’t by choice.

…

I can’t think straight. So many variables are swirling around in my thoughts. Ellie. My increasing anxiety. This exam. Being the best at what I do. The professor lecturing is only background noise to the ardent contemplation of the current state of my life. Quite frankly I’m struggling to understand what a quantum state is or why I should care about it. I’m only brought back to reality when I realize that Dr. L is talking to me.

“Are you listening?”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

“Can anyone else tell me what the variables are that define the quantum state of a system?”

Ellie quickly speaks up, “Compatible and Incompatible.”

“Correct, Miss Williams.” Dr. L glares at me as she turns back around to the dusty chalkboard.

…

I want to throw my head down against the desk. I knew that, and now I’ve made myself look like a fool in front of the class. I’m just so distracted by Ellie lately. Ever since she got in my face and said she intended to get the same lab position I’ve been dying to have, I feel frozen in time. I knew she wanted it, but it’s real now that she’s said it out loud. Getting into Dr. Ramsey’s lab could mean I have a fighting chance at grad school or even a future in research. It’s fucking important to me. It occurs to me that maybe Ellie and I could have an alliance. After all the saying goes, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

…

In the corner of my eye, I see Ellie chewing on her pencil. She’s studying again while I’m stuck explaining basic calculus to a freshman. It’s 8:07 p.m. Only 23 minutes till the end of my shift, but I tell her anyway that we’re closed for the night. I needed to escape the monotony of derivatives and integrals.

Ellie’s head lifts up as she hears me escort the girl out the door. It seems I piqued her curiosity, “Why did you tell her we’re closed?”

“She’s going to fail calculus with or without my help." I slump back in my chair knowing I'm barely conscious from my lack of sleep. "I’m just exhausted today. I don’t want to explain integrals again.”

A smile appears on Ellie’s face. She looks down at her hands before looking up at me again. I think I almost made her laugh.

“Trust me. I heard you explain it to her multiple times. I get it.”

Before I know it, a smile is materializing on my face too. I laugh knowing we have a mutual understanding. To be honest, Ellie kinda intimidates me. Maybe that's why when I’m around her it makes my body feel like it’s on fire. I can hear my heart pumping as she starts to move in closer to me ever so slightly. I know she’s waiting for me to say something else. Maybe I should say something else. I hope she doesn't notice how I choke on my words as I try to speak.

…

“Um, while we’re uh talking… I was just wondering how you felt about the exam on Friday.”

Ellie settles into her seat. Confidence seeps out of every pore of her body. I watch as she sets down the pencil she was once chewing on. “It’ll be easy. Maybe not for you, but it will be for me.”

“Sure… Ellie." I mirror her position. Trying to emulate the confidence she exudes. "I was just going to offer you some study tips in case you needed them.” I remark back at her.

She leans forward in her chair. Without warning, the air between us seems to thicken. “You could barely keep up today in class. I certainly don’t need any of your help.”

I lean forward too. “Really? Because I think that you’re studying every second you get because you know I’m better than you."

I stand up, and walk toward Ellie. As I begin to close the space between us, Ellie lifts herself out of her seat. She almost looks like she can't believe I'm saying this "..and you can’t stand the thought of it.”

Ellie looks like she's about to say something. Her mouth opens but closes. She turns around and opens up her bookbag. I watch as she rips a piece of paper out of a notebook. She writes something down.

She turns back around with a paper crumbled in her hand. Ellie inches toward me just like she did on our first night working together. My breath catches in my throat as my mouth goes dry. She pushes the piece of paper into my chest as I stumble backward.

She swivels on her foot and begins to pack up her things. I grab the paper and look at it. She remarks “It's my number for when you realize you’re the one who needs my help.”

…

As I walk out of work, the cold of the night makes goosebumps appear all over my arms. I am still in shock of what just happened. Ellie pushes past me and into the emerging nightfall. Her perfume lingers behind. She smells of mint and eucalyptus. Not wanting to disturb her, I continue walking a few paces behind her.

My head feels clouded. I feel overwhelmed by all of the thoughts spinning around in my head. Did she seriously just do that?

The moon brightens up the night sky as Ellie exits my view. My apartment building is only a few blocks away. I need to tell someone else about what happened tonight. I pull my phone out of my back pocket to text Dina.

8:33 P.M

you will never guess what just happened to me tonight

D: What??! Spill please!

Well... I asked Ellie about the exam in 302 and she basically said it’d be easy for her, but not me. So i said well maybe i could give you tips so you wouldn’t have to study every second of the day. then she gave me her number?!!! and said to text her when i realize that i am the one that needs help??

D: oh my fucking god.

isn’t she crazy?

D: I mean.. I think you both are.

D: but i’m curious if that’s her real number?

D: send it to me and i’ll let you know.

you have her number?

D: we might’ve exchanged numbers at some point..

???

D" well…. we kissed once or twice.

D: but we're not talking anymore

omg. DINA! why didn’t you tell me!!!

D: I thought you'd be mad and it was casual!!

D: send me the number!!!

I threw my phone onto my bed after I sent the number over to Dina. I doubt Ellie would give me her real number. She probably just wanted to fuck with me. Not that it matters if its real or not.. I wouldn’t text her anyway.

I’m disappointed that Dina didn’t feel like she could tell me about her and Ellie. I’m supposed to be there for her like she has been for me. I let this stupid rivalry get in the way of our friendship. Although when I look back on it, I don’t think they tried to hide it either. Maybe I’ve been too caught up in the fact that she was my nemesis to realize that Ellie and Dina were practically sitting on top of each other at parties or both missing at the same time. How could I have been so naïve to miss this?? My phone vibrates on my comforter. I feel my stomach drop. I’m not sure I even want to know. I open my messages with one eye open.

8:47 P.M.

yep. that's ellie’s number.

…

Day 26

PHYS 302 : Quantum Mechanics

The sun is shining in through the cracks of my blinds. My eyes are barely open. I feel the fatigue wash over me. The warmth of my bed is all-encompassing, but I know I have to pull the covers aside. My legs feel like lead as I walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth. The darkness under my eyes looks deeper than usual. I pulled an all-nighter studying for the exam today. I’m debating if I have enough time to run to the coffee shop down the street. I’m in desperate need of caffeine.

I end up walking to get coffee.I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my eyes open without it. The wind is starting to have a chill to it as summer slowly bleeds away. The bell rings as I walk in the door. This is the coffee shop I originally met Dina in. Her hair was shorter then. Our friendship continued to develop the more and more I came here. Then we found out we were working together at the tutoring center, and well the rest is history.

…

Walking into class with my iced latte in hand, I see Ellie. Her hair looks more disheveled than usual and her clothes wrinkled. Maybe I’m not the only one who pulled an all-nighter.

I’m not sure if the caffeine is helping me or just making my anxiety worse. Despite my fear that I may not have studied enough, I feel confident. I tell myself today is going to be the day I’ll be setting the curve. Not Ellie. Staying up all night is going to be goddamn worth it when I see that smirk Ellie wears off her face.

I look over at her as I sit down. She’s still biting her nails, but she doesn’t look at me.

I shift my body to look at her. She finally looks up from her notes. I whisper to her “Goodluck Ellie.”

Ellie looks at me and winks. She is wearing her exhaustion on her face, but her self-assurance is ever-present, “Goodluck to you too, sweetheart.”

I turn back around seething. The heat is rising to my cheeks, but I don’t have time to think further because Dr. L starts handing out our exams. I’m ready for it.

…

I’ve been anxiously pacing my room. Biting my nails even. I think Ellie is rubbing off on me. I dismiss the thought of becoming more like Ellie. The grades are going to be out tonight in 20 minutes. I continue walking back and forth on the hardwood floors of my room. I need to distract myself for just a little while longer. Instead, I keep brooding over my conversations with Ellie and the moment this exam score will come out.

Only a few minutes are left until the email will pop up in my inbox. I spend this time running over the exam in my head again. I’m pretty confident I answered everything correctly. Well maybe except for question 25, but I think I’m overthinking it.

My laptop pings, and I know it’s the results. My hands are damp as I lift open the screen. The subject line reads Exam Results. I click on the link

9:30 P.M.

Subject : Exam Results

Congratulations,

You’ve received the top grade on exam one with a score of 100%. Take pride in this!

Sincerely,

Dr. L

…

I am buzzing with excitement. I shoot up out of my seat and sigh with relief knowing my hard work was worth it. I subconsciously start thinking of Ellie. How she feels in this moment knowing that I did better than her. I take pleasure in thinking that she’s jealous of me. Thinking of me right now too. I catch sight of Ellie’s note crumpled up on my desk. Before I know it, her number is in my phone, and I’m typing out a text to her.

9:32 P.M.

Need my tips now Ellie?

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x you #dina tlou #rivals to lovers #slow burn #forced proximity #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #mean!ellie #college!ellie williams #college!au #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou

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neverchecking · 11 months

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Ok I saw the 🧜‍♀️ request and I have to ask for a part two

Can I have a yandere sky, fd,war, sage, CDI link ( excuses me princess) , Link between worlds, dark link x harpy reader please nsfw

You can!

I assume you meant Legend when you said A Link Between Worlds Link? And I think you also meant the animated Link (Courage) because CDI Link (Koridai) Is from a game. Those are the ones I wrote anyway. Also bc there are so many, these are shorter. And i know you also asked for Dink and FD, but I got lazy and didn't wanna make them a banner so...

(Have you guys ever seen the CDI scenes? Holy hell that is PAINFUL-)

Part one -> Here!

Smut so MDNI! 18+!

Smut CW: Breeding, Monster fucking, Reader is a harpy!, light baby trapping

A Bird's Eye View

・❥・Now, Sky, unlike the others, is used to birds. In fact, it was you who assisted him when he first began roaming the ground level.

・❥・You stuck by his side for the entire time before being left behind when he was deposited back on Skyloft.

・❥・He had tried finding you, but it was as if you just...disappeared.

・❥・So when he's on a ride with Crimson, and hears your distinct calls? He's thrown out whatever his previous goal was without so much as a flick of his wrist.

・❥・When he finds you hurt? He goes into total mother-hen mode.

・❥・When your bandaged and clean? hes just so ecstatic to see you again! He may be hovering, all but forcing food down your throat, but you have to understand.

・❥・He won't let you leave again.

<><><><>

"That's it, songbird. Nice and slow." His voice crooned smoothly over your warbled cries, hands holding your hips and easing your descent onto him. "You're doing so well."

You were a sight. Watching you above him, feathers ruffling as your body sheened with sweat, glimmering in the light around the room? It drove him mad with lust. Maybe desire? He just knew he wanted you. And he had you. You had come back to him!

He knew you were meant for him from the start. You had always been such a caring companion, perfect in every way. When you chirped at him for a cut a little too deep, or nuzzled up to him when the nights were a little too cold? He knew. When you shoved herbs and berries into his hands to boost his immune system? He knew. When you ran your taloned fingers through his hair, picking out twigs and bugs? He knew.

He knew that you were irrevocably his. His to keep and cherish and love and hold. Those were all privileges that were only bestowed upon him. He only had to give you your own privilege. One that would be exclusive to you and you alone.

And he knew exactly what he wanted it to be. Because he had seen you care for him. He had seen the way you fret and croon and-

And he wanted-no, needed to see you be that way with your child. No. That wasn't right either. Not your child. His child. A kid made from the two of you?

He was so excited to meet them.

・❥・You probably save him from that dragon knight. Yk the one? In the beginning of the game? Him.

・❥・It probably leaves your feathers scorched and that's where he steps in. He cares for you with his basic military first aid knowledge.

・❥・You prove to be useful in battle, acting as an aerial advantage, so he keeps you close.

・❥・Your especially helpful when it comes to Cia. Your an unaccounted for variable. And she doesn't like that. She can try and get rid of you, but because Wars keeps you so close, it doesn't quite work out.

・❥・This only deludes him further, because if this powerful sorcerer that has a hand in time and space, can't separate you two, nothing can.

<><><><>

The hand around your throat tightened just a bit as his hips crashed against yours. In the back of his head, he worried about hurting you, but he had a mission that needed to be fulfilled.

As a Captain, the mission would override any concern.

He needed to ensure you stayed with him. That no matter what, you stayed by his side. And what was more damning than a baby? A person who would rely on the two of you so heavily that you would never even think of leaving him.

And that's what he needed. He needed you to stay with him. He needed you to remain with him, with your unyielding loyalty and unbending ferocity. You were everything he needed in this life. And the thought of you having his baby? Was something he also needed. Just the thought of having this perfect little nuclear family made his nerves buzz. He would provide and you would stay by his side.

Like a good little bird.

・❥・I can't tell if I hate this guy or love him.

・❥・I just- I think i mostly wanna hit him.

・❥・Now, I don't know a lot about the animated series, but I have too much self respect (/j),

・❥・But he probably meets you through Sprite. She seems like the type to be like 'Look who I met' to attempt to rub it in your face, but it backfires.

・❥・Courage finds himself too enamored with your glorious feathers and effervescent eyes, immediately laying it on thick. He's complimenting your eyes and your smile and the way the light reflects off the apples of your cheeks.

・❥・If you dare even giggle at his honeyed words, he knows he's got you. Hook, line and Sinker. Now, Courage is more of a brawn over brains type of guy, but he's still a link. He knows how and when to go on the down-low.

・❥・And, honestly, who's better suited for you then the hero of Hyrule?

<><><><>

"Come on, Princess. I know you can do better." He knew his smirk was infuriating if your low grumbles were anything to go by. "How can you prove you want my kid if you don't work for it?"

You gave a challenging look, bounces speeding up as you leaned into his space. You gave a low trill, feathers moving in a wave of agitation as you did, teeth bared down at him . It was so cute seeing you act so aggressive. Like you would ever stand a real chance against him. It was almost daunting- how trusting you were of him. How you just believed everything he told you.

How you trusted he would ever let you out of his sight.

How you trusted he would never use whatever means necessary to get what he wants from you.

How you trusted that he wouldn't do anything to keep you tethered to him.

But he would. Because once you were tied to him, once you were his in every way- with a fat ring on your finger and your belly so swollen you couldn't see you feet- you wouldn't be able to escape. There was no where in this kingdom nor the next that he wouldn't be able to find you. Not that it would matter. Once his child was safely growing, you wouldn't be able to move fast enough to get rid of him! You would lose your, aerial advantage, your running and hiding abilities would be greatly hindered, and should push come to shove, he wasn't against using the triforce to keep you right where he wanted you.

Afterall, you wouldn't want the kingdom your child was growing up in to be destroyed...Right?

・❥・For Legend to trust you to this level, you must've met him at the beginning of his first adventure. In fact, you probably saved him when he was still young and inexperienced.

・❥・Thus proclaiming you as his most trusted companion.

・❥・After Koholint, he for sure latched onto you far more than ever before. He couldn't risk you being torn away from him too.

・❥・Because of what happened with Marin, he felt he had lost the ability to love. But you quietly and calmly reassure that he hasn't.

・❥・Thus leads to him just...knowing that you are here to stay. You won't be leaving him anytime soon. You won't ever leave him behind.

・❥・He lost his chance the first time and he absolutely refuses to lose it again.

・❥・Even if it means temporarily overriding your basic autonomy. You'll understand eventually.

<><><><>

He knew his other form sometimes bled over into his hylian one. it was something he learned to live with and, sometimes, battled with depending on his mood and the circumstance.

He was sure this was part of that.

He had heard the saying 'Fucking like rabbits' but this is just a little ridiculous. It wasn't all that unwarranted however. He needed to mark you as his. Brand you and litter you with enough hickeys and bitemarks to have even the most dense boys (Because that's all they were when compared to him) backing off.

Legend had lost too much in too short a time to take any chances. Honestly, it was a miracle that you were still here. Hylia had proven that she liked taking the most precious things in his life away from him (That fraud. Thinking she could outsmart him?! Thinking he would go down without a fight?! She had another fucking thing coming.) and you had held that title for years.

And you would. For at least a few more months. But even then, you would only have to share.

As he hoisted your legs up to your chest, folding you practically in half as he kept his rhythm steady and continuous (over and over again. Until you remembered the shape of him and only him.), he felt his lips twitch. He could see you now, cradling his and yours young. An absolutely precious little kit that would have your eyes, your perfect eyes, and maybe his nose. Who would be brought up with your gentle nature, but his intellect. Who would know no dangers of the outside world as he would destroy it to keep you two safe.

If it kept you two warm, he wouldn't hesitate to burn it all down.

・❥・Yall have been WAITING for this one.

・❥・Now, my broken little rat. He probably meets you up on the Sky islands. You probably help him get down and he just...latches onto you.

・❥・When you stick with him, even down on the ground and into the depths, he slowly learns to trust you.

・❥・If your patient with him and let him move at his own pace? You aren't leaving. He has let too many people leave and let too many people fuck him over.

・❥・He will not let you do the same. In fact, he's thinking of a million and one ways to keep you with him.

・❥・while all of the boys will think a5bout it, Sage is the only one to actually genuinely clipping your wings. You can't leave him if you can't fly, now can you? He's faster than you.

・❥・ Let's say, for the sake of it all, you happen to befall an accident that makes clipping your wings necessary. While he isn't super excited about you being injured in any capacity, he is a little grateful that he didn't have to do it.

・❥・And on the plus side, he gets to be the good guy and nurse you back to health!

・❥・Not flying health (He has no idea why your wings aren't healing like the rest of you), but healthy enough he can enact his own little plan.

<><><><>

"Shit."

His voice quivered as he bent over your own hunched form, keeping your chest pinned to the counter he had deemed acceptable. His one hand remained locked onto your hip while the other snaked up your chest to gently wrap around your throat. There was no pressure behind the action, just enough to keep you right where he wanted you.

Keep you perfectly still while he pumps you so full of cum you'll have no choice but to carry his child. You won't ever be able to leave then. No, you were kind. Too kind for his world. Too nice, too much of a beacon of pure light to ever do that. You would never deprave a child of his father, nor would you deprave a father of his young. And he knew this. If he planned on capitalizing that fact, just a little, that was no one's business but his own.

Just the thought of you carrying a child, a perfect mix of both of you-- just as much yours and they were his-- was almost enough to have him thanking Hylia for you. For putting him through everything if only to gift him with you in the end.

Almost.

"Keep going, dove. Your almost there. Soon, we'll have a family of our own."

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louroth · 1 year

Text

Well, well, well. Would you look at what the cat dragged in. (it's me, Lou!)

The time is here, and oh man, do I have a lot to say! Ever since this post was posted on my personal tumblr, on the fifth of may, I have been working like a machine on all things OUROBOROS. I had originally planned for this to just be a progress report/ announcement on what I will be working on now that I am free of the shackles of work, but, somehow, I managed to finish all bullet points, and more. So, let's get into it!

First off, the title. Ouroboros becomes all capitalized OUROBOROS. Idk. It's neat. Next!

Art. Whew. I didn't think I could draw like this anymore- drawing has been more of a struggle than writing has been, forever, always- it was something I really strived to become good at, for a time. And I gave up. Only to pick it up again when I started ouro, and ever since I released that pressure, something just clicked and I have been churning out art like never before. I don't know if this is a fluke, a stroke of luck or if all that hard work I once did slaving away with menial art practice… but I'm grateful nonetheless. (A note on official RO art: I lost my ipad pencil somewhere on the lawn, lmao. I haven't been able to get a new one yet, so there is a slight delay here.) I am hoping that I get to make some commissions too, in the near future. Visit the forum to see some works in progress (amongst them, Yor's RO portrait!)

Onto the hellscape that is coding! I have been growing more proficient with CSS and html with the help of the ones that run so that we can walk; I have studied and researched and tested and tinkered until my eyes crossed, finding my way into this medium with the incredible guidance of the giants of whose shoulders I stand on. I will talk about this in detail on a later date. So I think it's finally time to reveal that yes, I am working on a twine version of ouro. I will develop it in tandem with choicescript; the porting over from one to the other isn't the herculean task I thought it would be.

Why am I doing this? Because I need to have a save system. I am continuing to write the whole alpha draft in choicescript in hopes that CoG will announce the ability to have a native save/checkpoint system, but if that doesn’t happen, I can’t publish this story without one. Unfortunately, I am not willing to code in a savesystem in choicescript myself, because this will be a large game, with far too many variables for that to be sustainable. Trust me, no one is more disappointed by that fact than me. If it comes to the point that twine publishing will be what I do, I will set my sights on writing a smaller game for hosted games.

Now the meatier announcements!

New Socials!

Tumblr: You are looking at it! This is the new, exclusively OUROBOROS blog where I will share all announcements and sneak-peeks, and future updates. I worked together with the dev of the theme and made it oh, so pretty and functional. Please check out their portfolio here, if you are ever in the market for sprucing up your (desktop version) of tumblr. They were a pleasure to work with. Amongst other things, it has a gorgeous header (again, only if you visit on web and not mobile) where I am showcasing fanart and official art. Go check it out! This month, I am showcasing a truly breathtaking art from KAIRELART, and you can find the full art here, or follow the links in the “FEATURED ARTIST” tab in the top bar.

I hope you enjoy this new haven for OUROBOROS! I will be answering questions once a week (saturday) and ramping up as I adapt to this new schedule, more on that further below.

My old tumblr, honeypeabrain, will revert back to being my personal blog. Feel free to keep following me there, but know that it will be inundated with shitposts, crass humor and the occasional poetry dump and personal post. You’ve been warned!

Discord!

By the good graces, this was ROUGH to set up. Working with discord bots is akin to wrangling code, and it was well and truly, a war. But with the help of many, it is finally all done and ready for anyone to join and talk to me and others about OUROBOROS and anything else between heaven and earth.

I will also greatly appreciate if any future bugs and feedback are submitted through here, so I can keep easier track of it. Come join us! (18+ ONLY.)

Patreon & Ko-Fi

Yep! Ko-fi is just a place to toss me a coin if you wish to help me towards the goal of new PC parts to make testing easier, or to just show appreciation for those that have it to spare. Patreon however, already has a multitude of posts and will be a hub for exclusive NSFW sidestories that you get to vote on, loredives and extensive sneak peeks, Q&A’s, polls and weekly dev logs.

Right now, there are only two tiers, but I expect it to grow as my story does. I have many plans, but I am going at a steady pace.

Amongst tiered content, there is a (free) NSFW story with female MC and Idren to read there right now, if you want to check it out! I am mgoing to post it on tumblr and the adult thread here over the weekend.

NOTE: I stupidly didn't realize that patreon had a review process after I pressed launch, which I did just a few minutes ago. Sigh. I am going to post the short on tumblr and the adult forum thread as soon as I get to it.

It is not mandatory by any means, so if you do choose to support me, you have my eternal gratitude as these places will be the sole source of income for me.

Onto writing:

The best news out of this whole bunch is that I have worked so hard on editing and writing, that in the past month I have all but finished a two chapter update! I have a chunk of about 5-6 thousand words left to write, and I am going to buckle down over the weekend to see it through. I wanted to have it done so badly for today, but I lost three days of writing time last week due to still being weighed down with work. I hope it isn’t too disappointing to have to wait until monday for the demo update! I am going to post a link to an as-I-write updated demo on Patreon and Discord, if you want to see the ugly face of raw wip drafts. Otherwise I will post the demo update here on Monday with a comprehensive post!

And now! the biggest news is… from now on, I am writing full time!

This is what I have been tossing and turning about every night ever since Easter. It started as a silly idea while talking to some friends and family about how I was looking for a change in career. And then, little by little, that idea whittled down to a plan, carefully carved by my partner and his whispers of a happy future, a finished dream project, and something to be proud of until the day I wither and die.

Somewhere between then and now, I grasped a tiny sliver of bravery and held on for dear life.

I quit my job as a teacher, and instead of accepting a cushy office job, I started behaving as if OUROBOROS and writing was my work (for all the moments I could afford). I have researched and tried different methods from week to week, and although I was still tired from work, I felt like I was onto something that could build into a sustainable future.

I have no doubts that this journey will be bumpy and long, but sometimes all it takes is to take that first step, and do it with determination. It might all crash and burn and fail in a spectacular way, or with a whimper, but then I will know that I have tried. I will know that I gave myself the chance to be who I want to be, work on what means so much to me.

And that’s it. I think the hardest part of formulating this post (I’ve written about 50 versions of it!) is getting to the point; the kernel of what makes it so special to me. So, in my heart of hearts, what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm gonna give it my all- and while I know the road to having a sustainable career in writing is rough and ever winding, I do know for sure that I am ready for a challenge, to pour my heart and soul into it until the day I rush out of the office screaming IT IS DONE. IT IS DOOOOONE!!!

If you decide to join me, I will treasure your company like a lantern in the dark. Hand in lovable hand, let’s fucking go.

#OUROBOROS #ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #hosted games #CYOA #twine #dev log #progress update #honeypeabrain #smacking tags on this post like they're skittles im aiming into a beasts mouth #I DIDN'T REALIZE PATREON WAS GOING TO REVIEW MY PAGE (literally cried about it because I planned everything so meticulously) SOB #anyway :') but a small stepping stone on the long journey ahead #I am going to take the dog for a long walk and then upload the demo/spicy short as I say hello to anyone joining the disc #I hope to see you there :>

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dragonfirerogue-writes · 1 year

Text

All Right

Wednesday x Kitsune!Reader

A/N: Last part! Thanks for the support! I'll probably do one-shots for my kitsune after this.

"Mom, I've got to go!"

Those words greeted you as you round the corner to Eugene's hospital room for a planned visit. The urgency in them made you furrow your brows as you neared the boy.

"Wednesday's one of the only friends I have. The first friend I've made. If she's in trouble, I've got to help. It's hive code."

Your steps speed up after hearing your crush's name and you almost collide with Eugene as he tries to leave. You reach out to steady him and hold him still.

"Whoa, whoa! Eug, what's going on? Wednesday's in trouble?"

He nods, causing his glasses to slide down his nose. "She and Principal Weems went to confront Ms. Thornhill who's the real bad person here." Rushing to explain, he grabs your arm and pulls you along. "We figured it out while she was visiting on her way out. It's been hours though and I haven't heard from her at all."

That news would've had you moving at mach speed, but you opted to let Eugene lead the march. You didn't want to leave him behind. The both of you reach the streets, bypassing the hospital staff surprisingly easily. Orienting yourself to your surroundings, you begin the trek to Nevermore.

"We have to get to the hive. I need my bees at the ready." You nod in reply.

In your peripheral, you notice squad cars. All but one, surprisingly. You think for a moment before making a decision. In quick movements, you dart to each car and slash every tire. With a satisfied smirk, you race back to Eugene.

"That'll keep the cops from interfering. We'll have to make sure that the school is safe. If that drawing of Crackstone and Wednesday was any indication things'll go down ther-"

There's a sudden pull in your chest that makes you stumble. Your heart feels like it's caught in a vice and it's getting harder to breathe. Your eyes dart around until you feel the pull again. Instinctually, you seem to know why.

"Y/N!" Eugene calls out. "We gotta hurry!"

"You go ahead, Eugene. I know you need your bees." Your vulpine features begin to appear. "I think... I think Wednesday needs me right now." As you take a step, a burst of foxfire springs from your feet. "We'll meet up afterwards. Stay safe."

In a flurry, you launch forward and let your heart pull you to its destination.

-----+++++-----

Death wasn't something Wednesday feared. All paths lead to it. But laying on a cold stone floor with a knife protruding from her stomach made her feel like she could've done more. She should've done more. Sure, she wasn't scared of death but losing made it so much worse.

As the goth laid with her life slowly seeping out, she thought about her schoolmates. Her... Friends. Were they capable of stopping Joseph Crackstone? Could they end Laurel and Tyler? There were too many variables that Wednesday couldn't control now.

And what about Y/N? Wednesday closed her eyes and sank into the memory made hours earlier. Soft hands caressing her skin. Warm presence enveloping her once thought dead heart. Love was the last thing she ever wanted in life and yet it found her here. But the feelings you made her feel ended up becoming familiar the more you spent time with her. She was so used to it that the moment you weren't a constant anymore, it pained her immensely. She was always more of a sadist than a masochist.

As she let herself live in that memory during her final moments, a familiar roar of flames sounded nearby, followed by a more familiar voice.

"Wednesday!"

She forces her eyes open to see your worried face. Almost immediately, you were at her side, gently moving her so you could cradle her against you.

"H-how did you find me?"

A weak smile graced your lips. You gave yourself any excuse to touch her face. It made you feel better that she was still breathing.

"You called for me." Wednesday was confused. She thought of you, that was a definite, but summoning wasn't the goal. You just laugh at the confusion. "My heart led me here, as stupid as that sounds. Looks like you don't need my spirit orb to get me by your side."

Closing your eyes, you press your lips onto the top of her head. You could feel Wednesday get colder. It was as if she was slipping through your arms.

"I don't know what I can do... How can I help?"

"You can't..."

You hold Wednesday tighter. Tears threatened to fall, but you wouldn't allow them. You had to believe that your love would be okay.

You had to.

A moment of silence stretched for what seemed like hours before you hear Wednesday's voice again.

"Are you here to take me to the other side?"

Your head jolts up and you look around, seeing nothing. When you look down at Wednesday, you see her eyes trained towards something on her other side.

"Is your spectral vision impaired? I'm dying!"

You let out a soft laugh which draws Wednesday's attention. "Goody is here. No doubt to find some way to riddle me into a quicker death."

Her eyes dart over to the side again to where you assumed Goody was. When she struggles to reach under her collar, the goth asks you to help take her necklace out while she speaks to her ancestor. Once complete, Wednesday takes a tight hold of it before looking at you.

"... Pull the knife out." You were about to protest but she interrupts you. "Goody has a way to heal me. But I need this blade out of my stomach so please..."

You manage a nod before taking a hold of the knife's handle. Taking a deep breath, you only give Wednesday a moment before pulling the blade out and tossing it aside. When the goth's hand covers the wound, your hand drapes over it to help stem the bleeding. There wasn't much you could do, but you tried your damnedest to do what you could. It isn't long before you see a glow appear around Wednesday's hands.

"Whoa..."

As the glow ebbs slowly, you hear a soft voice around you.

"It seems I was wrong. A Raven need not be alone on their path."

You could only barely register the words before Wednesday launches up, sucking in a breath like it was her first. She brings up her hand and you both see the wound there close up. With a wide grin, you stood up and helped Wednesday to her feet. You wanted to pull the girl into a hug, but time was of the essence.

"We have to get to the school." Wednesday was already moving as she spoke. You followed with a determined nod.

"Update me on the way."

-----+++++-----

The pair managed to make it off the island and into the woods surrounding the academy. The news of Weems's death caught you off guard but it spurred you to finish this until the very end. You knew for sure that you wanted to punch Tyler in his hyde face.

That chance came sooner than you thought.

Tyler appears in front of you, close enough that you had to back away, staying between him and Wednesday. A low growl sounds from your throat, ready to fight.

"Laurel said you were dead."

"I'm feeling much better now." As usual, Wednesday's quips were quick.

"You're like a cockroach." This time, you were quick on the draw.

"What a flatterer. I can see why you fell for him, Wednesday." That earned you a jab in the ribs.

Tyler stalks forward, his body pulsing and protruding out in odd angles. His breathing becomes labored and his clothes tear as his figure grows.

"This will not end well for you."

You crouch low as your vulpine features start to appear. Your twin tails furl out, blocking Wednesday from view.

"We'll see about that, ugly."

In an instant, the hyde claws at you. In a whirl, you take Wednesday in your arms and dodge the strike. As soon as you let her go, you dart towards the beast and attack. Like before, each of his strikes were met with three of yours. Your agility surpassed his and you were intent on making it work in your favor.

However, he managed to get a cheap shot in and throw you into a tree. In your struggle to get up, Tyler pinned Wednesday to a stump, ready to slash at her. In a burst of adrenaline, you dash towards them only to see a large furball crash into the hyde.

When you reach Wednesday, the two of you look towards your new ally before recognizing the pink and blue tips.

"Enid?"

There's a moment of recognition in the new werewolf's eyes as she sees her friends alive and breathing. But then her instincts kick in once Tyler is up and attacking again.

The two begin to battle as you and Wednesday watch. It isn't until she tugs on your arm that you look away towards her.

"I need to get to the school."

You're torn. It was unsure whether Enid could fully take on Tyler without help. But the danger at the school could end the love of your life. For good this time. After a moment of debate, you look at Wednesday with a determined face.

"Go. I'll stay and help Enid. We'll make sure Tyler doesn't make it over there." You take Wednesday's face in your hands. "If you die on me, I'll drag you back from hell myself."

"And I'll have your pelt on my wall if you should perish as well."

With those parting words, you turn away from each other. As Wednesday's footsteps retreat, you charge towards the fight ahead of you.

You reached the fray in time to lay a good strike on Tyler before he could knock Enid aside. Taking the opportunity, the werewolf body checks him into a tree. With a nod to each other, you both move in sync to flank the hyde. Enid darts forward with a growl and launches into a low slash. You follow suit, but with a high strike. Tyler's pained roar echoes throughout the woods and he swings his arms around. The unexpected thrashing caught Enid off guard and he knocked her aside.

Enid slides across the forest floor and is slow to get back up. You place yourself between the large beasts when Tyler begins stalking towards Enid. You can see the cocky smirk on his face and it infuriates you. Glancing over at Enid, you see that she's still struggling. Her face is gashed. It makes you even angrier.

There's a sudden pulse within your soul. You can feel a warmth from your core spread to your limbs. Your twin tails wave and flicker wildly. Seconds feel like hours as pulse after pulse thrum in your being. But as soon as the assault begins, it ends. There is peace for a moment. Enid looked at you with worry during the event, but now, it's with wonder.

Your two tails had become three.

Renewed power floods your veins when Tyler finally reaches you to attack. Your claws erupt in flames as you attack before he could fully extend his arm. The sudden pain causes the hyde to stagger back. The next time he looks at you, there's suddenly three, four, five versions of you surrounding him. Illusions at last. Each one he tries to hit vanishes in a mist. When he finally reaches you, the beast doesn't even get a chance to strike. Enid vaults over you and tackles Tyler, sending them careening across the forest floor. When they stop, Tyler towers over a pinned Enid until a gunshot sounds from somewhere. The hyde rears back in pain, allowing you to use your entire weight and momentum from running to knock him aside and check on Enid.

The battle ends. You don't know where Tyler ends up, but he didn't matter anymore. He wasn't a threat right now when you vaguely see his form shrink. From your peripheral, you see Enid shrink as well and you race to her side to tend to her.

Your hoodie is around her body as soon as you get to her and you pull the trembling body close to you. Hugging as tight as you could, you hold onto her until she pushes you away.

"Wednesday needs you. Go to the school."

"I can't leave you alone, E"

"I'm not alone."

Your ears catch the gentle scurry of Thing as he approaches. He gently places himself onto Enid's hand in comfort. With a smile, you nod.

"I leave her to you then, Thing."

Before getting up, you gently hold Enid's unmarred cheek and look into her eyes.

"Before I go though. You won't hear this from your mom, so I'm gonna say it and mean it. I'm so fucking proud of you, Enid."

She gives you a wide grin before urging you to leave again. You bound away as fast as you can, hoping that you can make it to Wednesday before anything bad happens.

-----+++++-----

"Howdy Pilgrim."

The sudden appearance of Goody's descendent surprised Joseph Crackstone. How can someone he sent to the depths of hell still be walking amongst the living?

"How canst thy heart still beat? What demon sorcery is this?"

Wednesday is silent as she readies her sword, the same that her parents used against Garrett Gates years ago. Before a battle could begin, however, a voice sounds from behind Wednesday.

"Stay away from her!"

There's only a moment for the goth to register that Xavier is there before an arrow speeds past her. The missile was halted before it could hit its target. Crackstone seems to be using some sort of magic to manipulate it. How ironic.

The Pilgrim turns the arrow with a menacing grin and launches it back to its sender. Wednesday, keen on protecting all of the students, steps into its path and takes the hit on her shoulder in Xavier's stead. When the boy tries to help, Wednesday assures that she's fine and commands him to help the lingering outcasts. It takes a moment, but Xavier relents and leaves as the goth expertly removes the arrow from her person.

Taking up the blade once more, she attacks the revived corpse. Crackstone retaliates with his staff, trading blows and dodging strikes. In the end, there is a final parry that shatters Wednesday's blade, leaving her defenseless.

Crackstone takes the opportunity to use his staff's magic to pin Wednesday against an upturned table. The force of the magic pushes air from her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. Wednesday can only watch and listen to the cackles of a deranged dead man.

"I will send you back to hell."

Another push of magic surges against Wednesday and she can feel her ribcage collapsing under the pressure. There's a moment of uncertainty before the tip of a blade pierces through Crackstone's chest. With a wail, the Pilgrim turns towards his assailant, revealing a brave Bianca before him. Before she can do any more damage, he casts her away, sending her flying across the quad.

Using the distraction to her advantage, Wednesday crouches and reaches into her waistband. Completely defenseless, she was not. There was one more trick up her sleeve. Your birthday dagger.

As soon as Crackstone turns to face his original opponent, Wednesday drives the dagger into his heart. A pause. A breath. Crackstone is in disbelief. His time was far too short and yet he was so close to achieving his goal. But once again, an Addams ruins everything for him.

Wednesday pulls the dagger from his chest with a twist and a burst of foxfire emits from the wound. This causes Crackstone's body to char, embers appearing as his body begins to crack and crumble. Just as both Bianca and Wednesday think that he's just going to disintegrate into a pile, a magical pulse rushes from his body and explodes outwards, taking everything his magic caused with him.

Bianca joins Wednesday, looking around in disbelief. They share a smile until the click of a gun sounds behind them. Laurel Gates is still there to contend with.

"You brought a gun to a swordfight," Wednesday noticed. "That's probably the first smart decision you've made today."

The former Nevermore teacher stalks forward, gun pointed directly at Wednesday.

"I might not get to kill all the outcasts, but at least I'll get to kill you, Wednesday."

She pulls the trigger, resulting in an echoing bang. Silence follows until a groan breaks it.

You made it in time.

"Ugh... I hate getting shot." Bianca balks at you.

"You've been shot before!?"

"Yeah. Fox. Hunters. You know."

A frustrated growl pulls your attention as Laurel cocks her pistol again. Her aim is still on Wednesday despite your body blocking the way.

"I will get my revenge. My destiny will be fulfil- What?"

Barely noticeable to the rest of you, a bee sits right at the front sight of the pistol. It stalls Laurel enough for everyone to register a loud humming coming towards them. No, not humming.

Buzzing.

Before you know it, a swarm of bees engulf Laurel, stinging her and sending her to her demise. Eugene appears, hands held out as he controls his army.

"That's what you get for messing with Nevermore, bitch."

You have never been more happy to see the bee boy. He looks over at you and Wednesday with a proud smile.

"Hummers stick together, right?" You both reply with a solid nod.

Now that things are over, your knees buckle and you land on your butt, suddenly exhausted. Soon enough, the police arrive and all is well in the school once more.

-----+++++-----

You're sitting in the quad with your fellow dancers. After everything that happened, the school decided to close for the rest of the semester. You were glad for it, but you were going to miss people. One person in particular.

Said person caught your attention and you bid your friends goodbye before making your way over to the pale goth. A tinge of jealousy springs up when you see the item in her hands though.

"I see Xavier gave you his gift. Must be nice to be able to buy people the latest phone on the market like it's nothing," you grumbled.

Wednesday just rolls her eyes before shoving the phone into your hands.

"If I'm going to keep this, I might as well use it. Xavier already put his number in, but it could do with a few more." She looks at you expectantly. It was unnecessary seeing as you were already typing in your number and taking a selfie to set as the contact icon. After calling your phone to get Wednesday's number, you hand the device back.

"There. Contact info exchanged. I hope we keep in touch."

You sit on one of the low walls, leaning against the column it was attached to. While you knew you would keep in touch with the rest of your friend group, Wednesday was an unknown. Even with your growing relationship.

"I'm sure Enid invited you to San Fran," you say with a grin. "You're more than welcome to visit me in New Hampshire. Not too far from here, at least."

Wednesday stares at you and you welcome it. You don't think you ever really found it unnerving. It was a strange comfort whenever her dark eyes were on you. That should've been the first indication of how bad you had it for her.

"... I wouldn't be against you visiting me either."

If your smile got any wider, your face would be split in half. The fact that Wednesday wanted your company sent you over the moon.

"I'd love that. It'd be nice to see my dark soul in her natural habitat." A small chuckle escapes your lips when you're suddenly face to face with Wednesday. This close, you see uncertainty in her eyes as they flicker around, taking in your face. When she speaks though, there's a resolve in her voice.

"When you were upset with me, I didn't know why it affected me so." Her hands come up and cup your cheeks. You weren't sure whether the chill from her hands or the gentle touch sent shivers down your spine.

"When I kissed Tyler, while still pleasant at the time, it felt off." Her thumbs start to caress your cheeks and your eyes flutter slightly.

"I wonder... Will it feel off with you as well?" You're afraid this is a dream. You don't want to break this spell. With the lightest of touches, you reach for Wednesday's waist.

"Well..." You whisper. "There's only one way to find out."

You're not sure who moves first. You just know that as soon as your lips meet hers, nothing else matters. The ruckus and noise around you fade as Wednesday fills your every sense. Every time your lips part, you pull her back for more. Her hands are braced on your neck as she straddles your lap. Your arm holds Wednesday in place as your other hand travels up her back. She fits perfectly in your hands and you wonder if this is why legends of soulmates exist.

As much as you want to suffocate in Wednesday's embrace, oxygen calls to you. The goth leans back and you can see faint colors on pale skin. No doubt you're in the same way. You lean up to press your forehead against hers.

"What's the verdict?"

There's a devilish grin you've never seen on Wednesday before. While it should scare you, it only excites you more.

"Inconclusive. More testing is required, mia volpe."

Music to your ears.

+______________+Tag List+______________+

@screechcat @trishatheotaku @halleest @ashlynnmalfoy @a-trash-person @rainbow-love4ever @ognenniyvolk @spadesinfodump @maria-403 @simonsbluee @awolfcsworld @wizardofstories @alexandra-001 @leafanonsforest @daddy-jareau @anxietylemonice @tundra1029

#a dragon tries to write #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday (netflix)#Wednesday Addams

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dirtybg3confessions · 5 months

Text

Blog Moderation FAQs

Hi everyone!

Every time we answer an ask about the queue/inbox situation we get several of the same suggestions in our inbox. While we truly appreciate those of you trying to be helpful, I wanted to take some time to address some of the suggestions and the reasons behind our position on said suggestions.

Have you considered closing the ask box for a while until you work through what you have?

No. With as many asks as there are in the box, it would result in the ask box being closed for quite some time, which we don't think is really what anyone wants!

Closing the box would allow for us to "catch up", but it also would mean potential dry periods of content.

Keeping the ask box open means we need to scroll forever to reach the old asks, but it also means that we are set to deliver consistent content for a while, and are never at risk for an empty queue when the inevitable drop in fandom interest hits.

Why don't you post more frequently?

Actually, we do! We've exploded recently, so many of you may not remember ye olden days of our blog's founder doing their best as a one person show and we got one post a day... ish. Then, when the ask box exploded to 100 asks (haha) they brought in the first round of new mods (including me!). During this time, we were able to build a solid queue. We were then able to post 5-6 times a day.

With a healthy queue and a healthy ask box, we were able to bump the post frequency to 12 times a day. Most of the first wave of mods worked through some asks and then largely went inactive. This is fine, it happens. After struggling to keep up a frequency of 12/day as a one person show once again, we recruited new mods with some activity guidelines.

To maintain a posting frequency of 12 times a day, each mod needs to add 3 posts to the queue a day, or 21 posts to the queue a week. We ask that every mod contributes 30 times a week, that way we have a healthy buffer of content for holidays, emergencies, and just general time away from the internet.

While the confessions are sent in by y'all and editing them in photoshop is a generally simple process, it still does take time. Time in the game to find and take the screenshots, time in the editing software to create the image, then posting and tagging appropriately. Those cursed edits y'all love so much take even more time.

We're all adults here. And your mods are too. They have lives off of tumblr, often complete with bills and day jobs. Honestly, less fun than the little horny blog, but *vague gestures towards capitalist hellscape*

For these reasons, posting 12 times a day is going to be a hard cap for the foreseeable future. In the most loving way possible: If you are submitting an ask now and expecting to see it a week or even a month from now, you are going to be sorely disappointed. Submit your ask and know that it will be appreciated by the community when its time comes.

"A confession is never late, nor is it early. A confession arrives precisely when it means to." - Elminster (probably)

Why don't you just get more mods?

Have you heard the phrase "too many cooks in the kitchen"? Every person added to a process adds another variable, and the more variables, the harder it is to deliver a consistent experience. Additionally, the goal is to find people who can stay pretty consistently active, which can be a hard ask for a lot of people. We're very grateful for the team that we have now, and we aren't seeking new mods at this time.

Why don't you post more confessions about (character/female/etc)?

We are a submissions blog. We work with the content we are given. You need to be the horny you wish to see in the world. I know in general there's a lack of confessions for female characters, and there's an analysis to be made about how different gender/sexual identities interact with fandom and how that affects the content available in communities for consumption, but I'm not the person to make it.

Thank you all for continuing to be amazing, it is truly an honor to serve 🫡

#not confessions #faq #mod tri

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television-overload · 21 days

Text

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 4/34 - phone battery

[Read on AO3]

After a bit of a drought of decent cases, their latest, honest to goodness X-File was a welcome distraction. It hadn’t taken too long to wrap up either, which was a double win for Scully, who could only handle so many nights in a dilapidated motel room in a row. With the case now solved, more or less, all that remained for the morning was a bit of paperwork and a drive to the nearest airport to get back home.

“Your mom called me last night,” Mulder says, sitting in the driver’s seat of their rental car.

“Last night?” Scully asks, furrowing her brows. “What for?”

“It was when we got back to the motel, after your phone battery went dead. I told her to give it a few minutes and try again, give you a chance to get it charged.”

Scully doesn’t respond immediately, and when Mulder turns to look at her, he sees a puzzled look on her face, a crease forming between her brows.

“She didn’t call you?” he asks, matching her expression and turning his attention back to the road.

“No,” Scully answers, concern marring her features. “What did she say?”

“I think she was going to ask you something about Christmas, figuring out plans or something,” he says. “I did mention we were on a case, maybe she decided she’ll just call when you get back and aren’t busy.”

“Probably,” Scully says, then sits back in the passenger seat and gazes out the window at the passing scenery.

He steals another glance at her, thinking about the heavy weight that hung over his brief conversation with his future mother-in-law on the phone the night before. It really had been a short talk, with her asking if he knew where Scully (rather, Dana) was, and then how he’s been doing since his unwitting brain surgery.

He made polite conversation, of course, but keeping such a gigantic secret from a woman like Margaret Scully has a way of making one feel guilty for things they aren’t even guilty of. If the call had gone on much longer, he fears he would have started confessing like a Catholic over the phone, and he couldn’t have that.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “You think we should tell her about us?” then quickly corrects, “I mean– the adoption, eloping…”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Not yet,” she answers.

He shoots her another glance—only for a moment—but to be honest, that wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting.

“I know you said you don’t want a big wedding or anything, but if you want to tell her, you can. I doubt she’d give you any real trouble for it,” he reasons, having a hard time believing Mrs. Scully would be anything but supportive once everything has been explained to her.

“It’s not that. I just—” she struggles to explain. “With Emily, it was so stressful and confusing for her. I don’t want to put her through more of that unless…”

Ah.

He reaches over and places his hand on top of hers, which rests on her knee.

“Unless you’re absolutely sure this is going to work out,” he finishes, and she nods, grateful she doesn’t have to conjure the words herself.

“There are so many variables at play here, Mulder. Any one of them could go wrong,” she says. He knows she’s mentally making a list, calculating how likely each factor is to throw a wrench in their plans. She’d be here a while if she wanted to plan for every possibility, but that won’t stop her from trying, he knows.

He squeezes her hand once. “I hope you know that whatever happens, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.”

That earns a small smile, and she looks down at her lap in that way that she thinks hides her blush from him. Thankfully, it does no such thing.

“No, the Mulder variable is one that I have on good authority is fairly constant,” she says, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Oh? And are those findings available in a peer-reviewed journal article, Dr. Scully?” he teases back. “If you don’t cite your sources, I’m afraid your claims may be dismissed as unsubstantiated by the wider scientific community.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” she says, “I’m still working on gathering all my evidence. Research takes time, you know.”

“Maybe run some more tests,” he suggests.

She reaches out, running a hand through his hair, gently brushing over the place where his head had been drilled into.

“I’ll try to keep it less invasive than your previous experiences,” she teases, a small smile pulling at her lips.

He breathes out a laugh, forcing his focus back on the road instead of on the feeling of her nimble fingers tousling his hair.

-.-.-

Their discussion picks up again on the plane, perhaps serving as a distraction for his partner who isn’t all that fond of flying.

“You agree with me, don’t you?” she asks.

He gives her a look, his best impression of the Skeptical Scully Brow.

“Is that a blanket statement? Because in general, no, I think that would be factually incorrect, Scully, that’s kind of our whole thing.”

“I mean,” she says, rolling her eyes, “that we should wait to tell people. At least my family.”

He turns toward her. That she’s bringing this up again shows that it’s something she’s really worried about. If it’s reassurance she needs, he’s happy to give it to her.

“Sure, Scully. You know them best.” Really it isn’t his place to decide this, but if she’s asking, maybe she wants it to be. They will, in a way, be his family too if all this works out.

She takes a deep breath, her usual flying anxiety momentarily forgotten in favor of whatever new kind of anxiety this was. “I just mean– If we even get approved, and if we get matched with someone… there’s always a chance the birth mother changes her mind at the last minute,” she says, talking through the scenario aloud. “This will be hard enough with just you and I to worry about. I don’t want to have to think about protecting my mother from heartbreak on top of everything else.”

He has to suppress a sigh on hearing her pessimistic view of what he’s hoping will be a very joyous process. But then again, this is what he loves about her. She’s the yin to his yang. The day to his night. Together, they cover all their bases, leaving no stone unturned in their search for the truth. Why should this be any different? He won’t get very far on nothing but blind hope. She’s here to ensure they are prepared for everything, come what may. Unfortunately, that means her taking on an extra burden of worry, one he hopes he might help alleviate.

“We can wait to tell them,” he vows, hoping that will put a stop to her spiraling. “I’m with you on this, don’t forget. We’re a team.”

She leans back, her head resting against the back of her seat, a sign he knows means she’s relaxing a little.

Success.

Still, the idea of telling no one at all feels dangerous. They need to have someone in their corner besides each other, for a whole slew of reasons. Character witness, taking time off work, filing necessary paperwork so that everything looks totally above board when they make it official… Really, there’s only one person he feels they have to tell, and that’s—

“What about Skinner?”

She turns her head to look at him, confusion playing on her face. “What about him?”

“I think we should tell him. Sooner than later.”

Maybe he should have planned out his pitch a little better. He can tell she’s not immediately drawn to the idea. He should have made up a list of reasons why it is a good plan, not just blurted out his half-formed thought before it was ready.

“But Mulder, what if they split us up?”

He turns in his seat, his attention intensifying. “That’s why we only tell Skinner. Ask him to keep it quiet in case things don’t work out.” She’s gonna need more than that. Think! Tap into those persuasive skills! "But, Scully, there’s going to be times we might have to take an afternoon off for a meeting or something. It will be easier if he knows.”

His focused gaze implores her to consider it.

“I won’t let him split us up. It won’t happen.”

He can’t promise that, she knows, but they know Skinner well enough by now, don’t they? Sure, there may have been times when their trust in him wasn’t so strong, but it has been years now. Surely he would keep this to himself if they asked, right?

“Okay. You’re right…” she says tentatively, turning over his proposition in her head. “Just Skinner. No one else?”

His pinkie finger finds its way to hers and nudges it playfully. When she looks up at him, he smiles.

“Just you, me, and our big, bald boss makes three.”

~~~

SURPRISE - that was a short chapter, so here's another to make up for it

Chapter 5/34 - rulebook

“Hold on, go back to the IVF,” the follically challenged Assistant Director says, his hands tented in front of him. His brows furrow in concentration, and he breathes deeply through his nose, looking up at the two agents across the desk from him. “In vitro fertilization, right? So you’re saying—”

“Agent Mulder and I attempted to conceive a child through scientific means last year, yes.”

Scully’s answer is straightforward, perhaps hoping it will be like ripping off a band-aid. Judging by his stoic reaction, his pursed lips, the vein popping out of his forehead… her nonchalance does not really soften the blow.

His gruff voice returns after a moment of staring at them, his expression unreadable. “Right. Okay. Just wanted to make sure I was understanding.”

“It was unsuccessful,” Scully offers, continuing. “The ova that were fertilized unfortunately were not viable, probably due to the inconsistent storage conditions in which Mulder found them.”

“Yes, that– that’s where you lost me. The part about your abduction and then the cancer…” He sets a hand on top of one of the files Mulder had brought him, as if any of the words in that folder made a lick of sense to him.

“Believe me, sir, it’s just about as confusing to us as it is to you,” Mulder says.

Skinner clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Well, I’m very sorry about what happened to you, Agent Scully. I suppose that also explains the existence of… well…”

Emily. A story he never had fully explained.

“Yes, Emily was somehow part of all this. She was an experiment, never meant for me to find.”

Skinner balls his hand into a fist, tamping down the rage he feels bubbling up inside. “These men need to pay. What they’ve done to you– to you both… ”

“With all due respect, sir,” Mulder breaks in, “we’re not here to talk about revenge. We’re just trying to move forward.”

That’s… a surprisingly healthy outlook, coming from Mulder. What had Scully done to him? Whatever it was, the man owed her a heckuva lot more than whatever her last birthday and Christmas gifts had been.

“Of course, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “So, what is it that you were asking for?”

The two basement-dwelling agents glance at each other, words being passed unspoken between them. It’s unnerving, the way they do that. Downright spooky.

Evidently, they come to the decision that it’s Mulder who should say the next part.

“Well, since we’re looking into adoption, sir, we thought it might be easier if we got married.”

Silence fills the room, an inadvertent staredown commencing between all parties.

“Married.”

Mulder nods. “That’s right.”

Scully is sitting bolt upright in her chair, a picture of professionalism on the surface, but in conjunction with the topic of discussion, it feels distinctly forced. Mulder, on the other hand, is bouncing his knee so severely that it’s a wonder he hasn’t worn a hole in the carpet below him yet.

“We just don’t want there to be any issues here on the bureaucratic side of things, if at all possible,” Mulder adds. “In fact, we’d prefer to keep this quiet, at least until we know if this will work.”

Skinner presses his lips together, shifting his gaze between them once again.

“Well, your personal relationship will have to be disclosed to HR at some point. I can pull some strings—”

“Sir—”

“Although it would have been good to know a little earlier on. Say, around the time you were making some pretty serious medical decisions that may have affected your ability to do your jobs…”

“Sir, I—”

Mulder’s attempts to interrupt go unnoticed.

“You know, I have to commend you. You’ve really kept up appearances around here. I had my suspicions, of course, but you continued on like normal, I almost wouldn’t have guessed—”

“Sir, we’re not actually… together.” Finally, Mulder is able to get the words out, leaving an awkward hush in their wake.

Skinner leans forward, turning his ear toward the younger man as if he hadn’t heard him the first time. “What do you mean?”

A pink tinge blooms on Mulder’s cheeks. “We’re not– Sir, this marriage is a formality, to make the application process easier and hopefully give us better chances of getting approved.”

“A formality,” Skinner repeats.

“Yes. We– We’re just trying to do whatever’s best to improve the odds that this works out.”

One of these days he’s just going to disappear to Cancún. Seriously, he’ll do it. This can’t be good for his health. He suppresses a groan, storing up a massive eye roll for whenever these two idiots leave the room. Only they could think up something like getting married and adopting a child platonically . Not to mention everything else they’d evidently been doing when left to their own devices.

“Right. That’s– Okay, sure. So then, the IVF…”

Scully pipes up. “I asked Mulder, and he agreed to help me.”

“As a friend?” He feels like this bears clarification.

“Is there something against that in the rulebook?” Mulder asks challengingly.

The look he gives them in return is withering. “I don’t think there’s a rulebook for all the insane stuff you two get up to, but I might have to make one, after this.” The two of them have the decency to look chastised at this, though he knows from experience it will do no good in the long run. “You know this is not normal, right?”

“Come on, Skinner, when have I ever been referred to as normal?” Mulder laughs.

“ You , I might expect this from,” he says, pointing a finger in his direction. “It’s Agent Scully that surprises me. You’ve really done a number on her, haven’t you?”

He takes a little solace in the fact that all this IVF business happened under Kersh’s watch, not his own. Imagine if it had worked…

“Will you help us or not, sir?” Scully asks, impatience beginning to make her uneasy in her seat.

He waves a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah. I thought this day might come at some point, but… definitely not like this.” His mind is wandering already, thinking back to any signs he might have missed, things that may have gone wrong in his career to lead him to this exact moment. “You have my blessing, or whatever it is you came to get from me. You need anything, just ask.”

Scully lets out a sigh, and her shoulders visibly relax.

Mulder moves to stand without another moment’s hesitation, bouncing up with far more energy than a man of his age should have. “Thank you, sir. I promise, this is the last time we ask you to cover for us.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Agent Mulder,” Skinner warns, though his words contain no malice. If anything, he’s resigned.

As much as these two make him tear his hair out (what little he has left), he holds a certain fondness for them that is undeniable.

“And, hey– I’m happy for you. Seriously. The things I’ve seen you go through over the years, everything you’ve lost… You deserve this. Even if I don’t understand it.”

Mulder holds out a hand for him to shake. “Skinner. Thank you. Really.”

He nods. “Good luck with everything. And if you need any advice on adoption, my ex-wife’s sister has gone through it before. I can get you in touch, if you want.”

“We’d really appreciate that.”

They’re gone before he knows it, heads bent toward each other in secretive conversation before they’re even out of sight.

Skinner lets out the eye roll from earlier, leaning back in his desk chair in exhaustion.

They’d figure it out sooner or later, of that he is certain. It’s just taking a little longer than he expected, that’s all.

-.-.-

"I want to get married Christmas Eve."

The proposition comes out of nowhere on a Thursday afternoon, and Mulder nearly spills his coffee mug all over his desk instead of setting it down gently like he was trying to do.

"Next week?" he sputters, the burning liquid nearly going down the wrong pipe.

She purses her lips. "...That's when Christmas is, yeah Mulder."

"I knew there was a reason that guy on the street corner with the bell was dressed as Santa Claus," he jokes, wiping a few splattered droplets of coffee from his tie.

"Mulder..."

"Okay, okay,” he says, dropping the jokester act. “But don't you want to spend the day with your family?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Maybe.” Her eyes are locked on the desk in front of her, pointedly avoiding his concerned look. “I'll go for a little while, but they don't... understand me like they used to. Maybe it's just me, but when I'm with them for too long, I get this sense that they're... afraid of me. Or somehow uncomfortable around me. Ever since Emily..."

He stops her. "That's their problem, Scully. I'm sure they don't mean it."

"I know, it's just... hard."

He bites down on his bottom lip to hold back the slew of words he'd like to say to Bill Scully, Jr. He knows that's not what Scully needs right now, as much as it would make him feel better to have a go at him.

"Is that why you went ghostbusting with me last Christmas?" he asks, his heart softening at the thought.

"I don't know, maybe a little,” she shrugs. “It helped get my mind off things." She looks embarrassed to admit such a thing, but it only serves to make his heart twist in his chest.

"Well, too bad we don't have more time to plan. Could have had a Christmas Eve wedding in a haunted house," he deadpans.

This succeeds in getting her to look at him, and she emits a nervous giggle he doesn't often hear. "Absolutely not.”

He grins, leaning back in his chair and twirling a pencil between his fingers. "Come on, don't you think Maurice and Lyda would like to know we’re getting married? I'm sure they'd have a field day with all our issues from the past year."

"Stop it, that didn't really happen."

"Well even if it didn't, I found it enlightening."

"Good for you. No, the courthouse will be fine."

They fall silent, the jovial atmosphere settling.

"And you don't want to invite your family?” he asks, clarifying. "Since they'll be in town?"

She shakes her head. "No, I think it should be just us."

Just us. He likes the sound of that. But still, one problem remains—

"Alright, so let me get this straight... you want to get married—to me—the one day a year your brother is in town? Are you trying to get me killed?"

Her lips quirk up at the corners. "He won't find out, Mulder."

"You like the danger of it, don't you?” he teases, leaning toward her. “You're a rebel at heart. I knew it. Probably snuck out every night in high school to run around with Johnny from the football team."

She stares at him unwaveringly, not dignifying him with a response. "Is it a yes or a no?" she asks, arms crossed in front of her.

He sobers, meeting her eyes with startling honesty. "I'll marry you any day of the year, Scully,” he says, and it's the truth. It has been the truth for years now. “Just remind me to wear a cup in case he figures it out."

"You're ridiculous."

-.-.-

The next week passes in a blur. Arrangements are made, paperwork acquired, work winds down for the holidays, and for once, Mulder isn't bored out of his mind this time of year.

"I was thinking… for tomorrow..." her voice crackles over the phone.

"Not having second thoughts, are you?" Mulder asks, his tone light and teasing despite the tinge of genuine concern he tamps down.

"No, of course not,” she assures him. “I was thinking, I'll need an excuse to leave Christmas at my mom's."

"No problem,” he says with a shrug. “I'll give you a call and make up some case we have to work."

He hears her sigh and gets the distinct impression that his suggestion was somehow wrong. "I can't ask you to do that,” she says. “They already blame you for last year."

"Gee, that's reassuring,” he chuckles, leaning back on his leather sofa. He adjusts the phone cradle on his chest, stretching the power cord to its limits.

"Not all of them, but, you know—"

"Bill."

"Yeah."

He waits for a second, but when she offers no further thoughts, he asks, "Then what do you suggest?"

She waits a moment more before responding.

"Before you say anything, just listen to what I have to say…”

Oh boy.

"Why does that not give me a good feeling?" he muses aloud, his fingers twirling and tangling with the cord on the phone.

"The only way for you to be in the clear is if you're... with me, when we get called away."

"Scully—"

"We can just leave straight from her house, it's closer anyway."

"All excellent points, except for one thing..."

"Skinner can call us in."

Silence. He wants to argue but he can't.

"He already knows what's happening, I'm sure he'd be happy to help us," she reasons.

"I'm not gonna be able to talk myself out of this, am I?" he asks, a wry smile on his face. He's all out of excuses.

"Mulder, if this works out... Well, there's a chance that by this time next year, we'll be a... family... of some sort, anyway. You might have to get used to it."

The word family sends a thrill right through him. He never thought he'd have one of those again. Never in a million years.

"You're right,” he says regretfully, running a hand over his face. “And it's not that I don't like your family, Scully, it's just I'm not sure they like me back."

"My mom loves you,” she says decisively. “And we'll only be there a few hours anyway. The courthouse closes early for the holiday."

He closes his eyes. He can't believe he's about to agree to this.

"Alright, I'll go. Just so you can get your thrill in doing something wildly irresponsible and rebellious right under your mother's nose."

She protests, "That's not why I—"

"I know you, Scully,” he teases. “You're not as strait-laced as you like to pretend."

After they hang up, Mulder stares up at the ceiling, lost in thought. His stomach flutters with nerves, unrelated to his worries about crashing a family gathering in the morning.

‘I am getting married tomorrow,’ he thinks. To Dana Scully.

It's a Christmas miracle.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

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seenoversundown · 3 months

Text

Sparrow Of The Dawn : Chapter Seven

Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Warnings: Anxiety (Normal and Flying related) Mentions of Plane Crashes (all in panicked thoughts) Lost Luggage (it can be a rough time for some people) Angry Sam (if you squint) , and Fluff (but like..if you get Sam Feels, you chose this)

Word Count: 7.1k

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Author's Note: I hope you're ready 🤭

Stuck In the Middle With You - Stealers Wheel "Well, I don't know why I came here tonight, I got the feeling that something aint right, I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair, And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs."

“Alright, repeat after me.” Quinn says after placing their car in park. They turn to me, hands extended as they explain. “No annoying man is worth your shot at this job.”

“No annoying man is worth my shot at this job.” I repeat, also turning to face them for the pep talk they're giving me.

“Good. Just.. don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do out of state. Most things I wouldn't do out of state are felonies, there’s a lot of red tape with crossing state lines.. so, assault is off the table.” Their nonchalant attitude about committing crimes will always make me laugh. The thing is, Quinn doesn’t look like the type of person who would commit a crime, but also definitely looks like the type of person who would commit a crime. I don’t put anything past them because I’m sure whatever they’ve done if they’ve done it, they’ve one hundred percent gotten away with it.

“Assault is off the table.”

“Right. My knitting needles are still available if they’re needed when you’re HOME.” a definite emphasis on home.

I take a deep breath, centering myself for the morning, trip, and week ahead. Oh, it’s going to be a long one.

“You got this, don’t you stress that pretty little head. Just text me if you’re feeling particularly violent.”

“Okay, okay. You’re right.” I pull them in for a hug. “I got this.” Once again repeating their words back to myself.

I hop out of their car and tug my definitely overpacked luggage from the back seat.

“I’ll text you when I land, okay?” I call back to them and shut the door, and turn toward the entrance to the airport.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After I checked my luggage, I went searching for the gate. I find a seat, sit down, and wait. Albeit very early, but you can never be too sure with flights. It could be busy, or they could have changed the gate; there are too many variables to things going wrong. I decided to send Sam a text to gauge when to expect him while I sit here.

Willa: What’s your ETA?

I try to keep it simple enough, but as the minutes tick by I start to get more anxious. Why are men so terrible at texting? I wait another few minutes and text him again.

Willa: Are you on your way?

Could I be any more like an annoying girlfriend? God. Ew, don’t think about Sam and Girlfriend in the same sentence.

I check my phone for what feels like the millionth time this morning. Where the hell is he? Scrolling through my apps trying to distract myself to no avail. I close out and open my text thread with Sam, which only consists of me texting him. He still hasn’t answered my last one, and his read receipts aren’t on so I don’t know if he’s ignoring me or just hasn’t bothered to look at his phone. Which, why would he not check his phone? We’re seated together, we’re flying together; why would he not bother to communicate with me? Unless..

No.

No way?

He wouldn’t bail, would he?

I mean, I don’t exactly know him super well but.. He wouldn’t.

Right?

My heart starts to race in my chest as I begin to panic. I stand up and look around, trying to see if I can spot him through the crowd of people walking down the hallway. I stand on my tiptoes, trying to gain the tiniest bit more field of view when I see him. Casually walking down the aisle, breakfast sandwich in hand, headphones on, paying nobody any mind.

I seethe.

He smiles at me when he catches my eye. I swear it takes an age for him to finally meet me with how slow he’s walking. Like he has all the time in the world.

“Morning, Birdie.” He says cheerfully, taking another bite of his sandwich. It astounds me how little regard he has for other people. Just living life flying by the seat of his pants, not worrying about the time or anyone else involved. Especially not if that anyone is me.

“Where the hell have you been, Sam? We board in–” I double-check the time. “Ten minutes!” I say exasperatedly.

“I know.” He looks confused. How could he be confused about this? The email stated explicitly boarding begins at 5:50am. Oh, it's too early in the morning for me to be dealing with this. “That’s why I’m here? Why on earth are you irritated before 6 in the morning?”

“Why do you always show up at the last minute?” I snap back.

“I’m still early, they haven’t started boarding yet. Jesus, calm down, okay. It’s gonna be fine.” He takes the last bite of his sandwich and throws the wrapper in the nearby trash, wiping his hands on the front of his gray sweatpants. God, his gray sweatpants. I shake my head of the thought, remembering I’m angry at him and refusing to let the thought of his ass in tight tapered gray sweatpants distract me.

Oh, I could hit him, I am that mad. Get it together. You will not let this man ruin this experience for you just because he wants to be a bonehead first thing in the morning. What was it that Quinn said again?

I take a long breath in, hold it–

“He’s not worth my job. No across-state line crimes. Assault is off the table. Knitting needles in case of emergency.”

– and release.

I choose silence instead of violence.

The attendant comes over the speaker and starts announcing boarding schedules. We have pre-selected seats and are, thankfully, sitting on the side with only two. We at least won’t have to deal with any strangers for this leg; PMW is a small airport, so of course, we have a layover to get to the West Coast. I hope I can convince Sam to let me have the window seat. Naturally, we’re one of the last groups to board. I’m just happy I checked my suitcase and just brought my backpack for the flights so I don’t have to worry about the overhead bins. Can’t say the same for Sam though, as he stands next to me with his backpack on and duffle bag gripped in his hand.

When our group gets called, Sam heads over first; I sort of just cower behind him like a small child. Annoyingly latching onto the back of his cream-colored henley. We take awkward baby steps through the aisle as people file into their seats. I give Sam a gentle reminder of our seat numbers, 11A, and B, in front of the wings where it's quieter but not the emergency exit.

He pops the overhead compartment open and shoves his duffle bag inside then he slides in, right to the window seat.

“Uhm. Can I..” I start nervously. “Can I actually take the window seat?”

He stares up at me. His mouth hung open, clearly confused. “Why?” he asks.

I roll my eyes, irritated that we’re holding up the line to some degree, as people mumble and push past me. “Seeing out the window.. Helps.” trying my best to tiptoe around the elephant in the room.

“Helps?” He parrots me.

“I hate flying, Sam. Okay? Can I please just sit in the window?” I rush out under my breath, finally spilling the beans. If he had just an ounce of intuition about him. Nevermind.

“Ohhhhh.” He says, standing up, well, standing as best he can under the overhead bin. “That’s why you were being so psychotic this morning.”

He stands up straight in front of me in the middle of the aisle, waving me in with his hand.

“It’s not psychotic to want someone to show up on time.” I slip past him and slide into the window seat. Shoving my bag under the seat in front of me. He follows, plopping down next to me and doing the same with his bag.

“I was on time, just not early. I’m actually always on time, you’ll find.” He leans an arm against the armrest between us, placing an inquisitive finger to his chin. “I’ve not once been late since you’ve known me, have I?”

I decline to answer, and instead raise the shade on the window and pull out my headphones, ready to drown him out once the flight attendants are finished with their instructions. Because, yes I do pay attention to those. You can never be too careful.

The plane starts to move, and instantly my heart is beating like a drum in my throat. I wring my fingers together, focusing on the friction of my hands. The heat of my palms only soothes me so much.

Sam leans over the armrest again and whispers, “You can hold my hand if you’re scared, it’s okay.” I look down to see his palm staring right back at me. I glance up to his face trying to determine if the smile he wears is genuine or if he’s being a dick.

My pride won’t allow me to accept the former, so I reply, “I’d rather eat dirt, actually. Thanks for making fun of me.” Then I cross my arms and stare out the window.

“I wasn’t – Nevermind.” He adjusts in his seat and puts his own headphones back on his ears.

The relief I feel knowing this first flight is a short one is minimal at best. Just when I get used to being in the air, we’ll have to touch back down and then I’m waiting in the airport to do it all over again.

I pull my headphones over my ears and choose a playlist I specifically curated to be relaxing for the flight. I tilt my head back and focus on anything but the low hum of the engine. Just as I start to forget, I’m thousands of feet in the air..

Turbulence. Fuck.

I jolt upright and clasp my hands together, squeezing them together so tightly I’m on the verge of breaking a finger. I feel a hand touch my forearm. I peek open one eye, despite knowing that the only person that could be touching me right now is Sam. I look up at him, and he gestures for me to remove my headphones.

“It’s a short flight, so they won’t go up as high. Meaning there will be more turbulence than normal as we fly through the clouds.”

Great.

Wonderful.

Amazing.

That makes me soooooo happy, actually. My breathing picks up, and I trying to calm my nerves and focus on my breathing. In through my nose, and out through my mouth. Sam sneaks into my line of sight again.

“Hey.” He gives me a gentle smile and I might find it sweet if I wasn’t losing my mind at the moment. “We’ll only be up here for ten minutes tops, then we descend. You have nothing to worry about.”

Easy for you to say. I resist the urge to snap at him and go back to my breathing techniques.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I have never in my life been more thrilled to touch solid ground. Every time the plane shook, I squeezed my eyes and hands tighter. I’m surprised I made it out unscathed. Well, relatively unscathed. The skin around my thumbs bore the brunt of my anxiety when I wasn’t trying to be as still as possible. Somehow, my logic was if I can stay still, we won’t plummet to the ground to our untimely deaths. At one point, we dipped what I’m sure was a normal amount, and I swore that was the end of me.

“I’m hungry.” Sam says to me as we walk through the tunnel to the airport. “Think I’m gonna roam around to find some.”

I stop midstep. “No. I don’t trust you. We’re going to find the gate.” I say.

A statement, not a question.

“But Birdie, I’m hungry.” He complains, like a five-year-old. Jesus, if I wanted to tote around an annoying child, I would have had one by now.

“We’re going to go and find the gate, Sam.” I don’t let him argue with me. “Please, don’t do this to me. I’m already stressed, and I don’t trust you not to make it worse by showing up at the last minute again.” We finally step into the gate. Airports always smell so bad, and the Newark airport is no different. No matter what time of year, they always smell like sweaty socks. Gross.

“How about this,” he counters, and I wait for his terrible idea. “We go find the gate–”

“Yes! Thank you!” I exclaim triumphantly. I honestly thought I’d have to fight him harder on that. He throws me a pointed look as we walk side by side.

“How about we go find the gate, we see it exists, and then we go get food. Together.”

I contemplate his words, mulling them over in my head. I’m not usually one to eat while flying. Due to all the nerves and stress that I’ll miss a flight or get lost. I don’t fly much for this reason.

“Come on, Bird. We have a two-hour layover, and if I don’t eat, I’ll be cranky, and there’s no vacancy in the cranky department because we both know that spot is taken by you.”

“Hey!” I protest. He’s.. not exactly wrong, though. Am I cranky? Yes. Do I have a reason to be cranky? Yes. Come to think of it.. I don’t think I’ve actually seen Sam cranky. I’ve seen him surprised, like when I yelled at him at the farmers market. I’ve seen him happy, like when we won the contest. I’ve seen him sassy, because yes sassy is the word I’d use to describe when he bickers with me. But I’ve never seen him cranky or mad even. He always matches my snarkiness tit for tat, but he never seems irritated by it. It’s one of the reasons I don’t fully mind having to do this project with him. He’s talented, which makes the work part easier. And he’s a total pain in my ass. Mostly because I just.. Don’t understand him.

“So…” He waits with anticipation.

“Okay.” I give in; I feel like I’m always giving in to him. “We’ll see where the gate is, and then we’ll go get food.”

We make our way through the crowd. Luckily, the gate we have to be at is just at the next terminal over, so we don’t have to walk very far. Sam, however, is a very tall man, and I find myself struggling to match his stride, even at a casual walking speed. Or what I’m sure is casual for him. I wrap my hand around his elbow and give him a gentle squeeze as if to remind him of my presence. Just another example of Sam acting like he’s the center of the universe. He does, at the very least, slow down a little after that, but I don’t let go of his arm. Just in case.

“There’s our gate, Birdie.” He looks at it lovingly and slips his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “Isn’t she pretty?” he lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Yeah, okay. I get it. Let's get you some food before you wither away and die.”

Choosing a place to eat goes swimmingly when I point out somewhere, and he turns it down. Stupid vegetarian. Finally, we end up at one of those marketplaces that’s more like a rest stop than an actual place to eat.

Sam buys half the store worth of snacks, and I stick to just a bag of goldfish and a coke until he yells over to me. “Hey, can you grab me sushi if there’s some over there?” He points to the cooler.

Does he really think he’s going to find sushi here? In the airport? I look anyway just to appease him, and when I find none, I check out. I grab my two items and meet him in the hallway, and we head back to the gate to sit until we board. Thankfully.

We find a couple seats next to an outlet and put all our belongings on the seat between us.

“There was no sushi?” He looks over at me with the biggest puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. Jesus. Have his eyes always been that pretty?

“No, Sam. There was no sushi.” I say, hardly wanting to disappoint him.

“Damn.” he mutters, shoving a couple chips into his mouth.

“This is Newark. Did you honestly expect there would be sushi?” I ask, opening my bag of goldfish.

He shrugs, “I dunno. Ya never know.”

“I thought you couldn’t eat sushi, being a vegetarian and all.” I question skeptically, popping a few crackers into my mouth and opening my bottle of coke.

“Sushi is my one exception.” He whispers to me like it’s a dirty secret. “Don’t tell Daniel.” He says as if Daniel and I are in cahoots with each other to conspire against him. I’ve never even met the man. Not officially, anyway. I’ve seen him at the bar a few times, but we've only exchanged a handful of words as he’s checked my ID a time or two.

“My lips are sealed.” I pretend to lock my mouth and throw away the key. He smiles at me, and it reaches his eyes. Bright and happy. How he manages to be in such good spirits traveling is beyond me.

I reach between us, setting aside my goldfish, and dig through my bag for a charger. I spent so long checking my phone and staring at my empty texts from him that the battery is getting low, and the next flight is the longer one. I feel through every corner of my bag; I swore I packed it in and I don’t feel it. I open another compartment and feel around there, nothing. Another, and nothing. God damnit.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asks, setting his food down next to him.

“Can you just–” I start pulling out items from my bag and setting them in his hands. His eyes are wide with confusion, but I don’t care. I need to find my charger.

In what feels like Aggie Cromwell’s endless purse of goodies, I stare down at my now empty camera bag. All the contents strewn between mine and Sam’s laps, his arms overflowing.

“Uh.. Bird?”

“Ugh! I can’t find my charger.” I lean back in my chair, annoyed, and he laughs. He LAUGHS. The nerve of him.

“I have an extra.” he attempts to hand me some of my things back. I stare at him slack jawed. Okay?

“Well good for you!” I snap back. Mr. Overprepared Kiszka has an extra charger while I’m going to have to buy a new one. He laughs again, his eyes squinting as he does.

“I mean I have an extra you can borrow. Hold on.” He starts to successfully hand me back my things and I crowd them around my lap.

“Here you go.” He gives me a small smile, and I grab the charger from him.

“Uhh, thanks.” I unravel the cord from where it's tucked around itself and plug it into the wall socket next to me. I pause just before I stick the cord into the lightning port on my phone. Why does he have an extra?

“Sam.”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading.

“Why do you have an extra charger?”

“Just in case.” He shrugs, still not making eye contact with me. I have a feeling of what he’s going to say if I press the issue, and I better be wrong.

“Why?” I push his book out of his view. And he sighs. Oh here it comes.

“Because Birdie.” He adjusts in his seat, putting his bookmark in between the pages and looking me directly in the eye. “Clumsy and forgetful usually go together, and you’re definitely clumsy. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

I’m not forgetful. I’m prepared–I’m overprepared, really. I overpack. I plan, and I plan, and I plan. I am not forgetful. Sufficiently annoyed and again choosing not to argue with him, I start to place my things one by one back in the pockets of my bag.

With his eyes still watching me, he says, “So.. Do you like the camera bag?” a wide smile spreads across his lips. God damnit. I knew he was going to be like this and still bought one anyway. But to be fair, it was the first bag that popped up in my Google search for ‘camera bags’. He totes his around everywhere he goes, so clearly he thinks it's a good choice.

“I do. It has lots of pockets for all of my things.” I say.

“Like your rocks.” He holds up a black tourmaline raw chunk, and I pluck it from his fingers and tuck it securely in one of the pockets.

“Yes, like my rocks. That one is good for travel.” I say matter of factly. My phone buzzes against my leg, drawing my attention away from him.

Quinn: Birdieeeeee, you got some splanin to dooooo

Willa: Not you too 🤦🏻‍♀️

Quinn: Hey! You’re not allowed to protest when I was just trying to be a good, dutiful, stay at home roommate and do your laundry while you’re away. HOWEVER I found these in your hamper

Quinn: [ picture ]

Quinn: I was just wondering, if your ratty old sweatpants are here.. What you’re planning on wearing there?

I groan at their text, earning a curious side-eye from Sam. When we won the competition, an email was sent out informing us that we would be sharing a double room. Despite knowing we’d be in two separate beds I still wanted to seem like I have my shit together. Ratty sweatpants do not say ‘I have my life together.’ They say I’ve worn these through every breakup I’ve ever had and are stained with no less than four different kinds of comfort meals and chocolate syrup from the ice cream I've consumed in them, too. Resulting in the conclusion that my life IS, in fact, a mess. Sue me for cryin’ out loud. My phone buzzes again.

Quinn: Are you wearing your sexy pjs?

Quinn: for HIM?

Quinn: A MAN?!

Quinn: You only wear them for me? ☹️

That causes me to laugh, out loud.

“Everything okay?” Sam asks, concern written on his features.

“Oh, HA, yeah. Everything is fine. Just roommate stuff.” I explain awkwardly.

Willa: They are not sexy pjs just because they match. I was trying to seem like I have my life together okay. People with matching pjs have their lives together.

Quinn: [ picture ]

Quinn: That’s cold, Wallaby.

Jesus Christ. I stare at a photo of Quinn’s pouting face and promptly redirect my attention to Sam. He’s just been in his henley this whole time. No jacket, no coat, no scarf, and he usually always wears a scarf.

“Are you not cold?” I let my impulsive thought escape my lips.

“No.” He says plainly, turning the page to his book.

“Did you even bring a jacket?” I can’t help myself but ask.

“I packed a jacket, yeah.” He pats his own camera bag.

“Oh.” Well damn. How am I supposed to respond to that? He shuts his book with his finger still keeping his place.

“Are you cold?” He asks.

“I’m always cold, remember?” I say absentmindedly.

I always come prepared for traveling because airports are cold, planes are cold, and, in my unfortunate turn of luck, it's cold where we’re going. I get a free vacation to an equally cold place. Not how I pictured California. I wore a black long-sleeve under my cream-colored Patagonia pullover to keep warm. I figured a small coat would be enough, with the beginning of April around the corner.

“Did you want to borrow it?” He interrupts my thoughts.

“What?”

“My jacket. You said you’re cold. Did you want to borrow it?”

My eyes go wide at his suggestion, and I can’t seem to make my mouth move in protest. I just sit there with my mouth hanging open like a weirdo, and because I’ve taken too long to answer, he already starts to pull his jacket out of his bag. Oh god.

“Here.” He says, giving me a small smile. I take the jacket from him and straighten it out. Oh. It's the rust-colored jacket he was wearing the first day I saw him at the Farmer’s Market. I slide it around my shoulders and slip my arms through each sleeve, staring down at the ties in lieu of buttons. Sam laughs as I stand there.

“It just ties, Birdie. Here,” His hands, oh god, his hands, work the delicate strings at the front. Tying them in tiny little bows. I’m exactly the same height as him as he stays seated in front of me. When he’s finished, he’s still smiling. “There you go. Perfect.” And I really look at him for what seems like the first time. Oh, this is going to be bad.

“Now Boarding Flight 2637 to San Francisco.” They announce over the intercom. Thank god.

We’re not the last boarding group this go around so it should go a little easier. We stand slightly out of the way until it's our turn to go; this time, Sam lets me lead. Similar to the last flight, we’re in front of the wings, and he allows me the window seat. It works out better that way because he spent so long trying to fidget with the overhead compartment before sitting down next to me.

Much like the previous flight, I fight with my nerves. I’m just hoping there isn’t turbulence. We’re in the air for almost seven hours; I don’t think I could handle turbulence for that long. I run through my routine. Taking my headphones out and wrapping them around my neck, double-checking my playlist, slipping my Kindle into an easy-to-grab area just in case I am calm enough to read. Doubtful, but we can hope.

I clasp my hands together and wait as the plane navigates the runway. The flight attendants start their safety presentation and as always, I pay attention. I think I catch a slight giggle from Sam as I crane my neck to be able to see over the seat in front of me. Then we take off.

I stare out the window as the ground shrinks beneath us, the wheels folding up under the aircraft. I make myself small and still, paying attention to my breathing and the speedy thrum of my heart in my chest. In through my nose, pausing, and breathing out through my mouth. My head starts to get fuzzy as I take in the smell of Sam’s cologne still lingering on his jacket. The woody notes of cedarwood, balsam, and amber calm me down a little. Has he always smelled this good? Why have I never noticed that before?

My eyes wander to Sam, curious to see how a normal person handles a flight. Secretly stealing a glance at him, I take in the profile of his face backlit by the sun from the opposite window. He really does have good genes; all of them do. It’s kind of rude, actually. His hair waves slightly, resting against his shoulders. He runs a hand through it as he casually scrolls through his phone. I lean my head against the back of my seat, feeling myself start to relax a little with each deep breath I take.

He meets my gaze and holds his hand out to me, offering me the same comfort I previously denied him on the last flight. Again, I decline with a small wave of my own hand. I should be okay, I think to myself.

After a bit, I’m jolted from my calm demeanor when more turbulence hits. I sit up straight and resume my position of small and still, nervously wringing my hands together.

Sam grabs my hands with both of his and squeezes gently. I look over at him and he looks so worried about me. Why does he look so worried?

“Come here,” I think is what his mouth says to me. I can’t hear anything over the rapid beating of my heart in my ears. Everything else is muffled.

He breaks apart my hands and laces his fingers with my right one, my left one having no choice but to wrap around the back of his. He tugs me a little, pulling me closer to him and I lean my head against his arm. I inhale deeply, searching for the scent that calmed me earlier. In through my nose, pause, out through my mouth.

Again and again, until I feel my heart slow, even if just by a small amount. His thumb gently rubs against the back of my hand.

“Hey, look at me.” He says softly, as my ears start to clear up. I tilt my head up, never leaving his arm, and stare directly into his warm brown eyes. “You ever heard of the jello theory?” I shake my head no.

“The theory is that when a plane experiences turbulence, it's kinda like a stapler trapped in jello. The stapler wiggles around but doesn’t suddenly land on the floor. So the plane isn’t going to tumble out of the sky because of a little turbulence; it’s just gonna wiggle around a bit.”

Huh, I never knew that. I can feel my muscles start to loosen where they’re half wrapped around him.

“Better?” He asks.

“Better.” I say. Which is the truth. I do feel better after hearing that.

“Want to watch a movie? Help distract you a little more?” He bends down slightly, unzipping his bag and pulling out his laptop, all one-handed, as he never lets go of mine.

“How?” Obviously confused by the mechanics, we both have over-the-ear headphones, which puts sharing out the question. And Sam doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to listen to a movie with the sound on blast in public.

“I have one of those splitter things. Borrowed it from my brother, actually. Ya know.. Just in case.” He says, and the smallest tint of pink washes over his cheeks. He pulls down the tray and sets his laptop on top of it, again reaching into a pocket and pulling out the splitter, and clicking it into place. He wiggles his fingers at me to give him my headphone jack, and then he plugs that into place right next to his.

“I have Zootopia, The Godfather, and uhh,” he pauses looking down at me. “Twilight.” he mumbles.

“I thought you said you’ve never seen Twilight?” I question skeptically.

“I haven’t.” and I’m almost positive he’s lying. “I uploaded it ya know.. Just in case.” he repeats for the third time today. Samuel ‘just in case’ Kiszka.

“Twilight it is.. Everyone should see it at least once.” I give him a bit of a side-eye. My belly does a flip, and I squeeze his hand tighter when another jolt of turbulence hits. He squeezes my hand back, letting me know its going to be okay.

“Twilight it is then.” and he clicks play on the movie.

My eyes start to flutter close sometime around ‘Hold on tight spider monkey’, but before I fall asleep, I could swear I see Sam quoting the movie under his breath. I tuck that nugget away for another time.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

When I wake up, I’m still curled up to his arm, our fingers still clasped together, his head gently resting against mine. I raise my head a little, careful not to disturb him, and notice the spot of drool I’ve left there. Oh god. I sit up straight, scaring him in the process, and begin furiously wiping at my mouth. He looks at me wide-eyed, then down at his arm, back up to me, and turns back to his movie. He doesn’t say anything nor does he look upset. My face heats with embarrassment, and I scoot as far away from him as I possibly can.

He disconnects our headphones and starts to pack up his laptop when the pilot informs us of our descent. I feel like I’ve been on a plane for ages today. Somehow, despite my nap, I still feel unrested. Must be all the anxiety.

When the plane finally touches down, Sam is quick to get up and stretch. I can’t blame him; he’s nearly six feet tall. I can't imagine that’s comfortable. Especially with my clinging to him like a koala the whole flight. I stand as tall as I can in the cramped space and set my bag on his seat waiting to exit. I feel around my pockets, double-checking that I have everything. Where is my phone? I bend down to feel around the floor, looking to see if it has fallen between the cracks, and notice it under Sam’s seat. I grab it and pocket it. I stand up and get about halfway, only to come eye-to-eye with Sam’s bare belly button. I peer up, and he’s on his tiptoes in the overhead compartment, trying to wriggle out his duffle bag.

Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. With each stretch and pull of him trying to get his bag out, his sweatpants shift further and further down, exposing the band of his Hanes boxers. Fuck off. Honestly. What have I done to deserve this torture?

I stand as tall as I can and stare right at the bottom of the overhead compartment just as he gets his bag free. God, I need a fucking nap.

“We have to stop at baggage claim.” I remind him as we start to walk single file down the aircraft.

“Right.”

We both say goodbye to the stewardesses, both of whom bid Sam a warm farewell and don’t bother to look at me. Lovely.

“I think it's this way.” He says, pointing at the signs. I let him lead the way; if he wants to captain our way through the airport, so be it. My brain is fried, and I don’t even want to be here anyway. We walk down two flights of stairs to a carpeted area at ground level, nine carousels lined up next to each other. He takes a left to one-half of them and points.

“They said this one.”

So we wait. And we wait. And we wait some more.

Bag after bag comes out, none of which are mine. I start to get restless. Stepping from foot to foot.

“Sam.” I look over at him. I tuck my hair behind my ears and then begin wringing my hands together. “My bag isn’t here.”

“What do you mean your bag isn’t here?” He drops his duffle off his shoulder with a loud thud.

“I mean, none of these bags are my luggage.” My eyes are wide, and my pulse picks up. “Oh god.” I run my hands over my face and start to pace back and forth in front of him. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He calls to me. “Birdie!” finally grabbing a hold of my shoulders and stopping me. “We will go check with the baggage claim office and figure it out. It’ll be fine. Please calm down.”

“Calm down? You want me to CALM DOWN?” I start to raise my voice a bit too loudly for where we are. Even though it’s nearly a ghost town down here for it still being in the middle of the day, I know I’m embarrassing him, but I can’t stop myself in the heat of the moment.

“We're in another state. This is for WORK, and my luggage is gone. I will have nothing to wear to anything they need us to do. I can’t even brush my teeth! And you want me to be CALM?” my chest rises and falls with my rapid breaths. He reaches out and snatches one of my hands and cradles it between both of his.

“I just meant we’ll figure it out, okay?”

A frown makes its way to my face, and I just wave him onward to whatever plan he’s internally concocted. He leans down and grabs his duffle bag, and heads off to his destination.

When he finally reaches the desk for our airline, no one will pay him any attention. All trying to get their own affairs in order before glancing over at him.

“Excuse me.” he says and waits. No one looks. “Excuse me.” he tries again, and nothing. Finally, seeing a side of Sam I’ve never seen before, he raises his voice and yells, “Who the hell do I need to talk to to get my girlfriend’s luggage?” and I nearly choke on my own saliva.

“Sorry sir, what can I do for you.” a petite young woman says to him.

“My girlfriend checked a bag, and it wasn’t at baggage claim. We’re in town for a business trip, and it’s important that she has her luggage. How can we figure out where it is?” My eyes gloss over and my ears start to play static noise at the second mention of ‘girlfriend’. I don’t even hear the rest of the conversation when he shakes me back to reality.

“They sent it down the wrong track. She said it should be on number 2 instead of 7.” When I fail to move my feet, he questions me.

“I’m your what now?” I ask him. Girlfriend.

“I just thought they’d take me more seriously if I said that. ‘Coworker who usually hates me and bickers with me all the time’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.” he says casually, putting an arm around me and leading me in the direction the receptionist sent him. “Why? Do you think I should have said something else? Fiancee? Wife?”

“Oh, Sam, for the love of God, please shut up.” I rub my fingers over my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Yep, I definitely need a nap.

“Damn, okay..” he laughs.

We finally make it to the right carousel and I grab my luggage. Crisis averted. I give him a small thank you, knowing he made it happen but also still being incredibly annoyed by this process. And maybeeee taking it out on him a little bit. Just a little..

We make it to the front entrance, where a man in a suit and cute little hat has a sign that says “Sam Kiszka and Willa Clarke”. He introduces himself as Christian, takes my bag and leads us to his vehicle. I hop into the backseat as Sam and Christian put the luggage in the trunk. When Sam joins me in the backseat, I don’t even bother to open my eyes.

“He said the hotel is like a half an hour’s drive with the traffic.” He whispers to me. The faint click of his seatbelt follows. I hold up my hand, give him a thumbs up, and try to nap the rest of the way there.

The ride feels much longer than it actually is, given its bumper-to-bumper traffic. The roads are terrible and bumpy, and he zigzags through the cars, but I try not to pay attention. I wish I had some melatonin so I could just conk out when we get there. Every curve, bump, and honk of the horn grate on my last nerve as I’m pulled from my nap and further thrust into insanity.

I feel myself barely keeping it together by the time that we get to the hotel. Longing for my PJs, I meet the boys at the trunk to get my luggage. I say thank you to Christian and watch as Sam shakes his hand and stealthily hands him a tip. Even in my half-asleep brain fog, that still makes my stomach flip. Why was that kinda.. Nope, not even going there.

I follow behind Sam, and he opens the door for me. At least he has manners. And we wait our turn to talk to the receptionist at the front desk.

“What name is the reservation under?” He asks. I pull my phone out of my pocket and go searching for the email in my inbox.

“Says both of us.” I pocket my phone again.

We step up to the counter, and the young man greets us with a pleasant smile. “Welcome to the Hyatt, I’m Dustin. How can I help you?” His curly hair bounces as he talks.

“We have a reservation under Sam Kiszka or Willa Clarke,” Sam replies.

“You’re with the newspapers, right?”

He shakes his head.

“You’re in room 422. You’ll head down this way to the elevators, and you’re on floor four.” Dustin says as he slides us our room keys. Sam grabs them, handing me the extra.

“We have continental breakfast every morning starting at 6 and going until 9 in the morning. We have plenty of amenities, like a pool and fitness center you’re free to use, just use your key to access the rooms. If you need anything else, call down to us from the phone in your room.”

We thank yet another person and make our way to the elevator. Sam presses the correct floor button and I lean against the back wall.

“The home-iest home stretch of all home stretches.” He says to me, and I just glare at him, having depleted my energy for the day. God, I’ve lost the will to bicker with him.

The elevator dings, and I nearly hear the chorus of angels singing in the distance. My bed is calling me. Well, a bed is calling me. I tote behind Sam like the sleepy toddler I’ve become as he twists and turns his way down the appropriate hallways until he reaches room 422. The golden room. Finally.

He places the key against the pad, the light turns green, and the sound of it unlocking is music to my ears. He steps inside flicks on the light, and starts hysterically laughing. I’m not even sure I want to know what’s so funny when I ask him, but I do anyway.

“Why are you laughing?” his tall frame blocking my view of anything as I try to get my suitcase in the door. I shut the door when I’m finally successful, and he’s wiping the tears from his eyes as he continues to roar with laughter. I let go of my luggage handle and step into the light.

“Oh. My. God.”

Of fucking course, there’s only one bed.

Chapter Six

Chapter 8

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