#why is he always beefing with tars...

[kaizsche]

INTERSTELLAR (2014)

[kaythefloppa]

Headcanons Masterpost

I’ve posted a few of my WK headcanons here but not many of them.

even though it's a show that I deeply think about on a regular(??) basis, but since I've got free time, why not? I'll go in no particular order since my organization skills (or lack thereof) outclass Martin's.

Keep in mind that at the time that I’m posting this, the final four episodes of Season 7 are yet to air on PBS Kids. Any headcanons related to Season 7 will obviously be rendered outdated if contradicted by future episodes. Warning; Very Long [also copied and pasted from a post I just made on the fandom subreddit + my FANDOM blog]

Chris and Martin:

They have the same age gap as they do in real life. Unlike real life however, they’re in their 20’s. They graduated high school and college at the same time Aviva did.

They keep in touch with Christine and Susan (their IRL sisters who I HC exist in this universe).

Both of them are both autistic and have ADHD.

Martin can and has beaten Chris in an arm wrestle, but has also lost to him in a chess match.

Both Martin and Chris despise golf (which is valid because that game fucking SUCKS!)

The first animal he ever named was the frog that he and Chris saved from Zach when they were kids. The frog’s name was “Ribbert” , a mix between “ribbet” and “Robert.”

Chris was bullied a lot by Zach when they were kids. Martin stepped in to defend him.

In general, Martin has more beef with Zach than Chris does. It’s why Zach is always quick to capture Chris to spite Martin, and why Martin in general has less hesitance with putting Zach through the most uncomfortable situations (i.e. that one time where he straight up launches Zach into the sky in the Bumblebee episode). Martin may or may not have straight up beaten the tar out of Zach at some point.

Gavin, Ronan, Aidan, and Nolan AREN’T related to them, but they are close family friends.

Neither 2D Martin or 2D Chris are married or in relationships. They’re married to their work if anything.

This is the most popular headcanon in the entire fandom, but the Creature Power Suits have a side-effect on the brothers that results in them being able to gain long-term certain abilities or traits of animals even whilst deactivated. This is why they are able to see clearly underwater, hold their breath longer, why their facial structures can seem a bit off, and most importantly, why they are able to have certain interactions with some animals (like when Chris STANDS ON TOP OF A MOTHERFUCKING POLAR BEAR AND LIVES!).

The events of their previous shows are canon in the WK universe. The crossovers (Odd Squad, Nature Cat, Molly of Denali) are also canon (for more-info, see this post:)

Zach Varmitech:

Was a nepo baby. A simple explanation as to why and how he turned out to be as awful as he was is because he had parents who didn't pay enough attention to him, and thus, never held him accountable for much of anything. It was often the responsibility of Zach's teachers, or even his peers to tell him "no."

On top of that, the Varmitechs making robotics out of animals was a family business.. They never got in trouble with the law because they had that much money, but it only furthered a young Zach to believe he could get away with anything he wanted. He was of course, very oblivious to the negative reception in the court of public opinion that his family had.

He was an only child.

Him attempting to use frogs as his invention was the first time he ever thought of the Zachbots.

Was classmates with Chris, Martin, and Aviva, who all went to the same school. His rivalries would shift every season. During the school year from August to April, his biggest 'haters' were the Kratts. During the summer, from May to July, his nemesis was Aviva during science camp.

He was largely sent to science camp to broaden his education. One of the few times that his parents were attentive of him.

His rivalry with Aviva intially started out on a frenemies thing wehre they tried to outdo each other. Then it turned to actual friendship, but then it became one-sided. I've seen the headcanon of them being an ex-item but in my eyes, things went south way before they could even cross that river, largely due to Zach's unoriginality, his ineptitude, and his cruelty towards others, especially animals.

He first created the Zachbots at science camp. His first decision was to use them to bully Aviva.

He was a high school drop-out. He claims that it was because he was "too smart" for school, but the real reason for that is because he was denied his diploma (the reason for which he'll take to his grave).

He's canonically 23 years old in the series. He simply looks older than he does both because of early puberty and because of his really poor self-care routines if any (I mean the guy has NOT felt the warm Vitamin D of the sun). The ‘wrinkle’ he had from the 100th episode was not from age, but simply because his skin was drier than the Sahara.

His first act of villainy against the fully assembled Wild Kratts team was when he tried to steal the Creature Power Suits in order to use Creature Powers to capture animals. However, thanks to Aviva's technology, (as well as the fact that they were in their prototypical stage), his plan failed. This explains why he never once tries this in the show, even though he has canonically stolen the suits and discs.

Met Donita, Dabio, and Gourmand at the Finding Your Inner Villain Seminar not long after dropping out of high school.

He and Paisley Paver are second cousins. The Varmitechs and the Pavers used to be in the same organization/family until they split up due to personality conflict. Zach eventually did a DNA ancestry test that not only showed the truth of his ancestry, but revealed that the new villain on the news that the Wild Kratts had faced was his cousin. This was why he was the first to induct Paisley into the ViVs (Very Important Villains). Their scheme in "Our Blue and Green World" was meant to be a project that was going to merge their family businesses back together and establish them as permanent partners in crime. Of course, we all know how that ends...

Zach refused to tell the other ViVs about Paisley's betrayal, feeling embarassed for having allowed Paisley to betray him so quickly. Paisley pretty much becomes a forbidden entity in Zach's life, as he is too emotionally immature to properly deal with how betrayed he feels, or to see things from Paisley's side of view. The truth of Paisley’s betrayal does come out, but it’s completely out of his control, and it forces him to act fast in order to both save his teamwork with the other villains, and get revenge on the Kratts for turning Paisley against him.

He's abso-fucking-lutely gay but EXTREEEEEMELLY closeted and repressed with bad misplacement issues (i.e. his painful attempts to flirt with Donita in Episode 6).

Zach is often sent to jail off-screen, but he's always bailed out, if not by the other villains, it's by a relative (Paisley was one of said relatives, however they both effectively disowned each other).

He intentionally programmed the Zachbots to be intellectually limited so that they don't turn against him. Them taking his orders literally is a very huge side-effect of that decision, one that he considers the lesser of two evils.

This headcanon is very dated (since it circled around back in 2021-2022) but yes, Zach does use NFTs. He is relentlessly bullied by everyone for it. And a more modern headcanon, but Zach 100% uses AI and ChatGPT. You can’t tell me otherwise.

Donita Donata

Is in her early 30's (let's say 31).

Was one of the top female athletes in middle school, high school, and college. Was offered to take on hockey as a profession but turned it down after gaining a bad case of burn-out.

Was also a prodigy in fashion and made that her top priority. Initially she started working on dresses and clothes in a usual way, and became a well-known designer, however, she soon found herself with a lot of competition. Her campaign to use endangered animals in her line of fashion was done out of desperation and was meant to be a one-time thing, but after seeing how many people enjoyed and loved her work, and how much money she could make off of it, she made it a regular profession. She lost a LOT of longtime friends because of this.

Unlike the Varmitechs and Pavers, the Donatas were not proud of their family history. After Shonita Donata had driven the Thylacines to extinction and came dangerously close to wiping out the Tasmanian Devils, their family became infamous, which encouraged her descendants to discontinue her line of work. Donita had brought back that family tradition, and when informed by one of her relatives the very dark history of their family, it had only re-inforced her desire to turn animals into art.

She used ancestry DNA to track down Shabio's descendants to have as her assistant and bodyguard. She eventually found Dabio, who was a member of the mafia (keep in mind, this guy beat up Zach on Donita's command for not returning a loan). She traded a lot of hush money in exchange for them turning him over to her.

She knows a lot of shady people and knows exactly what to say and do to make them do her bidding in order to keep them quiet. This was how she got someone to pay to create the pose-beam, install the vacuum on her jet, and eventually her attack manequins. She also had Zach tweak up her tech for safety (this was after the events of Weird Looking Walrus).

Only rarely does she ever kill her targets. She attempted to skin a leopard once for its fur. However, not only did that get her on the Kratts' radar, it also attracted the attention of a very angry mob. After barely making it out in one piece, Donita decided to simply paralyze the animals and stylize them in a manner that would be fitting for clothing.

Is a lesbian. She's under the assumption Zach is crushing on her (again, it's verrry compulsory on his end) and she turns him down. They get along much better when Zach starts backing off.

Has actually gotten away with selling animals as jewlery (R.I.P. that one frog from Episode 5). Has also gotten bailed out of jail by Zach, Gourmand, and Paisley.

She unofficially gets into a relationship with Paisley Paver. They definitely HAVE plotted together (which we SO should've gotten an episode on!) in the past. Following the events of Season 7, Donita gets less and less notifcations from Paisley, confusing her a lot, and she eventually has no choice but to consider herself dumped. When she ultimately does find out what happened, let's just say that she is the most thirsty for revenge.

Gaston Gourmand

His surname is actually Gourmand. His family being chefs was a coincidence.

Is in his early 40’s (let’s go with 41).

Being a chef ran in the family. However, using endangered species wasn’t. Gaston was informed from a young age of how his ancestor, Gideon Gourmand was responsible for the downfall of the dodo bird, and how since then, the family has dedicated their lives to ethical cooking.

Gourmand went to culinary school. Much like Donita, jealousy played a role in his downfall, as he went to very unethical means to try and outdo those who he wrongly believed had ‘stolen the spotlight’ from them. He started to disregard what he knew about his family history, and secretly use unauthorized animals in his recipies. He got away with this for over a year, until the Kratt Brothers saw him capture endangered condors. Fortunately, they managed to report him to the authorities, where he was exposed for cooking endangered animals, and he was eventually thrown out of school. He swore vengeance on the Kratts since there.

He was cut disowned by his entire family after the fact. By that point, he couldn’t care less. Except for the fact that he was pretty much left with nothing.

When he attended the Finding Your Inner Villain Seminar, that was his rise to fame, as his endangered mushroom salad sold him enough money to purchase a jet, a jet pack, and a dough ball blaster. Zach Varmitech sponsored him, largely to mooch off of his work, but in the end, it helped him get a lot of materials that made it possible for him to hunt endangered species.

Apart from Zach, he’s the glue that holds the villain group together. He mediates an argument as well as he knows how to start one. And he uses food to get on their good sides. Off-screen, he’s partnered with and sponsored Donita and Paisley’s endeavors.

Gourmand’s “side-dish” comment towards Chris was just a very dark joke. Whilst I definitely see where the cannibalism headcanons come from and whilst I don’t disagree with them, I think it’s more in character for him to be enough of a jerk to even joke about it.

Nostril was the Gourmand family pet. In between Seasons 6 and 7, something happened that resulted in them losing custody of Nostril and him falling into Gourmand’s custody.

The reason that Gourmand has been mostly absent throughout Season 7 after the season premiere is because he’s currently trying to find out what happened to Paisley after she mysteriously went dark. Although Zach denies any knowledge, and whilst Donita is up a creek without a paddle, Gourmand suspects something deeper happening, and has gone on a quest in search of her, dropping a lot of his recipe-related schemes in order to find out what happened. She manages to evade him, but out of all the 3 villains, he is the closest to finding out that she went rouge, and is the most likely the one to expose Paisley to the other villains.

Aviva Corcovado

Went to elementary, middle school, and high school with the Kratts and Zach. Befriended Koki and Jimmy Z. in college and introduced them to the Kratts after the fact.

Used to be friends with Zach. Went south. BADLY.

Is Jewish on her father’s side, and Latin American on her mother’s side. Was born in Costa Rica and moved to the U.S. when she was 5.

She’s bi and polyamorous. She and Koki are mutually attracted to each other but they don’t exactly put a label on it. The same applies to Aviva and Paisley post-redemption.

She’s a diagnosed autistic. Her special interest was animals, but especially turtles. Suddenly the design of the HQ makes a lot more sense.

She is 22 years old. Fresh out of college.

Invented a Creature Power Suit for Jimmy sometime in between the events of Seasons 4 and 5 (this was also when she invented Koki’s CPS, which was fully functional in the Season 5 premiere). She kept Jimmy’s CPS in private because she knew he didn’t want one and because he was perfectly effective in the fields without it, and kept it as a failsafe if all else went wrong.

Aviva installed a security system on the Creature Power Discs and the Suits, to where Zach cannot use them, (which only furthers why Zach doesn’t try to activate Creature Powers). When Zach discovers the flaw in Aviva’s design (ghost-programmings that are susceptible to be re-activated), Aviva actually manages to find a solution to that bug in no time. She just holds back from fixing it, mainly to give Zach the illusion of advantage. That way, when she actually installs the Ring Chip 2.0 into the suits, Zach will be humiliated (she does a li’l bit of trolling like that).

Koki

Her full name is Koki Rock (this was based on the headcanon that she shared the same last name as her original voice actor Heather Bambrick before she was recast).

She’s Zambian on her mother’s side (just like me fr) and Puerto Rican on her father’s side. She’s named after the coqui frog, and was born in the U.S.

She went to the same college as Aviva. She was a technology major and the two just clicked together.

Had a summer romance with Jimmy Z, but they eventually broke off and decided to remain friends.

Grew up in a family of 5 siblings. She was the youngest and was often overlooked which caused her to overcompensate to get what she wanted, a habit that she soon unlearns with some months of therapy.

Undiagnosed autistic.

Had a bad experience with bats when one accidentally crashed into her house and touched her. She went over to the hospital for a check-up and the doctors found out that the bat was rabid and was able to cure both her and the bat before any symptoms started showing up. That’s largely what inspired her hatred and fear of bats.

Jimmy Z.

HC adopted from Atarah Derek on Tumblr and the fandom wiki. He’s of Polish descent, with the Z. standing for Zuraw.

He was raised by his grandmother, who he often calls “mom” just by instinct.

Was a man of many hobbies. Cooking, gaming, and piloting. He genuinely could not choose between the three.

Is trans (FtM). Only his closest friends are aware of that (this eventually includes the WK crew).

Undiagnosed autistic, but strongly suspects that he is.

Aviva held applications to pilot the Tortuga. Jimmy Z. instantly won her over because he was skilled.

Jimmy often teaches Aviva and Koki how to man the teleporter in certain situations where he’s absent. However, there are some things he neglects to teach, simply because he’s become so accustomed to it that he can’t find the right way to put the entire process into words. This is why both Aviva and Koki’s teleportations fluctuate between precise and far off.

Jimmy does have a Creature Power Suit but he has no idea. Aviva invented it in private as a failsafe. Jimmy’s proven himself to be an effective member of the team without a CPS and he’s content with it.

I’ve seen one HC from a mutual friend of mine on Tumblr that said that Jimmy Z. was the one who actually created the flash games (Go Cheetah Go, Habitat Rescue, Flower Flier, ect.) in-universe for the Wild Kratts Kids to play; not only is it way easier to make the flash games co-exist with the series proper, but it’s far too in-character for Jimmy to NOT be SS+ HC material so -

Paisley Paver

She’s 26 years old. She may or may not be attracted to Aviva post-redemption (let me have this one).

Much like Zach, she was a nepo baby who came from a long line of notorious capitalists who were always one dollar out of the big house.

Paisley had many siblings, none of whom she was close with.

Paisley’s inheritance of Pave Nature Incorporated was pretty much the plot of Succession, where she had to impress her snobby parents that she was worthy of running the family business. She surprisingly won fair and square, but her siblings accused her of cheating and essentially disowned her.

She went to the Finding Your Inner Villain Seminar. Whilst she didn’t interact with Zach, Donita, or Gourmand personally, she simply overheard them speak about the Wild Kratts, hence her offhand comment in her debut episode.

She and Zach Varmitech are second cousins. Zach reaches out to her with this information and this is partly what convinces her to join the ViVs.

This is a headcanon largely stolen from Athena P’s analysis video from 6 months back; Paisley soon sees how inept Zach’s schemes are and how much of a waste of money they are. So she decides to cheat the system by constantly charging/billing him every time he fails (the Halloween special was not the first/only instance of this). In the scenario where they got what they wanted, cool. In the scenario where they failed, Paisley could walk away with a shred of her dignity and some cash.

The in-universe reason why we don’t see her that often in the series [pre-Season 7] is because she actually does a very good job at staying under the Kratts’ radar and paving several habitats. Post-Season 7, she finds the time to undo that damage.

Has plotted with Gourmand and Donita individually off-screen. Got into a HO-YAY with Donita, but ultimately ghosted her after her Heel-Face-Turn. She saw the most potential in Donita, and thus knew that she’d be the biggest threat to her if her betrayal was ever revealed.

Zach and Paisley’s plans to destroy the Madagascar beach was meant to be a project that would’ve reunited the Varmitech and Paver families as well as their businesses. Obviously that did not go well.

Zach forced Paisey to fire Rex, believing him to be a liability (because he gets along with others just as well as water gets along with gasoline). Paisley had no choice but to let Rex go. She regrets it.

There are two in-universe reasons that we don’t see Paisley post-redemption. 1) she was busy legally changing her surname to Paver (yes, I know the end-credits had it as a nickname but I reject them lol) - 2) she was on the run. Not from the authorities, but from Gourmand. He was the only villain in Zach’s circle who realized something was amiss when Paisley went dark and started to track her down. Paisley fortunately managed to evade him at every turn and keep him from finding her out. However, she soon realizes that if she keeps Gourmand guessing, he won’t be able to capture animals or help the other villains. So she pretty much becomes a decoy. She doesn’t go after Rex out of fear that he’ll be dragged into the mess she put herself into, and out of fear that he won’t forgive her for firing him.

Her absence unfortunately leaves a power vacuum for Pave Nature Incorporated. Her siblings realize this and decide to take it over, hiring Rex.

Rex

He was a construction worker looking for a job. Found Paisley. Got that job.

He got along well with Dabio. I don’t exactly know if I ship them or not but it’s a crime that we never saw them interact.

When Paisley was inducted into the ViVs he tried to get along with them but they overall snubbed him. Zach in particular loathed Rex’s chipper attitude.

Was fired by Paisley as part of Paisley and Zach’s project to merge the Varmitech and Paver businesses back together. Rex became resentful towards Paisley, and eventually sulked out about until there was a change in position in Pave Nature Incorporated that allowed him to get his job back. Whether or not he remains a villain or eventually rejoins Paisley, I’m gonna wait until there’s a canon answer for that.

Dabio

He grew up in a mafia family. Dabio is his alias name, his real name no one actually knows. His bloodline runs back to post-Shabio (Shabio had gotten a lot of pushback for helping kill off the Thylacine population, so he went to America, joined the mafia, took control and was effectively un-touchable for centuries).

Dabio only acts dumb as a way to fool his enemies. He’s not particularly that intelligent, but he knows way more than he lets on.

Was assigned to Donita as her henchman/bodyguard, in exchange for his family getting enough money to escape the authorities.

[melrosing]

What is Dany fans' beef with Jaime?

idkkkk like as ever, not all Dany stans, i follow a fair few who just don’t give a shit about Jaime and all power to them. I don’t think tarring everyone w the same brush is helpful. and also it’s worth adding that Dany gets a LOT of hate from many corners of fandom, I would say more than perhaps any other POV. this is a big part of why she has such a defensive fandom. the bad takes about Dany are genuinely so, so bad, and they are thrown around every day.

but yeah there are a handful of stans who will whip out their bad faith Jaime takes at a moment’s notice, and I get the impression that this is bc they believe themselves to be on the defensive against Jaime stans as a group. yet the only evidence I’ve ever seen for that is a handful of vastly inflated twitter arguments they’ve had with 2-3 show Jaime pfps that I, a Jaime stan of some years now, had never fuckin heard of.

so yeah there are a lot of posts by these stans saying Jaime stans want Dany dead bc we’re scared she’ll ruin his redemption arc and kill him and she makes him look bad and w/e which is just…. I mean as I say I’ve been active in Jaime fandom for a while now and I have basically never seen these talking points made by any big jaime stan. I can’t speak for show stans or random accounts w 20 followers, but as far as the Jaime stans who actively and regularly contribute to the fandom go - idk I just haven’t seen it.

and I’m gonna be real Ive never imagined that Dany would have ANY real impact on Jaime’s redemption arc, which has a whole lot more to do w Brienne, Cersei, the Starks, the Lannisters more broadly, etc etc. I am not worried about Dany killing Jaime either, bc however he dies, I don’t see how it would narratively make sense - for either of them - if Dany had anything much to do with it. they are tied up w different characters, themes, story strains, and so on. and also, I think Jaime would probably LIKE dany. maybe they’ll meet under tense circumstances, so perhaps they don’t hit it off as they might have, but Jaime likes ppl like Dany: she’s honest and honourable, without any pretences. Dany meanwhile, has valid reasons to be suspicious of Jaime. So I’d really like the two of them to have an opportunity to talk about the rebellion, her parents, and maybe why he did what he did to Aerys. I think they’re two people who could understand each other given the right opportunity.

and I also really like Dany, I have always liked her. but even talking on my own blog about the fact that I DON’T like bad faith Jaime takes has ended up w random Dany stans writing hundreds of words about how that’s just bc I secretly hate Dany stans and Dany herself and I’M supposedly a violent misogynist who only likes Jaime bc I can get off to jb etc etc (if this seems like a complete non sequitur that’s bc it is) so honestly, it’s hard for me to say what their beef is. as I have already said, Dany undeniably gets vast amounts of hate, and I have seen it come from all corners. but to claim that Jaime fandom are major proponents of this is just a lie, and who knows why they tell it.

[sanguine-stained]

@miraruinada

continued from here.

It was always rewarding making your own food, doubly so when there was others to enjoy it with. Dicing together fresh beef and pancetta for the meatballs, her mind turned to the man. What got her attention when it came to him...? The good conversation? Him being so down to earth? The community he had made? Thoughts left to stir until the cleaver met no resistance twice.

Now was the affair of adding what remained: onion, powderized breadcrumbs, garlic, salt, pepper, and bit of milk. She turned to thinking once more, before being rudely torn back to reality as she began placing the freshly formed meatballs into a skillet. More spices, crushed tomatoes, a little bit of water, the tinest trace of sugar and... Done. Pour a generous helping over the pasta she had made prior.

"There! You're welcome!" His praise for the meal earned him a grin, something she struggled to hold as he assumed he was on the menu shortly after. She just rolled her eyes and sat across from him with a plate of her own.

"You're correct, dear. Smoker blood does taste like tar and ash. It's why I made enough for the both of us."

[elvesofnoldor]

gandalf: i must see the head of my order about it [the one ring]. he is very powerful and wise. 

me, knowing damn well he’s talking about manwe: 

[tunastime]

the various skills of ethoslab and how he learned them and when. the list of a man who's lived a bit longer than he should have. (inspired by this post)

field meals: it's just soup. he never makes them for anyone else, not until they lose the grainy texture they start with. he learns from a man in a village that questions why he covers his face. etho laughs, but he never tells him why. the man doesn't ask again. he tells him that if he lets the vegetables soften for longer that they won't make a gritty soup when mashed. he learns spiced pumpkin, beetroot, chicken and potato.

(he stays for two weeks. he rids the nearby temple of infestation in repayment. when the temple master tries to repay him with gold, he tells him that he only wants a written recipe of how to bake bread. the baker’s son gives him one with honey in it.)

soap making: is something he learns pretty early on in his career in machinery. it's no good just to rinse your hands in water and it's still no good just to be buying soap up-charged, and lye isn't any good alone. lye doesn't smell, or worse yet, smells heavy and thick and doesn't come off your skin or out of your clothes properly. he picks up a book somewhere about it. one part lye. one part oil. one part anything else. beeswax and honey. pine tar and coconut oil. he learns what mixtures get redstone out of his clothes and what he can use to wash his hair with so it doesn't frizz. he washes his clothes in a basin of warm water and honey and rosemary soap, as he does his blankets and his sheets until his whole home smells like rosemary and honey and lye and beeswax. he washes his hair and it smells like pine.

plant identification: it takes one bad meal. one bad berry before etho starts learning. pause gets sick in the snow, really sick. he doesn't cough up blood but the sheen of sweat never leaves his face for the entire week that he lies shivering under two coats and a blanket. every time etho and beef try to say something comforting, he says, “stop fussing over me, i'm fine, just food poisoning. beef cooked the chicken wrong.” (it wasn't the chicken. it was the elderberries. etho spends time figuring out what the ripe ones look and taste like. he learns mistletoe, nettles and hogweed, rosary peas and lily of the valley. he doesn't see any of them except the lily again. but he keeps the information for later.) pause gets better after a week of his eyes far away, glazed over, sweating, of him unable to keep down fluids, of shaking awake in the night, holding etho's hand. they get sick, but nobody gets sick like that again.

sewing: pause steadies his hands. he tells him that if he messes up he'll poke himself and beef tells him to stop fussing. etho can thread a needle, can't he? (he can't.) he stabs his index finger three times poking it through the fabric to make a crude patch with their initials on it. then he sews shut a tear on beef's jacket, then he affixes a handful of new buttons to an old shirt of bdubs'. bdubs has him sewing squares within the week, and they stitch together a quilt of scrap fabric big enough for them both. there isn't a cold night that the quilt doesn't stave away. it's in a different spot each time etho sees him: draped over a chair, lovingly folded on the bedside, pulled over his shoulders. they wear it threadbare.

braiding: his hair gets too long. he ties it back himself the first time, some loose thing that falls out as soon as he does it. he says to himself (a reminder): “you break it into three. you're always crossing over the middle most strand. right over middle, then right becomes middle, so left over the middle. and repeat. pulling tight.” he gets better at it, until he can tie a strong three strand braid that he learned from tying twine together to make a stronger rope. bdubs sees him pull it back a few times and braid it like that, and one of those times, late, when they're both tired and leaning on each other, he turns and takes his loose hair and asks if he can braid it. etho shrugs and says “sure.” (and his voice says only you can do that). bdubs says “sit still.” etho sits in front of his crossed legs and bdubs combs out his hair. he tells him as he works: “it's different than the three, but not that different. you pull an extra strand in each time. it looks like fish scales, so people call it a fishtail.” bdubs braids and pulls it tight. he leans forward into etho and etho leans back into him.

(etho spends two days knotting fraying ropes in fishtail braids so his hands learn (and he fidgets, and he fidgets, and it becomes his new fidget, to tie rope together) before he attempts it on his shoulder-blade length hair. bdubs guides his hands, starting him off until he can braid the top too. he only cuts it once—right before the second death games, and even then, bdubs manages to braid a little braid into his hair.)

tea specialist: it's methodical. that's what he learns, when he travels out further than he had in a long time and wanders into the city. he, like many adventurers, takes refuge, and he, unlike many adventurers, stumbles into the tea shop and takes it all in. steady hands (beef taught him that) keep him from crushing the leaves too fine to strain. he learns what hot water feels like in a tin kettle and how to prop it properly on the coals so it heats even and doesn't char the underside of the tin. he buys two wooden cups there, sealed with wax, and brings them with the kettle. it stays on the countertop.

(he uses it every night. later, in a snow fort in the middle of nowhere, he sets one of the wooden cups into the calloused hands of his partner and friend, and bdoubleo looks at him with eyes wide and round and red. he doesn't kill him when he sleeps.)

staving off the effects of sleep deprivation: there's a body sleeping next to him that needs him awake. there's a place someone can sit between wake and dream that makes sure that the body doesn't tire and it's here where he stays. his heart slows way down, but his eyes stay alert through a bleary haze. there are things he hears that aren't real. when his partner (partner, the word feels weird on his tongue now that bdubs is a red life. if they were anywhere else, he would be safe to sleep) wakes two hours from now, then he will rest. he will lie there and listen, waiting to hear him stop breathing. he never gets to that point, but he certainly sleeps very little. beef and pause never told him off for doing it, but when there were sections of the day that he didn't remember and he sat up and there was a coat draped over his knees with a tag that had VB written in chunky letters, he smiled to himself. he's tired now, but he's good at pretending he's not.

separating the things that are dreams from the ones that are not: he's still waiting for someone to tell him how to do that

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/29/22

reminder that this project is taking 12/13 off and will return 12/20. or, two weeks from today, we will have a one-week break.

listening

this booster shot knocked me flat for a day longer than anticipated, so i watched the first two seasons of adventure time in something of a haze. very funny to watch these first two seasons of largely unconnected episodes find their footing and tone, and think about the huge eight-episode arcs in the back half of this show's run.

the credits song, Island Song (Come Along With Me), is one of like. three songs that instantly make me feel safe. a well-loved picnic blanket of a song.

-

reading

not a fallow week but i haven't gotten far enough into the 1920s cowboy novel i picked up to have coherent thoughts about it. except for: why do cowboy movies and books always want you to know that a man isn't like Hot hot. but he's still the hottest guy around. get a load of this handsome piece of 100% american beef. who is a little rugged from his time on the range but he has nice eyes and knows what soap is we PROMISE. have we talked about his stubborn yet classic jaw yet

as a consolation prize for no new cowboy thoughts, chief henchwoman/blogging assistant mackintosh is interviewing her own assistant today. third round! we'll see if he makes the cut next week when she plans on extending job offers

-

watching

nonspoilery A/ndor thoughts. i can't really do the "what worked for me, what didn't, why, and what do i think this work is trying to do" bc the finale dropped too recently for anyone to want to read a wall of rot13, and i am unable to be objective about S/tar Wars.

i really really really liked this show. head and fucking shoulders above any other recent S/tar W/ars (henceforth SW) show in writing and production. GOD i love watching some leftist infighting when it doesn't affect me personally. the gunfights are never just gunfights, there's always something environmental going on that everyone has to work around. DAMN this shit fucking hit for me!!!

rot13 below for an arc much earlier in the season

yvxr bs PBHEFR gurl uvg gur vzcrevny dhnegreyl cnlebyy!!! guvf vf fb zhpu zber onat sbe gurve ohpx guna fgrnyvat jrncbaf be grpu, op nf jr unir frra jvgu gjvggre, jura lbh'er abg noyr gb cnl crbcyr ba gvzr be nf hfhny lbh ybfr n GERZRAQBHF nzbhag bs tbbqjvyy. rira n qnl yngr jvyy frevbhfyl shpx jvgu crbcyr'f yvirf, naq neenatvat nygreangr cnlzrag va culfvpny pheerapl vf tbvat gb gnxr SBERIRE. ubyl shpx guvf jnf fhpu n tbbq pubvpr gunax lbh sbe guvf SBBQ gbal tvyebl

this is an analogy that will work for three people, but the difference between mainline SW and A/ndor is like the difference between modern east coast and west coast Fallouts. the writing team behind A/ndor is the kind of team that would look at the brief for New Vegas, go “okay, so this city is obviously a special economic zone with a NCR embassy within the city” and fucking run with that, the Jackals and the Vipers are distinct groups that fight everyone and each other with distinct beliefs and methods meanwhile there’s uhhhh some??? trade??? i guess??? in the greater Boston area and the biggest coherent roaming XP group in Fallout 4 is called the Gunners. what their deal is, who pays them, where they came from?? who fucking knows!!! certainly not me or the writers!!!

in the process of researching this post, i had in my head for SO long that the Gunners originated from Vault 75, the one under Malden Middle School, but that is simply incorrect. that's so fucking easy that's right fucking there it's already a Gunner base why isn't that canon

back to SW. i wanna know what JE S/awyer thinks of this show so bad, esp bc there are so many nods to the West End EU TTRPGs, but i don’t think he’s a huge SW guy.

-

playing

the multiplayer aspect of this newest pokemon game is more of a photo op with friends simulator than anything else. you can't in any meaningful way (or at least we didn't figure out how to) battle together or even make sure we were synced up to do star team or gym fights at the same time (except for the terra raids which take thirty seconds max). however i do have this very cute, if slightly choppy photo of me and my best friend

GOD this gym leader is FUCKING HOT

-

making

swatching a baby blanket in palest mint for my in-production goddaughter

[leka-1998]

What’s the beef between RM and C? I know C was the favourite in the first two seasons and then something happened that completely changed that and now it’s completely different. Do people know exactly what happened or just the fact that something did happen? I’m also curious as to why D is so close to RM, like idk I feel like if someone was horrible towards my bf I wouldn’t continue to be friends/work with them, you know?

F/OX tried to make C go back into the closet early on. RM has always been jealous of C who’s extremely talented, could’ve written a much better show than what g/lee was, is very handsome and found true love with D, RM’s golden boy, at a young age. There was also C’s script set in an asylum and there is A/HS: Asylum.

As for D working with RM, he needs someone powerful in his corner and both D&C seem to have decided RM’s the lesser evil. That says a lot about Hwood. D’s not going around doing whatever he wants without talking big decisions through with C, and C’s much more involved than a lot of people like to believe. Add, little general reminder that C wasn’t only part of the S/tars in the house reunion, but also the A/pple TV documentary.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Nothing Like Family to Always Be There For You

Characters: Misha Collins x Niece!Reader, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki

Word Count: 1,875

Warnings: mentions of false pregnancy, food posioning, mainly fluff

request by @whizzer1320​: Hey could I request a one shot if possible? Where your a Misha Collins niece and you visit him while he is at convention. Meet some of the cast, but while you are there you he thinks you are pregnant because he or some other cast member finds you throwing up, plus you are slightly bloated etc etc. Starts to act differently around reader, reader notices and asks Misha, he says he knows reader got a bun in the oven, reader laughs and says got mild case of food poisoning. Fluffly ending tar love.

Summary: You visit your uncle Misha on set as a surprise, but it’s not the only surprise he thinks he’s gonna get.

Beta: she wants to remain anonymous

Squares Filled: autumn for @spngenrebingo​ // pregnancy for @spnfluffbingo​

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

Ever since you were little, your dad told you stories of his strange and unique brother who just loved to act. He landed the role of a lifetime when he got cast as Castiel in Supernatural. They both hold very high standards of each other, so when Uncle Misha called his brother screaming that he got the part, everyone celebrated. You never got the pleasure of meeting the cast members of the show, but you vowed that when you got old enough, you’d go visit him.

Luckily for you, when you turned eighteen, your uncle’s show was still going on. It took a lot of convincing on your mom’s part to let you go by yourself as your dad was already on board. You lived halfway across the country from Vancouver, but you had no trouble getting on a plane and flying there. No, the hard part was finding a ride to the set. Your visit is supposed to be a surprise for everyone, but you knew you’d never make it on your own.

Much to your displeasure, you had to call Jensen to come and help you. He promised to keep it a secret, but he wouldn’t be able to come until the following morning. So, he hooked you up with a hotel room and told you to “go crazy”. Your mother always told you not to take things for granted, so as much as you wanted the delicious room service, you took your own money and went out like every other person.

That was the worst mistake of your entire life.

The place you got food was a sushi food truck on the street. If the look of it didn’t set off alarm bells, then the presentation of the food should have. However, you didn’t have a lot of money and hoped and prayed that this was safe to eat.

It. Was. Not.

Despite the churning in your stomach, you still wanted to make your uncle’s surprise something he’d never forget. You didn’t want to spend it with your head in the toilet. Your only other option is to push down the sickening feeling and move on with your life. Jensen made it easier by distracting you with questions of your home and school life, what you’re going to do for college or where you’re going to work if you’re not into college, and everything else in between. You answered honestly and hoped he didn’t detect that anything is wrong.

When you get to the set, you’re distracted at how amazing everything looks. You’ve never been on a TV set before, so this is uncharted territory. Jensen took you to the main building where your uncle and Jared are filming right now. The director knows Jensen is out to get you, which is why he opted to film for the other two big actors. As soon as you enter the building, you can hear your uncle yell out, followed by a crash. Your amazing uncle is kicking some guy’s ass with a mixture of stage fighting.

As soon as the director calls “cut” you clap loudly for his performance.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? Your parents know you’re here, right?” Misha says and hurries over to you while the crew gets ready for the next set.

“No, I ran away in hopes you’d take me in,” you say with a deadpan voice.

“I tell you, you did not learn that sarcasm from me or your dad. Come here,” he grins and brings you into a tight hug.

Your stomach does not agree with his actions, and you pull away before you have the urge to throw up.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Your hugs are like death grips,” you chuckle.

“I’m just so excited to see my favorite niece!”

“I’m your only niece,” you say.

“Misha! We’re ready for you!” the director calls out.

“I want you to watch this. I want you to know what you think,” he says and leaves back to the new set.

It’s time for Jensen to star in this scene, so he left way before your uncle got to you. All three men are standing on their markers, getting ready for the big scene. You’re standing next to the snack counter, and you don’t register that fact until you smell beef. You look over to the table just as someone put down fresh pigs in blankets. Your face goes green, and you haul ass to the nearest trash can before you make a mess all over the floor.

Misha is doing his scene without any distractions until he hears you throw up. He pauses mid-sentence just as you come up for air. If you’re sick, then why did you come all this way just to see him? He doesn’t know when you got in, but he knew his brother wouldn’t allow you to leave if you are throwing up.

“Sorry! Let’s go again!” he apologizes and gets back into character.

He’ll have to ask you about this when he’s done.

When Misha got done with his scenes for the day, he makes finding you his first priority. Jensen gets out of the Impala before jogging over to Misha.

“Hey, I was thinking that we can go over our lines for tomorrow. I figured we get a head start so we can wrap up early.”

“I’m sorry, I have to find my niece. I saw her throwing up earlier. She might be in my trailer. If she’s sick, then why did she come here in the first place? Sasha wouldn’t have let her leave if she was throwing up.”

“Maybe it’s a stomach bug,” Jensen shrugs.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll catch you later.”

Misha exits the set building and heads straight for his trailer. He didn’t know if you’re sleeping or studying, so he makes sure to be quiet when he enters. The trailer is quiet—too quiet for his liking. He slides back the door to see an empty bed. The sheets are tangled as if you were laying in it, but he can’t seem to find you anywhere. He’s about to call out your name when he hears someone coughing, then vomiting. He rushes over to the bathroom and swings the door open. You’re sitting on the floor with your head in the toilet. You really shouldn’t have eaten sushi from a sketchy food truck.

“Shit, Y/N, are you okay?” he asks.

He bends down to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your way.

“I’m okay. Really,” you nod and groan.

You look bloated, you’re throwing up, and it seems like you can’t hold down anything you eat. Either you’re sick, or you’re pregnant. Is that why you wanted to visit your uncle? It might be easier to tell him you’re pregnant instead of your dad? Are you running away? A load of thoughts rushes through Misha’s head, but he keeps his concerns to himself. He doesn’t want to rush you into anything, so he’s going to make sure you’re comfortable enough to tell him what’s been going on.

He hopes you’re not pregnant because you’re barely 18. You still have the world to see and things to do. If you absolutely want a child at this age, then he’s not going to stop you, but he hopes it’s all a misunderstanding.

The more the days pass, the more Misha is convinced that you’re pregnant. You only throw up in the morning, your appetite has changed, you’re tired all the time, and there are very monitor things that have Misha convinced you are with child. He wants to bring it up to you, but there is a reason you haven’t told him yet. Are you scared? Nervous? Ashamed? He won’t ever judge you, which is why he’s giving you all the time and space he needs. He hasn’t talked to his brother about this yet because he knows Sasha would have said something if you were.

You’re feeling a little better, but your stomach is still in knots. Sleep did help, but now that you’re up and about, it’s starting to hurt again. Your uncle has a lot of scenes to do today, so you’re going to watch and help out when needed. He has a break this weekend, and you want to spend as much time as possible with him before going back home. It’s amazing how the set can create something you’ve only seen on TV. The magic they put into this show just dazzles you. Seeing your uncle dressed up as Castiel makes you so proud.

As him, Alex, and Jared are acting, they realize they forgot a certain prop. The director called cuts and asked for the prop, only for you to realize it was right next to you. It’s a little bit on the heavier side, but you can manage to bring it to them. However, as soon as Misha saw this, he rushed over to take it from your hands.

“I got it,” he smiles.

“Oh, okay,” you frown and let him take it back to set.

Ever since you woke up this morning, your uncle has been treating you with extra care. Whenever you were carrying something heavy, he’d offer to carry it for you. When you needed water or something light to eat, he’d get up and get it even if he was busy. It’s like he didn’t want you to do anything. It’s as if he thought you’d break at the slightest pressure. You’re very suspicious, and if this keeps going on, you’re going to have to talk to him about it.

After the scene is done, you offer to help bring the prop away from set, but your uncle declines.

“No, you rest. I can do this,” he suggests.

“What are you doing? Why are you treating me like I’ll break?” you ask. He exchanges a glance with Jensen and Jared, who knew what Misha thought. They both knew Misha thought you were pregnant, but they weren’t going to say anything until Misha does. “What is going on?”

“I know,” your uncle finally says.

“Know what?”

“About you.”

“What about me?”

“Look, you don’t have to hide anymore. I understand you’re scared, and if you’re not ready to tell your parents, then I understand. Just know I’ll always be here for you.”

“Yeah, us too,” Jared chimes in as Jensen gives you a sweet smile.

“Uncle Misha, what are you talking about?”

“You’re pregnant, right?”

“What the hell? Where did you hear that?!” you exclaim in shock.

“Wait, you’re… not pregnant…?” he asks slowly.

“No! Where did you get that idea?”

“You’re throwing up every morning, you look bloated, and you’re visibly tired.”

“I had sushi from a food truck the night before I got here. I have food poisoning, that’s it,” you start to laugh.

“Now I feel like an idiot,” Misha chuckles, hiding away in embarrassment.

“No, don’t say that. Look, I’m not pregnant, and nowhere near the thought of it. But I know that I can always come to you. You’re my favorite uncle,” you grin and give him a loving hug.

“I’m your only uncle.”

“But you’re the best one a girl could have.”

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

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[mwolf0epsilon]

Two birds, one stone part 2! Warning for gross stuff and you know, zombie typical behaviour.

Summary: It was every man for himself down in hell, and yet Norman still found the time to care for others.

---

[[MORE]]

     If there was something Norman had learned from his pops, it was that it really paid off to be a bit of a Swiss army knife when it came to skills.

Between the pseudo-military training, Norman's own uncanny ability to hide in plain sight and stalk around silently, and the multiple things he knew that made him basically self-sufficient, he was a good (if not the best) person to be allied with in this sort of situation.

Which really begged the question of why he was doing this anymore.

     The world had ended. The dead rose out of their graves with a taste for man beef, spread a strange infectious disease that made you switch to the brain-munching side, and then society had collapsed.

It had happened so quick that he and everyone in the studio had been trapped.

New York was no place to survive a zombie apocalypse, and Joey Drew Studies wasn't stable enough to even serve as some sort of safe haven.

Everything fell into place of this new world order in a matter of weeks, and the few that could hole away did their best to survive on their own.

It was every man for himself down in hell, and yet Norman still found the time to care for others.

He'd established trading systems with groups within the studio, and even shared accomodations with whomever was desperate enough to engage socially.

They never stayed. He didn't mind.

Those who ended up as those gruesome things were put down and mourned, but otherwise everything was strictly business.

And then Sammy happened.

     Sammy Lawrence, once head of the music department now the very last to have managed to escape down into the lower floors after the hoard overwhelmed his group, was not the easiest person to get along with.

He complicated things with his ornery disposition and volatile temper, but he was a decent conversationalist when he didn't shove his own foot in his mouth and he had connections with the survivor group down in the Harbour.

He could hold his own well enough in a fight that Norman was sure he had his back, and with help that didn't seem too keen on leaving the projectionist often got a bigger hawl of supplies when they both went scavenging.

It was a mutual agreement. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. And soon enough it was Polk and Lawrence instead of just Norman going on his usual duties.

And that evolved further.

In the lonelier nights, there was more to be done than just share a cot for warmth

Call it desperation, call it basic human needs, they were more than just companions or allies.

They were partners.

No matter how much they bickered, it was almost always in a loving fashion.

Like an old married couple…

Of course, nothing good ever lasted.

Not in the literal end of times.

-

     Norman hummed as he heated up some bacon soup in the stove he'd managed to fashion out of a few parts and scrap. The Bendy clock on the wall read that it was half past eleven, so he knew Sammy must be aching for some grub.

He'd not been doing well. Not since he came back from his last solo run to the Harbour.

Norman knew why, but let the other keep quiet about it. He knew the ex-music director would admit to it soon. Especially with the speed of his degradation.

He'd caught him coughing blood just an hour prior.

Three more and he'd turn. Like the rest of them had, before Norman put them down.

  "Soup's almost done." He looked over at their shared cot, where Sammy was curled up under several ratty blankets.

He was shivering weakly, trying to breathe with lungs that were steadily filling with fluid. The raspy wet sounds painful to the ears.

  "M'not hungry…"

  "Oh, we both know that ain't true." Norman continued to stir the pot. "Might as well gimme a chance don't yous thinks?"

  "Norman…"

  "Sammy I know the symptoms…" he poured some into a bowl. "I'm not mad, just sad yous would rather waste away like this…"

  "D-didnt want to bother… Was s-stupid and…" he coughed up some gunk. Choking slightly on his own blood and whatever else was coming up. "And got b-bit. D-deserve it…"

  "N'aw… Don't go bein' so harsh to yourself. Shit happens." He walked closer and set down the bowl. Sammy's eyes were red and starting to bleed. His stage of infection was progressing quite rapidly. "Eat… Yous going to be famished soon enough, might as well fill you up a bit before it happens."

  "You shou-should put me down." The blond reached for the soup, slurping it up eagerly. Nerve damage, he couldn't feel it burning his mouth or lips.

  "Woulda asked me before if yous really wanted that." Norman stretched lazily.

  "You're right… I uh, call me p-petty but… I wonna t-take Joey down with me." He coughed and spat out a thick glob of indescribably foul-smelling tar colored blood. Gross. "If I'm g-gonna end up like t-the rest of those things… I wonna e-eat the greedy fuck w-who left us to die…"

  "I can respect that. I'll help yous with that." He reached out and entwined their fingers. The blond seemed to appreciate the gesture.

  "You t-think I'll be a-able to get him?"

  "Knowin' you? I'd say yous got a pretty good chance…" he chuckled.

  "Flatterer…" Sammy laid back down and closed his eyes, suppressing another cough and instead letting Norman thread his fingers through his messy hair. "Just don't end up le-letting me bite you… T-this shit's painful..."

  "Noted… Sleep well Sammy." He planted a kiss on his partner's sweaty forehead. "Love you."

  "Lo-love you too…"

-

  "Norman that's disgusting." Susie was slightly appalled, but no less opposed to watching what used to be Sammy Lawrence dig its teeth into a very much dead Joey Drew's neck.

  "Yep." Norman shrugged. Both of them had been bit in an altercation with a hoard up in the Heavenly Toys department, but that hadn't deterred them from reaching their end goal. Joey's office.

Susie was the newest ally he'd acquired, and had been dead set on killing Drew since he'd damned them all.

It was a shame their quest for revenge ultimately doomed them both as well, but hey… Sammy seemed pretty happy to devour his ex-boss as a mindless corpse. It couldn't be that bad.

  "You think we'll turn fast enough to get in on it?" The petite brunette pointed at the feasting zombie. "As the ultimate fuck you to Joey?"

  "Who knows… Took Sammy five hours to turn." He did feel a bit sluggish, so it was definitely taking effect. "Least he hasn't snapped at us in a while. Think we might be startin' to smell like the rest of 'em…"

  "Damn… Oh well, Joey's probably not a five star meal anyway…"

  "Probably not."

The world had ended. The dead rose out of their graves, Sammy was one of them and soon Norman and Susie would be too.

He wondered if his zombified self would remember his fondness for either, or if it would recall any of the skills he'd had.

Probably not.

It was every man for himself down in hell, and yet Norman still found the time to care for such things.

Funny how some things just didn't change.

[unusualbill]

You, Me, and a Birdie - Prologue

Roman looks back as the boys move forward 

mostly fluff, some angst. pre-established relationship

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, a domestic spat

taglist: @elisabethwise @svenyves @xkdouchebag @upirs-and-wolves

Roman's fingers ghosted over a patch of faded wallpaper, the shell of a memory that once hung in a horribly kitschy frame. He traced along the god awful floral pattern, a mess of teal and brown, faded from decades of wear, biting back a tearful smile. Staring at the now empty wall, once covered in photographs and faded memories, it hit him. This would be the last time he could ever call this home.

"Roman?" Peter called from the doorway, final moving box in arm "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Roman replied, his voice breaking "Yeah, just give me a minute." 

"Aw, I thought you hated this old dump." the wolf teased, shifting his weight to get a better hold on the cardboard box.

"I do, it's disgusting..." He gestured to the living room wall where a collection chalkware children once stood proudly on the shelf.

"But?" Peter coaxed 

"But this is where we lived when we got married man, that first night after our honeymoon," Roman laughed if only to fight back the tears "...This is our first house, man, our first home." 

He wiped the tears from his eyes, smiling at his husband, and the memories they made together. 

"Just give me five minutes alright?"

Peter nodded, "I'll go start the truck." 

As Peter headed out to the U-haul, Roman turned back to the vacant trailer. It felt so lifeless with all of the decorations gone. The collection of mugs Peter still had from his travels, novelty signs that proclaimed “This house is a home”, The porcelain cats that he hated so much

“This place was bad enough to start with, do we really need to add to it?”

Peter finished arranging a set of ceramic cats, bought specifically to annoy his husband. 

“Aww Romie, don’t you like Mayor Meow? I bought him just for you ya know.” 

Roman rolled his eyes, attempting to hide a smile.

“Call me Romie again and it’s over.” He said, putting his arms around his husband’s neck, their lips inches apart.

Peter lifted the porcelain pussycat to Roman’s cheek, speaking through it in an unnaturally cutesy voice.

“You don’t like me Romie? Don’t you think I’m purr-fect?” 

Roman pulled his husband into a deep kiss, guiding his hand back down to the dresser and making him release the figurine.

“I want a divorce...” he mumbled

“Good luck getting rid of me now Godfrey.”

As he started to leave, his eyes gravitated towards a hole in the wall, left there from their first big fight, along with the beer stain on the carpet.  

“What the fuck is this?” Roman yelled, throwing a small cardboard box at his husband. 

“Your hair dye.” Peter said flatly, picking it up and handing it back to him. “Or is it one shade too dark for his highness?”

“This isn’t the one I get and you know it.” Roman tossed the box aside, shunning it like a child during a tantrum

“Yeah, well the one you get costs three hundred dollars, and in case you haven’t noticed, Godfrey, we live in a trailer.”

“Well whose fault was that? I didn’t ask to live in this dump. We could have lived somewhere decent. But no, apparently I’m too immature for that huh”

“Yeah? Where else would we go? A mansion?” Peter spat “You knew before I married you that I wasn’t going to live in some overpriced glorified box” 

Roman paced the floor, his hands curling into fists at his sides. 

“What’s so wrong with living in a nice place? Why is that so bad to you? Why are you so hellbent on living in a shithole like this?”

Peter’s tightened his grip on a now half empty beer bottle. Shithole? Their home was a shithole? 

“You don’t get it. You’ll never get it” the wolf hissed “The biggest struggle you’ve ever had was deciding which fucking designer shampoo to buy. And I’m not gonna just sit here and let you waste our money on gold dipped diamond studded who gives a fuck while there are people on the streets, my family, who are gonna freeze to death tonight.” 

“Our money?” Roman asked, never one to admit he’s in the wrong “You mean my money?” 

“You want it to be just your money?” Peter removed his wedding ring, an old family heirloom, and threw it in Roman’s direction, hitting the wall mere inches from his husband’s head “There. It’s just your money” 

Roman tightened his fist before turning and slamming it into the wall beside him, rage coursing through his body.

How dare he. Does he think he can just get up and leave? Abandon him again?

Feeling something crack, he released, unsure if it was bone or dry rotted wood. Carefully grasping his knuckles he turned, watching as Peter hastily packed his clothes into an old duffel bag he kept under the bed for this very occasion. 

“Peter wait-” Roman started, interrupted by a beer bottle crashing into the wall behind him. 

“Fuck off Godfrey!” the wolf growled

“So you’re just gonna leave me? Over this?”  Roman gestured to the previously forgotten box of hair dye, a sharp pain shooting through his fingers. He drew in a sharp breath, wincing as he bit his tongue to keep from wailing.

“Don’t pretend this is only about the hair dye-” Peter’s voice softened as he eyed Roman’s trembling hand “Are you okay?”

Roman shrugged it off, hiding his injured hand behind his back

“I’m fine…” 

“Let me see it.” Peter insisted 

Roman extended his hand out to the wolf, flinching as he touched it.

Peter slowly bent Roman’s index finger, causing him to cry out. 

“I think you broke it,” Peter assessed “Sit on the bed, I’ll grab the first aid kit.” 

Roman hesitantly sat on the broken mattress, weary of Peter’s sudden shift in tone. He absentmindedly picked at the embroidery of the faded quilt beneath him.

“How many did you hurt?” Peter asked upon returning

Roman flexed his fingers, regretting it almost instantly.

“All of them.”

Peter shook his head, chuckling as he started on Roman’s splint

“You fucking idiot.”

As he made his way through the trailer, moving gradually from room to room, surrounded by the memories they’d created there, it all came flooding back to him.

“I Don’t see why we have to live in this dump” Roman huffed, setting down a box marked ‘kitchen’.

“It’s because someone needs to learn financial responsibility.” Peter teased “Remember Vegas?”

Roman rolled his eyes at the mention of their wedding night .

“Besides, this place isn’t all that bad, it just needs a little love and care.”

The Godfrey boy ran his finger across the counter, lifting the dust that resided there.

“Maybe a little dusting…”

“...Right.”

Roman entered the kitchen, giving it one last check for anything they might have missed, eyeing the jagged edge of the counter.

“I leave for five minutes and you’ve already destroyed the kitchen?”

Roman sat on the floor, a hunk of formica in his hand. 

The ground was scattered with pieces of the crumbled counter. What remained of the counter was covered in what appeared to be a thick black tar, oozing from a pot on the stove.

“Oh, not ‘Are you okay Roman?’ or ‘Is that blood on your sweater Roman?’ just ‘You’ve already destroyed the kitchen?’ Nice to know I’m loved.” 

Peter eyed the small laceration on his husband’s forehead, and then the piece of the counter in his hand.

“How did this even happen?” he asked, “What were you even trying to do?”

Roman mumbled something as he stared at the floor.

Peter’s face softened as he lowered to his knees.

“What were you trying to do baby?”

“I was trying to cook you dinner...” Roman said, no louder than a whisper “You’ve been so stressed trying to get everything else done that I thought I’d help, but I fucked it up.” He buried his head in his hands “I fucked it all up.”

Peter started to console him, hand hovering over his husband’s back.

“Hey, hey it’s alright-” Roman cut him off

“Why are you still with me?” 

“What?” 

“I always fuck everything up, why are you even still with me?” Roman was mere moments away from tears.

“Baby I-” 

Peter fell to his knees, wrapping his lover in a careful hug. He caressed his back,quietly shushing him. 

“I’m still with you because I love you, stupid.” He grinned, gently wiping away Roman’s tears with the pads of his thumbs “C’mon, let’s get that cut cleaned up.”

“What about the mess?” Roman sniffled

Peter eyed the broken counter and still bubbling pot of what might have once been beef stew. He shrugged it off. 

“We can fix that later, right now I’m worried about you alright?”

“Roman?” Peter called, bringing Roman back into reality “C’mon, car’s running.”

He made his way into where Roman was lamenting.

“I know, it’s hard to let go.” 

Roman hadn’t realized he’d been crying.

“Old memories are hard to let go.” Peter took his hand  “So c’mon, let’s go make some new ones.” 

[cobalt-penguin]

y’know what i’m still feeling annoyed and petty, plus i’m stuck inside and it’s storming out so why not type out a checklist of what everyone in TOW did to me.

since i am mean and manipulative, petty and pathetic, and so much more? why not bring up some old beef and give ya’ll something to eat. 

Gansey: tried repeatedly to instigate drama -- if not actively break up -- my OC ships by encouraging -- through IC shenanigans -- cheating and lying. One of these happened while I was on vacation with my family and i still remember crying about it in a hotel bathroom because i thought one of my few ships in the RP was over and I hadn’t even been asked about it. This also included trying to get his OC Tomas to make IC/OOC (hey you can feign innocence when it’s in that dubiously OOC space, until its receptive in which case you can say it was IC the whole time!) at one of my ship partner’s OCs. Made repeated fat jokes at one of my fat characters (the same one they were clearly trying to get away from their partner...hmm...). Claimed I was always running to vague on my personal. Fair enough, I did, but they did the same thing. In poem form. Never answered my message about leaving the RP group because they felt ‘disrespected” by it. Repeatedly including untagged dubcon/noncon elements on the dashboard and triggering me. Lying to Ivy and me about having a full Overwatch party then trying to say “oh it just emptied you can join now”. hid this “FAR” idea from the rest of the RP community and then played coy when they got found out and asked about it by another anon (not me). Made fun of other RP groups in Tumblr tags then, when I asked them and their friends not to, was told “we’re a step above them.” Saying I was excluding them from things when I asked to play OW with them AND invited them to my horror RP group AND, only months beforehand, were inviting them to my Marvel RP??Trying to emotionally manipulate me through threatening to kill characters they had obviously grown tired of playing (probably because their major connections were to me and not their other friends) -- “haha i’m probably going to kill (my oc) idk but doesn’t that make you upset?? what will (your character) even do??” Engaging in nasty “”IC”” interactions with my character, basically telling me, through them, off, and being supported by the entire community in doing so. All of this really hurt me because I considered Gansey a friend and a major inspiration at one point in my life. Someone I non-jokingly looked up to and trusted. I feel like Gansey left TAR, our first RP group, because of how controlling, self-interested, petty, and mean-spirited the admins there were. That they were limiting other people’s creativity while building up their own narrative -- everyone else just there to be their audience. But you and Roman literally became Usa and Jen. Congrats. You lived long enough to become everything you’d rebelled against. And yes Gansey -- I saw all of your messages to everyone. Emotionally manipulating others -- telling them how terrible you are you don’t deserve their friendship, but would like to -- isn’t an apology. Its a tactic. Do better in the future. And despite me “blocking” you? There were a hundred ways to still reach out to me if that was what you really wanted. But let’s be real. It wasn’t. That was part of your gambit to. Goodbye. 

Rosie: asked literally EVERYONE about what had happened with the ““TOW explosion”” except me. never even asked my side of the story. Rosie I don’t even get because the other admins treated her like shit -- making her do all the coding and technical components for the entire RP -- but she was still defending them to the end. Okay. And then to treat Shelly like utter SHIT even though Reyne was running her passive-aggressive mouth off about people who couldn't even defend themselves? Amazing. Yeah, she’s the bully. Your perspective was so twitested by your biases that you were ready to victim blame Shelly just because Reyne had to run at the sight of someone actually throwing their bulltshit back at them. 

Reyne: Like Gansey, frequently indulged in cheating/cucking scnearios for fun -- again, including my own characters without asking or telling me. Don’t think Reyne ever apologized for this, IC or OOC. Dropped ships with me repeatedly -- leaving the group even -- without a word. Passive-aggressive to the max. Made a ship with Gansey just to play out her Teen Wolf OTP -- something that will never not be funny to me, when she called Gansey’s “character” Stiles. Smooth. 

Frankii: Repeatedly dropped me and my characters from plots. Gave me one of the most hurtful comments of my RP community by essentially being like “maybe if your plots and characters weren’t so confusing than more people would want to RP with you.” Invited to join my horror RP group and never made a character. also told me this after Gansey wrote that enormous callout about me, that Roman piggybacked on while the getting was good: “also I'm not here to advocate on behalf of my friend but I really don't think Gansey was trying to be rude last night, they can come off a certain way when they're stressed.” COOL. The rest of Frankii’s message I really appreciated, at the time, but, surprise surprise, then despite us being “cool” they never spoke to me again. 

Laura: I actually really liked Laura tbh but I guess she didn’t feel the same. Some of our interactions back in TAR were actually some of my favorites. I invited her to join my horror RP group and she never made a character. When I asked about this -- and if she needed any help making someone or wanted to leave -- she said she was working on it. Basically stonewalled me over time. Honestly though? Not a lot to say I actually think Laura is a good writer and pretty cool. Its just obvious who her friends were and I, stupidly, thought I was included in that. 

Anna: Actually I really liked Anna too tbh but I guess I vastly overestimated our friendship? It happens. Dropped me from one of her plots -- after talking to me about including me in one of hers because she felt “obligated” basically, from being featured in my own -- without mentioning why or talking to me about it. Invited to join new RP -- refused (not mad about this, just making note of it). Refused to follow my new account when I lost my old one because “lol they’re such a furry”. 

Roman: lmao where to even start. Roman was condescending and elitist literally from the beginning of TAR. barely acknowledged my existence until he had to.I started a plot with an open invitation to the entire RP group, with a deadline so I could start writing. Roman waits until its over and complains that they were left out. I include him anyway. Roman mocks the fact that I ask to tag or outright remove aphrodisiac dust -- because I don’t like seeing untagged dubcon/noncon on my dashboard, it upsets me a lot -- and then goes on a whole thread about it after I go to bed and can’t even defend myself. Apparently told his friends not to invite me to things because he doesn’t like me??? And then he has the nerve to be like communication is key and you can come talk anytime??? While having me on their public “friends” list with a description about me on his blog??? omfg...I literally can’t. To this day. Actually let this image speak for itself.

Everything Else: The repeated, childish treatment of strippers as immoral (””your character is stripping?? my character is so upset and is going to protect them!!”). The implication that characters who were stripping were also automatically sex workers. The continued references to my character, who owned this establishment, as being sleazy and manipulative. Also, honestly, what was with ya’ll adopting some random teenager into your OW groups? That was weird af. And then bringing some random person into TOW without asking anyone and trying to pull rank like “we’re the admin team and we can do whatever we want”. and shit-talking Meg and me in your “open forum” when all we wanted to do was get on with out lives. Like? Who cares? Ya’ll didn’t want me, at least, there anyway, clearly. You don’t get to exclude me then talk about how disrespectful and “wrong” the way I left was..........

Me: I didn’t do everything perfectly either. I know I could be passive-aggressive. I could be self-interested. I could make bitter comments. I dealt with feeling angry and upset by making memes -- which, I’m gonna be honest, I get why ya’ll were upset but I don’t regret either. I had spent so long in TAR/TOW with nobody interested in my characters and plots -- originally because I didn’t vid and played furries but, later, well.........see above -- that I did focus on my own narrative. I wasn’t invited to plots. I didn’t have sexy vampires and boy band werewolves. I played weird characters that didn’t fit the common niche of the cast of an angst and hookup filled supernatural YA novel. Maybe my plots were confusing but, honestly? It was because they were always going to be in the background. I wasn’t disinterested in anyone’s stories. I had just been left out of them for so long -- having to beg to even be a mention in a single mention -- that I had to make my own. I wasn’t there to just be an audience member to be aghast by Roman’s newest quirky boy or Gansey’s newest possessed twink. I was a writer. A member of the community. And, at the time? I thought a friend. Someone who deserved appreciation and respect. 

I know who my true friends are now. We did, ironically, exactly what you did -- we have out own group, our own setting, our own community. 

And I still live with the mean and manipulative things YALL said everyday. Even as an adult -- even with everything I’ve accomplished and am so proud of -- I’m still traumatized by being treated so poorly -- for years -- and not even realizing it. Something I’m still working on -- one of the many reasons I still have trust issues to this day. Congrats. That’s your legacy on me. aNYWAY

byeeeeeee

[synvamp]

HAPPY PLACE 7

Just love me! Fluffy, slow burn, angst!Qrow has met his match and Clover begins to reel in his catch... 

(Part One HERE)

Title: Healing

Fair Game – Part Seven / 10?

Rating: M

---xxx---

  The briefing started at 8:30 sharp. Qrow was on time but distracted. He watched Clover’s biceps tense and relax as he ran through the mission allocations. They were so defined. Qrow knew the guy was strong but arms like that… it was just excessive.

  How the hell am I meant to focus?!

  “..and Qrow,” Clover said, his eyes just flicking to meet Qrow’s haggard morning gaze for a split second.

  Wait, what? But he hasn’t finished the assignments yet…

  “…and I’ll go with Marrow and Harriet. It’s about time we got onto the grim that have been skirting the southern walls. Any questions?” Clover asked, pausing that perfunctory split second that all managers seem to have in common, “Alright then, good luck out there.”

  Qrow blinked.

  Yang and Blake wandered over, smiling at a shared joke.

  “Clover let you off the hook today?” Yang smirked.

  “Seems so,” Qrow mused, spacing out over her shoulder. Clover was laughing with Marrow about something; the boy’s tail was wagging like crazy.

  “Well, at least we’ve got something fun to do! Sphinxes and Manticores are always good to work up an appetite and it’s beef tonight!”

  Blake smiled, “It’s meatloaf.”

  “Ugh! Oh well, I guess there’s always dessert. Hey, are you with me?” Yang waved a hand in front of Qrow’s face.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

  “Well it looks painful,” Yang laughed, “Come on! We can’t sit around all day, we’ll miss the transport out,” she grinned and bounded off.

  Qrow watched as Clover put his hand on Marrow’s shoulder and guided him out of the room. Just before Clover walked through the door, he turned and gazed at Qrow with those perfect turquoise eyes, flicked his wrist in half a salute and was gone.

  The day passed in a blur. It was nice to hang out with Yang and Blake. He always enjoyed Blake’s quiet, no bullshit manner and Yang was… Yang. She really was Tai’s sunny dragon. All joy and flames. They worked him hard and kept him distracted. Between the grim and the banter, the day flashed by. It was almost enough to stop him from thinking about Clover… but not quite.

  Why did he allocate me to a different team? Why didn’t he even talk to me?

  But it wasn’t like Clover had brushed him off… he’d given him that seven thousand watt smile and that cocky salute…

  “Oh no, he’s gone again,” Yang said, “Qrow… Qrow… come back to me! Don’t walk towards the light!”

  “Ah, shut up…” he grinned.

  They were walking back into the mess hall and Qrow could smell the meatloaf.

  Yang looked at the plates and slumped in disappointment. Blake gave a tiny smile of I-told-you-so and went to sit with Ruby and Weiss, who were arguing about peas.

  “Mint is disgusting,” Weiss complained.

  “But it’s like eating peas after brushing your teeth!” Ruby enthused.

  “My point exactly,” Weiss said imperiously, prodding the peas on her plate as if they had just crawled out of a tar pit and died there.

  Qrow looked across the room. The Ace Ops were at the next table, well… four of them anyway.

  A deep, confident voice called out from behind him, “Look who’s finally back.”

  Qrow turned slowly; Clover was standing behind him with a tray of dinner. He looked at the tray then back to Qrow again. “Meatloaf day. I guess my luck has finally run out.”

  “I kind of like it,” Qrow said.

  “What have I told you about punishing yourself?” Clover smiled, “Meatloaf is self-harm Qrow and you deserve better.”

  Qrow smiled in spite of himself. The little spark of joy flickered in his chest but then the doubt surged again, “Why did you send me away today?”

  “How about you get yourself some… let’s just call it food… and come sit with me?”

  “Alright,” Qrow marched off and grabbed dinner. He actually did like meatloaf. It reminded him of a huntsman he used to know. Great guy but a terrible cook… all except the meatloaf which was actually glorious. Funny how it’s the little things that you remember.

Clover was sitting at a table by himself slightly away from the others. Qrow wondered if they should sit together… but he pushed the doubt down hard in his chest. He wanted to know what was going on a lot more than he cared about his laughable reputation right now anyway.

  Clover looked up as he dumped his tray on the table and huffed into the chair.

  “Long day?” he asked, green eyes twinkling.

  “Long enough,” he looked at Clover with accusing eyes.

  “Hey, hey,” Clover raised his hands in a gesture of peace, “I decided we should have a little space.”

  “You decided, huh?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t want you to get sick of me now, would I?” he smiled warmly and Qrow did his best to try to remember that he was annoyed.

  “I guess not…” Qrow muttered, poking his meatloaf. It was grey. Maybe Clover had a point.

  “Why, did you miss me?”

  “No!” Qrow said, far too quickly.

  Clover laughed, “Well, I’m guessing that you haven’t cleaned your quarters?”

  “Amazingly, no. I hired a maid service and they sent this absolute hottie so I was kind of hoping that he would come b..”

  “No way,” Clover shook his head, “but nice try. In that case, if you’re feeling lonely you could always swing by my quarters around eight tomorrow. I thought a night in might be nice.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “The day after today? Unless you can’t wait of course.”

  Qrow glared at him.

  “Alright then, I’ll take that smouldering rage as a yes. See you tomorrow night.”

  And with that, Clover stood up, flexed that amazing ass of his and strode off.

  ---xxx---

Qrow couldn’t sleep and spent a good hour prowling the barracks before dawn. He knew that he was hoping to meet Clover, hoping that he was also pacing the halls, hoping that he was out here… somewhere… maybe even looking for him.

  But he didn’t see anyone. The day passed in a haze of sleep deprivation and coffee. Clover sent him out with Jaune, Ren and Nora this time. It felt like a favour of sorts because he could really use a distraction and Nora was… a hell of a distraction.

  Today they got beef. Yang was thrilled and even shouted Ruby down when she tried to start a food fight, pleading with her to save it for one of the many days when they didn’t actually have something edible.

  Qrow couldn’t focus. Clover wasn’t there. He’d been there for the briefing, made an excuse about having executive meetings and vanished.

  I bet he’s doing some stupid massive romantic thing, getting things ready for tonight. What an idiot.

Qrow smiled to himself and thought about the soft pink glow that spread across Clover’s cheeks when he was embarrassed. How can someone be so confident and so easily flustered?

  Qrow went back to his room and had a shower; he put on a black shirt and jeans and just sat. Somehow, eight o’clock finally came around.

  He learnt his lesson and waited until eight to leave his quarters. Even then he still hovered on the threshold of Clover’s door, heart sputtering in his chest. Finally, he knocked softly.

  “It’s not locked,” he heard Clover call from inside.

  Qrow opened the door. Clover was lounging on the couch in sweats and a dark green t-shirt. He had a game scroll in one hand and a fight scene in full swing on the screen in front of him.

  He was playing ninja warrior.

  Clover glanced up at him and smiled, “Hey, come in, sit down. I’ve just got one more round.”

  Qrow did as requested. It was strange, being here in Clover’s room. Not being the centre of his attention.

  Qrow let his eyes wander. There was a landscape painting on the wall, a beautiful sweeping view of a green valley with steep peaks rising on either side. Majestic. Tranquil.

  There was a couch, a TV, a bed, a bookshelf, a little kitchenette… everything neat and normal.

  Qrow thought of his own room, which was a merciless black hole brimming with chaos.

  This guy really has his shit together.

  Clover delivered an epic combo, ending the match.

  Show off.

  Clover grinned and held the controller out to Qrow. “A little birdie told me that you are no push over.”

  “Well, you should always believe random animals that speak to you.”

  “I take it on a case by case basis,” Clover grinned, “I bet Yang I could beat you. She has this ridiculous opinion that you’re some kind of ninja legend.”

  “Well, I suppose I can’t disappoint my nieces can I?”

  “That’s never going to happen.”

  Qrow looked at him.

  He felt tightness in his chest and a smile welled from somewhere deep.

  He kicked off his shoes and jumped onto the couch, “I am going to own you.”

“That so?” Clover laughed, moving so there was more room.

  They played for an hour or so, their talk becoming easier as the time wore on. Clover was actually better at ninja warrior even than Qrow, much to his delight.

  “I bet you’re cheating,” Qrow laughed, as he got his ass handed to him yet again.

  “You’re just old.”

  “You did not just say that!” Qrow laughed and turned to poke Clover in the ribs.

  Clover put down his scroll and wrapped his arm around Qrow’s shoulders. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

  “No, I think I’d fall asleep.”

“Thanks,” Clover chuckled.

  “No, it’s not you I just slept really badly.”

  “We could call it a night. I can walk you back to your room if you want,” Clover’s fingertips pressed ever so slightly on Qrow’s shoulder.

  “It’s dark.”

  “Yes?” Clover said.

  “It’s a long way.”

  “I suppose it is,” Clover agreed.

  “It seems like a bit of an inconvenience.”

  Clover put his hand on Qrow’s cheek and kissed him. He just wanted to live in the smell of him, the taste of him. To just drink him in.

  “I suppose you could just stay here,” he said softly.

  “If you insist,” Qrow leaned forwards taking one slow and fulfilling kiss in return.

  Clover turned and wrapped the slighter man in his arms, picking him up, pulling him onto his lap.

  He felt Qrow’s long fingers caress him, one hand tousling his hair and the other untucking his shirt, “Would you like to move to the bed?” Clover asked, smiling to himself as Qrow’s fingers moved quickly onto his shirt buttons.

  “Here is fine,” Qrow breathed into his ear as he pulled Clover forward to pull the cloth from his back.

  “Well,” Clover mused, slowly taking his belt off, “Let’s see if I can keep you awake then.”

    ---xxx---

Part Eight

[radiojamming]

Hi I need more soft Jacob in my life. Jacob who doesn't know how to flirt. Jacob who is extra and gives rad speeches but doesn't know where to put his hands when someone kisses him the first time. Jacob who gets grumpy at feelings of affection but secretly loves being loved. Anyway thanks for attending my TED Talk.

YESSSSS

shoutout to @mademoisellegush for reaffirming the beautiful mental image of jacob and the deputy being a pair of raccoons eating spaghetti out of a dumpster

- - -

The first time they kiss is… memorable. 

It’s memorable because both of them are filthy; Rook is covered in mud and pine needles like some backwoods attempt at tarring and feathering. Jacob has someone’s blood on him, although Rook can’t quite figure out who it belongs to. He wears a very fashionable impression of arterial spray across his face and neck, and there are four bloody finger prints on his neck from where someone apparently tried (and failed, very miserably) to choke him out.

All those Hallmark movies that extol the virtues of kissing in the rain are bullshit, because it’s raining so hard that Rook has very real worries about mudslides. Her boots are sloshing with every step, and Jacob approaches her like a drunken sasquatch, his footing heavy and unsure. Rook doesn’t run into his arms, because first of all, she can’t run for shit in this weather, and second, if she attempted to jump into Jacob’s arms, she’d probably just knock both of them over and they’d both get concussed. 

So, instead, she drops a very eloquent and romantic, “The fuck do you want?”

Jacob huffs like an asthmatic grizzly, and she has to remind herself that even though he’s at some peak physical fitness, he’s closer to fifty than thirty. 

He doesn’t answer until he gets close enough to her that she can see the rain making little clear creases in the blood on his face. His nose is red, because it’s stupidly cold, and he reaches up to wipe at it with his wrist. He has a pretty good-sized split in his lip, too, and she thinks that one might be her fault. 

In short, if this is her version of Mr. Darcy, she’s apparently scraped the bottom of the bargain bin.

Finally, in a voice like sandpaper on a cactus, he grinds out, “I have run four fucking miles after you.” Then, he grunts, stepping over a tree root, yanking hard on his left leg when his boot sinks an inch too deep in a mud puddle, before he’s finally right in front of her. 

No matter what, he’s still terrifying in his own way. Yes, he looks like someone tried to drown him, and Rook thinks that he might be exhausted enough that if she did decide to pounce on him, he probably wouldn’t get back up for while. However, he’s still Jacob Seed, all six-foot-whatever, built like a stack of cinder blocks. This man has killed people with his bare hands. Judging by the blood on his face, he just did it again within the past few hours.

And before Rook can ask him why he bothered to chase her down, he does the opposite of everything she thinks he’ll do and goes in to kiss her.

He sucks at it.

His hands are unsure, so he puts them on her shoulders until apparently he judges that it isn’t quite right. They move to her waist, then her hips, and then he seems to think they don’t belong anywhere yet, so they hang useless at his sides. As for his actual kissing, she tries to give him a pass in that both of them are soaked to the proverbial bone. His lips are freezing, and she thinks his nose is still running. 

Granted, she is kissing him back, because it’s already been a weird day (week? month? lifetime?) and making out with one of the Seeds just seems like the topping on the eldritch cupcake that her life is turning out to be. Her hands are on his face, feeling the strange texture of his scars, thumbs swiping at some dead person’s blood. She tries to ignore the fact that he goes still at weird times, and then bites her at the next moment. Tries is the operative word, because at some point, the white flag has to go up.

She takes the collar of his uniform jacket and gently tugs it back.

He looks at her, his stupidly pretty eyes just as bright as always. She’s close enough to see that, yes, his nose is still running. He works his jaw like he isn’t sure if he used it right, and part of her wants to say that he might want to put some WD-40 on it.

Instead, she just gives him some kind of grin (maybe a little constipated) and pats his face like he’s a delightfully stupid dog. 

He doesn’t say anything. No apologies for kissing like a deceased pufferfish. No questions about if she thought he kissed like one. His silence is heavy and thoughtful, which reminds her of sullen guys in the drunk tank back at the sheriff’s office.

“So,” she says.

He grunts.

“I’ll, uh–” She clears her throat, her left hand still curled into his jacket. Then, she makes a little strained noise that seems equal parts distress and delight. She stands up on her toes and presses a kiss against his (still very bloody) cheek, before letting go of him. “See you around?”

Another grunt. Then a slow nod. He might be turning red, but that might also be blood and rainwater.

- - -

Jacob seems to take their first kiss as an unspoken challenge. Rook deliberately doesn’t bring it up again, because it seems to gnaw at Jacob more that she acts like it never happened. Their radio calls are still dry exchanges of military and psychological metaphors on his side, and vague insults and retorts on hers. Honestly, she could probably just announce, “Hey! Jacob Seed made out with me in the woods and he sucked at it!” over the radio and the whole conflict might be over quicker. However, she thinks better of it, because he’s still a sniper and she doesn’t want to give him a reason to practice his aim on her. The Whitetail Mountains are still terrifying enough as it is.

Their normal banter goes on for about a week, until suddenly Jacob changes his tone. 

Of all the people Rook could be travelling with at the time, it’s Adelaide. Most of their hikes through the woods are full of a one-sided conversation full of things like comparing Jacob to a side of beef, wondering if he has a six-pack, hoping that maybe he’s so in tune with nature that he bathes in the river, and taking estimates on how big his rifle is. 

Halfway through a hike around Cedar Lake, Adelaide pauses and looks at the sky in thought, like someone is going to skywrite the exact statistics of Jacob’s genitalia. 

“You think he’s got a chode or–”

“Addie!” Rook hisses, and even checks to make sure she hasn’t accidentally keyed her radio. If Jacob overheard them, Rook might just have to drown herself in the lake out of mortification. 

Adelaide shrugs. “It’s an honest question, honey! The man’s built like a Mack truck. You see his boot size lately?”

Yes, Rook thinks. Except he was losing them in the mud and I didn’t get much of a chance to check them out because he was trying to bite my lips off.

“No,” Rook mumbles.

“Mmm, that’s a shame. Big man like him? I mean, he might be compensating, but I’m gonna be optimistic.” She holds up her hands like she’s about to give the measurements for a prize trout, but before she can make her estimates, Rook’s radio chirps.

“Deputy.” Jacob’s voice hisses through the speaker, low and breathy as usual. It makes both Rook and Adelaide jump, but probably for very different reasons. “You’ve been keeping a low profile lately. I was starting to wonder if I should be worried.”

Rook doesn’t immediately grab her radio, even though Adelaide’s eyes are wide and her grin is halfway to predator. She frantically points at the mic clipped to Rook’s belt. “Answer him!” she stage-whispers, as though he can hear her.

With deliberately slow movements, Rook unclips the mic and tugs it close to her mouth before pressing her fingers down on the key. “No reason to be worried, Jacob,” she says, trying her best to sound casual. “I’m just as destructive as usual.”

There’s a long pause; long enough for Rook to think that maybe he signed off. The only thing she hears is static and the sound of a pair of ducks quacking happily nearby. Then, “Good to know,” Jacob says, although it comes out like a low growl. “You know, Deputy, if you ever get bored of playing out in the woods and making a mess, you could always come back home. I promise I’d make it exciting.”

Rook nearly drops the radio, and Adelaide doesn’t even hold back a surprised, “Hot damn!”

“Uh, I’ll pass,” Rook manages to reply, even though Adelaide is about two seconds from whacking her in the shoulder out of sheer excitement.

“Mm. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

The radio goes dead before Rook can even try to reply, and she’s left in shocked silence for only a few seconds before Adelaide crows in something like victory.

“Oh my god, honey! If that ain’t the sound of a guy rockin’ a hard-on, then I don’t know dicks worth a damn.”

Rook tries to protest, but her tongue has about half a dozen false starts before she just shrugs miserably and clips the mic back in place.

Because honestly, she can’t tell if Jacob’s trying to flirt with her, or if he wants to ventilate her.

- - -

Rook thinks Jacob might be trying to pay her back for the split lip, because he’s certainly biting at her like that’s the reason.

It’s their third attempt at kissing. The second attempt was three days after the fateful radio call (and those three days were full of Adelaide’s plentiful Jacob-themed innuendos), when Rook accidentally got a Bliss arrow to the thigh after she snuck up on a Hunter, and Jacob was the one to scrape her off the ground. Her memories of that are a little vague and probably more pleasant than it actually was, because all she can recall is a sparkly Jacob calling her clumsy, yanking the arrow out of her leg, and then kissing her.

Maybe kissing her. That might have just been the Bliss.

So the third kiss might be the second-and-a-half. And the second-and-a-half or third kiss is just about as refined and lovely as the first, because Jacob has her up against an equipment shed near the dam, one leg between her knees, and his goddamn wolf teeth doing a number to her lips.

Even so, she can’t help but kiss him back, clinging onto his jacket like a burr. Because by this point, after all the weird threats that might have been flirts, and the one or possibly two bizarre kisses that had far more blood involved than a normal relationship should have, she actually does like Jacob. She likes the way he leans into her like a cat when she runs her hands through his hair and gently scrapes his scalp, and she can’t help but imagine how much of a human radiator he would be under a few blankets. 

And apparently he likes her. At least, Rook thinks he does. It’s hard to tell when he kisses like a dog gnawing on a rawhide, but she believes he’s not doing it to blow off steam. Honestly, that would be risking a lot against the rest of his family. She decides to pull a (much more innocent) Adelaide and assume the best.

She gently pushes him back, both of them breathing hard, his hands a painful grip at the sides of her thighs. Rook thinks her lip must look like it hand a chance encounter with a meat grinder, but she smiles sheepishly regardless.

“I used to have a policy of not kissing on the first date,” she says, smoothing out a crease in his collar. “I don’t think I planned on kissing before I even went on a date at all.”

One eyebrow goes up, and it makes Jacob look very skeptical. “You want to go on a date?”

She laughs. “I mean, it’s a little limited around here. Like wine and dine me while we watch Sharky roast some Angels on an open fire?”

At first, Rook thinks Jacob might take her seriously, because he seems exactly the type of person to try to make a romantic outing out of watching people get slow-roasted. Then again, she doesn’t think the patrons of the Spread Eagle would take too well to Jacob Seed calling in reservations. They’d probably end up having to pull a Lady and the Tramp and eat spaghetti behind a dumpster.

Then, Rook sees a smile start to form on his face, as slow as a sunrise.

He doesn’t answer, but he does kiss her again.

It isn’t any better than the first one and a half times, but Rook enjoys it all the same.

[aelin-and-feyre]

Ten Minutes Ago (Part 10)

Feysand - Cinderella au

Fic Masterlist

As they walk around the dance floor, Rhys squeezes his mate’s hand. “Are you okay?”

Clare nods, squeezing his hand back. “Just a little shook up, I’ll be fine.”

“Sorry for springing it on you like that. Let’s get away from this crowd for now though, I have a surprise for you.” Clare smiles at that and lets Rhys pulls her up the staircase and into the hallway, her skirt billowing behind her as they go.

Once they are in the hallway, Rhys leads them through different corridors to the kitchen where Nuala, Mor and Amren are waiting for them. “Is it all set?” He asks.

“Yep! We’ll bring the stuff out in a couple minutes, go sit down!” Mor answers, gesturing them excitedly towards a door down the hallway.

“Thank you, ladies,” Rhys replies and then turns to Clare. “Would you please join me for dinner?”

Her eyes widen and she can only nod, allowing herself to be guided to the door. Rhys opens it to reveal a small in-castle courtyard garden. The winding path leads to a table for two in the center, all of it lit by tiny lights. The Prince proudly watches Clare marvel at the set up as they walk slowly.

“You’re dress is absolutely breathtaking,” he compliments finally, relishing in the delicious blush that lights up her face. “Where did you find a seamstress to make that?”

“Thank you, I uh… I got this…. around….” She says evasively and Rhys’ smile drops a little. “So was that song supposed to be a hint or something? Was your father telling the truth? You…” She trails off, obviously changing the subject but Rhys takes the bait. They make it to the table and he pulls Clare’s chair out for her to sit. He then pours a glass of wine for both of them and sits down himself. Clare lifts her glass as a toast. “Happy birthday.”

Rhys clinks their glasses and finally works up the courage to respond. “Yes, my father was right, I do love you,” he murmurs hesitantly, his eyes shining with sincerity and hope. “I realized it last night.”

Clare blushes and smiles into her glass. She takes a sip and then sets it down, gazing into the dark pond next to them. “I-I think I love you too Rhys, to be honest. I just... I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know how it feels to be sure.”

Rhys is about to reply when Nuala and Mor bustle in, carrying two covered trays. They smile apologetically but Clare’s excited face is enough to wipe away any of Rhys’s frustration. They set the trays down and lift the covers, a burst of smell wafting up to Rhys from the hot food.

The women curtsy and then hurry from the courtyard, Mor nodding at Rhys to tell him know that her part of the plan is finished. Rhys watches as Clare takes the first small, polite bite of her food, barely containing her eagerness.

“Please, eat Clare. I will not judge your manners,” Rhys encourages and Clare readily accepts, eating plenty of squash, mashed potatoes, and beef. Rhys eats too, but mostly watches his mate, thinking about what she said.

“This is absolutely delicious,” she says eventually, taking a sip of her wine and smiling sheepishly at Rhys while she eats another bite.

“Clare.” She swallows her food and looks up at him. “How did you know that song? The one we just sang and the one from the woods? I have been wondering since I met you.”

“Oh, my mother used to sing it all the time with-” she cuts off and Rhys raises an eyebrow. “-her friends,” she finishes hastily, shoving a forkful of mash potatoes unceremoniously into her mouth.

Rhys thinks about her answer. His mother always sang it with her friends as well—could Clare’s mother have been one of them? He’is about to ask when the light of the clock tower behind her catches his eye.

11:55.

Five minutes left in his birthday and all he wants is for Clare to stay with him. They have planned it all out and now he just has to go through with it.

“Clare, can I ask you something?” He inquires and the girl nods. “If you love me, why not stay? Don’t run tonight. Stay with me and dance, hang out with Cassian and Mor and Amren. Sleep in a guest room and maybe even tell me your actual name.  Just please, stay.”

...

Feyre suddenly looses her appetite. Nuala’s food is delicious, the beef perfectly cooked and the potatoes seasoned deliciously, but she can’t find it in herself to take another bite.

She completely forgot about the time, about the Suriel’s warning to watch the clock. Even now, she glances at her wrist just to make sure that the bracelet was still there.

Sighing in relief when it is, Feyre looks back up to the Prince, the man she loves who was begging her not to run again tonight. She desperately wants to say yes, to say that she will forever be by his side, that she will never run again. He told her that he loves her tonight. He loves her. How can she ever run from him now?

But no—Rhys loves Clare, the beautiful and elegant princess who amazes the guests with her dancing and singing. He doesn’t love Feyre, the sloppy farm girl who has lived as a servant for more than a decade and could never afford this dress if she lived two lifetimes.

As much as she thinks she loves him, and as much as it hurts her to run, Feyre knows that she can’t stay.

“I can’t Rhys. You don’t understand,” Feyre insists, setting her fork down to look him in the eye.

“Then help me understand, Clare, please,” he is begging—if only he knew who he is begging to.

Feyre shakes her head, glancing up at the clock tower and gasping. Where are the tolls? She has one minute until midnight, the tolls should have been going by now.

“I’m late!” She exclaims, standing up and racing for the door.

“Wait, Clare, please stay with me,” he pleads, rushing after her. She makes it to the door, pulling and pushing as much as she can. It won’t budge.

She can feel her dress deteriorating, her hair snarling. Glancing down at her wrist, Feyre rips a bead from the bangle and throws it at her dress just as Rhys reaches her.

The gown forms swiftly again, so fast that Rhys doesn’t seem to notice, only intent on getting her to stay. “Clare, please,” he whispers.

The door is jammed and Feyre has no idea how long she has before the dress starts to disappear again.

“Rhys, I think I love you, I really do—but I need to get out of here, or you won’t love me anymore.”

“Of course I will, what-” But before he can finish and before she can change her mind, Feyre rips one of the blue beads from the bracelet and throws it at the door.

It seems to shimmer for a moment and Feyre slips through. As soon as she makes it, the door materializes again and Rhys is the one slamming on it.

Quickly glancing back, she sees Mor and Amren standing there, shocked beyond belief. Feyre doesn’t slow down, sprinting for the front entrance.

When she passes the kitchen, Nuala stands outside, watching her with a concerned look. Feyre can’t help herself.

She throws her arms around the woman and hugs her tight. “You know him, if he has an open mind, I live in the northern edge of the country,” she whispers, building a backup for herself because the Suriel was right, if he doesn’t know anything about the real her, she’ll never see him again. She knows that Nuala will make the right call on whether Rhys is ready to see her outside of the ball.

Releasing the cook, Feyre runs again, her feet beginning to hurt when she finally reaches the front entrance. Someone must have helped Rhys open the door because she can hear his footsteps, along with someone else’s.

“Clare, wait!” Cassian. She feels a pang of happiness that both of them want her to stay, that Cassian accepts her. But she can’t dwell on it, she yanks the doors open and runs down the long staircase.

She’s gotten about halfway down, not looking where she is going when she is suddenly stopped. She is still trying to move but her body won’t let her. Looking down, Feyre realizes that her left foot is stuck in a puddle of tar on the steps. Rhys poured tar on the stairs to stop her.

Feyre grabs another bead without another thought, throwing it to the ground and running again as footsteps come pounding down the stairs behind her. However, the bead didn’t hit the tar like she wanted it to. It hit her shoe.

Her glass slipper is sitting perfectly on the stair, glistening in the light of the moon.

Feyre thinks about going back for it, but Rhys and Cassian are now closer to it than she is, and they will surely catch her. So Feyre abandons her magical shoe and keeps running.

She dives into the carriage and yells at Bryaxis to go. The horses start into a gallop but the driver yells back at her, “The gate is closed!”

Feyre curses and yanks her second to last bead from the bracelet. She reaches through the window and hands it to Bryaxis. “Throw it at the gate and just keep driving!”

“No, that’s crazy!”

“Just do it!” She yells back and witnesses as the dog-turned-human shrugs, then throws the bead. It hits the gate and then disappears. The horses start slowing down but the gate shimmers and Feyre screams, “GO!”

They race straight through, unharmed, just four beads and one glass slipper short.

“Feyre?” Bryaxis asks over the wind, followed by a short bark. Oh no. The spell is wearing off again.

Feyre glances around and sure enough, the walls of the carriage are sprouting seeds, the layers of her dress are slipping away, and her gloves are melting away from her arms. The last of the Suriel’s gift is slipping through her fingers.

“Just keep driving for as long as we can!” She commands, willing herself not to cry. She knew this would happen, knew that they could only get so far, that the bead wouldn’t last very long, but it’s still heartbreaking to think that her time as a princess is over.

Feyre is startled from her reverie at the sound of hooves, more than just the four horse-mice driving her carriage. She peeks through the back window. The footmen, now more bunny than man, stand there frightened as they try to hold on.

Behind them, three palace horses, each mounted with a guard, are galloping after them. They will witness the carriage falling apart, and Feyre can not let that happen.

She knows the northern roads better than almost anyone, and with a quick glance around, she realizes where she is. “Bryaxis! In a couple yards there is a path—turn right now!”

The dog nods and swings the carriage off the road and onto the dirt path just wide enough for the deteriorating pumpkin. It is getting smaller and smaller, only two horses pulling while the other mice cling to their manes. Feyre opens the door and jumps, the last of her blue dress disappearing into the air.

She lands roughly, the carriage crashing to the ground a little father away. The bunnies, mice, and dog safely get away from the rolling squash and trot over to her.

The guardsmen gallop right past the path accidentally but start coming back towards them. She quickly thinks of an excuse for why she would be on this path at night with animals all around her.

A glint catches her eye and she looks down. There, on her left foot, is a glass slipper. Not able to dwell on it while the sound of hooves gets louder, she rips it off her foot and shoves it into her apron pocket.

Just then, the three horses stop in front of her. Feyre looks up. “Go follow the carriage, I’ll talk with this one,” the first man say in a deep, calm voice.

Azriel.

Oh no. Feyre quickly rearranges her limp hair to hide some of her face, hoping she will be unrecognizable in this dirty outfit. Azriel dismounts and stands in front of her, his arms crossed.

“Who are you? What are you doing out here so late at night?” He offers a hand to help her up and Feyre takes it gratefully, her knees stinging from where she jumped from the carriage.

“My name is Sevenda, sir,” Feyre responds, using the name of a restaurant owner from the village and raising her voice in hopes of disguising herself more. “I work at the village and only just got off of work so I was walking home. Then, I was almost trampled by a carriage.” She lies, fingering the shoe in her pocket.

Azriel nods, scanning her and seeming perplexed. “You weren’t at the ball then?”

“Oh heavens, no!” Feyre screeches, almost hurting her throat.

The man nods again, dragging a hand over his face. “You’re right, it would be impossible for her to have… Never mind. Would you like help getting home?” He asks and Feyre shakes her head vigorously.

“No, thank you, I can manage,” she replies.

Nodding once again, Azriel mounts his horse. “Very well, Sevenda, be careful tonight.” Then he gallops off, leaving Feyre to her animals.

She lets out a deep breath. “Thanks, Az,” she murmurs, then pulls the glass slipper from her pocket.

It shines in the fractured moonlight, delicate, fragile, and precious. A slip of blue fabric lay in the sole. Her last remnants of this weekend, and she will cherish them forever. “Thank you, Suriel.”

Masterlist

[chirpingisflirting]

Sleepless nights (ii)

Continuation of this! I have a couple more nights of sleeping difficulty planned for poor Nursey, and eventually the whole thing is going up on ao3. This one got long. And if someone could help me figure out how to make the “keep reading” work for mobile...that would be GREAT - the internet is failing me.

***

Nursey’s bus leaves for Maine at 9:45am from Port Authority, and Nursey finds himself sprinting through the uptown building at 9:40 after initially going to the wrong gate. His duffle bag bounces against his side as he clambers down the escalator, finally arriving at his gate two minutes before the bus is supposed to depart. Panting, he hands his ticket to a very bored-looking driver, and hauls himself onto the bus. He finds a seat near the back, wanting to avoid the inevitable fall on the way to the shitty on-bus bathroom later on. Stowing his bag overhead, Nursey finally drops into his seat and lets out a long breath.

Me: made it :)

Dexyyy: Proud of you.

Dexyyy: What’s your ETA again?

Me: supposed to be around 7:30 I think? Bus takes fucking forever. Stops and shit

Dexyyy: Got it.

The bus leaves five minutes late. Nursey puts his headphones on and stares out of the window at the passing buildings. The bus meanders through the city, lurching through the Thursday mid-morning traffic. Nursey lets his thoughts wander according to the music that is valiantly trying to make a cohesive soundtrack for his life.

30 minutes later and the bus finally trundles out of Manhattan, picking up speed as the traffic lengthens out to create an ever-moving ribbon flying down the road. Nursey’s Spotify is on a metal kick, and he goes to change it to his running playlist, but sees that he has a missed text from Dex.

Dexyyy: Ma wants to know what you want for dinner. I told her about your peanut and tree nut allergies, but I forgot if you like burgers or beef stew more.

Me: mmm stew sounds great but burgers are probably easier

Dexyyy: Okay but which one would you prefer?

Me: oh my god decisionsssss

Me: why do you do this to me

Dexyyy: Nursey just pick a food

Me: ...stew

Dexyyy: Fuck yes

Me: lol

Nursey spends the next three hours alternating between reading Holster’s accounts of his and Ransom’s adventures (which are increasingly entertaining and implausible) as texted to the group chat, scrolling through Instagram (and rolling his eyes at all of the photos posted by his Andover classmates), and staring out at the passing scenery. He eats a quick lunch, gulps down a bottle of water, and naps. He jolts awake when a song from his angsty teenage days blasts through his headphones, and somehow manages to make it to the bathroom and back without faceplanting in the middle of the aisle. Nursey glares at his phone when it tells him that it is only 3:26. Four more hours. Nursey’s butt is going numb.

Me: dexxxxx

Dexyyy: What’s up?

Me: im boreddddd

Dexyyy: Well, I can’t help you with that

Dexyyy: Remind me why you decided to take the bus and not Amtrak? It takes like 6 hours on the train, the bus takes almost 10.

Me: idk

Me: i thought it would be prettier

Me: more whimsical

Dexyyy: Oh my god you’re such a poet

Me: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Dexyyy: NURSEY

Me: tis my name

Dexyyy: Oh my god I can’t believe I willingly invited you to stay with me for a week. What was I thinking???

Me: dunno man

Me: but I’m excited

Me: TO GET OFF THIS BUS

Dexyyy: You suck.

Me: you love me

Dexyyy: Do I

Dexyyy: Do I though

Me: :)

Dexyyy: Anyway

Dexyyy: Ma forgot to get the beef for her beef stew so I have to go get it, I’ll text you in a bit

Me: drive safe!

Dexyyy: I’ll try.

Nursey drops his phone into his lap and tells himself to stop grinning like an idiot. Four more hours until he gets to see Dex, four more hours until what he knows is going to be the best week of his summer, four more hours until he can get off this fucking bus. Spotify chooses to play Sam Cooke’s What a Wonderful World.

Dexyyy: I’m at the store, do you want anything while I’m here?

Me: edibles

Dexyyy: If only

Me: could you get me a few vitamin waters or something?

Dexyyy: The pink ones? Power-C?

Me: yessss

Dexyyy: Ok, will do.

Dexyyy: How’s the ride?

Me: Dex

Me: I am. So. Bored.

Dexyyy: Write something?

Dexyyy: Oh wait, you can’t write in moving vehicles.

Me: yeah :(

Dexyyy: Can’t you type on your phone or something?

Me: idk it doesn’t work as well, I feel like I don’t usually like what I end up writing, you know?

Dexyyy: I guess? Yeah I kinda get it

Three hours later, exhaustion hits Nursey like a truck. Dex texts him to let him know that he’s leaving his house to make the hour-long drive to get Nursey from the bus stop, and Nursey valiantly tries to nap again but he is listless and dehydrated from being on the bus for nine hours. He checks his phone every 15 minutes and each time only five have passed, and the sun seems stuck in place, hovering over the edge of the world but refusing to go down. Time passes slower than when you’re high, and ten times more aggravatingly. But finally, finally, they’re pulling off of the main highway and onto a slower, smaller road, past a small town and coming to a stop in a parking lot, and Nursey can see Dex leaning against his pickup and suddenly his heart is in his mouth. Nursey shoots out of his seat and grabs his things, waddles down the aisle, thanks the bus driver, and trips down the stairs. Dex is laughing at him from where his is standing, and Nursey attempts to flip him off but ends up dropping his duffel and his phone, making Dex laugh harder.

“C’mon Nursey, Ma’s stew is waiting, we don’t have time for you to be a walking mess.”

“Hello to you too, Dex,” Nursey grumbles as he picks up his things.

“Mm. How’s your ass?”

“Still fine as hell.” Dex glares at him. “After sitting on it for that long, I’m surprised it’s not flat.”

“We’ve had roadies that take almost as long to get to.”

“Yeah but when you’re with the team, everything is so much more fun.”

“True.”

Dex starts his car and rolls the windows down. The air is sweet, lighter than what Nursey is used to. He takes a minute to just breathe, getting used to the quiet noise of wheels turning on the tar, the wind rushing past, music drifting quietly out of the car’s speakers. The sun has resumed on its path to give the moon authority, and Dex looks peaceful. They don’t talk for the hour-long ride back to Dex’s house, Dex content to focus on the road, and Nursey content to focus on Dex. He doesn’t know when he first started seeing calm in his defensive partner -- he didn’t think it was possible -- but more and more he’s been seeing Dex as a person rather than a flame. It’s nice. Nursey figures that he must be really, really tired, if he’s allowing himself to think like this.

Meeting Dex’s family, the tour of the house, and dinner passes in a haze for Nursey. He knows the stew was amazing, he knows he is surprised that Dex’s brother doesn’t have red hair, he knows that he is welcomed as a friend of Dex’s but treated only as a guest. He knows that he reverts back to some of his Andover ways (his white-people parent-pleasing ways), and he knows that Dex is frowning at his changed behavior. But Nursey is too tired to deal with anything, and dinner finishes late at nearly 10. Dex pulls Nursey up to his room, where an air mattress has been set up next to Dex’s bed. Dex and Nursey get ready for sleep, switching off in the bathroom in the rhythm they established for roadies, and Dex sets an alarm for 4:30am (“Why, Dex, why.” “I have to work, Nursey. You can sleep in, I’m not expecting your ass to last on a boat for more than five minutes.”) while Nursey smushes his face into his pillow.

It’s not until he turns onto his back that Nursey notices the glow-in-the-dark stars pasted onto the ceiling, and here is another fucking problem. The light from the stars is nothing like the street lamp outside of Nursey’s window at home, and he knows that they will fade out soon, but they are somehow distracting nonetheless. Nursey shifts onto his side, and then flips onto the other, trying not to make too much noise but suddenly unable to get comfortable. After five minutes of waiting to fall asleep, Nursey sits up and stares out into the darkness, sighing deeply.

Dex moves on his bed, and then whisper-shouts, “Nursey, why the hell aren’t you asleep?”

“I don’t fucking know, Dex. I want to go to sleep, it’s not like I’m like, ‘oh yeah, let’s just stay up all fucking night!’”

“Well what the fuck do you need?”

“I dunno!”

“Jesus Christ, I have to be up in six hours, I am not dealing with this,” and then flying out of the darkness comes a pillow, aimed straight at Nursey’s head. He catches it full in the face, and it startles him enough that he flops backwards. Dex chuckles.

“The fuck was that for, man?”

“You always sleep with two pillows, Nurse, and Ma only gave you one. Plus it was really satisfying to throw that at you.”

“Fuck you, Dex. I did not sign up for this.”

“Too bad, Nurse. You can’t get home unless I drive you to the bus stop, so you’re stuck with me until I get sick of you. Or next week, whichever comes first.”

“You don’t think you’ll be sick of me before that?” Nursey asks incredulously.

“Meh, we’ll see. Now go to sleep, Nursey, seriously, before I come knock you out.”

Nursey heaves yet another a put-upon sigh and lays back, sandwiching his head between the two pillows. The top one smells like Dex, and Nursey finds his breathing slowing as he takes in the new but not unfamiliar smell. The star stickers become a distant thought, and Nursey feels himself slowly being swallowed by a welcome sensation -- comfort, his tired mind supplies. Comfort and calm, it says. Dex, it breathes. Nursey falls down, down, down, to sleep.