#and al's been pissy with me lately

[yuurivoice]

You know the town getting all pissy Abt Seth and Alphonse's relationship and somehow pinning it on Al's parents will never fail to make me face palm like?? I promise you they did not perform a homosexual seance..

They were just trying to help a kid :((

Homosexual seance is fucking hilarious! But also, with the implied Bible thumping going on, you probably aren't far off.

Depending on what flavor of religious trauma you might have it may or may not resonate. But having been around evangelical, southern baptist-y types...they sure would be thinking the Devil was in that house! OoooOoOOoogabooga!

It's a bummer. I don't really think that's going to spring up as a huge topic again, but we might be able to gather some info about how those sorts of folks might have been handled as of late, given that Seth now works at the tavern.

[baby-mushy]

Naptime

Husk didn't realize he was small until it was too late. And guess who came in at that "too late" mark!

[cw: Swearing, fear(?)]

[apologies in advance if anyone is OOC]

[it happened vaguely around Flight, Fight or Fawn. Not right after, give it a few days]

[also cg!xian and little!husk was a duo I'd never guess I'd write in many centuries]

It had taken Husk 20 minutes to realize he had been wiping the same glass. Thankfully, nobody had realized, everyone was still surprised at the idea that Alastor was an age regressor and two of the residents were just..taking care of him in secret.

But..He didn't care that much. Alastor did own his soul and it was good blackmail, but something about it made him not care.. Instead, he felt almost familiar with it. Familiar with the idea of acting like a child...

He put the glass away and moved onto a new one, lost in his thoughts again. He wasn't in the mood to ask anyone about it. Especially not from Xian or Onyx. They had that strange vibe of that they'd start taking care of him if he said anything related to feeling younger.

And so he'd been keeping these thoughts to himself.

He set the glass down and started approaching the stairs. Vaggie saw, and called after him.

"Husk. Where are you going?"

He turned, his shoulders slumped and he looked a bit more pissy.

"To sleep. I'm tired of listening to you all bitch about Al and his shitshow."

He continued up the stairs, ignoring everyone's comments. At least Alastor wasn't going to stop him. The man was too busy sulking in his room, saying he was "Simply taking a break".

He opened his door and just fell onto his bed. He'd been exhausted all day. But it wasn't it a normal "I haven't slept enough" exhaustion. It was like a type of exhaustion that made him want to cuddle everyone and everything in his sleep. Almost as if his only reason to sleep was just to cuddle someone.

He'd gotten a small plushie to try and combat it every time it happened. It was worn out and very torn, but somebody sewed a poker chip onto it, so he felt a weird sense of attachment to it. Even if it's arm moved too much from the lack of stitches. He did enjoy Chip's presence though - It was better than anyone else.

So here he was, laying in bed, cuddled with a plushie... As a grown man...ish. If you asked him how old he was, he'd answer with about his early 50s. Not because he was that age, but because it was the expected answer... That kind of "grown man-ish".

He pulled up his covers and snuggled with it. As long as nobody bothered him, he would be happy...So, he shut his eyes for some much needed cuddles rest.

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

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

..Who the fuck wanted him now? He just wanted to rest, and he hadn't done so for a while now..Could anyone give him a break?!

"What do you want?"

"You've been in there for 4 hours now. It's dinner time."

Oh look. Of course it's papa bear coming to check on him. Why couldn't Xian know he wasn't a dad to everyone?

"I'm not hungry."

He heard a scoff.

"When did you last eat?"

"Why do you care?!"

"Because I...Look, I'm going to pull you out the goddamn bed and force you to eat if you don't get up."

He growled and kicked his feet, almost like he was riding a bicycle in bed.

"You wouldn't fucking dare. Why can't you go attend Al? He probably needs more help than I do! Poor moron refuses to leave his room."

"Because Alastor is eating and your not..."

Xian's tone turned into mocking

"Don't you make me count to 3."

Count? What was he, a child?

"Oh, go ahead! You think I give a shit?!"

"1."

Oh..he was being dead serious.. What the hell was running through his mind–

"2."

–anyway? Does he think any annoyed person who isn't hungry is automatically a moron who can't solve shit for themselves?–

"3.."

–Goddamn stubborn fucking bastar-

CREAK

..And so there was Xian, giving him a stern look. It reminded him of a disappointed father.

..He didn't quite know why, but he almost shuddered under his gaze. But..in any other circumstance, he wouldn't care, probably go back to whatever he was doing...so..what was the difference?

"I'm not a child. You didn't need to count down, goddamn infantilizing bastard."

"I'm-"

He interrupted, in a talking yell.

"No, your problem is that you believe everyone is an incapable child just because of one person!"

Xian was stood there, frozen.. Husk believed that would serve him right.

"I was counting down to make a mockery of your childishness. To me, it seems you are a child."

"All I am is tired of your bullshit. You think your everyone's dad now."

"...Husk. In the most polite way possible, your cuddling a plushie tighter than your attitude."

"What about it? A grown man can have a plushie."

"Funny how you and Alastor say the same things. Almost like your both stubborn Littles."

He growled and threw Chip onto the floor in front of his bed. He rested a hand on his face - not wanting to show Xian the guilt he felt after doing that.

It was a plushie. A fucking plushie. And he thought Chip was in grave pain.

Xian cautiously walked over. He grabbed Chip and handed it back to him. Husk crossed his arms and tensed up.

"I threw him for a reason, Xian."

"I might be an 'infantilizing bastard' but I'm not stupid. I know when Littles feel bad."

"Stop it. I'm not 'little'."

Still, Husk cuddled the plushie. He didn't like to see Chip hurt. He just hoped Chip's arm wasn't hurting from it being a bit torn off. Maybe he should fix that later with a cast.

Xian sat down on the bed next to him. Husk grumbled, feeling like he was about to be in for an interrogation.

"Right. Why are you refusing to eat dinner?"

Well, his hand-eye-coordination wasn't very good. He had breakfast this morning and he was spilling and dropping his food.

...He didn't want that to happen in front of everyone.

So, he just skipped lunch. He could wait until the dinner room was empty before eating

"...I'm not hungry."

"Okay...but is there also something about the food? Or something about being around people? Just..what is it?"

Only now did Husk realize he was acting like Alastor. Pathetic, whiny and shying away from everyone.

..So Xian was "correct" in a sense. But who'd want to tell their enemy they've won?

"Oh yes, of course! I was Little the entire time. Good golly, I should've listened to you!"

Pathetic.

"Husk. Pay attention."

And now the feelings of his little headspace came to him like a speeding bus. He felt so infantile. He hadn't felt this..ever.

Something on him must've made Xian realize - goddamn observant bastard - he wasn't okay.

Moments later, he was adjusted into Xian's lap. He automatically purred. At least he was cuddling someone now.

"There.. I think you're feeling better now.."

He nuzzled into his hip and wrapped his wings around himself, like a little cocoon to keep him safe from the world. He heard Xian chuckle and gently scratch his cheek - like he was an actual cat.

He would've pushed away - and he should've. He didn't like being treated like a pet, but he could tolerate it.

"I'll get you something to eat."

And his security blanket was gone. Xian just left him alone. He sat up, staring at the door, with his eyes wide open and his mouth quivering. He laid back down on his bed and put his thumb in his mouth.

His eyes started to hurt. It felt like a wasp came in and decided to sting him. His vision got blurry and he felt his fur get wet.

He clung to Chip desperately and sniffled, trying to not make a sobbing noise. He didn't want to alert anyone or anything he was crying.

The environment around him felt cold and gloomy, especially with a lack of light, so the darkness was getting to him. He was growing scared of a monster coming to hurt him.

"..Xixi..come..baackk.."

He whined quietly. His fur pricked up and his tail swayed slowly. He wanted to attack this mischievous force of the dark, but how could he? Maybe it was a very deadly monster that was gonna choke him, or tear his fur off, or cut all his claws off, or hide him in the closet, or make his screams entertainment...

He hid under his blanket. He was shaking and sweaty. Why couldn't he have gotten a plushie that glows? That would've been much more helpful!

He felt a hand grasp at his shoulder. No, no, no, the monster was here to hurt him..

"Silly boy...you okay?"

He immediately reached for Xian, tears still being shed. Xian's face grew concerned and he immediately sat down next to him and started to cuddle him

"Shhh..shhh..I'm not going to leave you.."

"Monsters.."

"Monsters, eh? Don't worry, they won't come to hurt you.."

Husk finally started to relax, and when he had stopped weeping, he had a bottle put into his mouth. It was some tasty, warm milk with a vanilla kick.

"Don't drink it too fast.. I don't want a repeat of last time.."

Husk didn't know what he meant, but he still sipped slowly anyway. Xian gently rubbed his side.

He dropped the bottle once he was done. His eyes were droopy, but his stomach hurt a little and he fussed.

"Must need a burp then."

His chin rested on Xian's shoulder and his back was pat. He burped, and Xian finally laid him down for some much needed rest.

Even then, he snuggled up to Xian. So..Xian was fortunately stuck there with him. He nuzzled his chest and went back to sucking his thumb. It took a while, but he did go to sleep.

Xian pecked between his ears

"Goodnight, little kitty.."

[transfemme-shelterdog]

ive been on T for ten months and a few months ago i started noticing that my autism isnt seen as cute anymore. im still funny but im not cute anymore and i cant tell if i feel dysphoric over it or just weird about it or am just realizing that it does feel slightly infantilizing now that im more mannish because it feels like you can be weird and still be a woman instead of a girl but you cant be weird and be a man instead of a boy. im not either but im nearly an adult and i feel like im being treated like a well-meaning silly child thats more well-articulated than many an adult ive met.

like i like being the pet friend among close friends but i am not your (general you) damned show pony i am seven-fucking-teen.

i am realizing it is not dysphoria it is just my overall disdain of being treated poorly. whelp! like ik its different for some what were raised girls but i felt like my specific brand of weirdness (fandom) was something i was more allowed to bring into adulthood with me as a girl than as a faggot because oo quirky but now im carl and obsessed with trains whenever i talk about my interests (depending on the person) like they humor me but it feels like the ratio of humoring to listening has switched and while rarely being humored does suck rarely being listened to is far, far worse imo because one is performative and the other is actually helpful.

ALSO!!!!! I GOT SUSPENDED LAST WEEK FOR THROWING A LAPTOP AT A TEACHER BECAUSE HE WASNT LISTENING TO A PEER TRYING TO SAY "hey ur making me uncomfortable can you please do [x]" AND DO YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT MY PARENTS WERE TOLD I DID? "[name] threw a chromebook at [teacher] because he was helping wrong"

keep in mind I EXPLAINED MYSELF VERY CLEARLY that i was throwing it because he wasnt listening to very clear and easy to follow boundaries being set by the OTHER CHILD and regardless of if it knocks sense into him at least he'll realize his behavior doesnt slide and (more importantly) the peer knows theyre not alone and that someone will fight for them SINCE NOBODY INCLUDING THE OTHER ADULT IN THE ROOM WAS DOING SHIT FOR THEM!!!!!

AND THAT WAS WHAT THEY SAID TO MY PARENTS!!!! when my parents and i spoke about it and i explained they did agree "woah yeah thats not only shitty but he is Not A Great Fit" (after also explaining that more of his overstepping boundaries happened towards fem (and more insecure fem might i add) students and that this was not a one-time thing. months back (when my voice was cracking al ot) he was helping me with math (that he also didnt understand bc he was always on HIS PHONE while the students have phones locked away) and i got pissy he told me what about my future and i was like I DO NOT KNOW YOU!!!! THAT IS BARELY A CONVO I HAVE WITH MY PARENTS STFU UP!!!! and we went in circles until i left and explained to other adults "he was acting like he was gonna be a part of my future AND IT WAS ALSO FUCKING WEIRD OF HIM")

this ended up more of a rant about a specific staff i just hate his fucking guts but also i hate how the ratio of humoring to listening has reversed in such a tangible way like wtf i have 5 whiskers and suddenly im still funny but not worth being taken seriously? really? and oh im cringe and stupid and loud? really? really? really?

at least my eighth grade teacher was mask off transphobic instead of just infantilizing towards masc-aligned young adults what the fuck. i'd prefer being told im an asshole outright than being told "maybe i should consider the perspective of THE GUY THAT DOESNT LISTEN TO PEOPLE SETTING GODDAMNED BOUNDARIES!!!!"

sorry for the horribly long rant i hope youre doing well and if you have time i think itd be cool if you watch parkour civilization (youtube series thats a shonen anime through the medium of minecraft that plays on the mid-to-late-2010s minecraft thumbnails "noob, bro, master, god" but as actual ranks that determine your ability to jump through outside means (be it impossible jumps or being left starving and unable to sprint) and (presumably for immersion reasons) most of the characters are named after the archetype instead of their username (parkour villain instead of clownpiercer, parkour master instead of whoever the fuck plays them, etc) and it (maybe accidentally) has really good themes about dismantling capitalism and one of the most fascinating differences between seasons 1 and 2 is that now there are more tangible stakes because in s1 evbo was more by himself (because on the noob level most of them were dead and on the pro level people were busy by themselves and on the master level being seen as weak was also a barrier from human connection) but in s2 evbo (main character) has to save his best friend AND parkour civilization it's really damn cool)

also as someone who calls themself a fujoshi sometimes because i find it fits well enough THERE IS (non-canon) PARKOUR YAOI!!!!! THERES BOTH TOXIC YAOI AND GOD X HIS FIRST BELIEVER YAOI!!!! the toxic yaoi is great bc right before one of the two dies his last line is "for what it's worth i really did enjoy working with you" and then he dies and the other two is the parkour god willing to sacrifice all of parkour civilization before losing their first believer (whos also their friend). fucker got ONE friend and went "youre worth more than life itself" but in actions instead of words i love him so much lmao

There's definitely a difference in how men and women with autism are treated, I've found. Like, women with autism are seen as more "cute" while men with autism are seen as the more "cringe neckbeards" who love trains and the like. It's rough, and I wish you nothing but the best with navigating that shift in how you're treated.

I also hope that your teachers start talking to you with more respect. I know what it's like to have teachers that just don't listen and don't care for what you say, or how you feel. I had to deal with teachers like that all through grades 1-12. It's frustrating, but luckily it's only temporary.

I'll definitely give those videos a watch when I've got a few hours to kill :3, I appreciate the recommendation!

[hazbinsponsoredbyvee]

"Got another one for you - mine and Al's first date. Figured it's only fair to share this, since you got to see the shitshow that was mine and Luci's first 'date' firsthand. This took place before that, right after I moved into the hotel. So, after the Slumber Party 2: Electric Boogaloo arc, and somewhere in the middle of the Valentino Bashing arc. Not gonna share all the details with you, but here's at least the highlights."

Testing the Waters

Vox looked around his new room at the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie and Lucifer had made sure he was set up with everything he needed, but the space was still a far cry from feeling like his. He would definitely need to pick some things up from V Tower if he was going to be staying here for any extended period of time.

Lucifer had already offered to go with him to the tower, but he'd declined - Alastor knew that he was into the guy, and he would surely get pissy if Vox agreed to spend any time alone with him. Which was honestly fair. Vox wasn't sure he trusted himself to be alone with him, even if he rather doubted that Lucifer would be favorable towards any advances he made. But he had terrible impulse control - especially when it came to flirting with Lucifer, he'd noticed - and this whole exclusivity thing was new to him. He did not want to mess up whatever was happening between him and Alastor; he still wasn't sure if they were technically together, but if he fucked up now, they never would be. So, that meant limiting his time spent with the Devil. Even though he had just moved into the same building as him. Piece of cake.

"Getting all settled in?" a voice spoke from behind him, and Vox turned around to see Alastor leaning against the door frame, regarding him with a satisfied smile.

"I can't believe I actually let you talk me into staying here," he muttered, shaking his head. "You know I still have to go to the tower for work, right?"

"I'm aware," he sighed, pushing off the frame to step further into the room. "But do whatever you can from here to limit that as much as possible."

Vox crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, arching an eyebrow at him. "You don't get to dictate what I do, Al."

Suddenly, Alastor was behind him, hands on his waist and his lips right against his audio input. "Oh, but don't I?" he cooed, laughing at Vox's sharp intake of breath and the way the television demon immediately leaned into him.

Vox took a deep breath. "No, you don't," he insisted, his voice only shaking slightly.

Alastor let out a skeptical hum, but he relented, releasing Vox and stepping back around in front of him. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, dear," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Anyway, I was just stopping by to inform you that we're going out tonight."

Vox blinked, struggling to catch up for a moment. "We as in...?" he asked slowly, not wanting to assume anything. Maybe Alastor was telling him that the whole hotel was going out and leaving him alone here; he wouldn't put something like that past him.

"You and me, of course." Alastor rolled his eyes. "I was dared to take you on a date, if you recall, and there's no point in putting it off!"

The corner of Vox's lips quirked up in an amused smirk. "If it's a date, aren't you supposed to ask me?"

He laughed. "What's the point? It's not like you're going to say no." He leaned forward, poking the center of Vox's screen teasingly, and then quickly straightened and spun around. "Be ready by seven!" he called over his shoulder as he left the room, giving Vox no chance to respond.

The television demon watched him go, shaking his head with a smile he couldn't quite suppress. Holy shit. He actually had a date with Alastor.

-

By the time seven rolled around, Vox had been ready and pacing in his room for the last quarter of an hour. Timing was difficult for him - he always ended up being either early or late. As opposed to Alastor, who was always exactly on time.

Almost the second the clock struck seven, there was a knock at the door. Vox immediately leapt forward, flinging the door open with a wide smile. "Hi, handsome."

"Good evening, mon cher," Alastor greeted him with a wry grin, then he offered out his arm. "Ready?"

"Depends. You're not planning to hunt me for sport, are you?" Vox checked, only half-joking.

Alastor threw his head back with a laugh. "Now that is a tantalizing idea! But no. Maybe next time, but I planned this date more to your tastes."

"Next time, huh? Already assuming you'll get a second date?" he teased, even as electricity buzzed excitedly around him.

He sighed, a touch of exasperation to the sound, and he raised an eyebrow at him. "Your cuteness has its limits, and you really are in no position to play hard to get."

"Hey, it's only fair! You played hard to get for years."

"I wasn't playing, darling; I am hard to get," Alastor chuckled, leaning forward tauntingly.

Vox chuckled as he reached out to curl his hand around Alastor's waist. "Guess I should feel honored I've got you, then."

"You should," he hummed. "Now then, let us go."

Shadows engulfed them, and they appeared in front of a cafe. Specifically, the cafe attached to Pride's aquarium. Vox's screen lit up.

"I know it's not 5-star, but I figured it being attached to the aquarium would be a fair compromise," Alastor explained, watching Vox's reaction like a contented cat.

"It's perfect, Al." He grabbed Alastor's hand and pulled him into the restaurant.

-

The cafe's food was decent; though Alastor complained that he couldn't feed any of his fish to the fish swimming in the tank beside their table. Then after they finished eating, they went into the aquarium itself.

They started by just casually strolling through the exhibits until Alastor mentioned that he had never been to an aquarium before. Naturally, Vox then took it upon himself to give him the full experience. He led him around, showing him everything and sharing some of the facts about the creatures he knew off the top of his head. Which was a decent amount.

And Alastor let him. He watched Vox with an amused smile as the television demon dragged him through the exhibits, and he didn't complain once about him talking his ear off.

They ended at the shark tanks because Vox liked to save the best for last. He regaled Alastor with shark facts, and as he spoke, the room gradually cleared out - probably due to the ominous looks the other patrons were receiving from the Radio Demon. Eventually, it was just them, and then a soft jazz number began to play from Alastor's microphone.

Vox turned around and Alastor offered a hand out to him. "May I have this dance?"

The television demon beamed, and he took Alastor's hand, allowing him to lead him in a dance.

"I'm glad to see you haven't lost your sense of rhythm over the years," Alastor commented a little into it. "You always were a delightful dance partner."

Vox's heart skipped a beat at the compliment. "Right back atcha', my deer."

He chuckled, spinning Vox out, and then bringing him back in even closer than before. "I must say, you're a fairly decent date, too. I suppose I wouldn't be opposed to doing this again."

"Yeah? Same." He grinned as he let his hand slip off Alastor's shoulder to that he could brush his fingers over his hair. After a second, he cleared his throat to bring up the question that had been weighing on him all night. "I noticed you stopped correcting people who called me your boyfriend."

Alastor's eyes glinted and his smile inched a touch higher. "I did, didn't I?"

"Are you going to elaborate on that, or...?"

Alastor cut him off with a kiss. It wasn't their first kiss, but it was the first kiss that Alastor had initiated - the first real kiss, that was, not just a kiss on the cheek or a teasing brush of the lips - and that alone was enough to make Vox nearly melt into the floor.

"You're mine," Alastor murmured when they broke apart, his face lingering so close that his breath tickled his lips. "And I wish to make it abundantly clear that no one else gets to touch you. If that means you're my boyfriend, then so be it."

Vox bit his lip, his hands tightening on Alastor - they weren't really dancing anymore, just standing in the middle of the room holding each other. "Fuck, it's really not fair when you say shit like that."

Alastor chuckled. "Then shall we go back to the hotel? I believe we still have one part of your ideal date that I have yet to deliver on."

At that, Vox's screen completely glitched. He reeled back, struggling to get it under control. "Wait, are you-?!"

"I'm not having sex with you," he clarified. "But... I think I have a compromise." As he spoke, a shadowy tentacle wrapped around Vox's waist, pulling him back in.

"Hol-l-ly shi-it," Vox gasped, his voice contorted with static. "Are you fucking serious right now? You're actually gonna fuck me with your tentacles?!"

Alastor's eyebrows rose. "Well, you seem quite favorable to that idea. Am I to take it that I've hit on a fantasy of yours, then?"

"Babe, I've spent decades imagining every possible scenario between us. In what universe is that not a fantasy of mine?"

He chuckled. "Given how perverse I know your mind can be, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. We can leave whenever you're ready - I wouldn't want to cut your time here short, after all!"

"Let's go!" Vox answered without hesitation, and Alastor laughed as his shadows rose up to engulf them.

[aspoonofsugar]

Do you think Vox has unrequited feelings towards Alastor? Alastor seems oblivious that Vox sees him that way but they are implied to have a former friendship. Vox's obsession seems like that of a yandere stalker imo

Hi!

Sorry for the late reply :)

I think it is possible! I mean, the subtext is rather clear imo :).

After all, Vox and Val do foil each other in how they are in a mutual relationship, but both are obsessing over another character:

Val obsesses over Angel

Vox obsesses over Alastor

Angel and Alastor are able to bring out the worst in both Vees, as they become irrational, jealous and angry when these two characters are involved. This is shown in Vox and Val's very first introduction.

When it comes to Vox, here are some additional thoughts from a previous meta, where I foiled him with Angel Dust:

Both Angel and Vox are trapped in abusive relationships with Valentino. Sure, Angel's one is particularly bad because the difference in power is bigger:

Valentino: You think she can get you out of work? You know she can't do anything. I own you. Or have you forgotten that?

Angel is not only Valentino's romantic interest, but also his employee. Valentino literally owns Angel's soul and can do with him what he pleases.

Vox and Valentino are instead more or less on pair. However, there are hints about their bond being unhealthy:

Vox: 'Oh god. Here I go, Valentino.' Just another fucking day with Val. Hey-hey-hey. Fuck my life.

The Vees' introduction has Valentino violently lashing out and Vox being forced to deal with him. It is obvious their partnership has toxic undertones.

In short, Angel and Vox are sexually and romantically tied to Valentino, but deep down dislike him. And yet, they don't leave him. This happens because both have frail identities they mask with happy and self-assured personas.

So, Angel acts proud of his porn movies, but deep down he is unsure of who he is and believes he isn't strong enough to change:

Valentino: You actually think you can change? Addict trash like you doesn't change. I'll see you soon, baby.

Vox instead behaves as a successful businessman, but he is actually scared he would be nobody without his alliance with Valentino and Velvette:

Alastor: Is Vox as strong as he purports? Or is it based on his support? He'd be powerless without the other Vees!

Angel thinks he can't leave and Vox chooses not too. Still, both are limited by weak senses of self.

In short, Vox has two main relationships (not including Velvette, who is important, but less linked to Vox's plotlines so far):

Alastor

Valentino

Personally, I wonder if whatever happened between Alastor and Vox in the past ties with Valentino coming into the picture. After all, Vox and Alastor used to have some kind of friendship, as there are old pictures of them together. Given their shared passion for medias and communication, it is possible they bonded. Who knows? Maybe Al even mentored Vox a little bit, since he arrived in Hell first, similarly to how he is doing with Charlie. He might have seen potential in Vox and the two grew closer. Then, we know something happened and Vox and Al's bond worsened to the point they are now hated rivals.

According to Al, this is what happened:

Alastor: And here's the sugar on the cream He asked me to join his team Vox: Hold on! Alastor: I said no, and now he's pissy, that's the tea

Now, obviously Al's recount is biased and we know there was a fight, which was very close:

Valentino: You still pissed that he almost beat you that time?

It is possible Vox growing closer to Val created some friction with Alastor, which exploded into a fight and Alastor's disappearance for 7 years.

It is interesting to highlight that Vox isn't just angry that Alastor is back, but rather he is angry Alastor disappeared without notice and is now back:

Vox: That FUCKER is back! Valentino: Yeah, I thought he was gone for good too. Vox: It's been seven years!

He even goes back to it in his song:

Hell's been better since he split Where's he been? Who gives a shit?!

This sounds a lot like a tsundere thing to say tbh LOL. Like, "I did not miss him one bit!" especially as Vox says it while hugging Val and Velvette. It is as if he is saying "Look, I have new friends now!". So, yeah, Vox is obsessed and still cares for Alastor, but 100% turned his once friendship into hate.

When it comes to Al, I do not think he is as oblivious or as uninterested as he says he is. I mean, Al isn't interesting in romantic relationships. However, it is obvious Vox used to be important for him in a platonic sense. He clearly still has a lot of unsolved feelings over their past bond. So, he too tries to downplay whatever happened (just like Vox is doing). It is just he is more successful in masking and so he appears more in control, but like... he isn't really. I mean, the dude is so angry with Vox, he can't even watch the TV :''') If that is not an overreaction, I do not know what is.

In short, Vox and Al used to have some kind of strong both, which fell apart and they are too idiotic, stubborn and repressed to face it. So, they prefer to interact with each other as enemies. They are clearly more similar than they both want to aknowledge.

Did/does Vox have some kind of romantic feelings towards Al, which are not reciprocated? I think it does fit. However, I personally think Al's obsession over Vox is similarly strong, just in a platonic sense :P

[wives-natlho]

Free Company

“So how does this work, exactly?” Carmen asked, leaning over onto the bar. She was standing, since the barstools were so short. 

“What do you mean? Have you done guildleves before?” Coco was working behind the bar, prepping for tonight’s dinner. It was some kind of stew made of scraps of meat and burnt ends from bigger meals earlier this week, along with some spare veggies and herbs. She wasn’t expecting a picky crowd tonight. 

“One or two, but you’re not a guild. How can you assign leves?” 

“We’re a Free Company. People hire us to get things done, we assign members who can do those things.” Coco wasn’t fully paying attention to the conversation, or to Carmen. She was more interested in adding just the right amount of salt and pepper to the soup. “And when they’re done, the company gets a percentage of the payment, and the rest goes to the adventurer.” 

“Okay, so do we have any things to do right now?” Carmen leaned further over the counter to try and get a better look at what Coco was so interested in besides answering her questions. 

“Yes, in fact.” 

Carmen smiled with excitement. She hasn’t been able to use her skills for much lately, and was excited to hear details on her upcoming mission. She leaned even further forward, and her feet started to come off the ground behind her. She was nearly resting all of her weight on the bar. 

“A group of Brume guards needs enough soup to feed the whole contingent. They’re supposed to be here in two hours.” She turned to look at Carmen, who had basically deflated. Her blonde head poked slightly above the tall bar. “So if you could give me some space, I’d appreciate it. After they leave, I’d be more than happy to chat.”

Carmen sighed. “Also,” Coco added, “Don’t lay on my bar, please.”

—------------------------------

Carmen sat upstairs, hearing the commotion from the guard contingent bustling below. There was no stage show, but one of the guards badly played the piano to the amusement of the rest. The soup was emptied, and three kegs of ale were, too. Carmen had tea instead, and some dry bread. 

The guards filed out onto the streets of the Empyrium. Some split off towards the hot springs. Others just returned home. Coco was still working, cleaning this time. 

“Hey.” The Sea Wolf’s head poked around the corner to look at Carmen. “Want your first paying gig?”

“I’m no cook, unfortunately.” Carmen said, with passive aggression in her voice. 

“No, no… not that. I need someone to help me clean.” This irritated Carmen further. 

“I’m not a maid either.” The impatient Hyur basically hissed. 

“Don’t get pissy with me when I’m offering to pay you.” She reached into her apron and produced a sack of gil. She poured about half out into her hand and put the rest of the sack on the counter. “Half my tips tonight if you help me clean up down there.”

Carmen’s leg bounced up and down with some energy she wasn’t exactly pleased to have. 

This is so embarrassing. I got kicked out of school and now I’m cleaning refuse off a tavern floor.

She looked down at her meager meal of stale biscotti and tea, and realized this was basically all she could afford. She looked up at the sack of gil, and at Coco clearly losing her patience. 

“Okay, but I get to ask you questions while we work.”

“Deal!” Coco smiled, leaving the sack on the counter and clunking back down the stairs. 

—----------

“Athena tells me she met you in La Noscea.” Coco was mopping up a particularly sticky area of spilled ale mixed with some jam for some reason. She didn’t even serve jam tonight. She was smiling, though, at the conversation. “She called you ‘uptight’.”

“Uptight!?” Carmen basically spat out the words. She stopped her cleaning to stare daggers at Coco.

“Yeah, just like that.” Coco tried to stifle a laugh with her hand. It didn’t work all that well. “Relax. You’ll do just fine here as long as you’re not too sensitive.”

“Look, I just…” She huffed in response and let the stress fall out of her shoulders momentarily. She thought for a moment before finishing her sentence. “I have a lot to lose. I need to be perfect. I need to succeed.”

“Do you?” Coco puzzled. “You look like you’ve got the clothes in your rucksack and a chocobo. That doesn’t seem like a whole lot to lose.”

Carmen raised a pointer finger and opened her mouth in rebuttal, but nothing came out. She paused and then slumped. She looked around at her situation. She was cleaning what is most likely dried spit off the floor in a seedy tavern basement. She really didn’t have much to lose, because she had already lost it. She just hadn’t realized it until now. 

At about this time, Coco realized she may have hit a nerve. She stopped her cleaning and walked over towards Carmen, resting the mop handle upright against a table. 

“Look…” Coco started to apologize. “I can tell things are rough for you right now, but you need to be aware of what you’re doing, and why you’re doing it. Athena told me you’re Sharlayan. A student, right?”

Carmen Nodded. “Let me guess. You were talented, but didn’t exactly fit in, and were cast out for it. For something that wasn’t exactly a problem to begin with.” Carmen turned away at Coco’s words. The Roegadyn figured she was hitting the mark and continued. “I know what it feels like to devote yourself to something that doesn’t turn out to be what you wanted it to be. These places, these systems… They’re built for ‘normal’ people, but they get to define what ‘normal’ is. And trust me, if you wound up here, I can tell for sure you aren’t ‘normal.”

Carmen turned back at Coco, brow furrowed. She was almost crying, and the anger was at a boiling point. 

“No offense or anything.” Coco held out her palms defensively. “I’m just trying to say that I can tell you’re something special. Places like that don’t like ‘special’. Unfortunately the places that do like ‘special’ often don’t have a lot of resources. We do what we can for each other, and sometimes that’s not a lot.” 

The blonde girl paused for a bit to reflect. She thought about everything she had lost up to this point. She thought about her mother, who is stuck on Old Sharlayan, relying on a father who would rather let her starve if it wouldn’t harm his reputation. She thought about her plans to eventually get her Archon Mark, to discover something no one else has. She looked down at her mop, and her apron, and she came to a decision. 

“Then what good are you?” She thrust the mop into Coco’s hands, followed by the half sack of gil. She stomped off and removed her apron, tossing it randomly to the side. Coco listened to the bootfalls as they tracked up the stairs and out the door. The lonely Sea Wolf looked around the still-messy room and realized all the cleaning she still had to do.

“Well, fuck.”

—-------------

The door to the outside slammed behind Carmen. She huffed and gripped her hair, trying to let out her anger without screaming. She moved around out of some necessity she couldn’t figure out, pacing back and forth and seething. After a moment, her will faltered. She fell with her back against the wall of the tavern and let everything out. 

“FUCK!” 

She slid down the wall into a sitting position on the muddy ground, and sobbed. She was stuck in Ishgard, cold and poor. She was far from home, from her mother. She had lost her school, and all of her plans. She had failed to make a name for herself, to learn enough to go back home. She had nothing, no one. No friends, no job, no future. 

A pair of auburn rabbit ears poked around the corner.

“Hey… You okay?” Jaye looked concerned at the crying Hyur. 

“No.” Carmen didn’t even look up. She didn’t really care right now.

“You want a drag?” Her hand came from around the corner, clutching a lit cigarette. 

“Why not?” She had given up basically everything else at this point. What else did she have to lose? Jaye approached and handed over the cigarette. Carmen grabbed it and put it to her lips and inhaled. 

She immediately gagged and started coughing. She wretched, and puked straight onto the grass in front of her. 

“Ugh, gods. That’s horrible!” She coughed a bit more and handed the cigarette back. “Why would you do that to yourself!?”

Jaye held the cigarette, shocked and wordless. She raised one eyebrow up in disbelief. “Do you want a rag or something?...” 

Carmen stood up and walked away from her vomit, hacking and doubled over, clutching her stomach. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. I really thought that would help.” Jaye also stepped away from the vomit, following Carmen over to the raised patio across the yard. She looked at the cigarette in her hand, shrugging and throwing it in the fire before getting too far. “Maybe I should quit.”

The distressed Hyur sat down at the table and caught her breath. She spat into the hedges nearby to get rid of the taste in her mouth. It didn’t help much. She was quiet while her senses came back to her. 

“What’s got you so upset?” Jaye sat down across from Carmen and pressed a bit. Her curiosity got the better of her.

“Oh, you know… Just realizing I have nothing to live for and I should probably go throw myself off the side of Ishgard.” She finally composed herself and sat up straight. She pushed her hair back out of her face and realized she was sweating, even in the cold air. She swished spit again in her mouth and spat it out like before. This time it helped a little more. 

“Well, shit. That sucks.” Jaye leaned back and crossed her arms. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Carmen finally locked eyes with Jaye. She wasn’t expecting that question.

“Do? There’s nothing to do. I’ve got nothing left.”

“Fuck that. There’s always something to do.” Jaye reached up and touched the right side of her face, near her colorblind eye. “Even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“Uh, huh…” Carmen didn’t agree, but was willing to hear out the argument.

“What do you have? I mean here, with you right now.”

Carmen twisted her jaw in thinking. She patted her pockets and found a few gil, a linkpearl she had given to her by Einar when she was recruited, and a writ of receipt of payment. She knew her rucksack had her Arcanist tome and her nouliths, as well as a few days’ worth of dried rations, and a change of clothes. 

“A little money, weapons, a linkpearl, and a receipt.”

“A receipt for what?” Jaye leaned forward.

“For my chocobo, Fate.” Carmen met Jaye’s gaze again and smiled. “She’s a beautiful old nag.”

“The white one tied up over there? I was wondering whose that was.” Jaye grinned, realizing her tactic was working a little bit. “Who would feed Fate if you went and tossed yourself from the walls of Ishgard?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, neither do I. So it has to be you.” The Viera relaxed in her chair, feeling proud. “Even if that’s all you have to keep yourself going today, let it be that. And tomorrow if you have to. Life gets bleak sometimes, and you have to take it ilm by ilm. Feed your damn bird.”

“I guess…” Carmen trailed off, not entirely satisfied by the encouragement, but it did get her thinking. She thought about her mom, Glenda, back in Old Sharlayan. Glenda had a father that never wanted her, but she relied on him for a place to live. She deserved better. She deserves better. If things were ever going to get better for Glenda, it’d have to be from Carmen’s work. The Midlander was solemn in the quiet air, and looked back up at Jaye, who was losing a bit of her pride at how long Carmen was taking to respond. “But, thanks. I think that helps.”

Jaye nodded, satisfied enough. She stood and pointed towards the door.

“I better get in there. I told Coco I’d help her clean up tonight.” 

Oh, gods… I left her alone in there. 

Carmen mentally scolded herself. She had been petulant, and displayed exactly the kind of behavior that got her kicked out of the Studium. She realized she had an opportunity to fix her fuckup. This time, at least…

“Actually,” Carmen stood up and fixed her collar. She spat once more into the bushes and stretched her neck and arms. “Would you mind feeding Fate for me?”

“Sure, but… why?” Jaye was clearly concerned, especially after the advice she had just given.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Carmen walked towards the door, speaking over her shoulder. “It’s just…

I’ve got a job to do.”

[goldennightengale]

Are you doing requests? How about the house wardens x reader where reader has a symbiote (like venom) attached to themselves

Thank you so much for requesting! Apologies for the late reply, my college has been dragging me through the mud as of late and I couldn't bring myself to work on this for a while. But here you go!

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism (?), chapter 6 spoilers

Dormleaders with a S/O who has a symbiote!

Since the day you found your little pile of screaming goop, you have become the host of a symbiote called “Cryptid”. The zealous creature, which is more bratty than murderous, has taken a liking to your voice and has almost perfected its mimicry of you. 

Your relationship with Cryptid has lasted quite a while, but as you are dragged into the world of magic and fairytales, you fear this might be a bit of a learning curve for both of you…

Riddle Rosehearts

FREAKS OUT

Yes, he did shatter a window in his panic. No, he will never allow you to mention it without consequences. 

Honestly thought it was the beginnings of an overblot from how it enveloped your body and spoke. It was like your voice but altered, gruff and rude and wrong

Cryptid only appeared to sass him back after a particularly ruthless lecture over something your idiots (Ace and Grim) managed to mess up and pinning the blame on you

Is not happy about sharing you with such a creature but will (eventually) get over it

If you have anything in common with Vemon’s symbiote (i.e. eating humans), he won’t indulge in your cravings but will make the occasional joke of feeding you one of his rowdier rule-breakers 

Overall, not too much of a game changer unless you indulge in more… unsavory tendencies

Cryptid has taken a liking to crawling above his bed at night when you fall asleep… it finds his screams funny

Leona Kingscholar

Put off by it. At least at first

Cryptid got bored of sitting around and napping all day (like it can talk, considering it sleeps during every class you attend) and got pissy about the lack of movement, choosing Leona as its next target for pranks

He looked at it with a slightly disgusted face and bared his teeth to stake his claim over you, only to get greeted by a gaping maw full of needles… (it found his attempt at dominance cute)

Like hell is he losing you to some slick mouth slime ball with a taste for chaos, he had you first dammit! (no he didn’t, but he likes to think your relationship looks past that fact)

After the initial one-sided aggression, these two would probably get along surprisingly well

Leona doesn’t even care about the craving for human flesh! (that or he is really good at hiding it)

Teasing you is their favorite bonding activity. You will never be safe again 😌

Azul Ashengrotto

FREAKS OUT pt. 2

During the whole contract scheme, Cryptid was constantly watching him and the twins to make sure they didn’t hurt you ( after all, what kind of parasite would they be if their host got injured?)

It was only after the overblot and you two getting together that your “little friend” decided to reveal themself

Azul witnessed a mass of sludge emerge from your back to sass at Floyd and he damn near fainted when it whipped its head around to stare at him

Yes, it did laugh at him for days after that

Cryptid admires his suave nature but finds immense joy in watching you break down his facade and reveal his more silly side (aka it likes to see him join you in setting up pranks)

He considered getting Jade to try and research about it but figured that if his s/o didn’t know much about it from their own world he wouldn’t find anything useful in Twisted Wonderland

Overall doesn’t mind it, but there will have to be a lot of communication when it comes to cravings and jokes (especially after Cryptid compared octopus to human flesh while staring directly at him)

Kalim Al-Asim

This one is tough

He cares deeply for you, no matter what you do he’ll never see it as wrong. But his first encounter with Cryptid was not in good spirits

During Jamil’s overblot, Cryptid was pissed about having its host hypnotized and unable to stop it. This led to everyone seeing just how dangerous the symbiote could be, and to what depths it’ll go to keep you safe

He’s a bit wary of you for a while and he feels terrible about it, but he’s never seen you so ruthless and it really scared him

Double sadge because Kalim was one of the only people Cryptid took a liking to and was depressed about frightening him 

Eventually, you two talk it out and all is good! Although Cryptid calls him stupid for keeping Jamil around and gets a good scolding lol

Surprisingly chill about the whole craving thing. He’s seen some… weird things while traveling for business deals in foreign countries, so he doesn’t really question it

He’d rather not have another mark on his head thanks

Vil Shoenheit

Oh he is NOT happy about this

He prides himself in being able to find the beauty in everything and bringing it to its peak but this?? This is pushing his limit

He found out through Rook (because ofc he did Rook keeps him updated on everyone on campus) so he wasn’t as surprised as you thought he’d be

But he was surprised by how vulgar Cryptid could be whenever it got into one of its “moods” (aka Happy Monch Time) 

I’m sorry, but this might be a dealbreaker if you can’t reign in your alien friend. He’s got a reputation to uphold and while he may love you with everything in his heart, he doesn’t think he will ever adjust to sharing you with a creature hell-bent on destroying anything beautiful

If you, through some divine miracle, manage to make it work then be prepared for a lot of “guidance” from him. If he’s going to live with Cryptid, then it will have to live with him as well and he knows a good potion or two that’ll do wonders in fixing some unruly behaviors

I feel as though he would learn to see the relationship between you and your symbiote as more positive than negative. After all, it is only doing this as a means of survival but it seems you two have grown close enough to consider each other family. He’d never want to take that from you

Does not take kindly to the cravings, but he might be able to help you find a few alternatives to keep your creature satisfied

Idia Shroud

My guy, you are literally on the ceiling how tf did you get there???? Get down please?????

He honest to god thought he was tweaking when he heard you speak but you weren’t moving your mouth?? He really needs to sleep more

Literally jumped onto the rafters without any magic when he saw Cryptid over your shoulder. Its eyes staring him down like it knew every one of his sins and judged him

Cryptid had a sense of respect for him. This wimpy-looking geek boy literally had the gate to literal hell under his command and he never got the urge to use it as a threat. That took some serious willpower to not abuse such a strong powerhouse

Idia will definitely compare this whole “co-habitation with an alien” situation to a few of his games and mangas, but he’s really chill about sharing you with Cryptid (after he calms down from the initial jumpscare)

As long as it can keep itself reasonably behaved around Ortho then he doesn’t mind the two of them hanging out without his supervision

Not a dealbreaker, but a hidden prize!

Malleus Draconia

…?

That’s it. That’s how he reacts to Cryptid jumping out from your skin to try and spook him. It is now sulking and refuses to acknowledge your giggles as you try and explain what just happened to a very confused dragon

While your symbiote may be equipped to handle most magical combat, the fact that Malleus is powerful enough to radiate magic without even trying was a bit intimidating

You will never let it live this down. Your cocky little goop ball was scared of a man you called Hornton. Amazing

While he does take an interest in how your relationship works, he won’t pry too much into it and just accepts that his beloved human was a lot more unique than he thought

He is also the only person (besides Lilia anyways) who would offer to help with cravings and would even offer to spar with Cryptid in exchange for information about its species

Do not ask about where he’s getting the materials. He will simply smile sweetly and change the topic, though you can’t miss the dangerous look in his eye

Dragon boi = Best Boyfriend in this scenario

I hope my work fulfilled your fantasy! - GN

[scurvgirl]

Some Uncle Grog fluff for your Sunday. Shout-out to all my fellow dyslexics out there.

Anyways, here is little Wolfe De Rolo bonding with his Uncle Grog.

_

While Vox Machina wasn't always together anymore, there were times where they made sure to be together. Winter's Crest was one of those times. Grog was in Whitestone Castle, getting ready to head out to the bakery before probably working out with the Whitestone guards - gotta remind them that defense isn't ALL in the guns.

Grog walked through the hall when his ear twitched at a noise. Huh. That was weird. Curious, he turned and opened up the door closest to him. It was closet, full of mostly blankets but also Wolfe.

"Oh it's just you, Uncle Grog." The boy sighed.

"Uh what do you mean by that, just Uncle Grog?"

"I mean you're not...one of them."

"Who?"

He sighed again, "My tutors. Leona....my parents."

"Hmm, Percy has been in a pissy mood lately."

Wolfe shrugged, "Mum's pregnant, he's always in a mood when she's pregnant. But that's not why I'm in here. Look I just...I just can't do school today."

"Oh, well you want to go out with me? I was gonna pick up sweets then hit some stuff."

Wolfe's eyes lit up, "Yes! I'd love to do that!"

"Alright! Let's go, little buddy."

"Hey! I'm tall for my age!"

Still small to Grog but maybe Wolfe was right - he wasn't gnome sized even. "Medium buddy!"

They headed to the bakery, picked up a bunch of bear claws then headed to the training yard.

"Alright, boys put down your little fun sticks - time to practice some REAL combat!" Grog shouted, ready to get a nice brawl going when...hm. Wolfe was here. Vex had two, no, THREE rules for the babies. One, no beer. Two, no brawls. Three, no house of lady favors. It limited Grog severely BUT maybe...maybe he didn't need to brawl but show Wolfe some beginner steps. Percy certainly didn't seem to be training the boy for anything for guns and school. It occurred to Grog then that he could teach Wolfe how to be strong.

"Make room for the...little lord Wolfe De Rolo! Today, he learns how to be strong!" There's a pause before the guards hollar and hoot in agreement. Wolfe smiles brightly up at Grog which makes him feel a weird warm tingly feeling in his chest. Not bad, kinda like when Pike heals him but also not like that. Cool.

For the next several hours Grog showed Wolfe how to train. They did push ups, sit ups, pull ups...lots of ups, not many downs. He even showed Wolfe how to properly hold a sword and how to punch without breaking your fingers.

Grog called the end when Wolfe started looking like he was maybe a bit in pain or too tired. No sense in making his nephew hurt.

"Alright! That was good! Keep working out like that and maybe you'll be as ripped as me one day."

"That was intense but good. I liked it, I think my body may feel different tomorrow - but this was good. What do we do now?"

"Now we go to the bar! Like strong men do!" That earned Grog another bright smile and warm feeling in his chest.

They headed to a tavern where Grog bought himself some ale, a giant sandwich and....a giant sandwich for Wolfe too.

"You got a weapon you think you would like?"

Wolfe smiled, "Mum has us practicing the bow, which I like. But...I want to try an axe."

"Atta boy!" He reached over and clasped Wolfe's shoulder. "So, you gonna tell me why you didn't want your parents and...others to find you today?"

The smile on Wolfe's faded and the warm feeling in Grog's chest was replaced with a twisty feeling he did NOT like.

"It's...embarrassing."

"Oh, did you poop your pants or something?"

"No! Nothing like that. I just..." Wolfe sighed, "everyone in my family is so smart. Dad invented guns and mum is so, so good with money and Vesper knows so many languages now. Leona reads so fast, and even little Danny is beginning to read. But...I'm not like that. Reading...is so hard, Uncle Grog. It doesn't make sense in my head, the letter and the sounds... they thought my eyes were bad like Leona but nope, it's not my eyes. I'm just...not smart."

The twisty feeling in Grog's chest worsened. It reminded him too much of the hard parts of being in Vox Machina, of always being around smart people.

Wolfe kept going, "But...maybe I don't need to read. Maybe I can just be strong! Like you, Uncle Grog!"

That...felt wrong. This was Percy and Vex's boy, and more...Grog hated he couldn't read for so long. Hated books, hated words, hated...his brain. Wolfe shouldn't go through that.

"We worked a lot on being strong today. You did some really good work. But being strong isn't all about muscles." He said carefully, thinking about Earthbreaker Gruun.

"It isn't?"

Grog shook his head, "Strength is about doing hard things. Doing things that make you work. You don't get strong by doing easy things. You get strong by doing the work and...and standing by your friends because sometimes that's hard too.

"Sure, you could get all muscly like me but you have to ask, Wolfe - where does your strength come from?"

Wolfe was silent for a long moment before he sniffled, "I don't know, Uncle Grog."

"That's okay. You can answer that later. But first, reading is a challenge, yeah?" Wolfe nodded. "Meet the challenge. Beat it. And if what you're doing isn't working, then WE can find a way that does."

"Okay...will you help? I don't think I can do it alone."

Grog smiled at the boy and clasped his shoulder again, "Of course. And when you need a break, we can BREAK stuff!"

"Yeah!"

They finished their afternoon meal before heading back to the castle. Halfway there, a familiar, pissy voice came in over the earring.

"Grog Strongjaw, tell me you have my son with you."

"Hey, Percy. Yeah, Wolfe's here. We had a good man day!"

"MAN DAY?! Did you take my son to a brothel?! He's NINE, GROG!"

"Relax! We got sweet, hit stuff, then got sandwiches at the tavern."

A long suffering sigh phased through the earring. "Just...bring him home."

"Already on our way."

Wolfe looked up at Grog, "Is he mad?" Grog shrugged.

"He'll get over it. Hey, you wanna ride on my shoulders?"

"Hells yeah!" Grog hoisted him up and they finished the rest of the walk this way with Wolfe peering down at everyone who was suddenly much shorter than him.

They reached the castle, which meant meeting a pissy Percy, a perturbed Vex, and put-out tutors. Grog took the blame - he wanted some alone Uncle Grog time with Wolfe. He could take his friends' annoyance. Leona and Vesper took Wolfe aside to go play upstairs while the grown-ups stayed in the study.

"So uh, Wolfe told me that reading is hard for him."

Percy waved him off, "Yes, we know, we are working on it-

"Well, it's not working. I'm gonna stay to help. Show him what worked for me."

Vex looked at Percy and shrugged, "He makes a good point, darling."

They all talked a little longer, working out what Percy called "logistics."

Before the children went to bed, Wolfe ran over to Grog and gave him a hug.

"You're the best uncle, Uncle Grog. Thank you."

Grog held him a little tighter. He was a good uncle. That warm little feeling in his chest returned in full strength.

[rommahh]

{Harry in sparkly black….Harry lemme **** *** *** for free}

You hadn’t talked to Harry all day. Not that you were mad at him or anything but your therapy this morning left you feeling a little spacey. There was something about talking about your emotions that left you feeling emotionally drained.

You missed Harry terribly and though it’s only been a short week, you felt very lonely. But on another note, your anxiety wasn’t as bad as it was. You were starting to feel like your normal self again but missing something.

You loved the tight knit life you have with Harry. You like being around him most hours of the day. You two were inseparable. If you were in the shower, he was in the bathroom reading a book from the lounger chair in the corner. If he was writing music on the beach, you were somewhere on the shore collecting shells. If you were going to the grocery store the least he could do was go for the drive with you. You two were close and it was something the both of you were ok with.

Some couples don’t like being so close but it worked for you and Harry. Being away from Harry was a weird experience. It’s only been a week but you feel like it’s been a lifetime. You haven’t minded being on your own but you wanted to be with the person you felt most connected to.

So being you, you purchased a ticket to Chicago. You didn’t know how Harry was going to react but you could only assume it would be a positive reaction. You told Jeff that you were coming so he could get you a hotel key and backstage pass.

As you sat in the airport you felt your back pocket buzz- your music pausing for the call. Your hand slipped into the pocket roughly pulling out the small phone. Harry’s icon, him in a fluffy robe looking as grumpy as ever, met your eyes. You cursed because you were quite obviously in the airport and if he saw you, the surprise would be ruined.

You answered anyways but only for audio. You made sure that your airpods were snug in you ear and there was no chance of them falling out.

“My lover!” Harry greets you a in sing song voice. You could hear his humph as he recognizes that you didn’t answer with the FaceTime video on. “Turn your camera on.”

“Can’t, I’m not feeling good.” You fib nervously. Harry frowned, nervous that he may have done something to upset you.

“Oh, alright. What’s wrong then?” He asks. You chew your lip trying to think of an answer.

“Uh, period.” You stammer.

“Your period doesn’t start for another few day…saw it on the tracker.” Harry may have your period tracker on his phone but it was because he wanted to make sure he was able to comfort you the best way he could when he needed to.

“Must be the meds-“ The sound of your boarding attendant sounded over your head cutting you off. “Hey bubs, I’ve actually got to go but we can’t chat later.”

“Sure, that’s fine I guess. Love you.” He mumbles, confused by the phone call. You hang up leaving Harry a little lost in his thoughts.

Later, Harry sang through his rehearsal carelessly, his head clouded with thoughts. He even sang through TBSL and though he was in the worst of moods, fans waiting at the venue thought he never sounded better.

You on the other hand had just sat through the worst flight of your life. There was a woman in the flight who didn’t want to wear her mask causing commotion before the flight could even take off. You had the worst headache halfway through the flight and because of the lack on supplies, the flight couldn’t give you any ginger ale or accommodations.

You didn’t let any of it get to you though as you directed for the chauffeur Jeff sent for you to go to the venue for show.

Harry sat in the common room backstage with the band and Jeff eating dinner grumpily. His fork was stabbing every little piece of lettuce of his salad, everyone watched worried that he may break his bowl.

“HS3 is trending on Twitter today, pretty exciting.” Jeff says to Harry breaking the silence. Jeff just received a text from you saying that you arrived to the venue and were walking towards Harry’s dressing room.

“Mmm great.” Harry grumbles. Jeff rolled his eyes at the diva.

“Someone’s a little pissy this evening. How about you go fix that mood before you greet your fans with a bad attitude.” Jeff scolds him like a child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Jeff really didn’t care about Harry’s attitude, used to the moods at this point, but he needed a way for Harry to leave the room and see you in the dressing room.

“Fine, didn’t want to be around anyways.” Harry shrugs.

Back in Harry’s dressing room, you rolled your suitcase into a corner where Harry’s outfit for the night resided on a hanger. You smiled at the sparkly black top that you helped pick out. You walked around his dressing room from the hair and makeup table, past the bathroom/ dressing area, and back around to the couch’s and coffee table where you took a seat. You snagged one of his green juices needing the boost of energy from being on the flight.

You heard the door knob jiggle but stayed planted in you seat sipping on the juice. You never made a peep as Harry barged through the room, scowl covering his face. He stormed past the couch not batting an eye at you. He went to the mini fridge where his juices were before letting an exasperated sigh.

“Who fucking took my juice?” He whines. You quietly giggle in your hand at his tone.

“Im sorry, thought I could have it.” You chuckle. Harry leaps from where he stands letting out a yell. He turns to look at you with wide eyes, hand over his chest as if his heart was going to explode from his chest. You stood from the couch waiting for him to react more but he just stood there in shock. When the realization of you actually being there kicked in he let out another yell before bounding over to you.

Before you knew it, you had two strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Your wrapped around his neck, hands and fingers spread through his hair. His face tucked into your lower neck peppering desperate kisses all over just to feel something.

“What are you doing here?” You hear him cry. You pulled away from him to wipe his eyes of the tears that streamed down his face.

“I needed to see you.” Was all you could muster. He pulled you down on the couch, your body cushioning his larger frame. He laid in between your legs, your back flat in the body of the couch.

“Im so happy your here.” Harry couldn’t even put his excitement into words. He knew you were coming in a week but to have you here earlier than that made him feel things. He sat up from suffocating you into the couch, allowing for you to sit up beside him. “What about your therapy? I hope you’re not jeopardizing your mental health to be here with me cause I would much prefer if you put me on the back burner and took care of yourself.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’m ok. I still will see my therapist virtually, I’ve got all new meds that are working fine, and if all goes to shit I will go back home. It’s ok bubs.” You reassure him.

He grabs your face with both hands pulling your face to his. Your lips meet with need. His lips slotting with yours, moving slowly but with rigor as if he was scared you would slip from his fingers. Your bottom lips fit between his lips leaving for him to suck on it slightly. You moaned at the feeling making Harry pull you in tighter. You sat slightly upon his lap, chest against each other tightly. Your tongues pushed at one another, lips loving in tangent.

You pulled away when you felt his lower presence awaken. He whined at the loss of contact making you giggle.

“If we go any further you’re gonna be late for your show. I’ll give you more back at the hotel, yeah?” You say lowly trying to catch your breathe. He groaned resting his forehead on yours chasing your lips with chaste kisses making you smile.

“Fine, you owe my though. This is level three apology situation that can only be resolved with these things; sloppy blowies, butt stuff, or face masks if you catch my drift.” He chastised. You let out a deep belly laugh pushing yourself away from him. You two still sit facing each other, your legs slightly on top of his.

“You’re so nasty, but I may be able to arrange one of those.” You wink making Harry let out a triumphant laugh.

“Are you staying for the show? I understand if your not.” He questions fiddling with your fingers.

“Think it would be best if I didn’t. I’m really tired and I obviously need a nap if I’m going to be up for your post show antics.” You joke giving his nose a poke. He jokingly pretends to bite your finger in retaliation.

Harry went on stage that night happier than ever. He started plotting proposals from the second he walked you to the car with your suitcase and waved goodbye to you. You went to the hotel room and “accidentally” fell asleep wearing one of your most recent purchases curled up in your tour bus blanket.

Let’s just say that Harry not so accidentally woke you up after that concert ready to love all of his adrenaline off in you.

Part 2👀

[nightwishesworld]

Hello! I hope you still do request! If you are, may I ask for the three daughters keep borthering Alcina’s partner while she is out for works. So Reader tricks them to play Hide n Seek and because all daughters are so competitive that they hide for hours, Reader just continue to work whatever she is working on until Alcina comes home, wondering where are her daughters at 🤣 Thank youuu

Ooh this was a fun write! Apologies for this taking so long...I’m starting to get backed up with requests...but I love it! haha

You were sitting at your desk in your private study trying desperately to get at least some work done. The only things that could be heard were the scratching over your pen across paper and the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock stood in the back corner of the room. The atmosphere was perfect for productivity. You promised Alcina you would get through at least half of the large pile currently cluttering the top of your desk, and you were hardly eclipsing a quarter of it. 

It’s nothing important, just the overview of various renovations needed in the castle. Most of what needed to be done were small projects and only required a small team of specialists to finish the job; those were easy enough to organize. It was the bigger jobs that were difficult to put together. For instance, the balcony of the East Wing Archives was starting to crumble, and cracks spread from the balcony to surrounding pillars. That one is going to be very tricky to work with. Out of all the rooms in the damn castle, it had to be the Dimitrescu Archives, really? You avoided that responsibility like the plague.

You were really happy when Alcina gave you full control over the project, even if it was because she didn’t want to deal with it, you took it as her trusting you with the restoration of her home. That both excited you and terrified you to no end. She wasn’t around very much during daylight hours as of late. Apparently, Heisenberg needed her help with one of his own “projects.” What exactly that is you have no idea and honestly, knowing how Heisenberg was, that was ok.

What wasn’t ok, was your darling step-daughters amuck in the corridors and distracting you with their laughter and occasional crashing sound. You can only hope whatever they broke wasn’t a family heirloom. Once they found you hiding in your study they starting pestering you to play with them. Every five minutes a different daughter found their way into your study, examining your various knick-knacks until you acknowledged their presence. Or ya know if they break something. Whichever comes first. 

After a while, they gave up on their subtle approach and all three of them burst through your door, demanding attention like the brats they were. But you love them anyway. They were clever little brats too; they learned very quickly how best to manipulate you into doing their bidding. Three little words were all it took to have your entire reserve crumble to waste. “Please, Mama y/n.” They could ask you to help them dispose of a body and you would happily follow as long as they say it like that.

So naturally, that’s what all three of them were shouting at you. But you can’t keep going on like this. Alcina always told you to just ignore them and eventually the lack of attention will bore them and they’ll leave; easier said than done. You had a sneaking suspicion the girls poke and prod at you more than Alcina, for obvious reasons. Alcina was like a lion when mad- ferocious and would not hesitate to bite your head off. You, however, felt like the girls view you as the pissy cat that got sprayed with water for scratching at the furniture.

After all, you’re just the step-parent. Of course, they don’t take you as seriously as their own mother. You were still their friend more than a parental figure. Nine out of ten times that was perfectly fine by you. Today they were really pushing their luck though, and you weren’t sure how much more “please play with us, Mama Y/n,” you could take before snapping. 

Then you had an idea. An awful, wicked idea that may just let everyone get what they want.

You slammed your pen down and the desk and turned to face the girls. “How about a game of hide and seek? I’ll count to one hundred while you three hide.”

That seemed to satisfy them so much they were already barreling out the door.

”Wait! I didn’t tell you the rules yet.”

Daniela rolled her eyes. “There are no rules, y/n; you count, we hide, you find us. Simple.”

“True,” you nodded. “But we’ve never played inside before and the castle is a lot bigger than the gardens, wouldn’t you say? No going outside, the secret passages are restricted as is the basement.” The girls nodded along. “And no leaving your hiding spot for another. If I find you roaming around you’re disqualified.”

“Can we go yet? I already know where I want to hide.”

“Go on.”

They vanished from your study within the blink of an eye.

“Finally some peace and quiet.”

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

Hours had passed since you finished creating the project guidelines. Now all that was left was to contact the specialists to get an estimate on price and time span. It was a very productive afternoon. Something felt off though. Oh well. You were far too tired to give it much thought. All you wanted to do was get through dinner and go straight to bed.

You walked into the dining room, where Alcina was already waiting for you and gave her a kiss on the cheek before taking your usual spot across from her. 

“Something troubling your mind, dear? You look stressed.”

You barely looked up from your plate, clearly too busy pushing your veggies around to properly address your wife. “Hmm? Oh yeah, sorry Al, I guess I’m just tired. Most of the paperwork is done so we can start scheduling some of the smaller projects.”

“That’s marvelous news. I hope the girls didn’t bother you too much.”

You shake your head and wave her off like nothing. “Oh no, they were fine. All I had to do was tell them to go- oh my god I forgot about the girls.”

“What do you mean you forgot about them? Where are vthey?”

You both make your way down the corridors, completely abandoning your meals. “I-I don’t know! I told them we’d play hide and seek and...well I forgot to seek.”

“I thought it was a little quiet around here,” Alcina sighed. “How do you forget about your own children?” 

“They weren’t letting me work! I was gonna go look for them eventually I just...lost track of everything. And who hides for this long? It’s been like four hours since I told them to go hide.”

“You remember who we’re talking about, right? Or have you forgotten just how competitive our children are.”

“Yes, yes I know. Well they couldn’t have gone too far. I told them the basement and outside were off limits. Is there something we can lure them out with? Like a lamp or something?”

Alcina shot a confused look. “Why would a lamp help us find them?”

“You know, cause they can transform into moths…”

Alcina only arched a brow at you.

“And moths are attracted to the light…? No? Whatever, that was a clever joke and it went right over your head.”

“If you say so dear.”

She really worries about you sometimes.

[voidselfshipp]

Gentle Heart

Cw: cursing, food ment, anxiety ment.

Ask to tag.

Ok to rb.

Summary: homelander goes for comfort to a friend, who just so happends to have a crush on him, and even if shes angry with him, her gentle heart always gives him a place to crash, he just needs to Open up.

A/n: song "de música ligera" soda estereo ,english lyrics here

The wind blows on the tall buildings,its cold and dark yet the light of the screen ilumimates the outline of her face.

The sudden clash of the roof doesnt phase her,as she keeps drawing.

Shes about to Grab the can of soda when he takes it.

-- I thought you said you couldnt drink soda because of your anxiety-- homelander sat besides her-- lazaro

--fuck off homelander-- she tried to snatch it back, yet he takes it out of her reach.

--is it lazaro? RiotGirl? Jerico?

--the three of them now give it to me!

-- rumor has it you have a crush on me

-- rumor hasnt got it

He chuckles-- I like when you get this mad, the scary riotgirl,quite my opposite dont you think?

Lazaro shoves her drawing tablet on her bag, launching herself at homelander.

The soda falls and spills the remainings, shes ontop of him, hands holding his wrists down.

--my my, look at you, I can actually see your face now

The hoodie falls, and the city lights that bleed through the buildings shine on her.

-- such pretty eyes

Lazaro grunts standing up-- you owe me a soda, and food to compensate

Homelander stands up, as she grabs her bag--of course of course-- he teased offering his hand.

--nice try sweetheart but im fine actually-- her feet float up in the air, he raises his hands.

--Suit yourself-- he said.

A few block down the street they went,riotgirl covers her face as soon as the fans recognize him.

--ah Yes can you give me a number four, yep, that sauce right there and uh...yep soda,-- he ordered winking at his companion.

She rolls her eyes, of course the house left it free of charge, and both fly away from the scene.

Her teeth sink in the food, eating like a hungry animal.

--ive heard the downside of that metabolism of yours is that you have to be constantly eating

--my energy burns out twice as quick,you just have everything in place apparently-- snarked lazaro.

He sighed scooting closer-- look...can I crash at your place tonight?

She looks at him with a brow raised, snark in her face-- you what?

He sighed-- fine you want me to Open up then I will, voughts been very pissy lately, youre the only one who treats me the same

She sighed finishing her sandwich-- fine, come on

He smiled and helped her stand up.

The lights flickered,as it illuminated the place.

--ive heard about the last match, Argentina lost right?-- he said looking at the Argentine flag hanging from the Window.

--yeah dont remind me-- she takes off her hoodie and vest, the tanktop with her emblem is all thats left aside from her leather pants.

--Make yourself at home-- she declared opening some of the Windows, leaning on them.

He lays down on the sofa-- any chance im sharing a bed with you?

--in your dreams...

He nodded-- fair enough

His hands rest on his abdomen breathing calmly, looking around the room

Theres silence, neither of them speak, he quietly mutters to himself.

Suddenly music plays, lazaro rocks back and fort in her place, singing the song.

-- argentine rock?-- he asked.

--hmm...feels like home-- she said.

Hes in silence, hearing her sing.

-- ||Ella durmió al calor de las masas

Y yo desperté queriendo soñarla

Algún tiempo atrás pensé en escribirle

Que nunca sorteé las trampas del amor

De aquel amor

De música ligera

Nada nos libra

Nada más queda|| -- she sang softly.

Homelander smiled, how did he get this lucky? Lazaro was the cutest most kind person he knew.

She always let him in her house, crash at any time.

He lost the keys, yet here she was opening her door for him.

-- ||No le enviaré cenizas de rosas

Ni pienso evitar un roce secreto

De aquel amor

De música ligera

Nada nos libra

Nada más queda

De aquel amor

De música ligera

Nada nos libra

Nada más queda

Nada más...

Nada más queda|| -- she finished singing, and gets away from the Window, stumbling against homelanders chest.

--what do you want

He takes her hands pressing them against his chest-- to say thank you, youre always so kind to me, and im just an asshole every day, god what did I do to deserve you

She sighed looking at him-- if you werent worth it I wouldnt even speak to you homelander, its late come on

He smiled and chuckled Pink cheeks.

She leads him to her room, and lays down

-- I uh was expecting the sofá

-- youre always lonely, about time you get some company, lay down

-- fuck, im not waiting for you to change your mind, he quickly changes, thanking god he always forgets his clothes.

He slips in bed and hugs her,unsure.

-- is it okay if I uh...-- he hesitated, she just nodds and he hugs her tightly enough to make her feel safe.

--night-- she whispered.

--...night...and uh...laz, thank you..again..youre too kind

She turns around and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips-- not need to thank me, lets go to sleep okay? Come on you have to save the world tomorrow

Hes beaming with happiness snuggling closer to her, he was truly lucky.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (10/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Happy Day, you guys! I’m giving you a quick update here! I hope you enjoy!

Thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for being a really awesome beta❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 

Tag list: @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale  @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

Emma: Do you know if we’re getting food on this flight?

Killian:It’s seven thirty in the morning.

Emma: And your point? That’s breakfast time.

Emma: I usually stock up on snacks because I am a bottomless pit, but I didn’t have time to this morning. Do you have anything?

Killian: I have an apple. I can very clearly see that Rob has a box of Wheat Thins in his backpack though. You want me to smuggle some for you?

Emma: How would that even work?

Killian: Easy. I steal the box from Rob and then chunk it three rows up to you.

Emma: That won’t be obvious at all.

Killian: I’m very stealthy, love.

“It’s not even eight in the morning,” Robin groans, reaching for the lever on his seat to recline back in the very little space that they’re given. “Who in the world are you texting that much?”

“Liam,” he lies, heat rising to his cheeks. He has texted Liam this morning, but he’s most definitely not texting his brother right now. It’s a half-truth, really. “He’s trying to nail me down for some dinner plans once we get back home. I haven’t gotten to see them much lately, and he and Elsa always get antsy whenever that happens.”

“You’re pretty much their third child.”

“I feel like I’m their third child but also your second.”

“No,” Robin huffs, reaching down into his bag to grab his crackers, “that’s most definitely Will.”

“I can hear you,” Will mumbles from the seat in front of them as he stretches out and snuggles further into his pillow. Will could sleep on any plane at any time. It’s damn impressive. “And I’m not a child just because you all feel the need to baby me, Professor Jones.”

“So not a child but a baby then?” he teases.

Will sticks his middle finger up in between the seats, not even bothering to open his eyes as he murmurs, “fuck off.”

“I love you too, man.”

“Don’t worry,” Robin placates, a smirk on his face, “he’s only mean to you because he likes you.”

“That’s a load of bullshit.”

“For me, yeah, because I say things when I feel them.” Will pops his head in between the seats, his eyes widened but sleep heavy now. “But I think Emma is so pissy toward you because she does actually think you’re hot.”

Woah. Where did that even come from?

“Is that what she said?” he questions like he’s a fifteen-year-old boy worried about Chrissy Stephens liking him back and not like a grown man who knows that the woman he fancies is also interested in him.

What a world that he lives in that Emma Swan is interested in him.

That or she’s been very good at faking it for the last two weeks. God, he hopes that she hasn’t been faking it, but that seems like a hell of a lot of effort when they’ve talked nearly every day. Sometimes it’s just a few texts, a passing word in the hallway, an interview or a press conference question. Other times it’s a phone call late at night or Emma dropping by his place for an hour to eat dinner. He can tell that she’s still terrified by the whole thing, nervous energy practically radiating off of her when she first starts talking to him, but once they get into the groove of things, he believes that she feels comfortable.

Her wanting this and being willing to try is beyond his wildest dreams, and a part of him still thinks he’s going to be hit in the head with a baseball and wake up from whatever kind of concussion-induced dream that he’s under.

So much shit has gone down in his life, things from years past still haunting him, and he’s clinging to this good thing even if it’s far too early for any of that. He hasn’t done this relationship thing in a long time, and he’s still not entirely sure that’s what it is. They haven’t talked about it, and he imagines Emma is not going to be the person to bring it up first.

If ever.

They could be getting married, and she still might not want to discuss things.

Woah, woah, woah. That is thinking too far ahead for about a million different reasons. He is not going there.

Will’s eyes narrow at him, thick brows pushing together all the while Killian can practically feel Robin’s stare covering every inch of him. “Why do you care?”

He shrugs, his fingers fidgeting with the window shade to let some light in before immediately shutting that away. “I like to know what’s being said about me.”

“She’s sitting right up there. Why don’t you ask her, Professor Jones?”

“Because that sounds like a dumbass idea that will get me in all kinds of trouble.”

“It’s true,” Robin sighs. “You should not be talking to Emma Swan about anything other than baseball.”

His heart drops into his right calf at that. He didn’t know that was possible, but it is. Why would Robin think something like that?

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t want to piss her off anymore. She could flip the narrative on you so quickly that you’d get whiplash and all the sudden you’d be back to who you were four years ago.”

His defenses rise, words on the tip of his tongue at the ready to defend Emma. He doesn’t like that Robin thinks she would do that. They’ve all spent time around Emma. They know that even if she can be a little guarded, she’s got their best interests at heart. Even when they’ve screwed up, him especially, she’s never done anything to wrong them.

“That wouldn’t happen. She’s a professional. You know that. She’s not going to pull shit like that,” he says quietly, wondering how in the world he can change this conversation to something else so as not to show all of the metaphorical cards in his hands. “Can I have some of those crackers, Rob?”

Robin eyes him for a moment before handing him the box. Killian doesn’t even really want these, but he’s thankful for them as the conversation dies down and Will goes back to sleeping after under two minutes of trying and Robin keeps watching his movie, typing a long text to Carol for something having to do with Roland. He doesn’t want to pry, so he tries not to look, reluctantly eating the Wheat Thins before snapping a picture of them and sending it to Emma.

Killian: I can throw these across the plane if you’re ready to catch them.

Emma: Hit me with your best shot.

Emma: Not really.

Emma: Please don’t throw food on the plane. I saw that there are snacks in the back, and I’m going to pilfer them.

Before he knows it, he sees Emma’s blonde head rise up as she gets out of her seat and walks down the aisle past him. She doesn’t look at him, her eyes staring straight ahead, but that doesn’t keep him from looking as she sweetly asks a flight attendant for a packet of cookies. It looks like she’s learned since the last time they flew.

When she comes back toward him, he turns in his seat and goes back to flipping through the movies, pretending like he wasn’t just staring her down. Hopefully she didn’t notice that. She may like him, but everyone has their limits.

Emma: The red-headed flight attendant thinks you’re hot.

Killian: I’ve been reliably told that you think the same thing, and I care much more about that.

Emma: Who told you that?

Killian: You’re not the only one who can have sources.

Emma: At least mine are reliable.

Killian: So you don’t think I’m hot?

Emma: I didn’t say that.

Killian: I knew you thought I was sexy, Swan. You flatter a man.

Emma: Shut up and eat your Wheat Thins.

-/-

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fucking hell.

Small pinpricks of pain are spreading down his arm while his shoulder stings. Someone might as well be out here stabbing him with a knife. It would likely be less painful than this.

Not again.

Not tonight.

He’s been doing so well, his shoulder not bothering him, all of his physical therapy working to keep his muscles strengthening and his body in check, and then shit like this happens. There’s no way he can make it past the inning, and even if he wasn’t about to call it, he knows that Al is going to pull him off the mound in no less than three minutes with how many runs he’s giving up.

It’s…not good. They’re down 2-8 in the bottom of the fourth, and he might as well be dying out here under the Florida sunshine and the humidity that has his bones weighing twice their normal weight. Spring Training never prepares him for this when it’s this muggy outside.

He might as well be in a damn swamp. Tropicana field sounds so cheery, so pleasant, but he’s dying inside. Why the hell do teams agree to name their fields things like Tropicana and Minute Maid? How much exactly are they getting paid to suffer like that?

How much is he getting paid to suffer like this?

Taking a deep breath, he tries to focus on what’s in front of him. That’s all he can do when his body is failing him like this, and with a quick windup, he releases the ball from his grip and watches it fly right into Will’s glove.

Strike three. Byrd’s out.

Immediately, he jogs to the dugout, opening the small gate and going straight for the water cooler, gulping down a cup before pouring himself another one and covering his head to try to cool himself down. He’s so damn mad at himself for playing like this, for having a body that’s failing him when his body has always been his livelihood and the thing he maintained with precision and dedication, and all he wants is to punch every single member of the Rays even though none of them have ever actually wronged him.

Anger takes its way out in strange places.

“You’re done, Jones,” Al tells him, his voice clipped.

“Good.”

He tosses his cup to the ground in annoyance and turns to make his way to the bench, figuring he’ll suffer out here for a little while longer, only to see Emma standing with her bottom lip tugged between her teeth and her phone in her hand.

Right.

She’s sitting in the dugout with them tonight recording videos and doing fun little segments for her Instagram and Twitter, and he’s probably looked like an ass in all of them.

Because he is an ass.

“You okay?” she mouths.

He doesn’t respond with more than a shake of his head no before he’s turning away and heading toward the tunnels that will take him back to the locker room so he can get this damn shoulder massaged and have Archie yell at him once again for trying to keep all of this under wraps.

-/-

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Killian sighs into his phone as he runs the towel over his waist, drying his body as much as he can before knotting it over his hip. His brother doesn’t seem to understand that people are busy and life is busy and maybe he wants to shower for fifteen minutes simply so everyone will leave him alone.

It’s been three hours since he left the field after the game, and it’s still not enough time to let him simmer in his thoughts.

“Are you sure because you kept grimacing and – ”

“I know what happened, Liam. God, I…” He runs his hands through his damp hair, water droplets falling over his face and tracing the lines where the beginnings of a sunburn are forming. “My shoulder hurt today. You know it, and I know it. There’s no point in denying it. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore when I already got my ass handed to me by Archie and Al.”

“I’m worried about you,” Liam laments, the sound of his television in the background. The girls should be asleep by now, so it must be Elsa sitting quietly listening in to their conversation while she pretends that she isn’t. He doesn’t know why she does that when she and Liam don’t keep anything to themselves when it comes to him, their honorary third child. “You have been nothing but healthy you’re entire life, and then I convinced you to go sailing with me and – ”

“Please do not blame yourself for that accident anymore.”

“Why not? I’m the one who insisted we go on the weekend trip. I’m the one who – ”

“For fuck’s sake, Liam, it’s not your fault. The drunks who ran into us are the only people who have any kind of fault. We probably should have died that day, and we didn’t. I just got a fucked-up arm. I’ll take that over anything else. You don’t have to act like you’re my father taking responsibility for all of my actions.”

The moment he says the words, he regrets them.

How could he not?

Comparing Liam to their father is the absolute last thing that he wants to do. Liam, even with his faults and his judgmental ways, is nothing like Brennan. Brennan Jones never cared unless it benefitted himself, and Liam cares because it’s what good family does. It’s what people who love each other do.

His brother is the greatest man that he knows, and yet here he is taking all of his anger out on him because he can’t always play the sport that he loves like he used to.

“Our father never took any responsibility for our actions.”

“God,” he groans, running his hands through his hair again and yanking at the strands, “I don’t know why I said that. I just – ”

“You’re angry right now.” The way Liam says the words calmly, like they’re talking about the weather or a lunch up on the rooftop of his building, weirdly calms him down and makes his heart beat a little less erratically. “I would be angry too if the accident had kept me from doing something I love the way I had done it before. You got hurt, and I got a small scar on my knee. It’s not fair, and you can be angry. Just…don’t let that anger ruin your relationship with others.”

“I hate that you’re so wise sometimes.”

“It’s only some of the time,” Elsa pipes in, confirming his thought that she was in there simply listening in. “He’s an idiot most of the time, actually, and it drives me insane that the girls think he is the smartest man alive.”

“Hi, Els,” he laughs, opening the door to the bathroom to let some of the steam out and walking back into his hotel room. “You should really announce yourself before you start listening in on a conversation. I know you’re there.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to think I’m too nosy.”

Killian barks out a laugh at that because there’s no other word he could describe Elsa as other than nosy at this moment. Compassionate and kind also come to mind, but right now she’s nosy.

Shuffling through the room, he sits down at the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping down underneath his weight, and picks up the remote to turn the television if only because he wants some background noise, so he doesn’t get too lost in his own thoughts.

“You and my brother are a packaged deal, darling,” he sighs, “and Addy and Lucy. I know that you are all far too much into my business.”

“It’s only because we care, little brother.”

“Younger, you asshole.”

“Language,” Elsa scolds.

“I’m twenty-eight years old and sitting in a hotel room by myself. I think I can say the word asshole.”

“Sorry, force of habit.”

“You’re such a mom,” he groans, falling back against the mattress, his towel coming undone the slightest bit.

“I did not push those two children out of my vagina to go by any other name.”

“Oh my God, stop. I don’t like to think about how those two were created.”

“Killian, childbirth is natural.”

“I’m talking about the creating, not the delivering.”

Liam and Elsa both start coughing before their coughs turn into laughter, the two of them sputtering and bickering back and forth with each other, and he sits up on the bed and starts mindlessly flipping through the channels until he finds a Dodgers game. Why is he watching baseball when he’s trying to get away from it all?

Because it is his life.

“You know, little  brother,” Liam chokes out, emphasizing the little because he is, indeed, an asshole, “if you had a girlfriend, you would probably feel more comfortable talking about sex.”

“I am perfectly comfortable talking about sex. Just not yours.”

“I know but – ”

There’s a knock at the door, and he feels like he’s saved by the bell (or the knuckles) at the sound, not really wanting to have this conversation with Liam even if he goaded them into it and if it’s more pleasant than talking about his shoulder.

“Hey, guys,” he starts, already getting up and tying his towel a little tighter around his waist, “there’s someone at my door. I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Let us know if you need to talk,” Elsa sighs, quietly echoed by Liam. “We love you.”

“Love you guys too.”

He hangs up the phone and places it on his dresser before crossing the room and looking through the peephole to see who is knocking on his door.

It’s Emma.

She’s standing just outside his door in an oversized white sweater and a pair of leggings, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, and he can tell by the way that she’s unable to stand still that she’s anxious. Immediately, he twists all of the locks and swings open the door, catching it before it slams into the wall.

“Swan,” he smiles, already reaching forward and tugging her inside, looking from side to side in the hallway to make sure no one is around.

“Hey, so I – ”

He stops her before she can finish her sentence, closing the door behind them and quickly dipping his head down to slide his lips over hers, just the barest hint of a touch in greeting but enough to make all of his body begin to stand at attention.

“Hi,” he whispers when he pulls back.

Emma’s lashes flutter as she looks up at him, a little redness of her cheeks. “Hi. I’m guessing you don’t mind that I dropped by then.”

“Truthfully, I’m very upset about it.”

“You’re a liar,” she laughs, adjusting the bag that she’s holding. Wow, he didn’t even notice the bag. His mind is all over the place tonight. “You’re also not wearing any clothes. Why are you not wearing any clothes?”

A shiver runs down his spine as Emma’s eyes glance over him, very obviously cataloging his body in the same way that he’s done to hers in the past. The room is more heated, the steam from the bathroom permeating into the bedroom, and he knows that it would be so damn easy to step a little bit more into Emma’s space and capture her mouth with his as his hands explored her body the way that her eyes are exploring him. It would be so damn easy to forget about the difficulties of this day, to forget about the ache in his shoulder, and let his body do all of the talking that it couldn’t do today.

He could prove that his body still works, that he can still do good with it, that he can still bring himself pleasure, bring Emma pleasure.

…but he can’t do that. Not yet.

It’s not the right time when he’s riddled in self-doubt and frustration, and even if Emma was ready, he wants to do this right. He doesn’t want to use her and his affections for her to make him forget everything for a night.

They need more time to get to know each other.

When the hell was the last time he wanted to get to know a woman well before he slept with her?

Why would he even ask himself that question when he knows the answer?

“Well, darling,” he finally sighs, backing up from her to give himself room to breathe all the while he makes sure to flash her a grin, “I did this thing called showering, and I don’t often do it with clothes.” “That’s smart. It’d probably get a little messy like that.”

“Most definitely. What’s in the bag?”

“Oh,” she gasps, her shoulders shrugging up the slightest bit as her eyes light up, the darkness turning back to light green. “So, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous or whatever by coming here, but you didn’t seem to have the best day, and I figured I would bring you, like, a snack or whatever to help you out. Then I thought maybe I could stay for a bit, but if you want to tell me to fuck off, I can be back in my room in a minute.”

How in the world does he find everything she does so charming? He was in a piss-poor mood, still is, and even though he wasn’t exceptionally friendly to her when she was doing interviews in the locker room, she’s being more than kind to him.

“Love, the absolute last thing I would do is tell you to fuck off. I’m glad you decided to come see me even if I don’t know how you know my room number.”

She winks before turning around and placing the paper bag down. “You’re not the only one who knows how to charm people to get information.”

“Apparently not. What kind of spoils have you brought me?”

“Totally ignoring the fact that you said spoils,” she laughs, pulling out a bag of salt and vinegar chips and then several snack cakes. And then one banana which doesn’t seem to fit at all. “But I raided a vending machine and also the hotel front desk for the banana, and figured maybe we could pig out a bit since I know for a fact both of us are going running tomorrow.”

“Do you have strawberry short cakes in that pile?”

He steps closer to her, and she holds up a package of Pop-Tarts, strawberry flavored. “Is this close enough?”

“Only because we’re in a pinch.” Killian takes it out of her hand, and tosses it over to the bed before picking up his bag of clothes and sliding it into the bathroom. “I’m just going to put on some pants and then we’ll – ”

There’s another knock on his door, and this time he’s not saved by the bell. He doesn’t want this conversation to end. Emma stops what she’s doing, dropping the chips she’s holding back onto the desk, and she turns to look at him with wide eyes and parted lips, panic written across all of her features.

“What do we do?” she whispers, her voice probably echoing from here all the way back up to the east coast.

“I’m just going to ignore it,” he says quietly, stepping back over to the door to look to see who it is. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Emma whispers, stepping closer only for him to hold out his arm in front of her.

There’s another knock, this time really more of a pounding, and then Ariel’s voice comes through the wood. “I know you’re in your room, Killian. Open the door.”

Emma’s eyes widen even more, and if he wasn’t currently freaking out over what to do, he’d laugh at the comic relief over the whole thing. “Get in the bathroom, love.”

She nods her head, quickly picking up the food she brought in and scrambling into the bathroom, closing the door behind her at the same time that he opens his hotel door, his hand furiously scratching at his ear.

“What, A?”

“Well, that’s a way to greet me.” She immediately moves past him and into the room, never one for understanding personal space. “Why do you have a package of Pop-Tarts on your bed?”

“I got it from the vending machine,” he lies, closing his door behind her and walking back over to his bed. “I was hungry but didn’t feel like ordering anything in. Why are you here? Where’s Eric?”

Ariel rolls her eyes and stretches out onto his bed, picking up the remote and immediately changing the TV from the game he was watching. “Believe it or not, I am capable of being in a separate space than my husband.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

She simply waves him away. “Whatever. I just wanted to check on you. I know you get all moody after losses, and you didn’t come join everyone for dinner. Also, can you put some clothes on while we have this conversation? I love you, but I don’t need to see every bit of you.”

“You’re the one who came barging into my room,” he groans as his mind runs through about fifteen scenarios on how to get Ariel out of his room, “but fine. I’ll go change.”

Killian steps away from his bed and walks the few steps to the bathroom door, quietly opening it up and immediately shutting it behind him in case Ariel for some reason decided to move behind him.

This is by far the weirdest thing that has happened to him this year. He’s hiding his girlfri – he’s hiding Emma in his hotel bathroom.

And she’s sitting on the countertop with her legs crossed over each other eating the bag of chips like that’s not the loudest food she could have chosen.

“What are you doing?” she hisses. Putting the chips down.

“Ariel has requested I put on some clothes.”  

“But there’s no place for me to move in here so you can do that.”

Killian rolls his eyes at her flustered movements and far too loud hushed voice. It’s what has him turning on the sink before he leans forward and presses a kiss to Emma’s cheek. “I can slip my sweatpants on under my towel. I promise I’m not going to scar you.”

“You wouldn’t scar me. I just – ”

He reaches down to his bag, grabbing a pair of pants and pulling them on underneath his towel, his mind fighting with him to think of every delicious and dirty thought about having Emma in the shower, and tugs them up before dropping his towel to the ground and finding a t-shirt to wear. How is his bag so disorganized?

“What was that now, love?”

“Nothing,” she hisses, blushing. “How long am I supposed to stay in here? I’m kind of freaking out.”

“You’ve got food, water, and a bathroom. I think you’ll be good for a week or two.”

“Asshole.”

“I try.” He flashes her a grin before leaning forward and quickly gliding his lips over hers and tasting the salt and vinegar of her kiss. Damn does he love that he can do that. “I’ll try to get her to leave as soon as possible, okay? Be quiet on your chip eating.”

Emma scrunches up her nose before sticking her tongue out at him and grabbing another chip with one hand while the other turns the faucet off. He sighs, amused and exasperated all at once, before opening the bathroom door and stepping out only to find Ariel eating the Pop-Tarts.

He kind of wanted those even if there are a million better ways to consume five hundred calories.

“Why’d you turn your water on?”

“Didn’t want you to hear me pee.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugs her shoulders and pats the spot on his bed next to her. He takes the small desk chair instead. “Tell me why you’re in such a bad mood.”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not a liar.”

(He is a liar.)

“Okay,” Ariel murmurs as she takes another bite, “so if you’re not in a bad mood, would you at least like to explain why you didn’t come to dinner?”

He swivels in the chair a bit, his legs antsy to tap and stay moving, but that’ll make him seem anxious to Ariel. That’s the last thing that he wants when he is, indeed, anxious for her to get out of the room.

“I – I felt like I let everyone down today,” he admits, leaving out his own self-loathing about his injury. Half-truths. He’s always speaking in half-truths. “I played a shitty game. I was in a bad mood. I was awful company and didn’t want anything to do with anyone. So, I kind of figured I’d come back here and work that out on my own instead of making everyone else miserable.”

“Killian Jones, you know for a fact that we are not miserable around you. At least Eric and I aren’t. Neither are Robin or Will or even August. The only person who would take issue with you being all pissy is Arthur and that’s because he’s got his own set of issues.”

He scoffs and closes his eyes as he stretches his legs out. She’s right. He knows that she is because she’s always right. She’s basically another version of Elsa in that aspect.

“I know. I’m…you know how I get, A. I’ll be fine. Tomorrow, I’ll come to whatever team-mandated meal you arrange.”

“That’s all I ask.” She rises from the bed, picking up the Pop-Tart she hasn’t eaten, and walks over to him to briefly press her lips against his temple. “I’m going to let you wallow, okay? But tomorrow after you’ve finished your practice, we have to talk about your calendar for the rest of May and June. I’ve got some charity stuff lined up for you.”

“I will be at your beck and call.”

“As you should be. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do.”

Ariel nods her head and smiles before walking out the door, letting it slam shut behind her. Letting out a sigh of relief, he places his face in his hands and simply takes a moment to breathe and let his mind stop racing about how horrible of a human being he is for lying to everyone.

He’s the worst, isn’t he? He has to be.

When he’s finished with his little pity party, he sits up and raises his fist to the wall, banging on it to let Emma know that she can come out of the bathroom.

The door clicks, and she emerges, flipping the locks on his door and then walking toward him, stepping into his space until he’s pulling her in by the hips to stand in the open space between his legs, his head resting against her stomach.

Maybe he’s not quite finished with his pity party.

“So,” Emma hums, her feet moving into his line of vision as her hands scratch at that back of his head, which may very well be the best fucking feeling in the world, “apparently everyone in the world knows you’re in a bad mood, and you don’t want to talk to any of us about it.”

“Do you want to talk every time you’re in a bad mood?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly.” He leans back in the chair, the loss of her touch immediate. “I think I just…you want to watch a movie with me or something?”

“Can I pick it out?”

“Yeah, Swan, you can.”

They settle down onto the mattress, pulling the thin sheet that’s at the bottom of the bed over them instead of settling under the covers, and Emma tucks herself into his side so that her head rests on his collarbone and her hand is covering his stomach, a leg tucked between his. In all of the time they’ve spent together in the past two weeks, he thinks this is the most comfortable she’s ever been around him.

He likes it.

It’s…refreshing. He keeps thinking that, thinking about how this is so different than how he’s been the past few years. If he was with a woman, it was to sleep with her, to scratch an itch. It was not to settle down and watch Men in Black because despite insisting that she wanted to pick the movie, Emma refused to let him pay for them to rent a newer movie.

And obviously he wants to sleep with Emma, his mind racing with thoughts of what exactly that would be like to do to her, but he’s good just like this.

This is by far the best part of his day, and Florida isn’t seeming like such a hell hole anymore as his fingers play with the wisps of her hair that have fallen out of her bun and her hands toy with his mom’s ring that’s fallen outside of his t-shirt. He doesn’t even think she realizes that she’s doing it.

“The ring was my mom’s.”

Emma stops her movements, her fingers stilling, before looking up at him, her face only lightened by the glow of the television now that the sun has set, and everything is covered in darkness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess with it.”

“Swan, it’s fine,” he promises, reaching down to take her hand and place it back against his chest and against the ring. He smiles a little, the left side of his lips curving up, to try to reassure her of the fact that it is fine. He doesn’t mind. “I simply figured you wanted to know why I wear a ring around my neck. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m secretly married.”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking that until right about now.”

Later. He’ll tell her about Milah later. He can already tell that he’s about to tell her too much about his family tonight. She doesn’t need to know about his ex-girlfriend too.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know.” She pats his chest and readjusts herself so that she can look at him a little better. How are her eyes so green? “So, tell me about your mom. If you want to.”

“Her name was Amelia,” he starts out, scooting down a little further so that he and Emma are nearly eye to eye, “and she was just…she was amazing. I have a terrible memory, so I don’t remember much, but I remember that she had this red hair that would make Ariel jealous and this big belly laugh that kind of reminds me of Liam. I don’t – I guess I never thought about it before, but she was really into baking, which is probably why I eventually came around to it. That’s likely the only thing I got from her other than the red in my beard.”

He knows that it’s not true, that he is more like her than he’s willing to admit, but it’s not what he usually thinks about. It’s not what Liam talks about either even though he was seventeen when she died.

“How did she – ”

“Cancer,” he murmurs, tracing Emma’s pointer finger until he lifts their hands and treads his fingers through hers, squeezing their hands together. “It was very sudden, not a lot of time to say goodbye, you know?”

Emma presses forward and brushes a kiss to his knuckles. He’s sure it’s because no one ever knows what to say that, and Emma is likely no exception. “She would be so proud of you, I think. I know that’s probably overstepping my boundaries to say that, but I don’t see how anyone could not be proud of you for working so hard to achieve your dreams and for being so good to your family.”

Maybe she’s the exception then.

He’s not sure that his mom would be proud of him, not lately.

“Thank you, darling. I’m not sure if that’s true, but thank you.”

Emma’s brows pinch, her lips pursing. “How could that not be true, twenty-nine?”

Because he’s a self-loathing bastard who can never seem to bury his demons even when he needs to.

“Do you want to know part of the reason why I was in such a shitty mood today?”

He can’t tell her the full truth, but the half truth seems okay today.

“Only if you want to tell me.”

He gulps, nodding his head and inching further down to bed to tangle his legs with Emma’s and nearly brush his nose against hers. He’s twenty-eight, but there’s something akin to a childlike belief running through him that nothing can invade the quietness of this hotel room right now.

“I haven’t spoken to my father since I was nineteen years old,” he admits, bringing their hands up to rest between their chests. “That seems like a shitty thing to do when I was only down to one parent, but my dad is an asshole, you know? He was the one who signed me up to play little league ball, and every single day I was outside running or practicing my batting or pitching once I changed to that track. He pushed me so damn hard, which I always thought was a good thing, until I’d lose a game or be a minute slow on my run and he’d make me do everything all over again. I was eleven, and the man had me on a meal plan to make sure I was developing with the sole purpose of playing ball.”

He takes a breath, blinking away the tears that aren’t there but might as well be.

“He became obsessed. Completely and totally obsessed. And since Liam was long gone from the house, he was my only influence. I did what he said when he said it and played it off as it all being part of the game that I loved. But he pushed and pushed and pushed until I hated waking up every day. He screamed at me, calling me a pathetic fucker, told me that I was ruining his life by not being good enough. It was just this constant stream of hatred spewing out of his mouth, and when I got to Vandy, he started betting on my games, started taking bribes and offers and so many things that could have taken the game away from me forever. He’s a piss poor excuse for a dad, and it took me nineteen years to realize that I didn’t have to be subjected to his shit. So, I just…I cut him off. Liam and I both did. And today I – I was mad about how I played, and I took it out on Liam by saying he was not my father and some other stuff. That always kind of spirals us, and that’s why I was so annoyed when you first got here.”

That was too much.

That was far too much.

Killian should have kept his mouth shut, should have never let all of that out even if it’s skimming the surface. Emma likely already thinks he’s insane, that he’s got enough issues, and he just revealed so many more.

Good things in his life do not stay, and Emma is most definitely a good thing.

And he’s not even telling her about his arm.

“Your dad is a fucking asshole,” she spits, untangling their hands and running her palms up over the skin at his neck until she’s softly gliding her thumb underneath his eye. “I can’t imagine how much that has to mess you up in your mind. He took something you loved and twisted it. He was not what a parent should be, and you have every right to be upset about that. I’ve never met Liam, but I know that he loves you and that he understands how you tick. I’m sure he’s not mad at you for being upset with him when he understands your anger was coming from something else.”

Tell her, tell her, tell her.

His mind is screaming at him, but he can under no circumstances tell her everything. Not about Milah, not about his arm, not about all of his thoughts and feelings.

In time.

He’ll tell her in time.

They’re so early in this thing that they’re doing, and even if it’s been awhile for him, he knows that two weeks in is not the time to dumb every bit of baggage that he’s carrying.

“Thank you, love,” he sighs, closing his eyes and pressing forward to slowly guide his lips over hers, another silent thank you for simply being here. It’s nice to have someone on the road with him. Honestly and truly. “I’m sure this is not how you imagined this night going.”

“What?” Emma laughs, a tentative smile curling on her lips. “You think I didn’t come in here expecting you to tell me about your shitty dad as we watch Will Smith kill some aliens? I feel like that’s a pretty normal night.” “So this is normal for you then?”

“Staying in bed as much as possible?”

“Absolutely.”

He hums, inching closer and closer to her so that their foreheads brush together and his nose is pressing into her cheek as he speaks. “I think I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

[meganshinsou-tm]

Sugarcoated. (m)

↳ chapter twenty-one: late

❧ genre: pro-hero hitoshi, adoptive siblings, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: angst

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

"Are you serious Hitoshi?"

A set of small ruby red eyes turned and looked at you from the kitchen counter. You froze from the blank expression the little girl held and asked Hitoshi to give you a minute as you walked over to Eri. She was standing on her stool, hands molding a dumpling. Mustering up the best smile you could you bent down to kiss the top of her head.

"These look great Eri. Will you be okay if a just step right outside for a second?"

The silver haired child nodded and smiled. After patting her head you slipped on some boots and a coat before walking out the front door and putting the cell back to your ear.

"Hitoshi, for once you can't just bring everything home and work on it after dinner? I'll even help you."

There was a drawn out sigh on the other end of the line, you could practically picture Hitoshi rubbing his forehead. "I wish I could baby but it's a lot. I have to get all these projects graded and done before the break, there's too many pieces and I don't want to risk bringing them home and something happening to them and then having to explain why someone's sculpture or canvas got ruined."

Your eyes narrowed and foot tapped on the concrete.

"So you rather leave me to explain why you're late again to your little sister, on the one night she begged for you to be home because she wanted to make something special for you?"

"That was tonight?"

You rolled your eyes and sighed in aggravation.

"Oh my god, yes it was tonight! Hitoshi she's only with us for another week!"

"I know - I got my days mixed up I'm sorry. I'll try to finish this fast and make it home."

You shook your head as if Hitoshi were standing before you.

"Don't worry about it Hitoshi, I'll go in there and break the news to her and deal with it like I have been for the past month. Your leftovers with be in the fridge as usual. Love you."

Before Hitoshi could even reply with his usual spouts of making it up to you the call ended. Now facing the door, you wiped the tear that threatened to fall and stood straight, preparing for a night alone with Eri yet again but you wouldn't let it get to you and you damn sure wouldn't let it get to her. Tonight you'd make sure that she would go to bed with a smile on her face.

Once inside you shrugged off the boots and coat and walked over to Eri, still happily making dumplings. You stood back and watched, wanting to keep her happy for a little while longer.

This wasn't the first time Hitoshi had to cancel plans or come home late from work, it was usually a once a week thing. After he first started he'd spend his Thursday nights at school, grading, sorting, recollecting over the weeks work before Friday brought it to a close. Of course you were very understanding of this. It was easier for Hitoshi to do all of this at school and not have to haul it back and forth from home. Being a teacher to so many students you expected nights like those and never once complained. Hitoshi was an extremely hard worker and was very passionate about his career and students. It was okay - at least when it was only once a week.

Over the past month though, these nights became more frequent and more unexpected. At first it didn't bother you, the holiday break was nearing, meaning final exams. All the teachers in fact were cracking down and working harder, sometimes they'd even have group nights and help each other with lesson plans or figure out which students needed what assistance then go out for drinks and food after. 

Still you were okay with this, but you couldn't get rid of the seed of jealousy that grew in the back of your mind, knowing that Claire Amano was among these teachers. It was just that though, jealousy. You were trusting of Hitoshi and since the festival you never once doubted him again, he never once gave you any reason to do so. But just the thought of that one woman being able to spend time with Hitoshi, time that was taken not only from you but from Eri, it ate away at you.

Eri would be leaving the two of you to go back home in a week, so spending as much time as possible with her was your priority and it should've been Hitoshi's too.

"Unnie?"

An innocent voice sliced through your aggravated thoughts and caused you to look up at the little girl who was now turned and looking at you with question. You cleared your throat and tried to smile for her, making your way to the counter.

"Eri," you started with a soft and quiet tone, getting ready to break the news.

A small messy hand grabbed yours and made you look her in the eyes.

"I know...," Eri replied.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart, I promise though he's going to make it up to you, to both of us! We'll just have a fun night together by ourselves."

A smile grew on the child's face, making you smile back and squeeze her tiny hand.

"Yeah! We can even have all my plushies eat with us, so our table is full!"

You chuckled and nodded, took your phone out and started to play your favorite k-pop station, setting the device far enough away so it wouldn't get dirty as the two of you made more dumplings and food.

"That sounds perfect, I want to sit between RJ and Koya though!"

For the next few hours the two of you made and cooked dinner, sat down together will all of Eri's BT21 plushies and enjoyed your meal. After, the food was put up, a plate set aside for Hitoshi as usual, you both proceeded to the couch to watch tv. Eri expressed how much fun she had been having over the past almost 3 months, that she missed her father but having you and Hitoshi always made her cheer up. She was sad to be leaving in a few days and seemed to cling to you more and more as the night dragged on. Once 7:30 pm rolled around you suggested it was time for her bath and for bed. After Eri's bath, you sat together in her bed, braiding her hair as she yawned in your lap.

"Unnie ... when I leave, we'll still see each other right?"

"Of course Eri, in fact I made your brother promise that you stay with us at least two weekends a month!"

The little girl smiled as you finished her hair and hugged her close before having her crawl beneath the covers. Crouching down you made sure to tuck her in nice and snug, tickling her sides here and there and earning innocent and cheerful giggles. Her tiny hand reached out to touch your cheek and you took it, placing a kiss to the inside of her palms and brushing a stray hair from her face.

"I love you Unnie," she spoke softly with heavy ruby eyes.

"I love you more my little cupcake. Now get some rest and I'll see you in the morning."

Eri nodded and snuggled more into her blankets with a hum. You stood straight and walked to the door, hand turning off the bedroom light and leaving it illuminated by her nightlight.

"Will you tell Sou-Sou I love him," she turned over and asked.

Your heart pained at her request, knowing good and well you'd do it but that you shouldn't have to if only her brother were here like he said he'd be. With a nod you smiled and blew her one last kiss.

"Of course I will, goodnight Eri."

Hitoshi's black jeep pulled up in front of the house at around 9 o'clock. Turning the engine off he wasted no time in getting out, gathering his work bag and heading up the walking path to the front door. His key slid into the lock and he opened the door, his violet hues scanning the kitchen and living room until they fell upon your legs hanging over the back of the couch and bouncing as you laid upside down on the cushion. He smirked at your cuteness and was relieved to see you still up. Ever since you ended the phone call earlier he was anxious to finally get home and make it up to you in any way possible. 

After removing his shoes and jacket, Hitoshi walked over to the the couch, his hand reaching down and tickling the arch of your foot and making you jump and kick with a yelp.

He snickered, realizing you had headphones in and probably didn't hear him entering the house. Your (e/c) eyes went from frightened to annoyed in no time upon realizing who he was. His hand went to touch the top of your foot but you quickly kicked it away and rolled on the couch until you were looking away from the hero. Hitoshi sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he walked around the couch.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry I know I fucked up."

You scoffed and removed the headphones fully and placed them on the end-table. Hitoshi sat before you on the ottoman, a small bouquet of flowers in his grasp. Your eyebrow quirked at them in confusion.

"Hitoshi, where the fuck did you get flowers at this late?"

He chuckled and twisted the bundle around in his hand, "I may have found a florist closing up shop and used my quirk to make him open it back up for a few more minutes ..."

Try as you may not to make a sound, it didn't work. You chortled lightly, hand quickly coming up to cup your mouth when Hitoshi looked with a hopeful smile. It quickly faded as your expression turned to one of annoyance once again.

"Look I know they won't make you forgive me but - "

"Me forgive you? Hitoshi I'm not the one you should be trying to make up to, it's that little girl in there, not me. Yeah I'm pissy about this, but not for the reasons you think. It's the fact that she spent all day after school so excited to go grocery shopping for things to cook just for you, because she knows you've been stressed with work lately and wanted to do something for you. She handmade that food for you. And the sad thing is, I didn't even have to tell her you were going to be late, again. She already knew. You're trying to butter up the wrong person here."

Hitoshi sat there as you landed blow for blow. He already felt like shit over upsetting you and you made sure that he felt lower than scum about Eri as well. Lately, you had been the backbone of the household. Being more understanding and patient than you needed to be with his job, taking care of Eri all alone on the nights he didn't get home on time and still making sure to leave a plate of food out for him. Without you he'd be drowning right now in more stress than he already had and each day he was grateful to still have you stick it out with him. More than anything he was grateful for how much you truly cared for his sister, always putting her before yourself or him.

"I swear I'll make it up to her tomorrow, and you. I truly am sorry baby, my days got mixed up, I swear I'd never intentionally fuck up this bad."

You sighed and shrugged, standing to your feet before him, causing Hitoshi to look up at you like a begging peasant at your mercy.

"I know you will, I know you are and I know you wouldn't. I really do understand that right now work is hectic and some things are out of your control Hitoshi and that shit happens. But maybe just for the rest of Eri's time here you can try to be a little more - available?"

Hitoshi's purple eyes saddened at the sound of his own girlfriend having to even ask him to do such a thing as give her and his sister more of himself. He tried not to let it get to him though because in fact something else was going on behind your back that hopefully once it all came full circle you'd forgive him for all the shit he'd been putting you through. To keep up with appearances Hitoshi sighed, head hanging low. There were hands in his hair suddenly, running from the front to the back of his scalp and causing him to look up. His arms wrapped around your thighs, hugging you close as his cheek rested on your stomach.

"Your food is in the fridge. I'm going to shower and get ready for bed," you spoke as your hands disappeared, one slowly falling down to caress Hitoshi's cheek as he let go and you turned to walk away.

Hitoshi got up and sighed, finding his food and reheating it, taking his time to finish it all in silence, left alone with nothing but his thoughts on how he could make things better. When he finished, Hitoshi locked up the house and turned off all the lights, he grabbed the flowers and made his way down the hall and stopped before Eri's door and quietly opened it. Walking in he smiled as she slept peacefully. Sitting the flowers down on her nightstand, he bent over and placed a kiss to her hair and whispered that he loved her before slipping back out. 

Hitoshi made it to the bedroom and started to strip off his clothes as he went towards the bathroom. You were standing at the sink, brushing your teeth, not being bothered at all by his sudden appearance. He came up from behind, one hand cupping the side of your face as he placed a kiss to your cheek before going into the shower, disappearing as he rounded the corner of it.

After brushing your teeth you stood there, hands on the counter and watching as the water circled around the drain of the sink, washing away the foam you spit out from the toothpaste. Your heart pained a little from continuously not giving Hitoshi too much attention. This wasn't like you. 

Usually the second he walked through the door he was attacked by you with over zealous kisses and needy hugs, even on nights he was late. But tonight was different, of all nights why did it have to be this one. You needed to stand your ground and make sure Hitoshi knew he hurt Eri but maybe enough was enough. Your boyfriend may be dumb when it comes to a few things about relationships but he's not completely ignorant. Once he's made aware of dumb minute things he does he never forgets it. Hitoshi doesn't need to be scolded or shunned, he doesn't need long drawn out talks. He learns his lesson and very quick.

Wiping your mouth you quickly walked into the shower, stopping at the corner and peeking your head around it. Hitoshi was standing under the rainfall of water, soaking his violet hair before turning around. He wiped the water from his face and blinked upon seeing you.

"What is it baby?"

"I love you," you replied and pressed your cheek to the cool rock wall.

Hitoshi softly smiled and stepped out from under the shower head until he was face to face with you. Your hands came up to cup the others opposite cheek, foreheads pressing against each other. "I love you more."

The two of you finally kissed each other for the first time since he arrived home and it felt like you could breathe easily again. The tightness in your chest dissipating as his lips warmly enveloped your own, hugging them and trying to convey how sorry he was for his fuck up. It came across clear as crystal and you smiled when the kiss broke. He smiled back and kissed your forehead.

"Get in bed, I'll be there shortly."

You nodded and kissed him one last time before exiting the shower and going to find warmth under the thick blankets of the bed. As you sat and waited, your mood turned sour quickly all over again. 

Mind starting to wonder like it does every night: Eri leaves in a few days, you don't have a job lined up, Hitoshi keeps coming home late, what if something is wrong with you, is there someone else? 

Of course there was no one else, Hitoshi wasn't that type of guy, you knew he loved you to death, you knew that. 

But there was just so much stress lately, trying to hold yourself together for his and Eri's sake was starting to become overbearing and making you think irrationally. That tightness in your chest slowly started to return and you curled up, knees hugging close to your chest and burying your face in them. You were becoming prisoner in your own mind over the next few minutes until the sound of a light switch flicking off caught your ear. You couldn't dare look up, too afraid that seeing Hitoshi's face would just make you break from how fucking much you missed it.

There was a weight next to you now, the smell of Hitoshi's peppery body wash filling your senses as he crawled next to you. His hand rubbed at your back, the other down your shin. Just his touch was starting to make tears pool in the corners of your eyes and your body trembled, trying to hold back a sob.

"Shit," he breathed out before quickly grabbing a hold of your body and cradling it into his chest and lap.

All at once you started to cry into his chest, trying to cover your own face. He rocked back and forth, pressing kisses to your hair and rubbing your back and shoulders. Not once did he try to shush or quiet your cries, he just let you be.

Once again, Hitoshi was intelligent. He knew your tell tale signs of a breakdown, knew how hard you tried to not let it show how the world was wearing down on you and knew that in due time you'd finally submit to letting it all finally come flooding out like it needed to. And when that happened, he was always there. All in all, Hitoshi was a wonderful boyfriend, full of unconditional love and adoration, nurturing and understanding. Sure he may have his dumb moments, but there was so much of him that made up for it.

"I'm sorry Hitoshi," you choked out.

"There's nothing to be sorry for (Y/N)."

"I was too harsh on you earlier, on the phone. And then when you got home, I just got so upset and I shouldn't have, I know work is crazy right now and still I had - "

Hitoshi chuckled and kissed your head, "Alright first off, shut your mouth. Baby, you've been more understanding and patient with me than you should be. I deserved that ass-chewing. Sometimes I don't deserve you. You're here taking care of Eri, making sure she's where she needs to be, as well as cooking, cleaning, helping with her homework, loving my dumbass enough to still leave me food out and show me affection even on nights I'm late. I know you can only take so much and I'm so sorry that I didn't think more about how it's piling up on you. But I know that can't be the only thing that's beating you up, what else is going on?"

Your head shook in his chest and Hitoshi rolled his eyes. His hand went to remove your own from your face and made you look up at him. 

"(Y/N), we talked about this, communication remember? It's okay, you can tell me anything, you know that."

You tried to look away from his violet hues but Hitoshi held your chin, "Eyes on me sweetness."

"Toshi," you finally sighed and looked at him, "... there isn't someone else right? I'm still the only one ..."

Hitoshi blinked in surprise and you hurried to explain yourself, "I - I just need to hear it."

Massive hands were soon holding your face, Hitoshi's eyes softening as he shook his head.

"(Y/N), of course you're still the only one, and you'll always be the only one. I swear on my life! There is no one else, no one but you. I know I've been shitty lately but I swear I'd never fuck up something so good and precious in my life. I don't ever want anyone but you, you're mine forever, you're gonna have to deal with that!"

A smile tugged at your lips and Hitoshi kissed the corner of your mouth, making the smile grow gradually as he continued to kiss all over your face. He didn't care about the salty tears, only that he could wipe them away. You wrapped around his neck and body, hugging him close and nuzzling your face in his neck. He hugged back and kissed the side of your head and pressed his cheek to it.

"I love you so goddamn much and I promise it'll get better."

"I just miss you so much," you breathed out.

"I know you do baby, trust me, I miss you even more. It's only until school lets out. Then you'll have all my time and even when work starts back up, I'll manage my shit more wisely. It's just a bump and we'll get over it. We always do."

You nodded and pulled back, a hand coming up and touching his cheek. "Okay Toshi."

The man smiled and kissed your lips tenderly, letting you melt into him once again. He chuckled and ran a hand through your hair before the two of you started to nestle under the covers together, bodies wrapping and intertwining with each other, lips still feverishly kissing. His arms held you close, your hands flat on his chest as your kisses started to die down. Hitoshi leaned over to turn off the lamp and let you burrow into him, a content hum leaving your lips.

"Get some rest sweetness, we got a full day together tomorrow and I plan on spoiling the fuck out of you and Eri."

"Toshi, you can't just win us over with gifts," you mumbled with a sleepy smile.

Hitoshi chuckled and kissed your forehead, "What about with food, lots of it!"

"Mmm, maybe."

Shaking his head, Hitoshi's fingers lightly brushed over your eyelids, shutting them.

"Goodnight my little halfling, I love you."

[complicatedandstained]

358 Nights: Poker Night

If it weren’t for Saïx’s schedules, the entire Organization would crumble. At least, according to Saïx. 

Overnight patrol duty is just one of many, many rotations assigned to each member each day. Its purported, primary goal: to protect the hallowed halls of the Castle That Never Was in the midnight hours. Its actual goal: to enforce curfew, so Saïx can get some shut eye. 

Once overnight patrol duty kicked off, it became quickly apparent which Organization members you don’t want to run into alone in a dark hallway in the middle of the night, and which you don’t mind so much.

Because Luxord has no interest in reporting anyone for being out of bed past curfew any night of the month—he is typically the best option. That is, provided you’re willing to go in on a little quid pro quo a.k.a. poker night a.k.a. buy Luxord a pint once a month and go in on a hand, or two, or twelve of dealer’s choice. 

And if it feels kind of like blackmail, well, Luxord’s not above that. 

Lately, poker nights have been held in the drafty back rooms of boozy pubs and disreputable inns on a messy little island called Tortuga. Frequented predominantly by pirates and smugglers, it’s the kind of place where nobody asks a Nobody too many questions and everyone’s too blitzed to remember a face. So, it’s the kind of place the Organization likes to be.  

The original plan had been to periodically switch up locations, but that was a pain in the ass because nobody ever portaled in at the same time and someone was always going to the wrong place and waiting around for a half hour, then getting pissy about it—which was fine when it was Demyx, but less fine when it was Xigbar. 

So, lately, poker nights have been held at Gibbs’ place—Gibbs being a graying old sailor bearing a kind, round face and fluffy white beard with high sideburns and a ponytail. 

They like Gibbs well enough. The pub owner’s the solid, reliable sort, with a lively, certain cadence to his voice—always ready to hear or tell a good story, sing a sea shanty, or call for another round.

And, yeah, maybe Gibbs has been getting a little too familiar with the lot of them. And, yeah, maybe he asks way too many questions. But, despite his claims to a former career in piracy under the service of Captains Barbossa and Sparrow—not to mention the Royal Navy—he’s, generally speaking, harmless as a slice of cold cheese pizza. 

Most importantly, he gives them complimentary beer bread if they don’t start a brawl in the first half hour of coming around. So, they let ‘im slide. 

Xigbar’s the first one in. He likes to be. More time to get the lay of the land and drink in peace. Outside of that Cuddly Duckling joint in Corona—the one with all the fucking, god-awful, pitchy flash mob song and dance numbers—Tortuga’s among the only places he can travel where he can walk up to a bar and take a seat without turning the heads of everyone in the joint.  

The tables and booths of Gibb’s pub are pleasantly crowded as usual, accordion music drifting through shouts and tipsy conversation. Xigbar’s got half a stein down before Gibbs notices him. A couple more gulps before Gibbs works up the nerve to approach, false cheer marked with frozen dimples. “Why, Sniper, me lad, you’re early!” 

“Yeah.” Xigbar chuckles into the foam of his drink. “Thank the Lord.”

“Ah, crews be like families,” Gibbs reasons in his infinite wisdom, borne of the sea salt breeze, “and we all fancy a break from the family every now and ag’in, I always say.”  

Xigbar rolls his eyes but nods. 

Gibbs glances around the room for more of Xigbar’s usual company, but doesn’t spot them. “Haven’t gotten a table for your crew o’ thirteen together yet, but I—”

“Don’t bother.” Xigbar interrupts with a quick slash of his hand. “We ain’t expecting much of a crowd tonight.” 

Gibbs’ brows go up, finding something in Xigbar’s tone rather ominous, but before he can ask, the door to his pub swings open, near off its hinge, and brings with it a jaunty gust of guitar music and a lanky blond. 

Said blond strums and sings like the sound’s possessing him, sashaying in with fast, certain steps, each synced with the rhythm of his next note. The tune reminds Xigbar of a soft rock ballad, entirely out of place in this world, though the pretty young women hanging on Demyx’s arms, swaying their hips, don’t seem to mind. 

“And after all~ You’re my wonderwall~”

Xigbar chokes, the ale burning his throat and nose. The nearby patrons of the pub nod and sway along. Feet start to stamp as Demyx twirls and plays, steps light, and the women on his arms whirl, their skirts billowing and their giggles airy.

“You’re my wonderwall~”

Xigbar sighs, sparing the ruckus over his shoulder the briefest of glares before plunking down his drink. “Dumb little shit…” 

“Now, wait just a—” Gibbs’ grin at the music dims as Xigbar eases onto his feet, but Gibbs doesn’t dare make a grab for his arm.  

Xigbar ignores the objection and strolls up to Demyx with heavy, confident steps. He claps his gloved hands together, slow and out of beat with the song, and Demyx stops dancing to turn his way. 

The young women retreat behind Demyx’s lanky height as the large, muscular man draws nearer, but Demyx remains where he is—rather idiotically, in the opinion of the spectators—only a foot out of the doorway, strumming in challenge, an easy grin on his face. 

“I said maybe~ You’re gonna be the one that saves me~ Because after all—” 

No more than a foot apart, Xigbar stops clapping and Demyx stops playing. 

And probably, Xigbar figures, he should give Demyx a hard time, but on the other hand, it is his night off. 

Xigbar sets a hand on Demyx’s shoulder, the rigid line of his mouth twitching just enough for Demyx’s eyes to catch. “Why you always gotta make a fucking scene, kid?”

“Psh.” Demyx tilts his head, a strand of hair flipping into his eye, and grins up at the scarred, muscled man, strums another chord, swishes his hips. “You liked it.” 

Demyx’s fangirls shriek as Xigbar moves in on Demyx, but the shrieks muffle and abruptly die as they watch the scarred, older man crush their mouths together. Demyx grin brightens, guitar shifting behind his back, body molding to Xigbar’s like water. 

People shout, jeer, laugh, and in the distance, after a few hesitant squawks, the accordion starts up again.

Their mouths break just long enough for Demyx to manage, “Now who’s making a scene?” 

And Xigbar to counter, “It’s your own fucking fault,” before scooping him up by the ass and pressing their lips together again. 

A throat clears loudly beside them, and Xigbar maneuvers them closer to the bar to another round of catcalls. 

The throat clearing follows them, punctuated by an, “Um, Sniper, sir?”

Xigbar sets Demyx up on the bar, lifting his drink and turning around. He petrifies the pub owner not with his golden, one-eyed stare or the slosh of his tankard, but with the murderous smirk he follows it up with. “Yes, Gibbs?”

Gibbs swallows, motions a bit loosely with his hand, then eventually just nods over his shoulder. At a corner table amid the bustle, Luxord sits alone, silver-backed cards fanned out in one hand and a brimming mug of amber grog in the other. He raises the cards in their direction. 

Xigbar salutes back, then turns to pat Demyx’s cheek though he’s pouting something fierce. “Game time.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Demyx complains, sliding off the counter in resignation. He starts thrumming “Luck Be a Lady Tonight” as Xigbar signals the bartender for another couple drinks. “Game time.”

Together they make their way to the card table. 

[bsidethetrees]

Milkshake

When she set the milkshake down in front of him, Laxus just eyed it for a few long moments before dragging his eyes up to meet the demon's, her blues alight both with glee and almost indignation. A challenge.

"You're going to drink it, Laxus," she ordered in what might have been a dark tone, had she not let out an involuntary giggle between breaths, "and you're going to like it."

He didn't want to like it. Or drink it.

For one thing, there was a massive snowstorm going on, right outside the guildhall doors, and the huge place was absolutely impossible to heat. Impossible. Especially with just the two of them in there. The late hour did little to help either. No, it was fucking freezing in the guild, honestly, and there was no way that he wanted to lower his body temperature even further by slurping down a milkshake.

For two, he just didn't want it. Even if the sun outside was blazing and the temperature boiling, he didn't want a milkshake. At all. He knew why Mirajane thought he did, or at least why she was insistent that he at least take a sip, but he in no way felt this need himself.

For three, it would feel super childish. To drink one. Wouldn't it? The fact that Mirajane had stuck a huge twisty straw, usually reserved for Asuka, right in the middle of the thick mixture did very little to help with this perception.

But still, as he only looked on with apprehension, the barmaid beamed insistently, right into his eyes.

"I am not," he told her simply, "drinking that."

"Oh, but you are, Laxus," she insisted with a nod. "And don't forget to like it."

"Mirajane-"

"It's the only way," she kept up and it was his fault.

The whole thing.

His whole life, sometimes, it felt like.

As he sat there, watching the cherry atop his milkshake sink lower into the frothy concoction, it was hard not to find blame in himself. He knew how Mirajane Strauss was. By which he meant, of course, completely kooky and off her rocker. Why was it then that he found himself opening up to her?

Sigh.

The old man, Gramps, well, he just wasn't feeling too well recently and, with it snowing so much the past few days, Laxus offered to do anything up at the hall for him that he needed. Anything at all. Just so the old man didn't leave his house. And though Gramps griped, Makarov did seem to see the necessity in this.

His only grumbled direction, however, was, "Ask Mirajane."

"Ask her what?" Laxus had questioned back, perhaps a bit dumbly.

"What you need to do," Makarov barked right back. Stifling a bit, he settled back into bed as Laxus stood over it, having forced the man to get right back in it only minutes before. "She's the one who would know. She knows everything about the guildhall."

And she did.

Mirajane enjoyed her job, out there serving drinks and soaking up juicy gossip, but it was hardly the extent of her work. Oh, no. Master Makarov relied on her for much of the behind the sense things and, well, she'd kind of been putting off telling him about a few things, recently. Things that weren't necessarily time-sensitive, but if Laxus was willing to preform some forgery (he was a Dreyar, right; who cared which one) as well as put his complete and utter blind faith in her judgment, then, well, she could knock out some work alright.

She was just lucky, the slayer insisted to himself as his entire day was eaten up by the woman's endless tasks and requests, that the Thunder Legion were out and therefore he was free. Erza had snagged the job he wanted and he'd been planning to sulk around about it for a bit, but, well, this kept him from drinking all day, at least.

Still, she seemed to just go on and on and, before he knew it, the night was upon them and she still had him there, down on his knees, tightening up a pipe in the kitchen area.

"I just worry," Mira was sighing a bit, "about the pipes bursting. I always do. I mean, I always have the exposed ones cover and I do that thing where you drip water, just a bit, you know?"

"No," Laxus grumbled from where he was busy breaking his back for the woman. "I don't."

But she only giggled and there was something about her. That he couldn't admit to himself, not even as he'd spent the entire day doing her needless bidding. Mirajane reminded him that it was doable. All of it. What he was grasping at, sometimes, now. With the guild. She...changed. For as horrific as a catalyst as it was, something made her change and she followed through and now she was this A person who didn't hate everyone and everything and actually seemed pretty high on life most of the time.

And that was before her sister came back, even.

.Though she was for sure an extreme example, Mirajane was a good one to remind him that, hey, no matter what, if you try hard enough, if you don't give into it, into yourself, then you can be better. You will be better.

Good people aren't just born that way; they struggle for it. And Mirajane showed that it was worth it.

Plus...well…

Maybe he was kinda sweet on her.

Maybe just a bit.

"Where is everyone?" he complained as he walked a bit funny, maybe, because his back was killing him as the pair found themselves in the empty guildhall finally.

"It's closing time, silly."

"It's what?" he griped with a glare, but Mirajane only smiled with a giggle.

"It's also coming down really hard outside," she remarked as they could hear it, in the utter silence of the hall. The snow of heavy snow falling on the other side of the thick guildhall doors. Laxus hadn't been in the hall when it was so empty in...in...in a long ass time.

It unnerved him for some reason.

"Yeah, well," he grumbled a bit in reply, uncertain of what else there was to say. IT wasn't as if the two of them were known for striking up conversations together. One or two, here or there, and maybe more than he had with most, but after spending all those hours together, he figured they were all dried up on conversation for the next month. At least.

Boy, was he wrong.

"What were your plans for today then?" she asked as she waltzed across the cool barroom floor, back over to her typical position behind the bar. As she began to extract jewels from the register, she added, "Before I made you help out?"

He could have been super pissy at her, as he'd been pretending the entire afternoon and evening over this little excursion, but…

"I was just gonna drink," he said honestly. "All day."

"Well," she began as, setting the jewels she was counting out down on the counter, the woman turned to grab a pitcher of ale and a mug, "the least I can do is treat you to some right now, huh?"

Laxus should have gone home. Something inside of him told him he should go home. Everything outside of him, especially the worsening conditions beyond the guildhall doors, told him to head home.

"One drink won't hurt," he decided as Mirajane only smiled, not having one herself, he'd never seen her have one herself, but maybe that's why she was a reformed bad person and he was just still learning.

He put it back while the woman busied herself around the bar. While the man had some inkling that closing up the place each night wasn't a pleasurable activity, actually watching the woman move so effortlessly through the laundry list was impressive. Without any prompting from him though, she seemed to note that he'd finished his beer and rushed right over for a refill.

Again, the hesitation was there from the man, but…

"What's one more?" he asked and, for a guy his size, not much, but just enough to loosen the tongue and how did it happen?

How did he get there?

How did he find himself mentioning to Mirajane Strauss something so personal? So deep? So close to the vest? He could blame the alcohol, if he wanted, but the woman hardly had to even prod him, if she did at all, before he found himself just spilling his guts to her.

"We used to go out in the snow," Mira was sighing as she seemed to be a bit more aimless now, just wiping down the bar absently, there, in front of him, "when I was little, with my parents. And, like, we'd pour sap, you know? Over it? And then eat it."

Laxus made a face at her before remarking, "Not a lot to eat, huh? Out in the sticks?"

"We did that for fun, Laxus. It was a fun activity. A treat."

"Sure."

She made something of a face then, maybe, before whatever deprogramming she'd used to never be a normal person again and just a bubbly happy one took over. As the woman looked away, she seemed to think before asking, "Didn't you ever do something special? With your mother, I mean?"

It wasn't a one to one situation, but he did find himself revealing what he did next. Maybe it was because no one had asked about her, his mother, in so long. No one seemed brave enough. He doubted most even knew what ever happened to her. But given Mira's long association with the guild, as well as strong ties with his grandfather, Laxus wasn't too surprised by her bravery. And given the fact that she'd just somehow conned him into free manual labor for an entire day, he figured he should stop being shocked by the woman's charms.

She worked them on every other man in the guild. Why should he feel so special?

Why did he feel so special?

"My mom," he began though it didn't feel like it, really, him talking, "used to make me, like, these really big...milkshakes."

He looked up at the woman then and could see a bit of her skepticism boring through the facade and she seemed to think he was setting up for some lame joke like the other men in the hall. But he wasn't. His eyes were filled with honesty.

"She'd make it so thick and sweet and just…" He coughed then, feeling kind of dumb, honestly, but still added, "I haven't had one since she died."

"What do you mean?"

"A malt. Milkshake. Whatever. I haven't… When I was a kid, I just didn't get one. If I went to the ice cream shop."

"Because it would remind you of her?"

He was just as honest then as he insisted, "Before none would ever taste as good."

And that was a challenge, it seemed like, as Mirajane smiled at him while remarking, "Some people think I make a pretty good one too."

"I mean, you grew up eating literal brown snow, so-"

"Sit," Mira ordered before rushing away, "and wait."

He shouldn't have. He should have called out to her and ended it all, finally, but she was rushing off to the deep freeze, down in the basement, to find some ice cream, and he was just going to sit there. Accepting this. Dealing with this.

Because he was special. And this was special. He and Mirajane were friends, more so than any of the other losers that salivated at her feet and this was the exact kind of ribbing friends put up with.

Only, Mirajane wasn't ribbing. At all. Mirajane was completely serious and when she arrived from the back with a glass filled with delicious sugar and whipped toppping, Laxus had only himself to blame.

Again.

Like always.

"I don't," he told the woman then, "eat cherries."

And that was fine, it seemed, as Mirajane plucked the little red fruit from where it rested atop the fluffy white cream, tossing it back into her own mouth with the same ease he'd downed the drinks.

"They're not," she agreed with an equally antagonizing tone, "for everyone."

"What are we even trying to prove?" he questioned then. "That you make a better milkshake than my dead mother?"

The bluntness had been intended to deflate her sails a bit, but this somehow missed the mark as the white haired woman only shrugged a bit as she replied, "You're the only person who could ever know for certain. If my milkshake is better than the nostalgia-laced trauma of your mother's death, then I can tell people, with certainty, I make the best milkshake."

"You're a fucking psycho, you know that?" He knew it, anyways. He always had. Even if the others never seemed to see it anymore, he knew that buried deep beneath all the things that kept her the perky, innocent barmaid she was today lied the same darkness that he was still battling to subdue. "Certifiable."

"Take," she insisted once more, "a sip."

It was fucking freezing in the bar and, even with his fluffy coat draped over his shoulders, Laxus felt a strange cold shiver travel up his back. Yet there was Mirajane Strauss, in her typical dress, bare arms, no extra padding at all, non too slyly licking the whipped cream off her finger tips, residuals from her cherry taking.

"What happens if you win? Or lose?"

"Well," Mira hummed, "I really don't think your dead mother is gonna pony up a prize if she loses-"

"Goddamn, Mirajane." He wasn't annoyed. Or bothered. Shaken. If anything, just in awe. "You're just gonna really go there tonight, huh?"

"What's a little humor between orphans?" she asked, but this time, her tone was tainted with something different then. A sadness, almost, maybe. But as she looked away, feeling something of the heaviness then, maybe even regretting her own cavalier attitude towards the topic.

But it was then, as she considered this, that Laxus took the plunge. Or at the very least it was in that moment that he braved hypothermia and reached out to grasp the glass. Pulling it closer, he sucked down enough of the icy mixture to send a sharp pain up through his cranium, but was hard to bemoan the action when ti brought a bright smile right back to the barmaid's lips.

"So?" she prompted, eyes alight as a storm raged outside, bringing the heaviest of snow, the deadliest of ice.

He blinked, hard, a heavy weight coming over him momentarily. But when he opened his eyes and found hers there, still, waiting so expectantly, he couldn't linger on the darkness for long. Instead, he only found his voice.

"Nowhere near," he told her simply, "as good as my mother's."

"Shoot." Mira huffed some then, pouting, maybe, but this was never an emotion that she felt for long. Just as quickly she was bubbly once more as she insisted, "Then I'll just have to keep trying."

"Why?" he proposed right back, but Mirajane only titled her head to the side, staring hard at him for once, truly.

"Because we're friends, Laxus," she insisted then. "Aren't we?"

He didn't know.

Or at least he didn't before that very moment.

She was always someone he could tolerate, more than all the other annoying younger kids, when they were teens. And then she kind of became someone he pitied, honestly, but beneath that…

He knew he was stronger than her. A better trained mage. But Mirajane had something inside of her, something far more fearsome than his lacrima, and he liked it best when it was contained.

Well, mostly.

Nowadays, he found her to be more on his level, mentally, than all the others. Not the Thunder Legion, of course, but the rest of them…

Mirajane knew what the apex tasted like. And she also knew what it meant to depart from it. She was the better person he wanted (to a lesser degree, of course) to be one day, hopefully, eventually. She was easy to talk to, given all their commonalities, and he just…

He'd never thought about it before.

What they were to one another.

"Yeah, Mira," he agreed as a grin spread across his own face. Just a light one, hardly even one at all, but he could tell she took notice. "We're friends."

The storm subsided eventually. Just enough for them to escape the hall. As they skid through the streets in opposite directions though, the hours they spent together already becoming distant, a memory, Laxus just hoped that it felt as important to her as it did to him.

Which it seemed to, maybe, as when he found himself at the hall a few days later, coming to join the Thunder Legion at their table, Mirajane seemed to key in on him quickly.

"Here, Laxus!" She bounded over to him a few minutes later with a special drink, just for him. A milkshake, of course. "And look, this straw even loopier, don't you think?"

Laxus felt a heat spread across his body as the barmaid set this before him, some others taking note and glancing over, but Mirajane paid no one any mind. She winked at the man, made some sort of comment implying him getting back to her on the best milkshake he'd ever had, before disappearing once more. Err, well, no, not disappearing. Getting back to work. But Laxus could focus on nothing now other than anything that wasn't the woman, so she might as well have.

"What," Evergreen hissed, at him of all people, under her breath as she feared, no doubt, the man being involved with a Strauss as well, "was that about?"

"Yes, Laxus." Freed seemed most concerned as well. "Why has Mirajane presented you with a-"

"We're," the slayer grumbled through ground teeth, "friends."

"Friends, eh?" Bickslow had no problem with reaching over to snatch at the man's beverage. "Well, me and you are friends too, huh? So what do ya say you slide that on over-"

"Papa!" the seith's babies cried out as he was struck then by a sharp lightning strike, falling out of his chair even, as all his muscles seized. "Papa!"

But after sending a warning glare around at anyone else who might think to tease him over this, Laxus only pulled his drink closer, taking a sip as his eyes slipped shut. He could hear her nearby, Mirajane, giggling with one of the other stupid women in the bar about something, he imagined, was equally as stupid, but it was fine. Just as well.

Savoring the taste in his mouth, Laxus swallowed as he blinked his eyes open lazily once more.

It still wasn't as good.

But, if it meant the woman had to keep trying, well…

Maybe being friends wasn't so bad.

Maybe.

[hermitologist]

My 20 Favorite Records Of 2018

Hi. I made a list of my favorite records of the year again. People seem to enjoy these things, and I definitely enjoy tearing my hair out trying to figure out what I liked best, so here we are again.

 This years list is chock full of heavy/sludgy bummer jams, post-rock epics, and super aggressive metal and hardcore, with a few poppier and more adventurous indie records scattered about. The honorable mentions list gets a bit more eclectic if you’re looking for stuff that sounds a little less like it was birthed from the loins of the late-90s/early-00s Hydrahead and Relapse discography.

As always, I welcome your suggestions for records and podcasts I might’ve missed the boat on, no matter the genre. There’s way too much good stuff out there to keep up with, so help me out.

Also: When my aging corpse is not being pissy about being used for something other than child-wrangling, eating, or sleeping, I try to run a few days a week and will listen to/briefly review a record on each run. Almost every record on this list has been a part of one of those posts, so if you’re interested in such a thing, please check out my Instagram. 

BONUS: I put together playlists of my favorite song from each of my top 20 records, so if you’re overwhelmed and don’t know where to start, just throw it on and see if anything grabs you.

Hermitology’s Favorite 20 Records of 2018 - Spotify Playlist

Hermitology’s Favorite 20 Records of 2018 - Apple Music Playlist

20) Slugdge - Esoteric Malacology

This record is ridiculous in the best ways possible -- insane amounts of shredding, light-speed double bass and blast beats, and lyrics about slugs and other assorted beasts. It’s been ages since I went through my Swedish & Norwegian Metal phase, but this awakened those long-dormant receptors that used to hum when I listened to At The Gates, Opeth, Dimmu Borgir, Soilwork, et al.

Listen here.

19) Ingrina - Etter Lys

Excellent French doomgaze/post-rock that sounds like it could very easily be the soundtrack to the apocalypse. Etter Lys has a familiar sound/vibe, but a refreshing energy and captivating sense of dark melody that really makes them stand out to me. Highly recommended for fans of This Will Destroy You, Rosetta, God Is An Astronaut, et al.

Listen here.

18) Beach House - 7

This record was the perfect foil to all heavy stuff I listened to this year, and my go-to in-flight record of 2018. It’s a damn near perfect collection hazy, airy, dreamy, downtempo indie pop. I’d never been a huge Beach House fan, but 7 hooked me and pulled me in. Throw this your headphones on, press play, and melt into your chair or couch.

Listen here.

17) Culture Abuse - Bay Dream

This record was not what I was expecting, but it ended up being exactly what I needed. (If that makes any sense.) Instead of a grimy, high-energy punk record, I got a fuzzy, bouncy, catchy-as-hell soundtrack to my entire summer. A perfect blend of The Ramones and peak-Weezer, with a vibe all its own.

Listen here.

16) Deads - LLNN

Roughly forty minutes of insanely heavy and furious drop-tuned, down-tempo, doom-inspired crushers offset by eerie, cinematic synth parts. If you’re a fan of early-Cult of Luna and/or Isis, this record should be a new staple in your diet. There’s also enough atmosphere here to appeal to post-rock fans who might desire a little aggression boost.

Listen here.

15) Heads. - Collider

Beautifully written sludgy rock that falls somewhere between the heaviness and spookiness of Young Widows and the heroin-soaked atmosphere and melody of Failure. For what it’s worth, I dig Collider more than either of the aforementioned bands’ most recent output. It’s a perfect marriage of influences, killer songwriting, an excellent recording, and a flat out fantastic record from front to back.

Listen here.

14) mewithoutYou - [untitled]

I’ve been a mewithoutYou fan for ages and love everything they’ve done (so I’m a little biased), but this record is just on a completely different level as far as I’m concerned. It’s the peak of their creativity, songwriting, mood, dynamics, lyrics, production, etc. It’s got the atmosphere and moodiness of post-rock, the angular quirkiness of Fugazi, the energy of Refused (at times), and the all the character of a classic mwY record. It’s phenomenal, and doubly impressive because they made it 18 years deep into an already impressive career.

Listen here.

13) Foxing - Nearer My God

I was familiar with Foxing before this record came out because they’d toured with many former tourmates, and while I appreciated what I’d heard from them, they never really clicked with me. And then I heard this record and it totally floored me. It’s incredibly ambitious without coming across as super scatterbrained or pretentious and it’s executed flawlessly (production included). This band should be massive, and I’m stunned that I’m not seeing this record on more year-end lists

Listen here.

12) This Will Destroy You - New Others Part 1 & 2

Somehow TDWY managed drop two incredible full lengths a month apart, and I honestly cannot choose between the two (so I’m combining them into one). These LPs are arguably their best work as a band, the addition of Robi Gonzalez on drums has given their sound new energy, dynamics, and pocket, and there aren’t many bands in post-rock doing it as well as these dudes do. Incredibly impressive to be able to put out this much music all at once and have it be this consistent. 

Listen here.

11) The Armed - Only Love

Somehow this record manages to be chaotic, energetic, beautiful, delicate, catchy-as-hell, abrasive, and atmospheric all at once. Sometimes it sounds like you accidentally have five different songs playing at the same time. Somehow modular synth-soaked punk/metal works. Clearly I cannot explain exactly what in the everliving hell is happening here, but I can tell you that it’s a wholly arresting record that blew my mind on first listen, and has gotten better with every listen since.  

Listen here.

10) Hemwick - Junkie (EP)

Normally, I wouldn’t include an EP on this list, but this is one just too good to ignore. It’s 30 minutes of insane riffage and heaviness that sounds like it spawned from the same gene pool that produced Converge, Cult Leader, and Intronaut. It’s got the spazziness and brutality of the former, blended perfectly with the occasional post-rock/metal shift into the epic melody of the latter. Super excited to hear what comes next for these guys (hopefully an LP recorded with Scott Evans or Kurt Ballou?), because this is an incredibly promising “debut”. 

Listen here.

9) Architects - Holy Hell

As a standalone record, Holy Hell slays. As a follow-up to losing a family/band member to cancer (guitarist, Tom Searle), it’s a fucking triumph. Somehow Architects managed to push through the grief and heartache, and pushed the boundaries of their musical creativity and emotive lyrics to create what is arguably their best record. Holy Hell is packed to the gills with with massive, arena-sized riffs and moshworthy breakdowns, sprinkled with just enough melody and dynamic to keep things fresh without losing its edge. An amazing accomplishment in the face of such adversity.

 Listen here.

8) Slow Mass - On Watch

An outstanding fusion of mellow(er) post-hardcore, bummer jams, Unwound-inspired post-punk, and shimmery shoegazey goodness. “Suburban Yellow” (see playlist) is one of my favorite songs of the year, falling somewhere between the crushing gloominess of a Kowloon Walled City song, and the somber plod of a classic Pedro The Lion track. I tend to shy away from music with dual lead vocals (because I often prefer one of the voices to the point that I’d rather just hear it all the time), but Dave Collis and Mercedes Webb’s voices are so complimentary and perfectly balanced that they take these songs to another level. Bonus: I’d highly recommend watching their frigid Audiotree session. 

Listen here.

7) Hot Snakes - Jericho Sirens

One of my favorite bands of all-time put out its first record in 14 years, and it was well worth the wait. It’s Hot Snakes doing what they do best --  ripping 30 minutes of high-energy post-punk jams fueled by the brilliantly weird guitar wizardry of John Reis, and propelled by the dual drummer attack of Mario Rubalcaba and Jason Kourkounis. I’m not entirely sure where I’d rank it in their discography, but having fresh Hot Snakes tracks makes the world a better place. 

Listen here.

6) Cloud Nothings - Last Building Burning

What did we do to deserve two Cloud Nothings LPs in two years? I was a little worried about whether the band could churn out a record as fantastic as Life Without Sound (which landed at #7 on last year’s list), but they absolutely did. Last Building Burning builds on the catchiness and energy of LWS’s bummer jams, but adds a little extra grit, fury, and urgency. The result is a record that’s damn near peak Cloud Nothings. It’s got hooks for days, an energy that’ll make you want to bounce off the walls, and a nasty edge that brings to mind 80′s Wipers or early Hot Snakes jams.

Listen here.

5) Cult Leader - A Patient Man

Cult Leader’s Lightless Walk was a Top 5 record for me in 2015, Gaza’s No Absolutes In Human Suffering was in my Top 5 in 2012, so it should be no surprise that they’ve cracked the Top 5 again. I’d be hard pressed to name another HEAVY band who has done it for me the way these guys have over the past six years. A Patient Man hits all the notes -- pure chaos, expansive and melancholic post-rock sections, and the most headbang-worthy breakdowns on the planet. It’d take a miracle to get this 43-year-old geriatric with a bad back to come out of mosh retirement, but the breakdown in “Aurum Reclusa” is seriously making me think about a comeback.

Listen here.

4) Low - Double Negative

I don’t think I’ve had a record screw with my brain as hard as Double Negative did since I heard Kid A for the first time. It’s a spooky, brain-liquifying journey through sonic textures and ambience, arranged and mixed in a manner that is absolutely enthralling (and a bit unnerving and “wtf are my headphones broken?”at times). If you’re gearing up for a first listen, I’d highly recommend clearing an hour on your schedule, throwing on a good pair of headphones, and letting this have its way with you. If you’ve already heard it, you should listen to it again. It gets better and weirder and more captivating every time. It’s a trip, and a great one at that. 

Listen here.

3) Daughters - You Won’t Get What You Want

As a standalone record, this is groundbreaking. As a “comeback record” it’s a fucking triumph. Their S/T record (2010) is one of my favorite heavy/noise rock records of all-time, and somehow YWGWYW surpassed my lofty expectations for a follow-up. It’s a dizzying journey for sure. It’s moody as hell. It’s coherent. It’s adventurous without being overly weird. And it’s all of the best things about their previous work distilled into a perfect chunk of musical madness. The best records are the ones that make your brain matter spill out of your ears upon first listen, but it’s the all-time classics that do that and get better with every subsequent listen. Sure, it’s a record for “when the mood is right”, but when I’m in the mood, this hits all the notes for me. It’s a masterpiece. 

Listen here.

2) Holy Fawn - Death Spells

This record came out of nowhere and absolutely knocked me on my ass. I’m not sure I’ve had a record do that to me since I first heard Cloudkicker in 2009 -- knew nothing of it, had zero idea what to expect and literally had goosebumps for a majority of my first listen. Tempe’s Holy Fawn have created a unique blend of dense, dynamic, and cathartic post-rock, doom, and shoegaze with airy vocals that remind me a bit of Jonsi from Sigur Ros. It’ll be a daunting task to follow up this masterpiece, but I’m incredibly excited to see and hear what the future holds for these guys.

Listen here.

1) Pianos Become The Teeth - Wait For Love

This was one of my most anticipated records of the year, and it not only lived up to my lofty expectations, but exceeded them. “Bitter Red�� was far and away my most played song of the year, and I must’ve listened to Wait For Love 50 times during the month of February alone. It’s no surprise that I found myself going back to it throughout the year, and in revisiting for this list, it gave me chills just like it did 10 months ago. These dudes are doing melancholic and cathartic post-hardcore better than just about anyone these days, and I cannot wait to hear what’s next for them.

Listen here.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Roughly 80% of these records could/should have very easily landed on the Top 20 list (and probably would if I obsessed over this list any further and gave everything a super dedicated re-listen). They’re all absolutely worth checking out.

I know this list might be a little daunting, so I put together a Spotify Playlist of my favorite songs from each record, so you can just throw it on and see if anything grabs you. 

Thanks to my man Zack Hite for helping me out and putting together an Apple Music version of the playlist. 

Hermitology’s 2018 Honorable Mentions Spotify Playlist

Hermitology’s 2018 Honorable Mentions Apple Music Playlist

Baptists - Beacon of Faith

Birds In Row - We Already Lost The World

Boygenius - S/T EP

Candy - Good to Feel

Coastlands - The Further Still

Conjurer - Mire

Death Engine - Place Noire

Drug Church - Cheer

Emma Ruth Rundle - Dark Horses

Failure - In the Future Your Body Will Be ... 

Fiddlehead - Springtime and Blind

Hammock - Universalis

IDLES - Joy As An Act Of Resistance

Jay Jayle - No Trail & Other Unholy Paths

Jesus Piece - Only Self

KEN Mode - Loved

Man Mountain - Infinity Mirror

Mogwai - KIN

Nate Smith - Pocket Change

OHHMS - Exist

Ólafur Aarnalds - re:member

Polyphia - New Levels, New Devils

Portrayal of Guilt - Let Pain Be Your Guide

Prefuse 73 - Sacrifices

Rolo Tomassi - Time Will Die … 

Sectioned - Annihilated

Slow Crush - Aurora

Snail Mail - Lush

SUMAC - Love In Shadow

Svalbard - It’s Hard To Have Hope

Taken - With Regards To (EP)

The Story So Far - Proper Dose

Tides of Man - Every Nothing

Vein - Errorzone

Yashira - Shrine

PODCAST QUEUE

The Deadcast (humor, sports, politics)

Chapo Trap House (politics, humor)

Hang Up & Listen (sports, culture, nerdy)

Effectively Wild (baseball)

The Frotcast (movies, humor)

The Trap Set (drums, psychology)

The Gist (current events, politics)

Song Exploder (songwriting, production)

The Modern Drummer Podcast (drums)