#or however many nate contains

[angel-mira]

oomf asked for the makeup meme except its nate putting chapstick on wade :3

[nessabarrettswhore]

- Back To Friends

in which : reader x chris were dating for a little bit, until one day chris decides to cut you off completely.

contains : angst, implied sexual acts, 2nd POV

you and chris had thing thing going on, happy go lucky or whatever. it wasn’t actually meant to turn out like this, at all. what started off as a quick, fake dating, slowly turned to something more real. neither wanted to leave each other alone. queue, the start of the relationship.

it felt nice. many of your other friends gave you weird glances, telling him ‘he won’t treat you right’, which was quite the opposite. he treated you like an absolute queen, his queen in other words.

however, he’d always remind you not to tell anybody, which felt like a stab wound to the heart everytime those words left his lips. his tone would shift, acting as a reminder that he was embarrassed. did he seriously not want anybody to know? not even nate?

it started with small things, ditching your ‘hangouts’ to go meet with the boys, ignoring your texts and phone calls. you knew something was going to happen, just not that quickly. normally you two would talk, figure things out. not in this case.

it was on a sunday morning, the day after your birthday. chris, matt and nick had come around saturday to celebrate, bringing your favorite cake and a shit ton of presents for you, mostly nick’s work actually. you thought chris put his best into it, but come to think about it, he did fuck all.

the text came around 11:32 am, when you were sat around, resting on the couch after cleaning the remaining dishes from the party. your legs felt a little bit shaky, due to some activities you two had gotten up to last night once alone. your phone screen lit up, drawing attention to it.

my babyy 💕💕

baby. we should probably talk.

you read it out loud at least 4 times. yeah, you guys talked, but he never texted like this. you managed to make it better, and it worked. you guys were doing okay, right? surely nothing happened? you guys were so good. except, the aching feeling in the pit of your stomach would not disappear. was this a sign?

you

okay, what’s up?

you chewed on your bottom lip anxiously, as if awaiting for something bad to read out. maybe he was struggling? shit, you’d feel so guilty. that’s what a girlfriend does, right? help. she helps her boyfriend. so why did it feel like you failed him?

my babyy 💕💕

can i call you??

you smiled slightly, sitting upright on the couch. a part of you thought that was it, he wanted to vent to you about something shitty maybe. an argument with matt? a friendship fallout? he wouldn’t call normally, but you didn’t protest.

you

of course u can :)

and with that, your phone started ringing. quickly accepting, you brung the screen up to your face with a smile etched across your lips. you had done some makeup in the morning, already slightly rubbing off due to the shitty setting spray and hard work you’d put in.

chris had the phone already set up against what you could only assume was his water bottle, and you watched as he leaned back with some sort of unease. noticing, you quickly brought the screen up to your eyes, examining your boyfriend’s expression.

“hi baby, are you okay?” you asked, your tone soft as a feather. around each other, you guys were always gentle and soft spoken. raising voices weren’t accepted into the relationship.

he shook his head, burying his face in this hand as he sat forward. it was obvious he had done something, or was feeling something as he never did this. what was it this time? “no— uhh.. i’m sorry.”

you raised an eyebrow in confusion, placing your phone against your thighs and resting an arm on your stomach. “what do you mean? you didn’t do anything.” you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh escape from pure shock.

“i just— i need to say something, okay?” he says, removing his hands from his face ever so carefully as if they would break any moment. his eyes met yours through the phone, a slight smile ( or frown ) tugging at his lips as he looked at you. he felt awful.

you nodded, smiling at the boy. “go on, i’m listening.” you reassure, full attention now on the sad figure on the verge of breaking down in front of you. you tried your best to stay put, letting him talk. he was distressed, highly obvious.

“okay.. so…” he started, letting out a frustrated sigh and running his hands through those silk brown locks you were all too familiar with. “we need to break up.” he states, not even looking you in the eye anymore. actually — he couldn’t. couldn’t face the look on your face hearing the news.

your jaw dropped. eyes widened. eyebrows raised. never in a million years did you think today would be the day chris would end things with you. AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY? pure disbelief coursed through you, as you shook your head frantically. “why? why? we can work this out, chris. we always do.” you speak, tone now more worried than anything. you can’t loose this boy. he was yours. your boy.

he groaned, attention focused on the fireplace to his right. now way was he going to watch this unfold, it was too much for him. “i can’t— we can’t. please, just understand. i’m not.. just.. i can’t. it’s not you, it’s me. we were better off as friends.” he explains, pretty rushed as if he had somewhere to be. somehow the more he spoke, the more that lick of nervousness went away.

“chris! what? you’re not funny, april was 4 months ago. what the fuck do you mean we were better off friends?” you argue, now pissed off. chris meant everything to you, did he not care at all? why was he so eager to throw it all away?

he nods, taking in your words. even when you’re mad, he knows how to calm you down. “listen, baby, it’s not your fault. it’s mine. don’t take the blame. i need to be somewhere in 10, but i thought i’d let you know, okay?” the boy responds, repeating his previous phrase. how fucking ridiculous. gone back to acting like his old, frat boy persona. not giving a shit.

“are you actually fucking serious? do you hear yourself right now? this is bullshit. absolute bullshit.” you shake your head, disappoint replacing that anger. why was he acting like this? how could he look at you and pretend you were someone he’s never met?

he tutted, rolling his eyes in what appeared to be ‘secret’. “okay i need to get ready now. do you still want to be friends?” he questioned, now looking at you hesitantly. the look on your face still killed him slightly, but it wasn’t as bad as he originally thought.

“chris! stop ignoring me. are you serious? why would i want to be friends? this is not how i pictured our relationship to end.” you shake your head, muttering to yourself about how pathetic this whole situation is.

the boy brings the camera up to his face, eyes now darting all around the screen. you try so so hard to bite back a grin, the sexiest man being right in front of you. except, acting like a right asshole. “i’m sorry, y/n. please— just.. i want to be friends with you. back to friends, like the old times.” he apologizes, his tone half-assed.

you just let out a sarcastic chuckle, throwing your head back against the couch. chris felt like a fool. was he actually real? he is just such an idiot. you feel stupid for stringing along with his lies, and falling for him. from the moment he asked for a ‘favor’, you should have known.

“i actually hate you.” you say coldly, looking him dead in the eyes and hanging up. after that, you blocked his number and deleted him off all social medias. he was such a fucking dick. no way on earth, would you be friends with him. not after the way he ended things. if it were different? you would have loved to go back to friends.

though, how can you guys go back to being friends after sharing a bed? after being put in all those ungodly positions? after holding on too tight?

no, this can never be casual.

m's note : IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS. PLS GIVE FEEBACK I LOVE YOU ALL !!!

divider credits to the lovely @bernardsbendystraws.

[queenvreads]

REVIEW: One of Us Is Lying by Karen M McManus

*Contains Spoilers*

5/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This is one of those rare cases that I actually watched the tv show, before I read the book. The show was really good, and I figured since I loved it so much the book must be even better.

If you're wondering this book is like a mix of Breakfast club - gossip girl - Pretty little liars - and even revenge.

Its the epitome of YA murder mystery that I ADORE!

There were actually some really big differences between the first season of the show and the book. It didn't alter my rating, I am actually glad we get 2 alternate endings in both. One a little lighter, and one a little darker.

The #1 major difference between the series and the book is the identity of Simon's killer. In the show, Jake and Simon planned a prank where Simon would fake an allergic reaction to peanut oil, but Jake got scared when Simon revealed he had recorded their conversations. Jake stole the epi pens, leading to Simon's death. In the book, Simon died by suicide and involved Jake in his plan to frame others for his murder. The series added the detail of Simon being the mayor's son, which wasn't significant in the book. Simon brought Jake in to take over About That after his death. Jake was pure evil, as he also manipulated a conversation with Janae to blackmail her into compliance after Simon’s death.

I liked Simon’s story better in the series as it was less “13 reasons why” and more a murder situation. Jake & Simon were also more “friendly” in the series than the books and there was no mention of Simon’s funeral & the xbox in the book.

#2 Nate and Bronwyn's relationship had more development in the book. In the series, Bronwyn initially dated Evan but became interested in Nate after Simon's death.

I really enjoyed their romance more in the books. I understand that for tv they may have wanted to drag out them coming together a bit more for ratings, but the book did it well. Bronwyn does sort of ‘date’ Evan at the end of the book, but of course ends up back with Nate. I also liked both characters better in the book.

#3 Maeve in the book was the gang's tech expert but was not romantically involved with Simon or Janae. However, in the series, she had romantic ties to both of them. Bronwyn still had a reason to confront Simon in the book due to an About That post about her sister, and Maeve appeared on the app after getting drunk at a party, not for sexting as shown in the show.

I enjoyed Maeve way better in the book than in the series. In the series she was conniving and at odds with her sister at times. Bronwyn kept so many secrets from her and in the book they were very close, and Bronwyn told her everything.

#4 The detention teacher, Mrs. Avery, played a role in Simon's death in the series by being blackmailed to get the Bayview Four into detention. In the book, Mr. Avery was the detention teacher and had no involvement in Simon's death. Simon paid students from another school to create a fender bender to remove Mrs. Avery from the room.

I was expecting this to be the same in the book as they kept hinting that the police should look into the teacher but in the end they had nothing to do with it.

# 5 Cooper's outing as gay had more significant consequences in the book. In the series, his brother and girlfriend already knew about his sexual orientation, but in the book, Cooper was completely closeted. Cooper's father's reaction was also more homophobic in the book.

I preferred Cooper’s story more in the books than in the series.

#6 Kris, Cooper's boyfriend, had a minor role in the book since Cooper was not out. In the series, Kris knew Nate and attended Cooper's baseball showcase. In the book, Kris knew Cooper was in high school and not out, leading to a temporary breakup in the series. Despite his limited role, Kris was the one who connected the dots about Simon's depression and dark suicide plot in the book.

I loved Kris in the book, but not so much on the show. I felt like their relationship overall was much healthier in the book. Once Cooper was outed he and Kris were basically hanging out with the murder club openly and I liked Kris’ involvement.

#7 Janae knew about Simon's whole plan in the book.

I liked Janae so much more in the show. In the book she knew everything and let it happen. I found it very disturbing she knew Simon was planning on this suicide mission and she try to didnt prevent it.

#8 Jake was arrested, and not killed in the book. Whereas in the show, Addy kills him when he attacked them in the forest after a party.

This is a major twist and is different from the show. Which will make watching season 2 and reading book 2 completely different experiences.

There were other small differences in the series vs the books, I couldn't keep track of all of them but one that stood out was Ashton’s presence in Addy’s life. She was around for everything. She wasn't in the series.

✍️Befriend me on Goodreads: ⭐HERE⭐

[fakebookreport]

The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride

This book was SO MUCH FUN to read! I generally do not like books with too many characters; it's hard for me to keep track of a bunch of names of usually minor characters who can oftentimes be combined into one character. On the other hand, it's also irritating when there are several characters whose only defining feature is a catchphrase or uniform (think: cartoon characters).

Before we get too far into this, I would like to point out that this book contains two individual scenes of sexual assault.

However. This book blew me away with how vivid and detailed each character was. I had no trouble keeping track of who was who, remembering each character's backstory and goals, and the way McBride handled dialogue was excellent. The psychic distance was kind of zoomed out, but with so many intertwining characters and plot lines going, it was necessary not to get too close to any one particular character. McBride did a great job of weaving a complex plot without being predictable or too unbelievable. With every page, something new was revealed.

I wished that the ending had been different. Spoilers below the cut.

I knew that Dodo would be rescued, but I really wanted the conversation between him and Nate in which Dodo understood that he wasn't in trouble and someone explained why no one came to visit him. We never got it. I will say, though, that the epilogue was satisfying as far as the Dodo plotline was concerned.

The other thing I liked was that Malachi's presence was never explained. I was torn on whether this added or detracted from my enjoyment of the novel, and I think it was additive in the end. A little bit of mystery can be good sometimes.

And if you're wondering, the characters who commit sexual assault get punished in the end.

[beneditahipolito]

Reflecting on Production Work

1- How does your product use or challenge conventions, and how does it represent social groups or issues?

Throughout the brainstorming of the initial "One-Sided Romance" I explored a much more dramatic view than what became my final product. However, even with this change of emotions, I still used conventions such as, low lighting, in order to convey an emotional atmosphere that depicts the sadness of the main character (Beth), successfully transmitting the same feeling to the viewer. As for the "Marriage Story", one aspect I believed was necessary to allow the understanding of each characters' response/reaction was the focus on their faces, be it a close-up shot on different body parts like in the beginning of the product, or the mid-shots where the facial expressions were clearly seen.

When it comes to looking at the conventions I analysed for the HBO series "Euphoria", none of them were trialed in the final product, in fact, the acting was almost the complete opposite. In the scene chosen to take inspiration from, I mentioned that both Nate and Cassie are as much aggressive throughout the argument as the couple of the "Marriage Story" and I believe, since the breakup was between a group of friends and not a couple, that the acting should be calmer/more serene since the overall emotion depicted in the film opening is saudade, meaning "longing" in Portuguese.

In terms of representing social groups, the final product mainly depicts what an average friend group in this generation goes through when it comes to friendship struggles, which can be a very relatable topic for many today. One aspect that I would have wanted to explore if there was a further development of the film opening is the concept of "girlhood", one of the biggest focus points in the Barbie movie for example, further tangling and detangling the audience in the narrative.

2- How does your project engage with audiences, and how would it be distributed as a real media text?

Since the very beginning of the production, I always knew that my target audience would definitely be late teens and early twenties, since the characters themselves are around the same age and also due to the fact that romance and drama are some of the favourite genres of this generation. These age groups were my guidelines as I chose not only the actresses based on them but also the two songs that play throughout the whole product. If there were any trailers made for a potential "Lost Connection" film, the song "Somebody Else" by the 1975 would be playing throughout, getting the attention of the same age group mentioned before since the band is currently trading and getting a lot of attention from audiences. One other choice I would like to mention is the fact that I attempted to film short clips and scenes throughout the whole product since the current generation has a low attention span and montages of a few clips are more entertaining to them than longer ones, especially if they do not contain music. And so, I believe the mixture of different editing and aesthetically pleasing choices were perfect for captivating the right audience. As for more developed ideas for distribution processes for my production, I would display sentences, which come close to heart to the audience, on the posters. One example could even be "Why don't you call back your old best friend from high school?"

3- How did your production skills develop throughout this project?

As I take a look at some of my very first preliminary tasks, I notice the difference in technique when it comes to the depicting of emotions. Back in the beginning of the portfolio, most of my photographs had no sense of framing, I had not learned enough about the effect of close-up, mid-close-up shots and many more. How these can emphasise or minimize the emotion of a character. When I compare them to the final product, I can confidently affirm that my skills improved significantly, not only technically but also creatively. Throughout all the tasks, I was able to develop so many ideas that let me to drastic changes and a final outcome which I am extremely proud of.

When it comes to problems during production, there were not any that significantly affected the process as a whole, and if there were any issues, those were taken advantage of and used with a twist in the editing process. One example is the droplets of rain on the camera lens in the initial sequence of scenes outside. The actress and I faced obstacles such as heavy wind and rain. I did my best to improve the sound by normalising the wind noise and lowering it as well, as for the rain droplets on the lens, I let those be since they actually ended up adding even more of a present perspective from the audience, allowing them to be even more immerse in the narrative. Another small issue would be the lack of skills the cast had. All of the characters had no experience at all in acting, and so I attempted to limit the dialogue and let the gestures and facial expressions take on the storyline, which ended up being a great success.

Finally, one skill I believe would not improve would be my editing abilities. As presented in the beginning of the portfolio, around 5 years ago I began my journey in video editing, starting with softwares such as Video Star and Adobe After Effects which ended up giving me numerous tools to take advantage of in the future, which was not in this production. However, I was wrong. Yes, the transitions I used to spend hours on were very impressive, on the other hand, being able to play around with sound and colour were challenging tasks in the editing process of the final product. I can proudly say, once again, that I was surprised to see my skills improve in this area as well.

4- How did you integrate technologies - software, hardware and online - in this project?

One of the items I was deeply grateful to be able to use throughout the production of the film opening was my own camera. The Canon G7x is a small portable/pocket camera which is extremely versatile even with its size. The feature which helped me the most was the already built-in contrast filter which saved me loads of time during the editing process. Its size also helped me achieve camera movements such as handheld as stable, with the help of a tripod.

Secondly, I am also extremely grateful to have softwares like DaVinci Resolve for free to be able to produce my project in maximum quality (4K) and with professional tools which I had previously learned with Adobe After Effects. I was able to play around with audio settings as well, to make it seem like the music was coming from the earphones of the main character or as a part of the film itself.

All of these aspects provided by my technology choices allowed me to achieve aspects which were previously mentioned and aimed for.

[hiphop2horror]

In the extremely popular and award winning Netflix series: "Breaking Bad", the main character (Walter White) is molded in many ways throughout the course of the show. Some of these ways are very violent, greedy, and masculine, and others are portraying a calmer and more "teddy bear-like" form of the character.

In the first photo, he is holding his baby daughter Holly whom which he cares for greatly, revealing a less masculine part of him which could also include the innocence of his "chemistry teacher" stereotype from the start of the show. However in the second photo, he is aiming a gun at another character, and continually displays several other actions of violence and greed throughout the show.

Walter White reasons with himself consistently saying everything he does is for his family, taking his innocence of chemistry teaching to a methamphetamine manufacturing man that kills and hurts many to achieve his goals and to protect his pride. The contradictions of this character in many different representations could go on forever, but the two questions I pose are related to his double-sided life and the power of movie industry masculine violence in particularly a white male in this case, and in many cases.

Photo 1 Question: How can this "soft" representation of a male still contain an underlying persona of the violent masculine tendencies or motives invoked and displayed in movie industry media?

Photo 2 Question: Does this photo of the same man, with vastly different scenarios, prompt any contradictions about masculine behavior and stereotypes from movie industry regarding violence and pride?

Nathaniel (Nate) Konemann

[gxst]

adam leaned back slightly, moving one hand behind him to steady himself - offering space for the roaming hand. his breath grew perhaps a bit more shallow at the feeling of it, too, an excited albeit soft smile gracing his features.

had he not realised the intimacy of using your lover quite literally as a canvas for writing before, then he most certainly did now. when all there was for him to do was watch and wait, and try not to twitch at the feeling of the tip of the pen moving across his skin. his gaze wandered between nathaniel's hand holding the pen, and his face. the writing of his name on a piece of paper had been much quicker, the fact was not lost on him. nor was the fact that this seemed far too few letters to spell out nathaniel. he hadn't come close to learning just how many his name contained, but surely it had to be more than four. he'd counted at least seven while trying to figure it out himself.

adam looked down at the writing, eyebrows ever so slightly knit together in a moment of concentration - very much needed when trying to read at all, even more so in reading upside down. the first letter he recognised instantly, as it was very familiar to him by now. the second was an i, it looked the same upside down as it did right side up. it took him an embarrassingly long time to clock the third letter as the one that started nathaniel's name, but nevertheless, he arrived at the realisation with a small smile - proud of himself, perhaps.

however, the third one might as well has been random lines thrown together with how little he knew of it. his smile faltered a little. he knew there was no need to be embarrassed about not knowing, not in front of nate - but he wished that he wouldn't have to ask. "what does it say?" he inquired, gaze lifting to meet nathaniel's in seeking comfort in such a surprisingly vulnerable moment.

though the question had been entirely innocent the way in which he'd delivered it hadn't been lost on him and neither was adam's response. " that is not what i meant, " though it didn't mean he liked the response any less, it only put ideas in his head and they both knew by now that he was incapable of not following through on them. a smirk tugged at this lips, another glance down the best he could as adam's name on his own chest. he didn't mind that it was messy, he preferred it, he wouldn't have changed it - adam could have used him to practice his words on no matter what they were and he would have let him.

the end of the pen was bitten between his teeth as he pressed his index finger to adam's chest, tip gently brushing the skin where his heart rested, free hand taking the pen, his eyes met adams. " here? or... " his touch lowered towards his abdomen, stopping just above his navel. " or here? " he slowly circled his navel and then traced just a little lower stopping at the center of his waist. " or maybe even here? i think here. "

pen in his right hand, nate lent in so he could write the first letter, an 'm' followed by an 'i' and then an 'n' and an 'e' - the only letter adam wasn't familiar with to his knowledge. he took his time whether it be through concentrating or being purposefully slow, perhaps both but when he was done the pen was set back into the ink pot. " done. "

[antihibikase2]

Boomburst

For @scorchrend as thanks for the postcards a month ago! I should write about Nathaniel silliness more..

I'll definitely make the rest of the cringe compilation soon, but I wanted to make something with Nate and his mom since he's close with her, even if he's.. like that.

Most children begrudgingly woke up in the wee hours of the morning to attend trainer’s school. 

Nathaniel “Nate” Blake, however, was not like most children, something that Marian Blake realized when he was just a little boy.

Well. Littler than he currently was.

He was certainly not the tallest child in Aspertia City, and to make up for it, he was the loudest.

So loud, in fact, that he woke up much earlier than his mama to blast his music with open windows, prompting rage from the rest of the neighborhood- something that he quells himself with his natural charm. It’s a routine the rest of the city has gotten used to, and for that, Marian is grateful.

Still, as he loudly makes his presence known by stomping down the steps, she makes it a point to yank him by the back of his collar before he runs outside to buy bread. “Anak,”

“Good morning, mama!” He says cheekily, still wearing his basketball jersey and boxers.

Regardless of what has transpired, the titles her child wore like a crown, he was still the same as ever, as if he hadn’t been tossed off a flying ship or nearly pierced with a thousand icicles.

God, the champion of Unova was her recently turned thirteen year old, her impatient and immature son who scampered about in the Unovan cold unprepared.

“Please, at least put some shorts on-”

“No one’s up at this hour anyway!”

“You woke the neighborhood! Again!”

“Oops! Sorry!” An apology that meant absolutely nothing, because he was going to do it again and again, and no one had the heart to properly give this boy a scolding- or the patience.

She rubs her temples with her free hand before she reaches out for a large blue shirt just hanging off the doorknob, slipping it onto him as he squirms and whines.

“I hate this shirt!” He cries. The spare shirt he wears was one of her own, obviously too big for him, and it looks like one of her many dusters if not for the faded print of Lavaridge Town's logo in place of floral patterns. “It’s cringe!”

“That’s what you get for not changing your clothes!” She barks at him as she digs for a few coins in her purse. “And you were about to leave the house without money again! Have some shame, the ladies at the bakery have been too nice with you forgetting to pay them!”

“They’re regulars! It’s fine!”

"You-!"

"Don't forget to bring this to the neighbors!"

She grabs him once more before he runs out of the door, a small eco-bag on hand- one that came with the Christmas ham she bought over a year ago.

Once again, the contents of the bag were plastic containers with leftovers; she always shared extra with the Obsidian Family next door, as they did with her and Nate.

"Mama, I see Hugh all the time, can't I bring it to him later?"

"You know Hugh always buys bread at the same time as you. And I know for a fact you're not running back here directly after buying some!"

Nate clicks his tongue. "Hmph!"

"Don't huff at me!"

"Okay, okayyyyy!"

He still finds the time to tuck the oversized t-shirt in his boxers as he opens the screen door with a loud bang, startling their pet Delcatty, Muning, and her kitten, Mingming.

"Oops! Sorry!"

"Get back as soon as you can! You still need to prepare for school!"

"Kuya Cheren won't mind if I go to school like this, though!"

"He absolutely will! Don't take advantage of your teacher's kindness!"

"Ugh, fiiiiine,"

As he leaves, his voice still booms through the area.

"Bye bye, mama!" He calls out, as if he wouldn't be back within half an hour. "Love youuuuuu!"

As soon as he's gone, the house settles into a silence almost unheard of, one that she's put up with when he had went on that journey of his over a year ago.

Despite everything, she's thankful that her little Nathaniel hasn't changed a bit.

[daughter-of-sapph0]

so in the games, only two mothers are named: Johanna and Grace. in the anime, Ash's mom is named Deilia and Max and May's mom is given the name Caroline. so every character in the anime who's based off a player character in the game has a mother

unfortunately, Hilbert, Hilda, Nate, and Rosa don't appear in the main series anime, and neither do their mothers as far as I'm aware.

like, literally all there is to go off of based on their personalities is that Hilda's mother used to be a trainer and Rosa's mother used to work at a pokemon center.

however!

Rosa's mother does appear in the Pokémon adventures manga.

Whitley, who's Rosa's counterpart in the manga, is a member of team plasma alongside her mother. originally, Whitley's mother worked at a day care when until she joined team plasma when she saw how many pokemon were being hurt by humans.

in the bw2 arc of the manga, after team plasma is disbanded, she enroles Whitley in a new school in Aspertia and tries to cut all ties with team plasma. she also told her daughter that she has a pendant that contains a pokemon controlling device from Colress and she tells her daughter to take it to the team plasma sages or something. idk the adventures manga is batshit insane.

sorry for the long post. I'm just kinda obsessed with these characters who don't have names and one only has a single line of dialog about the other.

do the protagonist's moms have names in pokemon?

or do I serious have to say "I ship Rosa's mom and Hilda's mom"? that's so stupid

[nature420world]

The Vital Role of Bees in Pollination: Nature's Unsung Heroes

When we think of bees, honey often comes to mind. However, bees play a much more critical role in our ecosystem as pollinators. These industrious insects are responsible for facilitating the reproduction of countless plant species, including many of the fruits, vegetables, and nuts we rely on. In this post, we'll explore three fascinating facts about the pivotal role bees play in pollination.

Essential to Food Production: Bees are responsible for pollinating approximately one-third of the world's food crops. They transfer pollen from the male parts (stamens) of flowers to the female parts (pistils), enabling the plants to produce fruits or seeds. Without bees, our food supply and biodiversity would be severely impacted.

Biodiversity and Ecosystem Health: Bees contribute to the biodiversity and stability of ecosystems. By pollinating a wide variety of plants, they facilitate the growth and reproduction of numerous species. This, in turn, supports a healthy and thriving ecosystem, benefiting other wildlife and habitats.

Economic Impact: The economic value of bees' pollination services is substantial. It's estimated that the global economic contribution of pollinators, primarily bees, amounts to hundreds of billions of dollars each year. The agriculture and horticulture industries heavily rely on the pollination services provided by bees.

To explore the intricate relationship between bees and plants, their impact on food production, and the conservation efforts aimed at protecting these vital pollinators, click the link below.

The Benefits of Eating Raw Honey:

Rich in Vitamins and Minerals: Raw honey contains small amounts of essential vitamins and minerals, including vitamin C, calcium, iron, and potassium.

Antioxidant Powerhouse: Raw honey is known for its potent antioxidant properties. Antioxidants help combat oxidative stress, reduce inflammation, and protect against chronic diseases.

Natural Energy Source: Raw honey is a natural source of carbohydrates, providing a quick and sustained energy boost. It can be a healthier alternative to processed sugars in certain situations.

To discover more about the vitamins, minerals, and health benefits of consuming raw honey, continue reading the full article.

[solivar]

From the Annals of Unnatural Causes

Since today is Dr. Kieran Terrance Corben's birthday, I thought I would repost this snippet from 2012: Best Ever/While You Were Sleeping. Rated M for consensual sexy funtimes and supernatural violence, though not at the same time.

The evening clerk at the B&B caught his eye as they walked in, still slightly damp and smelling of sea salt, ylang-ylang, and sandalwood, exuding a certain unmistakable aura of freshly pampered. He nodded and, twenty minutes later, once they'd had the chance to change out of the clothes they'd been wearing all day and into something slouchier and softer (horrifying tie-dyed pants and that ancient, shapeless Grateful Dead tee-shirt for Terry, a pair of his surviving University of Washington sweatpants and an equally shapeless plain black tee for himself), a knock on the door heralded the arrival of a room service caddy containing a bottle of nicely chilled sparkling cider, two glasses, a tiny box of rose-scented cloth petals, and a platter of assorted sugary delights, which the clerk passed to him with a whispered, “Good luck!”

Nate was not entirely certain exactly how everyone, including apparently random strangers and hotel employees, knew he was utterly hopeless at the relationship starting thing, but it was beginning to become rather alarming.

Terry, bless his black little heart, was making things easy. Instead of turning on all the lights in their little semi-suite, he had purred in his own ineffable way over the gas fireplace and turned it on, snuggling down on the loveseat in front of it and laying his head on the cushioned back, his eyes closed. He looked about as boneless as it was possible for a healthy adult human not suffering from some atrocious degenerative spinal condition to be and didn't even open his eyes when Nate breezed past behind him, tray in hand, and set it on the coffee table. He did respond to the popping of the cork, however, lifting his head and blinking in the firelight, as Nate poured two champagne flutes of non-alcohol and handed him one.

“Well now,” Terry grinned and took a tiny sip, and grinned some more. “Living dangerously tonight, Dr. Harada.”

“The circumstances seemed to warrant it.” Nate grinned back and seated himself in one of the nicely padded chairs set directly off the side of the loveseat, extending his glass for a toast. “To your birthday, Dr. Corben. May you see many, many more.”

Terry made their glasses go ting and drank to his own honor. “What goodies did they bring us to help celebrate this most natal of days?”

“...Was that a pun? That was a pun. I should have thought of that first.” Nate laid out the provender: the tiny box of very delicious and very expensive Belgian chocolates, the plate of assorted fun-sized fruit tarts that he knew from past experience that Terry loved, the plate of cheese and grapes and little savory-sweet flatbreads. “And you should drink some more. Right now.”

“Right now?” Terry offered his half-empty glass for a refill and no meaningful argument. 

“Yes. Massage is wonderfully relaxing but you're going to be intensely thirsty in about an hour.” He provided the refill and a plate of goodies. “And fortunately there's supposed to be water in the suite fridge.” 

“But no sylphs clad in diaphanous tunics to feed me grapes and chocolates. Alas.” He made a comedically tragic face and fed himself one of each, sequentially, the tragedy transforming into bliss. “Wow.”

“I'm sorry about the sylphs, they wanted twice the going union rate to come out in diaphanous anything in October.” Nate considered the platter, found his stomach entirely too knotted up to cooperate with casual fine dining, and settled back in his chair. “So...enjoying your birthday?”

“Best. Birthday. Ever.” Terry bit into another chocolate and made a face that could be legitimately described as orgasmic.

“Really? Ever? Bear in mind that I've been to your family's vacation house and I'm finding that a little hard to believe.” 

“Oh, my friend. You have no idea. My parents' idea of a fun and relaxing birthday celebration is dinner at a three-star restaurant or possibly some fustily exclusive country club – black tie all the way, of course – and attended by somewhere between fifteen and fifty of their closest friends and associates, followed by a stimulating evening of cultural enrichment at the symphony or the opera or some gala art show opening. I mean, I enjoy the occasional art gallery or museum, but I usually prefer not to be one of the objects on display. And there is literally no such thing as a non-tragic opera. I don't care what anyone says. Aida. On my birthday. Really.” He contemplated the chocolate held daintily between his thumb and forefinger. “Whereas this is one of the best things I have ever voluntarily put into my mouth, and it comes following a day full of enjoyable things undertaken with a person that I actually know and like.”

“There are comedic operas,” Nate felt compelled to point out and desperately hoped he wasn't blushing as visibly as he thought. And the glass wasn't really big enough to hide behind, dammit.

“No. No, there are not.” Terry sat up a little straighter and grinned easily at him. “And this is one of the best days ever. And best things. Seriously, you have to taste this. We're talking angel kisses and kitten love, here.”

“I got those for you – “

“And I'm choosing to share them. Open your mouth, Nate.”

They were, Nate had to admit, exceptionally good chocolates. Terry's blue eyes did that little dancing with glee thing they did at his own theobromine-fueled O-face. “And I swear that they get worse every year. Much, much worse now that...” He paused, took a breath, and managed a half-smile. “Now that I'm single again. I think my Mom managed to find an unmarried Vanderbilt relation to throw at me, she was so crushed that I didn't want to come to Scotland with them for my birthday. Or possibly an unmarried countess.”

Nate managed not to choke on his mouthful of bliss. “...Why a Vanderbilt?”

“My Mom has always wanted to be able to say that she's related to the Vanderbilts. I have no idea why, it's just a thing with her.” Terry shook his head mournfully. “But I suppose that's still slightly better than having the lifelong ambition to be related to the Kennedys. But! I am not going to digress into a diatribe about the insanity of my parents today. Today I am going to revel in the glory that is.”

“I guess I'm sort of lucky that way – my grandparents always let me pick what I wanted to do on my birthday.” Nate firmly decided that he was not going to make any sort of inquiries about potential Vanderbilt in-laws, no sir and no way, and drained his glass, wishing that its contents might have been a tiny bit more alcoholic. 

“Not your Dad?” Terry handed him a plate of grapes and chocolate.

“Sometimes. He was home with me during the school year so he had to travel on business quite a lot during the summer months – he always called, at least. And sent plenty of cool presents.” He grinned, remembering the more than a little squashed boxes of summer festival sweets and painted carp kites that had arrived over the years. “I had a few cousins close to my own age that visited Granny Hanako and Grandpa Toshiaki for a couple weeks every summer, so we usually ended up having fun.”

“That sounds nice – most of our cousins were a lot older than us, and we traveled so much we were almost never in the same place for more than a birthday or two. It was usually just Rob and Mal and I when it came to friends.” Terry looked him dead in the eye with an air of utter seriousness. “And, believe it or not, my brothers were insufferable goobers when they were kids. Age has definitely improved them.”

Nate managed not to choke to death on a grape. “Goobers.”

“That is what I said.”

“Goobers.”

“It is a finely descriptive and entirely accurate term. They started out the worst brothers anyone could possibly want to have – Rob was was six different kinds of popular everywhere we went and was embarrassed to admit that he was related to us for most of our childhood and Mal was the sort of annoying kid brother that invariably found the older kids on base stealing his underwear and running it up the school flagpole. Then, at some point after we all went to high school or college, everyone became a couple orders of magnitude more tolerable.” Terry sipped meditatively at his cider.

“'We looked around and suddenly we were all grown up'.”

“Yeah, like that. More or less.” Terry's eyes danced again. “Though I'm pretty sure Mal still gets his unders run up the flagpole on occasion.”

Nate snickered helplessly and Terry laughed and for a time they lapsed into a comfortable sort of silence – Nate's stomach unknotted enough to actually enjoy what he was putting into it. “So, what's the best birthday present you've ever gotten? Before today that is.”

Terry accepted a refilled glass and, after a meditative moment, announced, “Haggis.”

“....Seriously?”

“Okay, not the haggis itself. That was pretty nasty and required half a bottle of HP sauce just to get past the texture and I'm pretty sure it's the reason that I can't stand the taste of liver to this day.” He sat down his plate, the better to talk with at least one hand. “Making it, however, was my first real lesson in cooking – my grandmother's housekeeper, Mrs. Carmody, caught me lurking around the kitchen being surly and antisocial and put me to work. Granny wanted a Burns supper and didn't feel like waiting until January to get it – and so I found myself sitting in front of a cutting board covered in freshly boiled sheep innards that I was allowed to chop to my heart's content and serve to my brothers without even a whiskey chaser to soften the blow.” He grinned in fond reminiscence. “Next week she taught me how to make poor man's beef Wellington. I think I'm always going to miss that woman.”

“I know you've said that you were a terrible thirteen year old before, but I seriously cannot imagine you being surly. Or antisocial for that matter.” Nate shook his head.

“Well. Thirteen was sort of peak terrible teens for me.” Terry's smile went crooked again. “You?”

“I'm reasonably certain that I was the most mopily wangst-driven seventeen year old on the face of the Earth.”

“Seventeen has never treated anyone well but, in this case, I was asking about your favorite birthday present.”

“Oh!” Nate physically repressed the urge to facepalm. “Oh, man. I had so many nice things as a kid – it was just my Dad and I for the longest time and he spoiled me absolutely rotten when it came to toys that I wanted. But the very best, most what the fuck thing? A beer stein.”

Terry's eyebrow migrated toward his hairline. “You don't drink.”

“No, I do not. I have never drunk, not since my doctors told my Dad I would likely be sensitive to sulfates my whole life.” Nate refilled his own glass for emphasis. “Nonetheless, on my twenty-first birthday, Dad was in Germany on business and sent me a beer stein to celebrate that particular socio-cultural milestone. And not just any beer stein, mind you – it wasn't one of those cheap touristy things. It's made from hardened waxed leather, banded in horn and polished wood, and covered in this really fancy decorative carved leather work. Yggdrasil and Nidhogg. Oh, and it's the length of my freaking arm, so I'm assuming that it was probably a beer stein intended for use by a frost giant.” 

“I so need to meet your father one day.” Terry accepted a refill of his own. “Where is it? I'm pretty sure I would have noticed a frost giant beer stein in your apartment.”

“Granny Hanako uses it for extra large sized flower arrangements.”

“I need to actually meet your grandmother one day, too. I know!” Terry smiled a bright eyed smile of impending trauma. “We'll go to Oregon for your birthday this year. Clear you calendar, Dr. Harada.”

“I'm pretty sure she's already half in love with you, so a meeting couldn't hurt. If I put in for it now, I might even get the time off.” Nate smiled wryly. “Be warned, my grandmother will probably try to hook you up with one of my unmarried cousins. She apparently doesn't have enough grandchildren yet.”

“She can't possibly be more rabidly baby-bit than my own mother, I assure you. One granddaughter and suddenly she can hear her biological clock ticking again. Of course,” He had that dance in his eyes again. “You could always introduce me as your boyfriend, which would – “

Fifteen minutes later, once he'd stopped coughing all the cider out of his lungs with the aid of a few solid whacks and some therapeutic rubbing between the shoulder blades, Nate managed to croak out, “Well, yeah. Okay, that might work as a means of discouraging the cousin-throwing.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, well, nearly kill you.” Terry looked quite sincerely contrite which, for some reason, made Nate feel utterly wretched. 

“Not your fault. It's – It just surprised me. I – “ Nate stopped, realized he had no idea how he wanted to start that sentence, much less finish it, and soldiered on. “We're a pair, aren't we? Your folks want you to hurry up and get over that whole tragically widowered at a traumatically young age thing  and get on with the remarrying and making more grandchildren. And my folks want any option that renders me something other than a creepy recluse whose only close friends are corpses and case files.”

“Amazing, isn't it, how what you want to do with your life never seems to enter into it, even when you're all grown up?” There was a more than trace element of bitterness in Terry's voice.

“Astonishing.” Nate reached for the bottle with hands that were considerably less steady than they'd been a few minutes before, and poured for them both with exaggerated care. “Do you...want to be married again?” 

Terry accepted the glass but didn't drink, turning it slowly between his hands as he found sudden, passionate interest in the patterns of firelight on the carpet. “Someday. With the right person.”

“Ah.” Nate took a quick breath and found that not entirely sufficient to dispel the sudden, strangling tightness in his chest. 

“Which isn't to say 'never' but – “ Terry flashed him one of those quick, fantastically bright smiles. “Nate? Are you okay?”

“Fine. I'm fine. Really.” From somewhere, he dredged up the artful approximation of a smile.

Terry was Not Going For It, and Nate felt a little twinge of alarm in his gut joining the torturous cardiac contortions making themselves known in his chest. “What about you?” Softly.

Oh please don't DO that. Don't ASK that. Too late, he'd asked. “You've probably noticed that I suck with an audible sucking sound at that whole 'having a relationship' thing.”

“I don't know – I think we've got a pretty good relationship going on right here.” Terry inclined a single questioning brow and Nate wanted to sink through the floor.

“Friends. I'm good at being friends. Not so great at everything else.” He put down his glass and stood, rubbing his suddenly damp palms on the legs of his sweats. “In fact, I'm really epically terrible at everything else. I'm fairly sure that Rin's kids are going to be the ones picking out my nursing home.”

All the nervous energy suddenly bubbling out of where it had lain in wait for just this moment forced his legs to move, one stride, then two, and a few heartbeats later he was looking out the doors opening on the balcony, which itself overlooked the garden, at the moment a basically amorphous glob of wind-blown foliage in the night. Terry stayed where he was, which didn't help at all because Nate could feel the weight of his gaze, that intensely earnest blue-eyed look that belonged to a man who helped people cope with their emotional fuckedupedness for a living.

Whatever made me think this was a good idea? “Have I ever told you about my last...relationship-shaped...thing?” Nate heard the words emerging from his mouth with the sort of dull, disconnected horror he usually associated with dreams of walking into work naked.

“A little bit.” Oh so calmly neutral and Nate wondered, briefly, if throwing himself off the balcony would be enough to kill him or just hurt really badly. They probably weren't high enough up to make it totally painless unless he landed just right on his head. “Mostly that it ended really badly. Also that your ex is a colossal dick, which is a sentiment I can fully empathize with. I've got some exes that could only be improved via gravity slingshot into the photosphere of the sun.”

“Yeah...that would more or less describe it.” With massive reluctance, he turned around, but couldn't make himself pace back, leaning against the decorative door molding in case his legs decided to get all wobbly on him, which was looking like a distinct and unfortunate possibility. “I mean, don't get me wrong. It's not like that with everyone I used to – used to date or see or however you want to put it. I'm still friends with both the people I went out with in high school – Christmas cards and everything! But those weren't what you'd call relationship relationships, either. We were just doing the stuff that teenagers do, movies and pizza and necking in the backseat of somebody's first car and it wasn't really...serious emotional involvement. We liked each other but it wasn't...”

He absolutely could not say what he was thinking and look at Terry at the same time. He took a shaky breath and looked back out the window. “Like I said, I do friends really well. Sometimes even friends with benefits if it's the right friend. But I'm – I can't – “

“Nate.” Softly.

“I'm really bad at making other people happy. At even really knowing what would make someone happy. Long-term happy, I mean. Short term happy is easy – that's just basic paying attention and contingency planning. The rest? That's...beyond me. Totally beyond me, even when I try and I've really tried, I promise you that. But...trying isn't enough. It's just not.” He closed his eyes against the prickle of completely and utterly embarrassing tears and he was not going to start crying in front of Terry on his freaking birthday. “We...do have a good relationship going on here. A wonderful relationship. You're the best...the best friend I've had in years. And I...don't want to do anything...I don't want to say anything that would screw that up.”

“What makes you think you could?” Again, so very softly.

“Because I always do. Always. I say something or I do something – or I don't say something or don't do something – and that's it. Over. And I don't – want this to be over.” Darwin's fucking finches, he was, in fact, almost in tears. A head-first dive at the hydrangea bushes was starting to look better and better.

“Well, that's good.” Terry had obviously taken some stealthy like ninja classes at some point in his education because he very simply materialized right there next to him, leaning against the locked balcony doors in a manner that suggested he knew exactly what Nate was thinking just then and believed an intervention might be in order. Hell, he might – Terry was scarily good at that sort of thing. “Because I don't particularly want this to be over, either. Why might it be over, Nate?”

“Because I think I'm in love with you. Seriously, completely, emotionally involved with love for you and you – you're – my friend.” Was that his out loud voice? It was. He had said that out loud. “You're my friend and I'm in love with you and I always screw up being in love, I can't do it right, and can we just pretend I never said anything? Please? Please? Let's just...stay friends and be friends because I don't want this to end.”

Far, far too out loud for that, in all likelihood, and he buried his face in his hand before he could complete his self-actualized utter and abject humiliation by crying on top of everything else. He almost jumped out of his skin when Terry's hand closed around his wrist and pulled his hand down and he was totally crying right there in front of him and Terry was, he could not help but notice, smiling. And his eyes were dancing. 

“Nate, what if I told you that I don't want to be just friends?”

Nate took a shocked, gulped-in breath that came back out as something close to, “Oh?”

Not really a question, per se, or any other sort of sensible response because that was all it took for Terry to step in close and pull him closer and he tasted like chocolate and cider and Nate's mind temporarily shut down in self-defense as his back came to rest against the nearest wall. When his brain finished rebooting he was mildly astonished to discover that he wasn't experiencing a post traumatic relationship-related hallucination, that Terry's hands were really resting on his hips and Terry's soft, warm lips were really gently brushing his own, and his own hands were clinging helplessly to Terry's shoulders. When they parted, it was with an audible little moan of dismay on his own part and a sigh on Terry's. He swayed away from the wall at the gentle tug on his hips and into the warmth of Terry's body, burying his still-wet face against the junction of his neck and shoulder, Terry's hand against the small of his back, stroking his hair.

“In my personal experience,” Terry said quietly, “being friends isn't fundamentally incompatible with being lovers. Pretty much the opposite, in fact. I've never loved someone I haven't liked first. And I like you. I've liked you since we first met, that weekend when we both volunteered to stay at the office and you brought Cards Against Humanity to keep everybody entertained. I started falling in love with you every time you got fire-spitting pissed or cried with someone's family or snarked at some asshole defense attorney or reporter. So many people lose themselves to the work we do – let it peel chunks of their humanity away and go numb because caring hurts too much. But you...don't do that. You care. You feel. And I love you. I love you for that. I love you for you. And I freely confess that I want to find the asshole who made you think that you weren't enough, weren't worthy of being loved just for who you are, and psychoanalyze the living holy fuck out of him.”

Nate laughed, helplessly, holding on tight, the sound coming out suspiciously like a sob, and if anything Terry held him closer. 

“So no,” Terry's hand climbed up between his shoulder blades. “This isn't going to be over. Not because of this. I've wanted this for so damned long now...”

Nate took a deep, shaky breath and looked up just as Terry was looking down and it only took a bit more effort to finish the motion and bring their lips together again, a little less soft this time, a little less gentle. Terry's hand tangled tighter in his hair and his tongue brushed against the curve of his lower lip and Nate whimpered helplessly and let it slip inside. Chocolate and cider, stronger than before, and under that Terry himself; sandalwood and almond oil and musk filled up his head and sent his heart pounding off at a thousand miles an hour. A sudden, convulsive movement on somebody's part brought their bodies even closer together – which Nate hadn't thought physically possible – and made it absolutely, blindingly clear that he wasn't alone in the blood flowing swiftly condition.

“Terry,” He gasped, when the kiss finally broke and their hips ground together again and it was all he could do to keep his knees steady against the rush of pleasure this provoked, “we should probably get away from the window.”

“...Good idea.”

Nate wasn't quite sure who actually started the backwards motion away from the window and toward the fireplace and its cosy little sitting area – there was too much going on with hands and mouths and the head-spinning rush of having someone touching him with genuine desire again. Terry's hands were under his shirt, fingers spread wide across his skin, and then his shirt was over his head and the loveseat was behind his knees and they were tangled together, Terry's weight on his lap pressing him into the cushions and both their bodies together. Terry started working his way south, becoming distracted en route with the apparently irresistible allure of his neck and chest and collarbones and the delight to be found in licking and sucking and kissing and covering all of the above in a necklace of bites and Nate took advantage long enough to rid him of his own shirt, placing all that ink adorning Terry's shoulders at the tips of his fingers, and the tip of his tongue, happy to explore. A surprisingly back-arching, breath-catching, desperate writhing and moaning exploration, to be sure, Terry half trying to get away and half trying to get even closer, as though those tattoos were the most severely erogenous zone ever applied to any living creature on the face of the Earth, just waiting for human contact to set them on fire. 

“Nate,” It was easily the most desperate thing he'd ever heard in his whole life, Terry's voice at that moment, and the way their bodies ground together and then everything went a little sideways.

The rush of it came over him so suddenly he almost didn't have a chance to yelp a warning, his head going light and prickles of warmth running all the way up his body and his own spine bending at a rather acute angle. Terry blinked down at him, half startled and half dazed with lust, and he found himself blushing furiously.

“Sorry,” He croaked, fighting the urge to sink through the floor again. “It's been a long time. A really long time. And you're just so...so...Yeah.”

“Oh, Nate. Don't be sorry. I'm an idiot.” Terry kissed him, gently, and climbed off, helping lever him to his feet.

“No you're not. Stop it. Shut up.” He slithered out of the rest of his clothes and used the first available piece of clothing – that ancient Grateful Dead tee, so very appropriate – to sponge off a bit. “Get on the bed.”

The look on his face was not a single conclusive expression so much as a collision of emotional reactions, none of which resulted in an immediate response to what Nate felt was an extremely reasonable request. With a sigh, he grabbed the loosely knotted tie of Terry's horrific pants, pulled it loose and them down in a single smooth motion. He wasn't wearing underwear. Which explained a few things, actually, and he blushed gorgeously, and Nate took him firmly in hand on the way to the very nice King-sized bed with the mountain of pillows and goose down coverlets. Those tattoos and their erotic possibilities really required a more thorough and comprehensive examination, especially since just running his fingers over them  caused Terry to shudder and whimper and beg for more. Especially the ones wrapped in serpentine coils around the base of his spine and the delicious indentation of his navel and slender curve of his hips and the long muscles of his thighs. Milk white skin and a dusting of pale freckles and fine coppery hair, looped with jet ink, and he wanted to touch it all, kiss him, lick him, make those hungry noises of pleasure come out of his mouth. And that was, he was willing to admit very quietly to himself, something he was good at. One of Terry's hands found its way into his hair, gripping almost painfully tight and that was wonderful, almost as wonderful as the taste and smell of him, salty and musky and so very good. He couldn't keep his hips still for even a minute, between Nate's mouth and his hands spread over his hips and over his thighs, stroking and sliding and finding all the places that made those long, shuddering moans flow up his throat. The sound he made at the end was the sweetest thing Nate had heard in years, a helpless little mewl of ecstasy, and then his back arched and his hips tensed and Nate drank him down, milking him until there was nothing left to taste.

Terry's eyes fluttered open again as he settled down in the pillows next to him, running a hand through the fine dusting of coppery hair on his chest, a fingertip over the curling spiral of ink ringing one pebbly nipple. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head again and he reached up to capture that hand, holding it flat in place while he caught his breath. Nate leaned up and kissed him long and slow, nibbling a lip, sucking languorously on his tongue, and when they parted, Terry whispered, “You don't have any idea what you do to me, do you?”

“I think I can guess.” Nate smiled wryly and lay back in the pillows, tangling sweat-soaked red hair in his fingers, curly and imminently pettable.

Terry arched his head into the stroking and rolled onto his side, nuzzling gently at Nate's neck again, which apparently hadn't gotten quite enough attention or visible marks of possession just yet. “I feel that I have somehow fallen down on my half the deal here...”

“It's your birthday.” Nate pointed out, and kissed him again – and abruptly found himself pinned down in the pillows as Terry rolled a long leg over him and hoisted himself somewhat unsteadily astride.

“True, it is. And I freely confess, I've always been the sort to indulge in giving myself presents.” He rocked back and Nate arched helplessly himself as his body responded to the heat and friction and sweet sweatiness of it all, already more than half-stirred, and came all the way back to life. “Do we have any lube?”

Nate swallowed with some difficulty around the constriction of his throat and the sounds trying to crawl out of it occasioned by the teasing circular motions of Terry's goddamned wanton hips, croaking out, “Beside the table.”

Terry crawled to the edge and fished around in the little toiletries bag that Nate had almost decided not to bring coming back with a bottle and a little foil wrapped square and a gentle, nipping kiss. “Thank all the gods you didn't get that self-warming crap. It's awful.”

He poured out a generous dollop and massaged it between his hands, smiling the sort of lazy cat smile that made Nate acutely nervous in most situations but in this one seemed strangely exciting instead. “Close your eyes.”

He did so and was rewarded a moment later by the sensation of Terry's warm, slick hand cupping him, fingertips painting teasing circles in water soluble lubricants and it was all he could do not to whimper. Foil tore. Terry made a low sound in the back of his own throat and, an instant later, his grip shifted, sliding Nate's length from tip to root, once, twice, and his eyes flew open in shock as Terry's position shifted higher. He rocked down, slowly, and Nate's hips bucked as he was enveloped in smooth, slick heat, an inarticulate moan escaping him at the sensation and the sight of Terry taking him in, hands braced on his own thighs, back arched with the pleasure traveling all the way up his spine. Terry laughed, breathless, at the look on his face and rocked his hips and then all chance of actually saying or doing anything went utterly away and all he could do was hold on, catching hold of the curve of his hips and rocking up to meet him, their bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as blood pulsing and breath rushing and it was very simply too good, too right, too perfect. Every nerve in his body sang with how perfect it was, to please and be pleasured by this man, to love him and be loved by him, to know he'd give every drop of his blood and his every breath just to see that smile and those dancing blue eyes, hear that voice and hold that body, knowing it was the house a beautiful soul lived in. His head went white with it and his body went light and he let himself fall into it without a fight, let those wanton noises come out of his mouth, drank Terry's moans, and allowed the pleasure to drag him down into a warm and flawless darkness.

He wasn't sure how long he floated there in the tenebrous warmth inside his own mind, his own body, but it was still dark in the room when he woke, firelight casting shadows on the walls, Terry's warm weight pillowed against him, still trembling and breathing raggedly. He wrapped his arms around his lover's body, ran a hand through the sweat painting his back, curled into the curvature of his arms. 

Terry lifted his head and kissed him long and slow and sweetly. “Best. Ever.”

***

Kieran had, on the occasion of their first time sleeping together, expected Nate to look younger at rest than he did while awake. He had the face and build for it – a solid foot across the line that separated beautiful from handsome, as long and lean and wiry as a man a good ten years his junior. To his very great surprise, that had not at all been the case. The tension never seemed to leave the line of his neck and spine and shoulders, not even at rest – he seemed, even then, to be bracing himself, tightening up to take a hit, or else picking himself up from one. Even at his most bonelessly relaxed, curled up next to him by the warm glow of the firepit with the Orinids falling just beyond the shadow of the trees overhead, he wasn't genuinely at peace.

He was now.

Beneath his hand, Nate's back was one smooth line of bone and muscle and almost impossibly soft skin, still gently scented with massage oil and sea salt and more recently with sweat. His head lay pillowed on Kieran's shoulder, one long arm laying sleepily possessive across his stomach, their legs welded together from hip to knee. His hair was damp with sweat and his lashes were sooty shadows above his still gently flushed cheeks and his mouth was full and lush and kiss-bitten and through all the places they were still in contact, Kieran could feel the echoes of pleasure still ringing through all the places in his mind and soul that he usually kept locked up tight. Pleasure and more than pleasure. Exultation. His heart was singing with it.

And not alone. He pressed a kiss to Nate's temple and shivered slightly as, even asleep, he responded, squeezing the last microns of space from between their bodies, his arm curling up over his chest, sending a frisson of pleasure that echoed through them both, from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. A slow stroke the length of his spine made those ridiculously long lashes flutter, brought a noise past his lips that was half moan and half plea and more erotic than either sound alone. 

Beautiful, the thought crawled through Kieran's head, along with shared and tangled and mutual ecstasy still humming in every nerve and inch of skin, the heart-song and heart fullness and gentle wash and curl of emotion twining together. So beautiful precious wonderful mine. My own. Belonging to me.

He had not thought – had never really allowed himself to think – that he would ever be this happy again. And yet here he was, with his beloved and his heart's-ease laying warm and safe in his arms. Nate's breathing deepened as he fell further into sleep. Rain drummed slow and steady against the roof, a breath of cool air finding its way through the seams of the window casements. Against the far wall, the shadows cast by the fireplace joined and parted and joined again.

He wasn't quite certain how long he slept but when he woke it was immediately and all at once – without the slightest trace of disorientation and with every nerve ringing like the strings of a harp struck by a two year old. 

Something ghosted across the edges of his awareness, something swift and subtle, flirting with the warded boundary he'd built around the perimeter of the building when they'd checked in earlier. Powdered silver and salt and more than a trace of his own blood, that not even the rain could wash away – not that it was raining now. The only sound from outside was the wind, rushing through the trees with a roar not unlike a stream in full flood.

...witchthing...

It curled through him, through his mind and soul, like the first breath of winter, ran needles of ice deep into his gut. Next to him, Nate stirred in his sleep, responding to his own sudden tension, and he bent and soothed him back down with a kiss and a comforting murmur and a quiet inner caress. Slowly, carefully, he eased out from under Nate's arm, rested his head on his own warm pillow and drew the covers up over him – even with the fireplace, the room was cool and damp now, though how much of that was psychic chill and how much was the weather blowing through he couldn't quite tell. He found the clothes they'd discarded earlier, dressed swiftly and silently, opening the inner ward he'd forged around the suite itself barely a sliver and closed it tight behind him as he went.

Outside, the wind nearly clawed the loggia door out of his hand, storm-front strong and breath-stealingly cold, the roar of it in the trees easily drowning out any other natural sounds. But not the unnatural ones. The scrape of claws across densely patterned defensive energies, looking for some weakness it could make or exploit in the weave. Inarticulate gutturals and hissed sibilants, filled with rage and frustration and no small amount of pain. Morpheus was certain that he'd hurt it badly and the confirmation gave him a coldly happy grin as he started off across the vast expanse of beautifully manicured lawn in the direction of the equally manicured garden. He felt it sense him in motion, felt it catch his scent – and more, Nate's essence mingled with his own in the most intimate of ways, the quarry it had always been hunting. Felt it peel away from the house and begin limp-loping after him, low to the ground and more invisible than not, but far, far less sleek and strong and fast than it had been. Felt it gather itself in long, leaping strides and launch itself at his back, forelimbs stretching into scythes, smooth, serpentine head splitting into a muzzle lined in razor-fine needles – and slam face-first into the already active first line of his personal wards, the defenses it had bypassed practically without effort weeks before, filaments of power flaring into eye-searing visibility brighter than a stroke of lightning. It limned the creature's shifting-twisting body as it writhed in the net of the wards' power, seeking the shape that would let it escape, or at least break the circuit of punishing energies connecting them.

Kieran called them back down before the thing could find it, pulling the net of his protections in – not quite skin-close but near to it. The creature landed in an ungraceful, mostly-visible sprawl in the muddy, leaf-strewn lawn, form flickering as it struggled to hide itself again. He shook a gently chastising finger at it. “Now. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, and a thousand generations of my ancestors will rise from the grave specifically to kick my ass for embarrassing them that way.”

Clever witchthing, It keened at him, form losing visible definition even as he watched, springing away to try to circle him again, hoping to shake his perception. Should have eaten your heart when I had it in my claws. 

“Yes, you probably should have.” He replied, mock-commiserative. “But since you didn't...? Well, sucks to be you.”

He broke for the garden at a sprint, skidding on mud and wet grass and leaves as he went, the creature howling rage and hate and hunger at a pitch inaudible to human ears – human minds were another story – and leaping after him in ground-eating strides. He hit the entrance to the boxwood hedge before it could reach him and slid into the maze with his feet barely under him, skinning his palm on the field stone pylon marking the entrance as he grabbed it and took the corner at a dead run. Behind him, expensively cultivated and embellished greenery snapped and tore and he couldn't help wincing a bit because it was a very nice garden and he genuinely felt somewhat bad about wrecking it – but he rather suspected that the house was not really an ideal alternative venue for this sort of thing. His Eye snapped open and the path he'd traced earlier in argent and crimson and white leapt out at him, a shimmering thread in the otherwise absolute darkness. He held the wards tight around him, masking his presence as best he could at the cost of losing his finer sense of where the creature might be at any given moment – it hardly mattered, since it would chase him down no matter what, in order to get at what it really wanted.

Clever witchthing, the thing's soundless voice curled across the surface of his mind. Feeding the halfthing its magic. Cleverclever. Will like eating your heart.

He clamped down hard on the urge to taunt back – it was too close, would be on him too fast, for that to have the desired effect. 

Smell the halfthing onyouinyou, the sensation that accompanied those words churned his stomach in spite of himself, grotesque and vile and obscene, knew you would have liked helping with him, witchthing. Too bad.

The creature slammed into him from above, claws briefly finding purchase in his shoulder before the wards could engage, flung away before they could bite deep or cause serious harm, the recoil of energies slamming him into the ground and the creature through a few layers of hedge. He fought for air and staggered back to his feet – the center of the maze was only a few more turns away – the creature howling and thrashing and coiling in on itself in agony.

The center of the maze, the hotel's brochure had informed him on the way in from the city, was marked by a spectacular display of seasonal flowers. It really was impressive when he'd visited earlier, all Japanese anemone and monkshood and helenium and autumn crocuses, arranged in an inwardly curling spiral of color and perfume. The wind hadn't done it any favors and neither had the rain and neither were his feet as he ran across it, coming to a halt at the innermost point of the whorl of vegetation, the creature crashing through the final border of the hedge only a few breaths behind. He stopped, breathed, and his wards flowed out around him again, forcing the creature back a pace or two, its form flickering briefly more visible as it snapped and growled, its eyes lambent in the dark.

Witchthing, a purr. Should have stayed inside.

Overhead, the wind finished shredding the last of the cloud cover. The moon, full as it had been on the night of his birth, spilled her radiance across the vault of the heavens, bright enough that it washed the color out of even the stars, and cast hundreds, thousands of tiny, sharp-edged shadows across the parterre stones of the garden. Cast his own shadow across the creature, lending its shape a form and solidity that it otherwise lacked.

“Well – one of us should have.”

The creature shrieked, a hideous psychic ululation, as the shadows pierced it, wrapped around its throat and limbs in skeins of barbed darkness to bind it in place, deny it freedom of movement and shape, spears carved of night's own substance driving through its hide and setting its blood flowing. 

“I'm really thinking that was you.”

The creature's struggles slowly ceased, its shrieks dying away to desperate whines of distress, its eyes rolling in its head.

Witchthing witchthing –

Then, he heard it, beneath the creature's own voice.

Kagemasuta.

“Guilty as charged.” He smiled thinly. “Hellcaller.”

A hiss – a double hiss, one from the creature and one from the thing riding its senses, trying to force it to keep acting even as it died. Finally, finally died.

“I know you can see me. I know you can hear me.” Kieran replied, softly. “So I strongly advise you to listen to me now. He is under my protection. If you raise your hand against him again, I will find you and I will end you. And nothing – nothing you can do, not the Serpent, nothing in this world or beyond it – will save you.”

He spoke the word that released the shadows bound into his own flesh, the ward structure that held them quiet and quiescent folding in upon itself, and they reared out of him hungry. He almost felt sorry for the creature, and the human-shaped monster on the other end of it, but not for very long. It took longer, by far, to wrestle his personal darkness back under control, the sky beginning to go gray with false dawn and the creature little more than an unfortunately gooey blotch in the middle of the thoroughly wrecked hedge maze, though at least part of that could be explained away by the ferocity of the last night's storm. He did, however, make certain to scrape as many crushed flowers as he could off the bottom of his shoes, and take them off on the porch, before he padded upstairs to the room where his lover lay sleeping.

[persephone-plasmids]

Safe

A Danse and Nora fic.

[Read on AO3]

-----------

“It’s eerie how well preserved this area is,” Paladin Danse said, as the elevator cage opened to reveal the silent Vault 111 in front of him.

“That was kind of the whole point, Danse,” Nora said, smiling over at him. “If they could preserve me this well for 200 years, it only makes sense that the metal walls held up too.”

“They preserved you wonderfully,” Danse agreed with a nod.

“Is that a line?” Nora asked, raising an eyebrow at the Paladin and making a slight blush rise in his stubbly cheeks.

“I… of course not,” Danse fumbled. “I just meant, from a medical standpoint, what they were able to achieve in this vault was… impressive.” Danse let his words trail off towards the end of his sentence, finding that he was only making things worse.

“Relax, Paladin,” Nora said, her grin still in place. “I was only joking.”

“Of course,” Danse said, trying to sound confident even though he still felt flustered. “I knew that.”

The way Nora gave him a short nod and held back a laugh before walking further into the vault told him that she knew he was lying. He appreciated that she didn’t state this outright.

Danse followed behind the vault dweller in silence. Or, in as much silence as he could manage when the sound of his power armor reverberated off the walls so loudly.

“The gun should be right through here,” Nora said, leading Danse through the halls of Vault 111 expertly. “I saw it when I first… woke up in here. But I wasn’t as familiar with lockpicking back then.”

“You’ve definitely honed that skill since wandering the Wasteland,” Danse agreed, giving her the smallest ghost of a smile.

He admired Nora for so many reasons. Her lockpicking skill was just one of the many ways she’d adapted to an impossible situation after waking up to a world she didn’t recognize.

She’d lost her son. She’d lost her husband. And yet, Danse had never seen her show the people of the Commonwealth anything but kindness. He didn’t know such people still existed in the world. Meeting her had shifted his perspective on a lot of things.

“If I can get the lock open, will you check out the gun to see if it’s something that might be useful for us?” Nora asked, shaking Danse from his internal musings.

“Of course,” he answered.

Nora led him to a small room within the vault and quickly began working on the locked glass case that held the gun.

“It’s called a Cryolator,” Nora explained, puckering her lips as she moved the bobby pin and screwdriver in such small subtle ways that Danse could hardly tell she was moving them at all. “From what I read on the terminals when I first woke up here, the Overseer of the vault made it as a way to pass time. It’s supposed to freeze enemies.”

“That definitely sounds like a unique weapon to have in your arsenal.

Nora nodded but didn’t say anything. She was focused on the lock in front of her, still trying to crack it as Danse watched her.

In this moment, with her full attention taken up by something else, Danse allowed himself a moment of self-indulgence. He watched the way her brown hair fell out of its bun in small wispy strands. He saw the freckles on her cheeks that she swore she didn’t have before leaving the vault. He studied the way her vault suit fit her a little too perfectly, which had been one of the reasons he’d tried to convince her to trade it in for a Brotherhood suit.

Her pink lips were still puckered as her long fingers worked at the lock.

Danse swallowed hard, realizing that he shouldn’t be staring at his partner this way.

“Bingo!” Nora said, standing aside with a triumphant smile.

“Outstanding, soldier,” Danse said, hating the way his voice sounded ever-so-slightly off after studying her so closely.

“Have at it, partner,” Nora said, gesturing to the gun and standing aside.

The Cryolator was definitely something Sanctuary could use to keep the settlement well-defended. And as Danse studied the weapon, he imagined the various ways it could be used to ward off Raiders.

“You really do wonderful work, soldier. Have I told you that lately?” Danse asked, turning around to find that he was alone. “Nora?”

Feeling his pulse pick up a few paces, he left the small room and began making his way through the halls of Vault 111.

What if something had happened to her? What if Raiders had been camping out inside the vault and they’d somehow missed them on the way in?

It wasn’t until Danse entered a cold room full of large metal containers that he found his partner. She was standing in front of one of the pods with an expression he couldn’t read. When Danse approached and curiously looked at the frozen man behind the glass, his brain made the connection.

This had to be Nate. This had to be the man Nora had loved. The man she’d built a life with, only to have it all stripped away in mere seconds.

He looked from the man in the pod to Nora, watching the way her jaw tightened as she stared at her spouse. She didn’t let any tears fall, though Danse wouldn't have faulted her if she did.

He wasn’t sure what to say to her at a moment like this. He wanted to tell her that she was welcome to grieve however she wanted. He wanted to make this better for her. But he was at a loss.

“Take all the time you need, soldier,” he said, because what else could he really say?

“I’m fine,” Nora replied, taking a deep breath, turning on her heel, and walking quickly away from the room.

Danse barely had time to register what had happened before she disappeared completely.

He could hear the sound of the vault elevator in the distance as it brought Nora back up to the surface.

She probably needs a few moments alone, he thought to himself, looking back at the lifeless form of the man Nora had loved. The one she had trusted.

His heart ached for her.

Danse waited a while before making his way back to the vault elevator, not wanting to impose on Nora’s private moment the way he accidentally had when he’d clomped into the cryochamber. But to his surprise, Nora wasn’t waiting for him on the surface.

She probably went back to Sanctuary.

He wasn’t sure if this was true, but he hoped it was. Any time he lost sight of Nora, he began to feel a panic take over his heart. He’d had a lot of partners and lost a lot of partners. But he’d never worried so much over someone in his life.

Nora had proven herself a capable soldier in the field. Despite her kindness and her tenderness, she could also be tough. She was a walking contradiction wrapped up in a blue and gold vault suit. Danse didn’t have to worry about her being safe on her own.

And yet, he did.

The sound of Danse’s power armor tromping through the dirt was anything but stealthy, but he didn’t care about being quiet at the moment. He only cared about finding Nora and making sure she was okay.

Walking through the streets of Sanctuary, Danse found the first settler he could, even though he wasn’t exactly happy with who it was.

“Have you seen Nora?” he asked the ghoul in front of him.

“Wait… are you actually asking me, a lowly ghoul, for help?” Hancock asked, his mouth quirked up into a half smile.

The Paladin knew the ghoul was pushing his buttons on purpose. And in the back of his mind, he knew he deserved it. But that knowledge didn’t do anything to quell Danse’s rage.

“Listen to me, you…”

“Careful Danse, if you get too worked up, your power armor might rust and you’ll be stuck in there forever,” Deacon said, stepping up beside Hancock with a matching smile.

Of course it had to be Deacon.

If there was one person who liked to get under Danse’s skin more than Hancock, it was Deacon.

Danse clenched his jaw tightly, to try to keep his temper from flaring up. “Nora is distraught from something we encountered on our mission,” Danse began. “As her partner, it’s my job to make sure she’s okay.”

“I think he still thinks he’s part of the Brotherhood of Steel,” Hancock said to Deacon.

The jab shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. But the reminder that the organization he’d dedicated his entire life to had thrown him out like an old pipe pistol after they’d found out who he really was, stung him to his core.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay with the way things had ended. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay with who… or what… he truly was.

But Nora was. She wasn’t just okay with what he was, she’d convinced him that he had something to live for. She’d saved his life in so many ways. Because that’s who she was.

“Garvey,” Danse said, while still keeping his eyes locked on Hancock’s in a scowl.

He’d been aware that Preston Garvey had been watching the exchange with mild interest. He also knew that Preston would give him the information he needed, rather than needling him for fun.

“The General is in her old house,” Preston said.

“Oh come on,” Deacon whined. “Why did you have to ruin our fun?”

Danse simply shook his head in annoyance, never letting the scowl leave his features as he walked away from Hancock and Deacon. “Thank you, Garvey.”

“Ad Victorium!” Deacon called after Danse’s retreating form.

“Ingrates,” Danse mumbled under his breath as he made his way to Nora’s old home in the quickly fading light.

It didn’t take long for his expression to soften as he heard the soft sounds of music coming from her living room.

Danse exited his power armor and knocked on the front door, straightening his posture and trying to figure out what he could possibly say to Nora about what she’d just seen. He should have known that going back into Vault 111 would be difficult for her. The fact that it had never crossed his mind only made him feel that much more responsible for her current dismay.

“Come in,” she called over the music.

Danse opened the door to her home and entered the living room to find Nora sitting on the couch with a large bottle of bourbon in her hand.

“Soldier,” Danse warned. “I know it’s tempting to lose yourself to something like that. But it isn’t wise.”

Nora laughed at his words before patting the couch beside her. “Come sit with me, Danse.”

The Paladin looked around the room, as if he’d find someone else there who would tell him it was a bad idea. There was no one. And the voice in his head that was constantly telling him to be better was nowhere to be found right at that moment.

Danse swallowed hard before taking a seat beside Nora. He felt oddly exposed without his power armor on. With only the orange Brotherhood jumpsuit between himself and the outside world, he wasn’t quite sure how to act. He felt too vulnerable.

“Why do you still wear that thing?” Nora asked, running her free hand over the arm of Danse’s jumpsuit in a way that gave him goosebumps.

“I could ask you the same question,” he answered with a smile, looking at her blue vault suit.

She took another long drink from the bourbon bottle before smiling at him. “Touche, Paladin.”

The bottle was almost empty and he silently cursed himself for giving her so much time to herself after she left the vault. She’d most definitely be inebriated by now.

The way she lazily watched him told him that the alcohol was definitely doing its job. And while he didn��t approve of her drinking, he had to admit it made it easier for him to address what had just happened.

“Are you… okay?” he asked.

“You mean after seeing my dead husband frozen in a metal container?” her words should have sounded harsh, but coming from Nora, nothing sounded harsh. “I’ve felt better.”

“I know that couldn’t have been easy, seeing him like that again.”

“I wasn’t planning on going into that room,” Nora admitted after another drink. She looked down at the bottle in her hands. “I told myself I wouldn’t do it. And then I did.”

Danse watched her carefully. Her cheeks and nose were red from the bourbon and she looked sad. Sadder than he’d seen her in a while. How could he possibly make this better.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

Nora looked over at him. Her green eyes were wide as she watched him. “You remind me of Nate sometimes.”

“Oh?” Danse wasn’t sure how he should respond to that. Keeping his response vague felt like the best course of action.

“I mean… you don’t really remind me of him. But that feeling of safety I always felt with him… I feel that with you too.” Nora smiled now, before setting the bottle down on the coffee table in front of her. “I feel safe with you. And that’s… it’s an invaluable thing in the Commonwealth.”

Danse tried to look away from Nora as she spoke, feeling uncomfortable with how vulnerable she was being. But he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. “Thank you, soldier.”

Nora laughed softly at his response. “You don’t have to call me that,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “We’re not on some official assignment. You were just… accompanying me on my own little recon mission.”

“I prefer keeping things formal,” Danse lied. The truth was, he didn’t feel like keeping things formal with Nora. But he wouldn’t tell her that in a million years. Danse was broken beyond repair. Nora was many things, but there was no way she would be saintly enough to look past what he was.

“Do you really, Danse?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him and leaning in closer.

“I think you should probably go lie down for the night,” Danse said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at just how close they were on the couch. “Sleep off that bourbon.”

Nora leaned away from him and sighed. “You’re probably right.”

She seemed… disappointed. Danse wasn’t sure why she’d be upset by his suggestion.

As Nora stood up from the couch, she stumbled slightly, catching herself on the arm of the sofa.

“Okay fine,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe you’re right. I do need to sleep this off.”

“Indeed,” Danse answered, standing up and placing his hand under her elbow to help keep her steady. “Easy now.”

Nora leaned against him as he walked her through the hall to her bedroom at the back of the house. He tried to ignore the way his breath seemed to catch in his throat at her touch.

When they entered her room, Danse let her go for a moment to pull her covers down for her. When he turned back around, she was staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite read.

“You always take good care of me,” she said, her voice so low that he could barely hear it.

“I'll always have your back,” he said. “That’s what we do. We watch out for each other.”

“We do,” she said, the lazy smile returning to her lips.

Danse watched her in silence for a moment before his discomfort grew to be too much. “Are you ready for bed?” he asked, looking away from Nora for a moment.

“Was that a line?” she asked, her grin widening.

“Nothing I’ve said today has been a line,” Danse said, hoping she was too intoxicated to notice how red his cheeks had become.

Nora stepped closer to Danse with the grin still in place. “Are you sure about that?”

Danse backed away from her but couldn’t move very far before the back of his legs hit the mattress. Not wanting to encourage her further, he stepped away from the bed. Of course, this only brought him closer to her.

Seeming to take this as a sign, Nora pressed her lips firmly against his. She tasted like alcohol, which only helped to remind Danse of why this was incredibly inappropriate.

Pushing her away gently he tried to gather his thoughts as his mind desperately tried to push him closer to her again. “Soldier, this is… inappropriate.” His words were stilted and his voice sounded tight.

“Again, Danse, that’s kind of the point,” Nora said, bringing her lips to his again and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Danse knew he should push her away. She was intoxicated and he had no business kissing her. But he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her back. Only for a moment. Only long enough for his heart to begin hammering inside of his chest.

His breathing was shallow as his mouth moved with hers, and he hated himself for kissing her back when it was so obvious she wasn’t in her right mind. The guilt that flooded his mind was only outweighed by the sudden deep desire he had to deepen the kiss.

Danse couldn’t remember the last time he’d been properly kissed. And as much as his hands were itching to pull Nora closer, he pushed her away again.

“Soldier,” he began. “Nora… this… this isn’t okay. You’re drunk.” His voice was soft as he stared into her green eyes. Those beautiful eyes that had looked into his soul when he’d first found out he was a synth. Those green eyes that had convinced him he had something to live for.

“I’m not that drunk,” she said. “And I know what I want.”

Nora kissed him again, this time more desperately. She parted his lips with her own, tangling her fingers in his dark hair and pulling him closer and closer. Her kisses grew hungrier with every second and with each one, Danse found himself less able to do the right thing.

He wanted her. And that realization terrified him. He’d never wanted anyone this way.

“Nora, please,” he insisted between kisses. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to resist the woman he’d spent so long admiring.

In response, Nora dropped her hands to Danse’s waist, pulling him against her. “Don’t you want this?” she asked breathlessly. “I’ve always thought you did.”

How did he respond to that? He couldn’t possibly tell her the truth. That he’d wanted this since he’d met her. That would only encourage her. And Danse wasn’t the type of person to take advantage of someone when they couldn’t properly think for themselves.

“Nora,” he said, pushing her hands away and taking a breathless step back. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched her. Even now, knowing he had to do the right thing, his body was screaming at him to pull her close again. “You’ve had too much to drink.” His words were short and to the point. He didn’t think he’d be able to stay away if he let any emotion sneak into his voice right at that moment. “If this happened, it wouldn’t be right.”

“I already told you I want this,” Nora insisted, but as she took a step closer to Danse, he sidestepped her.

“You aren’t sober enough to make that decision,” Danse answered, furrowing his brow and wishing Nora hadn’t found that bottle of bourbon. “So I’m making it for you. You need to go to sleep.”

Nora watched him with hurt in her green eyes, her brows knitting together. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” she said, turning away from him. She seemed to take a deep breath before crawling into her bed.

Nora turned her back to Danse, instead facing the wall after lying down. The silence between them was suddenly deafening.

Even though he knew he was doing the right thing, her response made him feel like the bad guy.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” he said. “I just… want you to be safe.”

He watched her for a moment longer, feeling like he’d done something wrong somehow.

“Goodnight, Danse,” Nora said.

He sighed deeply at her words. In the morning, he’d come by and check on her. She probably wouldn’t remember any of this. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad that he couldn’t say the same.

This evening would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life. The feeling of Nora kissing him was going to make it almost impossible for him to keep working with her. He’d always been vaguely aware of his feelings for her, but he’d managed to tell himself that they were simply a result of finding a genuinely kind human being in the midst of a place as awful as the Commonwealth.

Now he knew the truth. He was head over heels for Nora. But he knew there was no way she’d ever want a synth. And why should she? He’d brought her into the Brotherhood. He’d taught her that synths were an abomination. And now he’d have to reap what he’d sown.

He watched her with sad eyes as her breathing slowed down and she fell asleep.

He’d be a good friend to her. He’d always try to be a good friend to her. Because despite his feelings that he knew couldn’t be reciprocated, she deserved a good friend. Danse would rather have Nora in his life as a friend than not at all. And even though he knew it would be torture to be around her after realizing just how much he cared for her, he couldn’t live with the alternative.

“Goodnight, Nora,” he said into the now-dark house.

.

[Part 2]

[softservesoymilk]

For Inigo

24 - how long does it take for them to call someone their best friend?

And from the soft oc asks: 12 - What's a childhood memory they cherish most?

Here, the first in the new line of ocs asks only you read :> Starting with best boy, of course~

I made him in picrew ^^

So before i answer ur littol questions I think it's best to reestablish the context here,, since you don't really have a means of reading it hehe. Inigo is my witty, aroace, 13-year-old archer and the no. 1 consumer of coffee out of everyone :). Inigo got lost on the streets as a wee kindergartner due to a paper orphan-- or child trafficking-- scheme, which was so incredibly disorganized eventually he just ended up displaced and fallen through the cracks. Fortunately for him though, he meets Archie (who has run away from home in order to find his missing younger brother, Dism) :>. It is from here that he learns how to speak, and write, and he's given his name,, which was initially going to be Indigo (bc of the colour of his blood, he thought that's why Archie kept him around intially, because it's unusual like Dism's. Basically, he thought he was a surrogate) but since he couldn't pronounce it correctly it came out as Inigo. Anyway these two form an almost brother-like bond over the time they were together. However, because of their unfortunate situation these two end up almost starving to death eventually, and inigo gets coerced into throwing Archie's journal into the river to be washed away forever in order to secure a last-ditch supply of food. It's from here that he realises just how fallible Archie's mental health is-- how he gazes a little too long at highways, the lack of vivacity in his voice, how poor his self-esteem is -- and it troubles him. But alas, they had to be separated; Archie was to follow on the lead he gained, Inigo to go to Archie's hometown to some friends of Archie's dad Nate, who were an infertile couple who wanted a child. And so they went, silent goodbyes.

Bc Archie got himself stranded in the dream world Oskopnir against his will soon after, he was unable to give any indication of his still-existence to Inigo (he was told no-one knew where the dawn stone, or the portal between oskopnir and byrgir was, and it's impossible to travel things if you're not a lucid dreamer in the first place). And inigo, after years and years of no letters, no indication of anything at all, having learned of what depression and suicidal ideation actually is, now thinks he killed him~ :>. Why? Bc that same journal contained many many photos of Dism, which obv would've have made his search for him *a lot* easier. But at the same time, the actually more logical part of his brain reasons the opposite, which brings us to the present day.

Inigo has now put up an icy front against anyone he meets, now deliberating on the hedgehog's dilemma and choosing the answer that it's better to stay away to avoid hurting himself and other people (guess who's now traumatised haha). He still really is a marshmellow of sweetness and affection underneath though. He works very hard, almost unhealthily so, and is very, very intelligent-- he's advanced two grades to be where Dism and Cynthia are. He’s now very snarky and smug, and because of his trauma-induced guilt, self-destructive, self-loathing even. Not to mention impulsive. But for those that can see past the exterior of emotional dishonesty and borderline manipulation, there’s a caring, thoughtful, and most importantly devoutly loyal boy underneath :) OH and before I forget, he’s one of the lucid dreamers (the half-race people with a chance of being made when someone from oskopnir and someone from byrgir well... do it together. I mean kinks do exist and maybe you really do want to fuck a mushroom-person idk you do you) Indigo-coloured, he controls the aspect of intuition and has a range of extrasensory perceptive powers such as clairvoyance and predicting the immediate future :)

And now for your questions :>

24 - how long does it take for them to call someone their best friend? To put it frankly, a very long time xD. But in a more serious light, there’s really one ingredient crucial to achieving this coveted status: vulnerability. The rest follows. If you were to position yourself in such a way that he’d be forced to break and speak from the heart, with unwavering emotion and feeling, welp he can’t exactly cover that up can he? And now you have greater access to the fuller depth of his personality, and if you were as understanding and non-confrontational as Cynthia or Dism were, well you’re on a good track :D. If one does get this far, generally what was the slowest of burns becomes the greatest of flames; he’s fast besties with anyone at this point, and really treasures the trust people give him and gives great pains not to go back on it ever again :> It’s also this methodology that allows for his and Dism’s eventual QPR-- because Dism got to see him at his worst, just 1-on-1, it’s that relationship that eventually becomes one of his greatest ^^. Really, they defy all labels, and the only way I could put it is, it’s like two wounded people caught in the crossfire of a terrible disaster, broken and bleeding. But they bandage each other, and comfort one other even if it hurts god damn it, and they’re going to stay together until they’re both as happy and free as they can be, whereupon they’re so used to crying on each others shoulders, so used to the pleasure of each other’s company, that they just. What do you call this. It’s love, but so free of the taint of sexuality, or heated romance. Pure; endlessly giving. they build each other up and make each other better, and when they can’t build no more they send each other flying. Joyful flying, like something out of a ghibli film. I really hope that explains things for you :> can you tell i’ve spent an excessive amount of time daydreaming about these two

soft oc asks: 12 - What's a childhood memory they cherish most? I feel the need to say he’s literally 13, he’s only just out of “childhood” xD. And tbh, he still is smol baby to me anyway as the 3rd youngest oc xD. Since the thought of Archie dying is so severely traumatic, it’s clear that he treasured practically all the time they had together, as short as it was. Being on the rooftops together at midnight, looking at the still illuminated streets below, being passed down his hat (I realise why his previous designs felt so off to me. he was missing a hat. And this is actually why i have Naoto as my current pfp, it’s to subconsciously evoke him :>), that’s probably one of the things he holds most dear to his heart. But also all the stories they shared together, huddling and sleeping together to keep warm,, he has such a fondness for those memories it’s painful to look back on them now. He gets over it, though :> Also, he’d hate to admit it, but that time he defended cynthia from some nasty people by brandishing his pocket knife and getting himself suspended for a week. It’s the kind of fondness you get when you look at something stupid you did in the past. And again, it’s the vulnerability factor here-- he showed he cared about her and that’s how they became besties even though they’re complete and utter opposites :) (except for the fact they’re now outcasts. They had that in common at least) He cherishes a lot of things, it’s why his last name was initially saudade before his character development prompts him to change it to valere-vervain :> (plant theme!!). And yes, that means his full name is allllllll of his own design. He does not get it let go without a little friendly teasing from his friends xD

And that’s it for the first!!!!!! Hope you treasure and enjoyed it, i do recommend you copy and save this to your computer in case of another accident ahshdhdg

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 4 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: 

Warnings: cursing, discussion of sexual activities

Word Count: 3,911

~~~~

You’d tossed and turned for almost an hour before you had eventually drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken by the Denver sunrise spilling through the window. Groaning softly you made a mental note for the shopping trip...curtains...Cale definitely needed curtains. Laying on the couch, you played on your phone for a few minutes before the need to use the bathroom finally took over. 

After knocking quietly on Cale’s door with no response, you cracked it open hoping to sneak through to the bathroom without disturbing him. As you tiptoed across his bedroom floor, you couldn’t help but let your eyes fall on him. As expected, he was shirtless, blankets falling only midway up his exposed chest. His hair was a mess, and a relaxed expression covered his face. Quietly closing the bathroom door behind you, you chastised yourself for the heat that flooded through you. You were just friends and despite his now single status, that was all this was ever going to be. 

Relieving yourself, you then quickly brushed your teeth before quietly moving back to the living room, easing his door shut behind you. His parents were going to be here in about an hour and after starting a pot of coffee you examined the contents of Cale’s fridge and cabinets. Finding bacon, eggs, and pancake mix you decided to make everyone breakfast. It was as you were moving around the kitchen that Cale finally appeared, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“You’re making breakfast?” He murmured, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. 

“I am…” You smiled, checking on the bacon in the oven as you scrambled eggs in a pan on the stove. Cale poured himself a cup of coffee and you felt his eyes on you once more. 

“Anything I can do?” He questioned after a moment. 

“Get some plates?” You requested. “How do you want your eggs?” The clatter of plates filled your ears for a moment as Cale set plates beside you. 

“However you’re making them is perfect.” He insisted, sharing a warm grin now that he was a little bit more awake. Nodding you took one of the plates and scooped a hefty portion of eggs onto it before pulling the bacon from the oven and the pancakes from where they were keeping warm in the microwave and piling those onto the plate as well. 

“Eat up.” You grinned, turning to place the plate in front of one of the bar stools at the island. Doing another batch of eggs quickly you set everything aside to keep warm before serving yourself a much smaller portion. Taking a seat beside him, you shook your head as you watched Cale continue to dig into his breakfast. The moment felt a little too domestic and natural so you were thankful when there was a knock at the door that signaled that Laura and Gary had arrived. 

It wasn’t long after that before you were quickly getting ready and heading out with Laura to go shopping for things for Cale’s apartment. The first place you stopped was Starbucks and then you were off to a local shopping center to do some damage. 

“You seem more relaxed…” Laura mentioned as she sat waiting for the light to turn green. 

“Yeah uh...we talked after dinner last night. We’re good.” You shrugged. Yes you were close with Laura, but you really didn’t want to tell her the details of your friendship with her son. She seemed to accept that because she nodded and smiled. 

“Good. I’m glad.” Her response ended the subject and instead she focused on the task ahead. “So you’ve spent a decent amount of time in Cale’s apartment...what does he still need other than what he mentioned to me?” 

“Well curtains would be good. Waking up to the sun isn’t always ideal.” You said, a yawn slipping from your throat. “He could also use a throw blanket for the couch.” You added, pondering over what comforts Cale’s apartment seemed to be missing that would make it feel more like a home. 

Wandering through aisles, Laura did most of the shopping, occasionally asking for your thoughts on something before either tossing it into the cart or putting it back on the shelf. As you walked through the aisle containing photo frames you paused. 

“What do you think about surprising him with some pictures?” You suggested. He had a couple pieces of ‘artwork’ but there really weren’t any family photos to be found as far as you could see. 

“Why don’t you take the reins on that?” Laura replied, a soft look you couldn’t place filling her eyes as she handed you her phone. “Text yourself anything from my camera roll.” As she looked through possible throw pillows, you quickly scanned through the pictures, texting yourself a half dozen that would be perfect. Agreeing to meet up in about fifteen minutes, you headed back to the instant photo machine, plugging your phone in to print the pictures from Laura’s gallery as well as a couple from your own. Satisfied with what you had, you moved back to the frames, picking out one for each photo before moving to find some command strips to hang them with. 

On the car ride back to Cale’s place, you worked to get each photo into a frame. By the time Laura pulled back into the garage you were finished and you helped her carry all of the shopping bags inside. Cale had given his mom the spare key in case the two of you were done before he got back and after letting yourselves inside, you went to work on making Cale’s apartment feel just a little cozier. Together you hung curtains up in his living room, tossing pillows and the sherpa throw onto the couch. Then Laura helped you with hanging photos on his bedroom wall while a few of them were placed stationary on a side table in his living room. Laura unpacked the rest of the things Cale had asked her to buy and then the two of you settled onto the couch to watch tv until the guys arrived. 

Gary and Cale had picked up lunch on the way home, so the four of you sat down to eat. When you finished, Cale handed you a gift bag and though you had a feeling you knew what it was, you were still anxious to open it. Navy fabric accented with maroon and white spilled around your fingers and you gently ran your fingers over the number 8 and lettering of the nameplate. 

“Can’t have you come to the game tonight without proper apparel.” Cale murmured and you jumped up quickly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. 

“It’s perfect.” You agreed. You’d packed the Makar home jersey that you’d bought yourself at the beginning of the season, but you had to admit the thirds were your favorite jersey and getting the jersey from Cale meant just a little bit more than buying one for yourself. 

As you cleaned up lunch, Cale started to settle in, getting ready to take his pregame nap. He had acknowledged the curtains, blanket, pillows and other things his mom had gotten him but it wasn’t until he disappeared into his bedroom for a moment that his eyes must have caught the photos. He’d only been gone maybe 30 seconds when he returned, pulling his mom into a huge hug, his eyes soft. 

“You framed pictures for me?” He muttered softly. 

“That idea was all Y/N.” Laura quickly clarified and immediately Cale turned to you, his arms wrapping around you just as tightly. 

“That’s incredible. Thank you.” He whispered into your ear, and when he pulled back his hands lingered on your hips for a moment more. 

Soon you were grabbing everything you’d need for the game because you were headed with Laura and Gary to play tourist while Cale napped and then headed to the rink. Laura and Gary had already headed downstairs while you debated on a shirt to wear and you didn’t even notice Cale come up beside you as you dug through your bag. 

“Wear that one.” He instructed, pointing to a wine red long-sleeved off-the-shoulder blouse. “We’re going out after the game if we win.” He clarified, rubbing the back of his neck. You were already wearing your favorite pair of jeans and had thrown on a cute pair of tennis shoes for running around. You weren’t exactly a club type of person but going out with Cale and his teammates did seem fun. 

“Okay.” You agreed, disappearing into his bathroom to change tops before returning. “Have a good nap. And kick some ass tonight.” You teased, grabbing your makeup bag because you’d barely put any on to go shopping and if you were going out tonight you were going to need to rethink your current makeup. With everything you needed, you snuck a kiss to Cale’s cheek before disappearing out the door to meet Gary and Laura down at the car. 

____

The last time you saw Cale play live was versus Calgary during the playoffs. So sitting in the stands of the Pepsi Center watching him warm up was an entirely different experience. You’d watched him on tv many times but in person it was clear to see just how much his game was growing every day. He was almost mesmerizing to watch and tucked in next to Laura, wrapped in his jersey, you felt at peace. Well, at least until the puck dropped for real. 

During a commercial break in the first period, the Avs announced a promo game. After the participant was introduced and the game was explained, a baby picture popped up on the screen. In it, a little boy, no more than 9 or 10 months old, sat between the legs of a little girl around the age of five who had a book in her hands. Immediately your own cheeks flushed as you recognized the picture, it was one of your favorites from when you and Cale were super little. The fan playing got one guess of who it was with no options to win an autographed jersey, but they were way off and guessed Nate for some reason. Then multiple choice popped up with Cale’s name, JT’s, and Gabe for a chance at an autographed puck. You didn’t even pay attention to the guess beyond hearing the boos signaling they got it wrong, but instead your gaze landed on Cale who was looking up at the screen, hiding a smile as he took some ribbing by his teammates. Eventually his eyes drifted up to where you were seated and he sent a little wink that you would have missed if you weren’t looking at him. From beside you Laura just smiled and bumped your shoulder, signaling without words just how strong your friendship with Cale really was. 

The Avs played a solid all around game and you cheered with each goal scored. Cale had two assists on the night and with the team coming out with the win you knew he was going to be in a good mood. Heading down to the locker room, you listened as Gary rambled on about the game as hockey dads do while sharing looks with Laura that made you burst into laughter. 

When Cale finally stepped out of the locker room he hugged his parents before lifting you up and spinning you around. 

“You ready to go have some fun?” He inquired, boyish smile on his face. 

“Don’t get into too much trouble.” Laura warned, though her expression wasn’t all that serious. 

“As if I’d let him.” You joked. For years Cale’s family had the running joke of you being the more responsible one keeping Cale in line. It wasn’t always true obviously, but for the most part the point stood. Still after the past few weeks Cale had had, you were willing to let him go just a little bit crazy tonight, knowing that you would be there as his safety net. 

“We’ll see you both tomorrow.” Gary grinned. “Go relax and have a good time.” Cale’s arm drifted around your waist as he tugged you to his car. Once there, you stripped off the jersey leaving you in just the blouse and as he pulled out of the garage you mussed up your hair just a little bit. Using the mirror, you carefully added a little more eyeliner before throwing on a dark lipstick, tossing both cylinders into the cupholder beside you. 

By the time you stepped out of the car at the club you felt ready for a night out and as you watched Cale shed his jacket, you felt his eyes on you once more. 

Waiting for him to be ready to head inside, you watched as a tall redhead approached, beautiful woman tucked into his side. 

“Y/N...this is JT and his girlfriend Lauren.” Cale introduced and you reached a hand out to shake theirs before tucking your hand back into your pocket. 

“So this is the best friend.” JT said, smirking. “Bout time Cale finally brought you around, he’s been talking about you for forever.” 

“Really?” You teased, ready to throw out a semi-embarrassing tidbit until Cale grabbed you by the waist, his finger falling to your lips to shush you as he guided you inside. 

“Can you at least let me get a drink or two in me before you start spilling the embarrassing stories?” He pleaded jokingly. 

“I suppose.” You conceded, smiling as he guided you up to the VIP lounge and over to the bar. Settling for a glass of wine, you watched him order a beer for himself before leading you over to one of the many couches. It wasn’t long before you were being introduced to all of Cale’s teammates.  

Gabe was boisterous and funny and the way that he looked at his wife Mel made you smile brightly. Josty was a character, he had you laughing almost immediately as he told stories about all of the media events he’d done with Cale and what he’d learned from residing in the same building. He was definitely giving you ammo to use later. Then again they all were, chirps had been flying left and right all night. 

You’d been nursing the same glass of wine for about an hour, watching as Cale downed another 2-3 beers as well as a shot that Burky handed him. It was nice to see Cale out with people that clearly cared about him and you knew this was probably the first time he had really been able to let go of all of the stress since the pregnancy scare. 

Eventually Mel and Lauren dragged you out onto the dance floor with the other better halves and even though you’d barely had anything to drink, the beat of the music had you relaxing, enjoying the time you had getting to know the people who were part of Cale’s other family. 

“You know his eyes haven’t left you all night.” Mel eventually declared, her voice barely audible over the loud music. 

“He’s always been a little protective…” You simply shrugged. The look Mel and Lauren shared suggested that they weren’t buying that logic but they didn’t push things. After a few more songs, you left the dance floor to head to the bar for a bottle of water. While there a tall….like really tall, dark haired man who looked like he should star in the next hollywood vampire blockbuster, slipped up beside you, his arm brushing against yours lightly. As you placed him as Cale’s d-partner you smiled up at him before looking back at where the bartender was rushing back and forth. 

“You know none of us have ever seen him like this before…” Ryan murmured. “He comes out but he never really lets loose. Now I don’t know whether that’s because it’s the first time we’ve been out since everything happened or if it’s because you’re here but I suspect it’s more to do with the latter.” You didn’t really know what to say to that so you shrugged. “And I’m not saying that in the manner of he feels like you’re the babysitter who will take care of him, I’m saying that he feels comfortable because you’re here in a way he was never comfortable either by himself or with Sara.” Ryan finally managed to get the bartender’s attention and he ordered your water along with whatever he was drinking before continuing. “And I’m sure Cale never said anything and neither did anyone else but...you should know everyone really likes you. And I can’t say the same for Sara.” Just as quickly as he’d appeared, Ryan had walked off and you glanced over at Cale to see his eyes planted firmly on you, his cheeks rosy from the alcohol. 

Water in hand, you moved to Cale’s side, his arm wrapping around you immediately. The redness in his eyes told you he’d had a little bit more to drink than he probably should have and you pushed your water his way, not wanting him to be completely impossible to drag home. The grin on his face was lazy as he took the bottle, showing how completely relaxed and at ease he was. 

His Adam's apple bobbed as he took a long sip of the water and you tilted your head to observe him, tie gone and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His fingers slipped just under the edge of your shirt along your hip and you took your own sip from the bottle of water trying to hide the flush that filled your body at the feeling of his fingertips on your bare skin. Passing the water back to him, it was soon gone and once the bottle was empty you stood, looking over your shoulder. 

“Are you going to sit there all night or are you going to come dance with me?” You inquired, your tongue running against your bottom lip. Stumbling just slightly, Cale slipped out of the booth and his hand fell to the curve of your back as he guided you over to where his teammates and their significant others were dancing. 

With Cale’s chest pressed against your back, his hands fell to your hips once more and the pads of his fingers wandered over every inch of skin they could reach. His touch had never affected you like this before, he’d never been this brazen before, but you chalked both of those factors up to the alcohol. Though you’d only had two glasses of wine since you arrived, wine had always made you far warmer than any other form of alcohol so the heat in your skin was definitely just from that. 

“So I have a question…” Cale’s breath fanned over your ear as he leaned down to whisper yell at you, allowing you to hear him over the rap song that was playing. 

“Yes Cale?” You replied, tilting your body back against his so that you could see his face. It was even rosier than before and his soft smile was replaced by a serious and focused look causing your eyebrow to quirk at the sight. 

“Women like having oral sex performed on them right?” For a split second you were certain that it was only Cale’s hold on you that kept you from falling right over. Choking on your own saliva as you tried to swallow you quickly coughed, your cheeks even more flushed than you could attribute to the wine. 

“I...I mean from what I’ve heard yeah…” You finally stumbled out an answer. “Why?” Your question was ignored as Cale’s hands tightened around your hips. 

“You’ve heard?” Cale prodded. “You don’t know?” Cursing under your breath you shivered as Cale’s thumb stroked a sensitive spot along your side. 

“Cale…” You mumbled, not drunk enough for this conversation. He poked you in the side though signaling you to continue and you groaned. “I mean...I had sex for the first time freshman year of college and we didn’t exactly know what we were doing…” You explained, softly enough that only Cale would hear you. “And I mean I’ve only had sex one other time...it was a one night stand and we were both way too drunk to do anything but fuck. So yeah...I’m just taking other people’s word on it...why are you asking Cale?” You finished, twisting in his arms so that you could look at him properly. His head ducked to press against the crook of your neck and he hissed quietly as you drug your nails along his lower back. 

“Just curious…” Cale breathed. “Sara never let me...I mean I wanted to but...she told me she wasn’t interested.” For a moment you didn’t know what to say as that little piece of you celebrated the fact that it seemed there were a lot of things he didn’t do with his ex girlfriend. 

“Oh...I mean everyone has their own likes and dislikes…” You reminded him. “But generally equal reciprocation is definitely appreciated.” 

As the song ended, Gabe called Cale’s name to go take another shot and you pushed him to go murmuring that you were going to run to the bathroom. By the time you returned, you suspected it was definitely time to get Cale home, so you sidled up to his side, slipping your hand in his front pocket for his car keys. 

“I think it’s time we get you home and to bed rockstar.” You declared. Thankfully Cale didn’t put up much of a fight, closing his tab before letting you lead him out of the club. By the time you had parked in his garage, you could see how sleepy the alcohol was making him and you moved around to help him out of the car, his body nearly dragging yours down with its weight. 

Stumbling through the door, you urged him to start to bed while you got him more water and some pain killers. Gathering both, you moved to his room after checking to ensure the front door was locked. You found him sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in only boxer briefs and though you tried not to stare, your body couldn’t help but notice that gone was the teenage boy you once knew and in his place was a man plain and simple. Setting the water and pills on his bedside table, you urged him to take his contacts out. 

Once you were certain he was fairly settled, you turned to make your way to the couch. Instead, Cale’s hands reached out to pull you back to him and as he scooted to the far side of the bed, he drug you down with him. 

“Cale…” You mumbled in complaint but his eyes were already closed and his breathing was starting to steady out, his hands keeping your body pressed tightly against his. Sighing, you managed to work yourself out of your jeans before giving in and settling in his arms. 

Between your conversation with Gravy, the looks Mel and Lauren were giving you, Cale’s inquiry, wandering hands, and this, so many lines had been blurred tonight that it was making you dizzy. 

For the second night in a row...your mind reeled as you fell into a fitful sleep. 

Blouse:

[miracleonice87]

Say You Won’t Let Go

a Sidney Crosby wedding series

Part Two

a/n: here’s part deux! read part one here. this will have at least one more part, probably 2! worth noting that I know next to no French and am relying heavilyyyy on our pal Google Translate in this story.

summary: a little more background throughout, as Juliette and Sidney meet up with their families and hockey star-studded bridal party for a rehearsal at their iconic wedding venue. if you’re not familiar with the location (it’s honestly incredible), click here for a look!

warnings: mention of deceased father. otherwise, so damn fluffy it’s practically cotton candy.

_____

Sidney and I arrived at the church exactly on time, much to Lauren’s satisfaction, with two cars carrying Mario’s crew pulling in at the next moment. I closed the passenger door of Sidney’s steel grey Range Rover and turned to take in the sight of our wedding venue, Heinz Chapel on Pitt’s campus, reaching a hand up to shield my face from the early evening sun as I gazed. Sidney did the same, coming to stand next to me and snaking an arm around my torso.

“Not a bad place to get married, eh?” he teased, kissing the crown of my head. I smiled and shook my head. “I’ve dreamed of this since the moment I first saw this place,” I told him. “It’s perfect.”

He took a step forward, offered his hand to me and grinned, quite pleased that we had been able to reserve the coveted location last summer despite it typically being booked three or more years in advance. I didn’t often request many special favors in the name of my uncle or fiancé, but this was one that seemed a necessity. Taking Sidney’s hand and walking toward the cathedral-style landmark, I said a silent prayer of thanks that I’d gotten even more than what I always dreamed of, in so many ways.

My family and Sidney walked into the chapel to find his parents and our bridal party already mingling near the pews, excitement palpably buzzing beneath the magnificent arches and towering stained-glass windows that decorated the exquisite interior. As we stepped through the doors, they turned our way, and I let out an echoing, very French-Canadian-sounding, “Allooo!” making them all laugh.

I first greeted Troy, Trina, and Taylor with hugs and warm hellos. Sidney’s parents were staying at his former townhome on Mt. Washington, which previously served as his bachelor pad and now housed Taylor in light of her recent move to Pittsburgh. We had spent much quality time with the elder Crosbys since their arrival from Nova Scotia a few days ago, helping us with final preparations and enjoying each other’s company ahead of my official entrance into their family.

Both Trina and Nathalie had accompanied me earlier in the week to my final dress fitting and pickup appointment at the bridal boutique where I had selected my gown. Though my mother did plan to attend the wedding ceremony as a guest, she was uninterested in playing the traditional mother of the bride role and joining me for such commitments, which hadn’t surprised me but still stung sharply, especially when I was fastened into the gown and presented by the salon attendant to a waiting Trina and Nathalie.

Bitter tears pricked my eyes as I allowed myself to feel robbed of sharing that moment with my own mom. My sadness was quickly overcome, however, when the women, sensing my sadness, warmly embraced me and fawned over me, admiring the perfect fit of the gown, both becoming emotional when Nathalie tucked my headpiece and veil tenderly into my hair.

The three of us stared at my reflection in the mirror for a few moments as we let tears of many complicated emotions fall, with joy prevailing above them all. I couldn’t keep the enormous smile from my cheeks when Trina squeezed my shoulder and whispered, “Oh, sweetheart, just wait until Sidney sees you.”

Now, we were less than 24 hours away from that moment, with our bridal party and family bustling around us in the chapel.

As our officiant, Father Antonio, announced that we would be lining up for the rehearsal momentarily, Lauren approached me with a grin, extending a bouquet she had made of the countless ribbons and bows from my bridal shower gifts acquired a couple of months ago. I giggled at how cheesy yet adorable the arrangement looked, thanking her as we huddled at the back of the aisle with my bridesmaids and Sidney’s groomsmen.

“This place is a little beat up,” Nate MacKinnon, our best man, ribbed Sidney from between the two of us. “I don’t know why you guys picked this dump,” he added, pulling me to his side. Sidney shoved lightly at his chest before the two of them laughed and embraced.

“Yeah, the old barn in Cole Harbour was booked this weekend, so we kinda had to settle for the next best thing,” Sidney played into Nate’s teasing, as his longtime best friend Mike, also a Cole Harbour native, approached us.

“Kind of a shithole,” Nate whispered, earning a warning glance from me as Austin tried to hold in hysterical laughter. “You can’t say shit in church!” Austin forced out from under his breath. “Oh, we’re going straight to hell,” Mike commented softly. Sidney gave me an apologetic look and I smiled up at him.

“It’s fine. These are our people!” I said to him, flicking Nate’s elbow as I passed him. “Besides, we’ve already been living in sin,” I added, winking at Sidney. He gave me a look of mock disbelief and insisted, “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a nice Catholic boy.” I giggled and pushed onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, which smelled of his fresh aftershave.

In addition to Nate, Mike, and Austin, we greeted Sidney’s other groomsmen as we prepared for the rehearsal — his current teammates Kris Letang and Evgeni Malkin and former Penguin Marc-Andre Fleury. They had all graciously accepted the invitation by Sidney to play this special role in our day, with Geno flying in from Russia and Kris and Marc-Andre from Quebec.

Marc-Andre had brought a few other important components to our day along with him — not the least of which was his wife and my best friend, Veronique. She and I had first met when Sidney and I were only casually seeing each other, and she had predicted this wedding long, long ago. She had been one of our biggest cheerleaders since the day we met, and despite her and Marc’s eventual move to Las Vegas, the four of us remained the closest of friends, visiting each other when the men’s respective teams played and whenever else possible.

With Lauren as my maid of honor and Stephanie, Alexa, and Taylor as three of my other bridesmaids, my friend Jacqueline, a Pittsburgh transplant with Canadian roots whom I met while studying at Duquesne, rounded out my crew of six ladies who would stand by my side on this long-awaited day.

To up the cuteness factor, Sidney and I had selected Marc-Andre and Veronique’s daughters, Estelle and Scarlet, as our flower girls, with Geno’s son Nikita and Kris’s son Alex as our ringbearers. Nikita was still a bit young to understand his role, but grinned broadly when Sidney told him when they arrived just how important he was to our day. On the other hand, Kris told us that Alex had cried after his parents had asked him to be in our wedding, because, as much as he adored and was attached to Sid, Alex had been under the impression that I was his girlfriend, not Uncle Sidney’s.

Eventually, after Sidney and I made the rounds to greet them all, the entire bridal party was grouped together to begin the walk-through. The venue’s wedding planner wrangled the children as the priest noted that Sidney needed to leave my side to approach the front of the church alone, in preparation for his emergence from one of the side doors at the front of the sanctuary tomorrow.

Playful “oooh”’s erupted from our groomsmen, who teased Sid about having to pry himself away from my hip. Sidney rolled his eyes, nodding and smirking, before turning his full attention to me. He tucked some hair behind both of my ears before caressing my cheeks with his thumbs.

“You gonna be okay, Jules?” Sidney asked, eyes wider than normal as he searched mine carefully.

I knew he wasn’t asking if I would be alright once he left my side to stand twenty yards away for the next five minutes, but rather if I would be able to contain my emotions as Mario walked me down the aisle, even during a practice run, in place of my father.

We had talked about this specific part of our day a number of times, with Sidney even pondering aloud whether he should walk me down the aisle himself because walking with anyone except my dad felt impossible to me. His sweet dad had even offered to do so, should I desire. After each conversation, Sidney and I both kept arriving at the same conclusion — that the best and most appropriate plan of action was for Mario to give me away and also to join me for the traditional father-daughter dance at the reception.

I nodded, holding onto Sidney’s wrists. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’ll be okay,” I promised. He nodded solemnly in return and kissed my forehead before pulling back with a wink.

“You can do this,” he encouraged. “I’ll see you up there.” I gave him my best smile as he turned and walked to the front of the chapel.

As our wedding party lined up in front of me to take their positions, Nate stopped me for one of his signature bear hugs, resting his chin on top of my head just for a moment before releasing me. The rest of our group squeezed my hands and rubbed my arms lovingly as I walked to the back door of the sanctuary where Mario waited, hands folded in front of his hips and a tentative smile on his features. He, too, gave me a sweet kiss on the forehead before holding my shoulders at arm’s length.

“Listen, princesse, it was one of the greatest honors of my life when you asked me to walk you down the aisle,” Mario said, soft enough that only I could hear. “But if you’ve changed your mind and would rather do this some other way, please, just say the word.” I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his waist just as the piano music began.

“No, you are exactly the person my dad would want doing this if he couldn’t,” I told him confidently. Mario let out a small exhale, and I could tell he was trying to remain composed. As we parted, he said, “Then let’s go make him proud.” He offered his arm to me and I wrapped my hands around it firmly, leaning my head into his shoulder briefly.

We watched pairs of our party head down the aisle toward Sidney and the priest at a relaxed pace: Jacqueline and Geno led off, followed by Veronique and Marc-Andre, Taylor and Kris, Alexa and Austin, Stephanie and Mike, and finally, Lauren and Nate. Alex walked down the aisle in a near-skip, holding a fake pillow very carefully just as his mother, our beautiful friend Catherine, had instructed him, with Nikita by his side mimicking his every move. Their fathers gave them thumbs up and everyone clapped lightly when they reached the end of the aisle.

Next, after a bit of prompting from both their parents at the front, Estelle and Scarlett followed the boys’ path, scattering fake rose petals in place of the real ones they would have tomorrow, earning their own quiet round of applause. As the children were seated at the ends of the front pews on either side, the music shifted, and our wedding planner turned and gave Mario and me the nod.

“Ready, Juliette?” he asked softly. My eyes traveled down the long red carpet in front of us to the steps where the love of my life stood centered in between our closest friends and family, waiting for me. He gave me a warm, adoring smile and at that moment, I felt my unease melt away, just as it always did when Sidney was near.

“I’m so ready,” I whispered.

[ask-xoxo-angels]

Can we know a little more about this au plz?? It looks so great!!

((I’m so glad so many people like this au!!

I’ll give you an info dump lil run down in the differences between angels and demons and their relationships (of the general population, not the characters)

ANGELS

They are the angel of something (i.e, Nate is the angel of diligence)

Probably have wings, whether or not they have several, or if they want to show them is up to the angel

They come in a variety of colors! Mostly light colors, however there are also the occasional gold wings

Halos vairy greatly and they might not even have one

Angels might be subject to other physical features such as the weird head wing this, 3+ eyes, multiple limbs, etc. (Biblical angel stuff)

This can also be contained in a nice, very human-looking form and is honestly less energy-draining to keep then the “true form”

The typical Angel “fashion” is robes. Think fantasy clothing that not only covers almost everything; but is pastel as well

lots of crosses too

Angels have a tendency to be a little... stuck up. Mostly towards humans or demons, however. (you could say they seem to have a “holier than thou” aura about them whenever they speak to an angel or human (yes pun intended)

Angels have little to no reason to visit the human world, and thus don’t have a very good grasp of it, or humans for that matter.

The only “acceptable” reason would be to stop a demon from doing something very bad, and even then it’ll be a higher ranking angel

However angels who do watch the human world may modify their clothing to be more “stylish” (cough Everett)

The angels do have rankings and factions (Lynn is the leader of one such faction) but it is less of a thing of power and more of status. “How good of an angel are you?” basically.

DEMONS

You will also be the demon of something (i.e, Jeremy is the demon of discouragement)

Like angels, demons also typically have wings, however they are very different. 

They can be large and feathery, but most likely won’t be. If they are they’re probably black. Mostly they are the classic reptilian wings.

as opposed to halos demons will typically have horns, and in all honesty, they vary just as much as halos

Demons are also subject to different physical traits such as completely white or completely black eyes, or black sclera, claws, teeth that look more like fangs, etc.

It can be contained in a nice human form, but for demons (unlike angels) it is easier to be in their true form. Either that or they want to look as intimidating as possible

Demons also have an animal “counterpart” (Shiloh’s is a snake, which should be no surprise.)

Demon “fashion” is in all honestly, more fashionable, due to the need for constant visits to the human world. It will probably be a nice suit, or something very,,, bdsm looking if we're being honest here. 

But Demons don’t have as much pressure to look “presentable” and thus can wear mostly whatever they want.

Demons do visit the human world, whether it’s to cause mischief, make contracts or just picking up food/clothing

Demons tend to look down on humans as weaker or more fragile and think of Angels as stuck up and self-righteous

Demons can also make contracts with humans while Angels cannot. The exchange for the demon’s service is your soul.

These contracts typically have an end goal in mind (make me famous, make that girl love me, etc) but you can make a life contract (you may need to sweeten the pot for the demon for this)

When bound by a contract with a human, they must follow the human’s command and come whenever called (summoned?) by the human

This being said, it is very hard to get a demon to agree to a contract unless it’s for something relatively quick. Being told what to do by a human isn’t exactly a thing to brag about.

Demons have more of a monarchy and this is a thing of power. How strong you are. How much chaos and dissent can you cause in either the Human World or the Celestial Kingdom

THE UNIVERSE IN GENERAL AND RELATIONS

There are 3 places where you can call home, the Celestial Kingdom, the Human World, and the Dark Realm

As stated earlier, while demons and angels have a tense relationship, if the higher up meet, they will try to remain civil. 

However, it is well known that the most common response to an angel seeing a demon is to turn up their nose and ignore them

Humans do not have a large knowledge of either of the Celestial Kingdom or the Dark Realm and thus probably will never (knowingly) interact with an angel or demon (unless the demon is summoned)