#I don't have proof but I know James is cooking up something with them

[dirtytransmasc]

the Sully kids' reaction to Jake saying Spider "knew everything" breaks my heart.

they knew him better than anyone else, better than their parents. they knew his love for Eywa, for Pandora, for The People, for the clan, for their family. they knew he would never tell the RDA anything... not willingly at least.

they knew they were leaving because Spider would be tortured for information, he'd be forced to reveal their home, their plans, their numbers, their weaknesses. their brother would be tortured and they were being forced to leave him behind.

they knew they were being forced to find a new home, without their brother, because their dad knew he would be tortured.

[tulipsforvin]

Hello,can I request headcanon about how moriarty brothers will act as bf or s/o pls?

How would The Moriarty Brothers Act As a Significant Other/Bf?

Characters: Albert James Moriarty, William James Moriarty, Louis James Moriarty.

Format: Headcannons.

Albert J. Moriarty

Affluent, rich and successful in almost all aspects to live a luxuriously comfortable life. What else could one ask for?

His gaze follow you anytime you look at something that catches your eye. Perhaps you didn't tell him you wanted it because you felt shy or nervous? He'd keep it a secret - his awareness of you finding something you like.

The next day you'd find it on your bedside table when you wake up, all nicely wrapped.

I reckon he leaves love notes as well ranging from short 'Good morning'(s) to professing his love for you.

Very playful with you. Always, always joking around with you. He loves listening to the sound of your laughter.

Protective. I think he's a fairly jealous man. Definitely not the pouting, sulking type but more like the 'show-them-you're-his' kind of type.

What a gentleman. And I mean, WHAT A GENTLEMAN. Back of the hand kisses, kissing your face, tying your shoelace, opening the door for you..I could go on and on.

He loves to use his money on you.

He knows what he's doing. Although he probably hasn't been in a relationship before, his experience with noble ladies absolutely fangirling over him has probably made him an expert in that field already.

If something gets overwhelming for you, for example a function, he'll shift the spotlight away from you to him so you can have a break. Just like how he does the same thing with William and Louis. Only further proves his protective tendencies.

William J. Moriarty

To be able to get into a relationship with him in the first place implies that you would need to have to break down through several walls that he built to shield himself and go through several obstacles (probably orchestrated by himself☠️).

But once you do, there's a certain comfortness he'll find in your presence. He'll be very vulnerable and turn emotional with you. Shocker. He's also really attentive.

Gets you out of predicaments with ease and can put up with your stubbornness.

He's very sweet and knows how to take care of you. Like, stroking a thumb over your lips if there's milk or something else that you didn't know was there when you just finished eating/drinking something.

Subtle, cute acts that make you swoon.

I'm so, so vey sure he writes love letters.

He's posessive, I'm sure. Contrary to the gentle exterior he has and even though he's quite soft with you, he's posessive. Proof is him going on and on about how Moran was his like a weirdo. Who says he can't do the same with you?

Not very experienced in the field of romance, but he would love to try out new things for you. There's also his intellect. This man probably does research on everything and anything relationship related to please you.

Your personal encyclopedia on all subjects. Don't know about a particular topic? There's nothing to worry about. William, of all people is your boyfriend after all.

Neck kisses. There's something he loves bout intimacy. Like, not just cheek kisses, though they are fine too but I think he loves to explore crevices of your body no one has explored before. Once again, makes him feel like you're his and only his.

Louis J. Moriarty

He likes to bake and cook for you. Anything you want to eat or drink at like, 3 in the morning? He'll trudge out of bed and go make it for you.

He's the more snuggly type. He likes to get warm and cozy with you, especially if it's cold outside.

He's protective like Albert but unlike Albert's more discreet way of acting protective, he's more direct. More agressive with his ways. Just as he is with Sherlock whenever he gets close to William.

NOT EXPERIENCED AT ALL !! He's very clumsy. He probably hasn't even interacted much with ladies before but he tries so, so very hard for you. That's so endearing.

Lots and lots of forehead and nose kisses for sure.

He's not one to talk unless it requires for him to speak so he's pretty satisfied just hearing your voice and nodding his head. A wonderful combination if you like to go on and on about all kinds of random topics.

The type to get easily jealous. He, most likely, has not had alot of meaningful relationships in his life except the Moriarty group, so when he's in a relationship - he's very territorial and gets jealous even though he seems like a sweetheart. Which he is, ofcourse - but just for a selected few.

He gets bashful in the early stages of his relationship or if the two of you are trying out something new. He also likes to bury his face in your chest and neck.

A sucker for intimacy like his older brother.

[pixelwisp-archive]

Itadakimasu!! | Part 11: I'm Sorry (Written Chapter)

word count: 3.1k

The Mixtape: Thinking of you | CA, 1979

The music that pooled out of Onigiri Miya was anything but what you expected.  A small smile crept up onto your face - despite your best efforts - and with a featherlight touch, you crept into the restaurant, silently thanking the soft jazz for drowning out the creaks as you pushed the door open in search of a certain chef.

Osamu stood at the sink, hands working some leftover dishes from the work day. He hummed softly along to the music, and it surprised you just how nice  he sounded - how his deep hum complemented the honey voice that dripped through the speakers; rich, thick, and soft like velvet. You padded into the kitchen, clutching the wine and apron closer to your frame so as not to bump it on anything that could give you away, and allowed yourself a few minutes to listen and appreciate before ultimately ruining the moment.

“I didn’t know you could sing, Miya.” You brought a hand up to suppress a giggle as he stiffened and dropped the plate he had been washing with a loud clatter. Osamu bowed his head and cleared his throat, loud enough to drown out the music for a brief moment before it ultimately pervaded the kitchen once more. He grabbed the nearest towel to dry his hands before reaching for the remote, the music ceasing with a quick click. Once he turned around, your eyes immediately fell on the dusted pink that settled onto his cheeks, and you did your best to ignore the warmth that ignited in your chest at the sight.

"So, Etta James, huh?" Osamu coughed awkwardly, turning his attention back toward the sink to finish up the last few dishes that lingered in the basin.

"Ya know Etta James?" An affirming hum left your lips as you placed the bottle of wine and your apron on the island, eyes flitting over the rustic kitchen in search of wine glasses.

The kitchen was a decent size, the bright wooden counters and cabinets a stark contrast to the dark iron of the appliances, but it complemented each other and suited the space well. The soft ivory paint on the walls kept the overall area from being too loud compared to the rest of the restaurant, and you wondered if Kita was behind the greenery that added a lush, vibrant addition to the otherwise plain shop. Your eyes landed on a modest pile of cookbooks stored neatly in the corner, and you let out a huff of victory as you made your way over to the wine glasses that sat in a windowed cabinet above them.

"My parents were big fans, they've always had a funny fascination with America," you explained, and from the corner of your eye you saw him nod. The two of you relished in the, for once, comfortable beats of silence that followed, and you were surprised when he - for a second time since you had met him - decided to be the one break it.

"My Ma used to have this busted up, old, mix tape that she would play every night when she made dinner. Got it at a flea market when she spent a semester abroad in California. She always talked about how she wished she could visit again." The fondness in his voice made your heart squeeze. You busied yourself, listening intently as you placed two wine glasses onto the counter and filled them generously. "Eventually the cassette broke from years of abuse, but I managed to find the songs and make her a playlist. She still listens to it, every night, and I guess I got so used to it that it feels almost...wrong, to cook without hearin' it in the background, even though I'm not home anymore." You slid one glass over to him and he raised a brow at it, a soft smile pointed your way.

"I think ya skimped me a bit," he joked, and you chuckled sheepishly, a hand coming to scratch the back of your neck.

"What can I say, I like my wine." He chuckles as you reach for the small remote. 

"You didn't have to stop it, you know. I love me some Etta," you said, and his smile widened ever so slightly as you pressed play, the smooth voice fluttering through the speakers once more, softer this time as you adjusted the volume. You lifted the wine glass to your lips, taking a tentative first sip. The second the bittersweet liquid hit your tongue, you closed your eyes and sighed into the familiarity. It flashed you back to Tokyo; the seemingly endless nights on the balcony with Tendou and Semi, your drunken laughter rivaling the music in volume as Semi sang along with fervor - but, really, does anyone sound good when they're nearly a bottle deep?

Reality slammed into you like a meteor, and you were instantly struck back into the present moment, meeting Osamu's eyes as he watched you curiously. You felt the warmth crawl up your neck from the embarrassment, and you cleared your throat in the hopes that you could divert his attention to literally anything else.

"So,  are you gonna teach me how to properly make some Onigiri tonight?" His eyes fell on the apron you brought, the one he gifted to you, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as his lips settled into a playful smirk.

"Who said anythin' about 'teach'? I said I'd show ya how I make it; I didn' say nothin' about teachin' ya."

"And miss out on learning how to make Onigiri Miya's signature dish? No way." Osamu scoffed as you grabbed your apron and began tying it around your waist. His arms folded in front of him, his lips a thin line. You couldn't tell if he was thinking or already disapproving.

"This was meant to be an apology, you know," he started, but you cut him off.

"I know! And what better apology than by helping me perfect my shaping?" The resigned sigh that followed meant a victory for you, the grin proof enough for both of you that you had won. "So, what are we making today?"

"I figured I'd keep it simple tonight. Ya like fatty tuna?" Of course you do.  Who doesn’t? "Great, let's get started then."

To be honest, you weren't expecting Osamu to be as patient with you as he was. Even though you were decently acquainted with the 'art form' that was Onigiri (as so eloquently and dramatically described by Osamu), you decided to entertain him and pretend to struggle with every step - over shredding the tuna, spilling the spices, adding too much mayo - in the minor hope that you could catch him stressed and maybe a bit frustrated - but to your somewhat disappointment, mostly pleasant surprise, every effort to get at least a furrowed brow or a groan was met with a warm smile, sometimes a breathy chuckle, and a strong pair of arms gently guiding you through the correct steps.

It was as equally frustrating as it was endearing.

"Now ya wanna dip yer hands into the dish of water I left on the side for ya, yeah, great, that's it - now grab a pinch of salt - not too much, just a pinch, and ya wanna rub it into yer hands to prep for the rice."

"What if I have a cut somewhere?"

"Do ya have a cut?"

"Well, not that I know of, but what if there's a cut I don't know about?"

"Well then I guess we'll find out soon, won' we?"

You huffed, but nonetheless pinched the tiny mountain of salt and collected a modest amount before tentatively rubbing it into your hands. Your shoulders were stiff the entire time, prepared for the sudden sting on the off chance the salt decided to acquaint itself with an unknown wound on your hand. You heard Osamu stifle a laugh, and your eyes met his as he smirked at your cautious form.

"Stop staring at me, focus on your own stupid rice ball." He laughed - loudly, beautifully - and you felt your hands tremble the slightest bit as you tried to put all of your focus on making a stupid, dumb triangle out of some stupid, dumb rice.

"Need some help?" You merely grumbled in response as the little bundle of rice and filling crumbled in your hands, despite your feeble attempts at shaping it. He set his own, perfectly shaped, onigiri aside and scooched over to you, his arms reaching around your form, chest pressed lightly against your back. "Yer pressing in too softly, so the rice isn't holding. Cup yer hands like this-" he cupped your hands within his own "-just like that. Now press a little firmer, like this." You were trying your best to pay attention to what he was showing you, you really were - but you couldn't help but marvel at how soft his hands were. You expected them to be rough; calloused from years of cooking, volleyball, and the handyman side hobby, but clearly that wasn’t the case. What kind of lotion did he use to make them feel so smooth? Probably some fancy homemade Aloe Vera lotion Kita made for him, you thought with a scoff.

This new revelation had also made you hyper aware that your hands were not, in fact, soft - countless burns, cuts, and other various acts of carelessness in the kitchen have given your hands a battle worn texture that no amount of hoity toity, all natural Aloe Vera would be able to soften up. He must have been cringing inside just having to touch the absolute burlap that is your haggard looking, stupid hands, oh god-

"Nice job, yer doin' great." The gentleness in his voice plucked you from your inner turmoil, effectively grounding you back to the task at hand. What was once a crumbling mess of rice and tuna now stood a beautifully crafted onigiri, the plump triangle nestled snuggly in between your hands. A gasp left you as you beamed at the finished product, and you whipped your head toward him, twisting slightly within his grip so you could face him properly.

It was then that you realized just how close he was to you.

Whatever words you had planned to say to him died in your throat as your brain tried to comprehend why the hell his face was so close to yours. Osamu seemed to be in a similar state of shock, eyes wide and mouth emulating a fish, opening and shutting when the words weren't coming to him. From the way your own mouth gaped, you imagined you shared a similar expression.

Simultaneously, almost comically, you separated yourselves and severed eye contact, Osamu finding something above you particularly interesting. What exactly, you weren't sure - you were too busy eyeing every minute detail of the remarkably plain tile flooring.

Like an awkward embrace from an old friend you never truly vibed with, the uncomfortable silence settled between you two once again.

It would have almost felt nostalgic, if you didn't hate it with a seething passion.

'And my arms need someone, someone to enfold'

The playful jazz number cut through the silence, and you mentally cursed Etta for clearly not reading the room - your arms were certainly not looking to enfold anybody at the moment, and you imagined it was likely that Osamu felt the same.

You spun back around toward your work station, a quick roll of your shoulders the only indication that you were gonna keep working, because you sure as shit didn't trust whatever would have come out of your mouth had you chosen to open it. Lucky for you, he seemed to get the hint and moved back toward his own work station, making quick work of shaping what he had left, while you continued to struggle, albeit far less than before.

Not a word had been uttered in the moments that followed, the music filling the awkward rift that split between you.

To be honest, you felt guilty that nearly every interaction between you two inevitably dissolved into a dense, unbearable tension; the once lighthearted mood suddenly cracked open like a fault line, the quiet settling between you like dust, and it always felt so thick that trying to bring the moment back its old, enlightened state seemed to take such an immense amount of effort - effort that neither one of you appeared to want to put forth.

You wondered if Osamu shared a similar sentiment.

While you finished up the last of your onigiri, you allowed your attention to flicker to Osamu as he eyed the leftover tuna filling with seemingly great interest, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. You watched as he scooped the mess onto his finger, putting obvious effort into keeping it balanced as he brought the teetering pile to his lips. Right as he went to close his lips around his finger, the tiny mountain fell, smearing onto his chin and landing on the counter with the saddest little ‘splat’ you'd ever heard. The disappointment he exuded at his misfortune is what ultimately broke you, and you laughed - a bright, gleeful sound that dispelled the suffocating air in an instant, and made you feel like you could finally breathe again (which was ironic, considering how out of breath you were from the incessant giggles that sprung free with absolutely no regard for your lung capacity).

Your hand flew to your mouth in an (admittedly failed) attempt to stifle yourself, as well as possibly save the last shred of rapidly waning dignity Osamu was probably holding onto for dear life. You folded in on yourself, laughter bouncing off the restaurant floor and - again, probably - stabbing directly into Osamu's crumbling pride.

Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, Osamu's loud, beautiful laugh cut through your own, and at the sight of his uncharacteristically bright smile, accompanied with the little smear of mayo on his chin, you realized that, maybe, probably, he was actually doing just fine; and that this - laughing with him - was something you'd never been given the chance to do before, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't something you wished you could do more often.

You hoped that, maybe, Osamu wanted that, too.

"So, I take it they didn't teach you how to make onigiri at your fancy schmancy culinary school?" He smiled as you bit back a groan. It was embarrassing, how ugly your onigiri looked next to his. Sure, you were joking about your incompetence in the beginning in the hopes to rile him up a little; but when it came to actually forming the balls, well - there's a reason the spite onigiri you made were small and round.

"You win this time, rice man." He boldly plucked one of your creations and plopped it onto his plate, while you opted for one of his. You knew yours were gonna have too much mayo and way too much seasoning, and you weren't about to subject yourself to that.

You took a bite out of the rice ball and audibly moaned - how is something so simple so delicious? He chuckled, lazy smile draped across his features as he watched you eat. The little sparkle in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you, and you felt a tiny tug on your heart at how excited he was that you were enjoying his food, even if he wasn't being outwardly showy about it like you tended to be.

"'This time'? Does that mean we're doing this again?" You reached for another one of his as you hummed to yourself.

"Hmm, maybe. Maybe I'll force you to bake me some macarons." You were kidding, of course - you wouldn't wish that upon even your worst enemies - but the way his eyes brightened and he agreed with a small but noticeable lilt to his voice had you wondering if maybe making macarons wouldn't be all that bad if you made them with him.

He bit into your onigiri, taking a far more generous bite than you would have, and you snickered at the obvious attempt to conceal the grimace he had involuntarily made upon swallowing. The way he tiptoed around his critique of your failure was incredibly endearing ("It's not bad, just...mayo-y." "You don't have to eat it, you know." "No no, you worked hard, I'm gonna eat it."), and you felt the first little crack form in the walls you had begun to keep up around him ever since the curry incident.

The longer you enjoyed the food, wine, and - surprisingly - company, the harder it became to ignore the guilt that had settled onto your heart earlier in the evening. What started off as a mere twinge had become a sizeable weight in your chest, growing each moment you spent with him that didn't make you want to launch him off the summit of Mount Fuji.

"I'm sorry," you said, quiet and out of the blue. He shot you a confused smile.

"Pretty sure that's my job right now," he pointed out, and you offered a meek chuckle in response.

"I shouldn't have sold the dessert onigiri. Seeing just how passionate you are makes me realize the gravity of what I did. My ego was a little bruised and instead of being an adult about it, I openly insulted you and Kita by making a mockery of your business. I took it too far, and I'm really sorry about that. I'm sure it goes without saying, but I'm gonna stop making them so you don't have to worry anymore." He was quiet, staring at you in a way he hadn't before, and it made you feel far too exposed, playing with the rice crumbled on your plate as you waited for a reaction.

"I'm sorry, too. I only said those things because the idea of you expanding yer menu terrified me. Yer an amazin' chef, and I honestly think ya could run me out of business one day." His voice was soft, too; and you felt the crack grow considerably wider, your vulnerability peeking through pinched brows and hands that you couldn't seem to keep still. "I've always wanted to open up a location in Tokyo, and expand the menu. Onigiri made sense because it's always been a source of comfort, but as much as I love makin' em, there're others things I wanna make, too."

The air between you was...light. The weight that usually settled itself into your shoulder blades seemed to have dissipated, and you couldn't tell if it was the wine, the time, or Osamu. Maybe it was all three.

"I...I like it better when we don't hate each other," you said.

"I never hated you," he said.

"I never hated you either," you admitted.

"Does that mean we can stop pretending we do?" He looked you, and you saw hope.

You smiled.

"Yeah," you said. "We can."

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Fun facts -

Osamu listening to old 60′s love songs just did something to me ok, especially my girl Etta

Kita is 100% responsible for the plants 

Osamu’s mom kept the tape, even after it finally broke beyond repair. It reminds her of Osamu’s father, who she met that summer in Cali

he was another exchange student from Japan. They had a summer fling and inevitably said their goodbyes when the summer was over and he had to fly back home.

They ended up bumping into each other a year after she moved back - and fate has been a big theme for the Miya’s ever since. 

Osamu has always felt a little funny about it - it feels too convenient, and he doesn’t like the idea of not being in control of his own path.

He thought your ugly rice balls were disgusting, obviously, and he was sure to eat his own after the first one lmao

A/n - when you haven’t updated in so long you have to look at past chapters to remember how you formatted 😭. BUT ITS FINALLY DONEEEE, this chapter KICKED my ass oh my god but it feels so good to be finished and we’re finally moving into new territory~ I’m very excited for the next few chapters!! I hope you guys enjoy this latest chapter, please don’t be afraid to shoot me messages if you have questions!! I have a LOT of behind the scenes content that doesn’t make it into the fic sometimes and I’m always eager to share 🤩✨💛

Taglist (bolded cannot be tagged!)-

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude​ @doctorspencereid​ @keiarma​ @cherriechurros​ @halesandy​ @k3nma-fairy​ @jewlmin​ @tabipleats​ @kaleidoscopekai​ @confusedturtle​ @vintagexparker​ @hoeevern @syaziahvg​ @hallothankmas​ @lilith412426​ @aurorahoneybuns​ @oikawakuns​ @reina-de-tay​ @prettyinblack231​ @snowyseungs​ @darlingkuroo​ @chloji​ @1sillylittlething​ 

[taiyaki-choco]

Hi! Your writing is really good and I can't wait for more. Could I request s/o who was a childhood friend of Moriarty brothers and is working with them in criminal world. Like she was a maid when Moriarty madsion burned down and she got out. If you don't want to write it feel free to ignore it. Just remember to take care of yourself. Have nice day/night!

Author’s note: I’m really glad and happy to know that you enjoy my writing!! Thank you for your concern and I hope you are in good health as well. This is my first request and I hope it is to your liking. I apologise in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes and also for posting this later than I thought I would because I’m having public examination. Currently, we have just started a new semester and at the same time having a total lockdown T^T

Spoiler warning: Mention about post explosion of Moriarty household which is in Season 2

You met him and his brother during a rainy night. It is unexpected but nevertheless you managed to find shelter for the time being despite you were drenched from the rain.

After fixing yourself a little, you looked around and saw two boys having the same predicament as you.

You looked and observed them but what you didn’t realised was that you stare a bit too long and one of them started talking by saying “Yes, do you need something?”

You thought you were subtle enough... but no you weren’t. Slowly, you began to talk to them just to pass time while waiting for the rain to subside.

Eventually, you get to know him and his brother named Louis. Through talking overnight, the 3 of you became friends as you do share the same thought and ideal with them.

Knowing how unfair the class system is, knowing that how you are looked down upon by the upper class, knowing that you won’t be getting any equal rights and you just hated this rotten world that is solely based on money or status.

You began tagging along with them and soon became inseparable, the 3 of you would go into the reading room of British Museum without permission to gain knowledge by reading the unlimited books there. After all, knowledge is power.

When the 3 of you were found out by the librarian, you were sent away to the nearby orphanage.

After a few weeks, both the brothers were adopted while you were hired as a maid in the Moriarty manor. You were an under class and because of that status often you had always been picked on by the servants there.

When the manor burned down, you were lucky enough to escaped and reunite with both the brothers and Albert. He took the name William from the second child of Moriarty.

Years have passed, you are now helping them with their ‘work’. You became William’s assistant and together both of you would plan on how to eliminate those bad nobles.

You are glad to meet them especially William, somehow along the way you develop feelings for him.

You always look forward to meet William and to plan on how to make the death of their targets look like an accident.

Both of you would talk about your day or start any discussion after finish planning. Through this way, both of you are able to cope up with each other.

One day, while you were in deep thought you bumped into someone. You closed your eyes in reflex and anticipated the fall but it never happened.

You opened your eyes and saw William holding your hand to prevent you from falling and pulls you towards him.

“Be careful there.” He said giving you a soft smile. Your heart just skipped a beat and you started to feel the heat creep into your cheeks.

“Are you okay, dear? You look flustered.” He said while observing your face. Deep down he knew about your feelings because it is mutual. He just wanted to tease you and get a little reaction from you.

Looking at your face which is even redder after his statement, he can’t help but to let out a chuckle. You just look so cute and how he wish he could protect your smile and your entire being from this cruel society.

Both of you would then take a walk in the garden and somehow without thinking you expressed your feelings. You were scared that he will reject you and thought of fleeing away but he caught you by your wrist.

He hugs you and return back the feelings that he holds for you. He placed a kiss on your forehead looking at you with a set of gentle and loving eyes thinking of how lucky he is to had met you on that rainy night.

You met the brothers when you were sneaking into the British Museum again.

When you are turning into a corner you bang into the someone. You rubbed the throbbing pain on your head and look at who you bumped into.

When you opened your eyes, you saw a boy around your age on the ground rubbing his head as well.

“I’m sorry as I did not look where am I going.” You said as you held out a hand to helped him up.

As time goes by you begin getting closer to the brothers as 3 of you would sneak in the reading room together to read books and gain knowledge from it.

Unfortunately, you were caught by a librarian and the 3 of you are sent off to the nearby orphanage. Your bond with them begin to strengthened due to the fact most of the orphans are treated badly by those evil nobles.

You always stay by Louis’ side knowing that he has some health problem especially when he is going through one of his episodes which worried both you and his elder brother.

One day, 3 of you are adopted by the Moriarty family and you are appointed as the newest maid. Even so, the maids and butlers in the manor isn’t treating you equally as they mock you just because you are from the underclass.

When the explosion occur, you are glad that you survived and with minimal injuries. Being a worry wart, you frantically find the brothers to make sure they are safe.

When you reunite with them, you cried tears of joy as they are safe and isn’t critically injured from the explosion.

When you saw the fresh burn scar on Louis’ cheek, your heart throb in pain for him but knowing he did it willingly as a proof of loyalty and recompense for Albert and his brother.

Years had pass, you along with the Moriarty brothers have grown and you can’t help but to develop some feelings towards the youngest Moriarty.

He became the ‘butler’ of the family as he is the one who will do the house chores from cleaning to cooking.

You often help him when he is making meals or desserts for everyone. You cherish these moments with him. Every second means a lot to you.

One day, you saw Louis is preparing some desserts for tea break and you decided to approach him and help him.

“Thank you for helping me.” He said with a small blush and a sweet smile. “You could start by mixing the ingredients that I had prepare.” He said with a soft tone and adoration to you.

When you are mixing the ingredients, Louis held your hands from behind and guided you the correct technique on mixing while explaining it to you.

You blushed lightly and well being a little childish you place some flour on his nose when you turn your body

Louis then place some on your cheek as a get back. Slowly, both of you just playing around rather than getting the dessert done.

He then embrace you and confessed his feeling towards you which you gladly and happily return to him. Louis then slowly close the gap and place a kiss on your lips to show his affections towards you.

He vow to protect, cherish and wants the best for you because your happiness meant everything to him.

Well people said that the first impression is always important as how you present and uphold yourself which will either make or break an opportunity.

You meet him on the street, when you were begging for money just to survive as you were abandoned by your parents.

He slowly approach you with a concerned look. “Hello, I am Albert James Moriarty. May I know what is your name?” He said in a soft tone so that he would not frighten you.

You then introduce yourself and he asked you what happened in which you told him about what you have endured. He eventually took you back to the Moriarty family as he couldn’t find the heart to leave you there.

Meeting the Moriarty family is not pleasant but at least you have a shelter, food and water which are essential to survive. The price? You have to become a maid for the Moriarty family despite Albert’s protests.

After a few days, he went to the orphanage as usual to help out the care takers as well as spending time with the orphans by reading books to them or listen to them talking about their day.

Being a maid is not easy but it is even more tougher on how the Moriarty household treated you. Having to endure (original) William’s punishment, the scolding of Lady Moriarty and the discrimination of some other maids and butlers of the household.

From then on you hated the classification system but then you are grateful that Albert would help you whenever he could and surprising both of you have a lot in common.

Slowly as time goes by, the Moriarty family have adopted 2 brothers. You knew how the they are treated just because of their status because you were one of the victims as well.

You are close to Albert and the two brothers as all of you share the same thought and view about this inequality world and all of you vow that one day you will change it no matter what it takes.

During the very night of the explosion, you escaped with them and you were taken in by Lord Rockwell.

Years later, you helped (current) William, Louis and Albert with their plan by eliminating those bad and evil nobles in order to achieve their goals in having an equal life for everyone no matter what status you are.

You know that there is no backing out after what you have done but you do not have regrets about it since because of Albert you are still able to live until now and thanks to the 2 brothers you are still alive.

“(Y/n), would you like to have some tea with me?” Albert said while giving you a smile in which took your breath away. You admit that you have fallen hard for him but you know that he deserves to be with someone of high status even though you know he will not judge people by status.

Eventually, tea breaks are always a thing at least once a week for the both of you to unwind, talk about your day and just have discussion about the current affair.

“That’s what I like about you.” Albert said suddenly which caught you off guard. He himself is also taken aback about the words that spill from his mouth.

“Ahhh... that is supposed to be my inner thoughts.. nevertheless (y/n) I like you, I like you ever since we get to know each other, you might not share the same feelings with me in which I understand. I—” You then cut him off by placing a kiss on him.

Wow, you are bold for once...

He overcome his shock and return the kiss.

When both of you separated, somehow that confidence that you just found slowly fades and a deep red blush paints your face and Albert’s chuckle isn’t helping at all.

“Why the sudden shyness, darling?” He said liking your reaction towards his tease. You just wanted to ✨ evaporate ✨ at this point

He laughed seeing how quiet you are and said “I’m just teasing, I love you so much. Thank you for being in my life.” and placed a kiss on your forehead.

[pbandjesse]

We are home! I am sorry my posts were so late. I promise I wrote them on time. I just really didn't know we weren't going to have any service. Like at all. We would have to go all the way into town to get even a bar. And I wouldn't get data again until we were more then an hour from where we were camping. It was wild.

But today was pretty good! I was more exhausted then I anticipated. I am a little worried about how exhausted I am going to be this week based on that. But honestly I had the best weekend. Even with some hiccups.

They were only little ones. Like when I forgot the hammock straps. I was able to make work what I had. And then James forgot shorts and sandals. And I forgot my pocket knife. At least the one I like the most. We weren't able to go tubing, which made me a little sad. But then we couldn't find proof that we had bought the tickets for going to the cave today. And I was just so upset.

But it was mostly me being upset because I was tired. I was very cold last night. I was like glommed on to James because I was shivering. So I didn't sleep the best I guess. I woke up because I heard Evan and Noelle. So I got up and got washed up and dressed. I had some issues with my outfit. But it was fine. I just wanted to be comfy.

We spent the morning packing and organizing. James and Evan were mostly cooking while me and Noelle were packing. JAmes would take the tent apart. We were all a great team. It was a lot of fun actually. Breakfast was great. And I was in a good mood even if I was sleepy.

James made a big deal about how well I put everything in the car. Made me feel all proud. And once all the dishes were clean and I cloroxed all the table clothes, we got in the car and we were off.

We left a little after 10. The plan was to get to town to get some service and then figure out when our tickets were for.

But we couldn't find the tickets. We couldn't find any proof we bought tickets. I was very frustrated. We tried calling but it didn't work. James said lets just go. It will be fine. But it was almost 2 hours away and I was just getting myself very worked up.

I tried looking at the website to see if they had availability but it wouldn't work and we kept going in and out of service. And I was trying not to have a panic but I was just super upset and tired.

But James tried their best to be a calming presence. And I fell asleep.

I woke up when a deer ran in front of the car. James swerved and it was fine but we got a little scared. I would doze a little more. And it was okay. But yeah. I was very tired.

We got the Penn's Cave. And I couldn't be a part of the conversation, finding out if we had tickets at will call. I went to the bathroom. But when I came out James was walking out with the tickets! We were going to get to go!!

I felt so much better after that. The tickets were for 130. So we had about an hour to waste. But that was all good. We went through the gift shop, which was honestly excellent and hokey and great. James bought me earrings. And then we went to the snack bar to get sandwiches.

I was afraid I was going to knock something off the table because it was very full of stuff, and so I handed James the bag with the earrings in it. And then they knocked over a full cup of coffee. On me, on themselves, on the floor. It was kind of a mess and I was so upset. I was just so full of aniexty today and I felt like it was all my fault.

But I went to tell the workers we had a spill, James cleaned up the table. And we were fine. But I was still upset. I enjoyed my sandwich but I was having trouble shaking off my feelings.

We would go sit outside after that. Made sure we had anything we needed. Waited on a bench. And eventually we were able to go down to the cave!!

It was beautiful. I really loved the fish. And the water was a beautiful milky color from the limestone. When we did get on the boat our tour guide was great. I think everyone's favorite part was the beaver that lives in the cave!! We saw him napping. The guide told us that in the winter when they don't have the tours during the week the beaver will try to build a dam and they have to keep cleaning it up every Saturday. It was great.

I got dripped on a few times. Which is good luck. And I enjoyed seeing the elk and reindeer when we got out of the cave for them to turn the boat around. It was great. I had a great time. I sort of wish we also did the nature tour. But that leaves something to do next time? Sometime in the future. Plus we were all very sleepy.

We said our goodbyes. And then we were on our own.

I was very upset again. For stupid reasons. But I knew it was because I was hungry and tired. James said we could go get donuts. But they were an hour away. And then the phone wouldn't connect to the car and it was a whole thing. But I just needed to sleep.

So I put on a podcast for us, and I conked out.

When I did wake up we were close to donuts. We got a half dozen. And some caffeine. And then it was just one more hour to home.

I was so excited to be back here. Even if it was to warm. I was super excited to see sweetP. Who cried a whole bunch. Me and James got everything inside and mostly unpacked. We had to put things away that needed to be cleaned first so we worked on that.

We would take a moment to breath and open mail. I was excited that the half birthday present James got me came! They got me the papershoot camera I wanted. That has been sold out forever. Its a digital camera that shoots like film, with no screen or anything. Its so cute. I got the doodle red one. I think I might do like, a monthly download of the pictures maybe? Im not sure! But Im excited.

We would order pizza. And lay together on the couch. A few times getting up to put things away. And once dinner was done I took a great bath and I feel so much nicer now. And very ready to sleep. I hope its easy sleep.

Im looking forward to camp. Its the last week of overnight!! And then just one more week! I hope its a fun one.

[famous-aces]

Alfredo Guttero

Who: Alfredo Guttero

What: Artist and Art Promoter

Where: Argentinian (active in Argentina and throughout Western Europe) 

When: May 26, 1882 - December 1, 1932

(Image Description: Retrato del pintor, Victorica, 1929 [a self portrait]. It shows Guttero in his apartment. Outside is a very geometric skyline of smokestacks, steep roofs, and a brown sky. His room is slate colored and he sits in a chair in the foreground. He has a jacket thrown over the back of his chair. His pose is casual and he looks as if we [the viewer] have just distracted him from painting. He sits with his legs to one side, turned almost unnaturally toward the viewer. One leg is lifted slightly and one hand is on the chair's seat as if he is in the middle of turning completely to the viewer. He is a man with a receding hairline and a high forehead. He has a dark mustache and dark hair and low eyebrows. He is wearing a white shirt and bowtie and has his sleeves rolled up to the elbow and his collar is ruffled and loosened. The whole thing hangs very loose but you can still see some of his body's lines of musculature. His tie undone and hanging around his neck. His pants are ordinary and green/brown. His expression is calm but confident and he looks directly at the viewer. The colors are bold but not really bright. The style blends geometry and flatness and realism in a way I am explaining very poorly. End ID)

Guttero is not terribly well remembered today, which is too bad. Looking through his oeuvre I quite like his work. Maybe it is because he lacked the bombastic personality of many modernist artists, maybe it is due to his diversity of styles without one that seems to define his work, or maybe it is because he was one of so many talented artists of his generation. He was well renown in his era, however, and used his popularity and skill to foster the next generation of Argentinian artists.

Guttero's life began mundanely enough. He always loved art, appreciating it and creating it, but pursued a legal career instead. But he was unhappy with his life as a lawyer, so Guttero left it to become a painter. He pursued his dream and passion, inspired and pushed by other Argentine artists. In 1904 his reputation was good enough that the Argentinian government sponsored his move to Paris, then the epicenter of the truly exciting and revolutionary art world, its influence expanding outward. He studied there for a few years under Maurice Denis before appearing in the Salon.

He remained in Paris until 1916 when he began to travel extensively across Western Europe for more than a decade, first to Spain, then Germany, Austria, and beyond. He traveled to nearly every country in the area between the years of 1916 and 1927.  His work was shown in various exhibitions around the continent from being featured in the Salon in Paris to a major solo exhibition in Genoa.

After that he returned to Argentina for the first time since his initial departure in 1904. Guttero remained active in his native country including creating free art classes called, aptly enough, Cursos Libres de Arte Plástico, with other Argentine artists. During this time he focused on his work as an art promotor, perhaps even more than his own art. During this time he introduced and showed new Argentinian artists to a wider audience. Indeed he created an organization for this purpose: the Hall of Modern Painters. He was dedicated to promoting and preserving modern art in the face of a world growing increasingly dark and reactionary. He died young and without much warning.

His art is undeniably modernist but trickier to pin to a specific movement. He has many different styles he utilizes with different degrees of naturalism and curves vs geometry. His scenes are by and large mundane and human, he uses bright colors, often huge central subjects, kinetic poses and positions, modern settings, and by and large human or urban subjects. He often painted on plaster using a "cooked plaster" technique of his own devising.

(Image Description: Martigues for Charles Jacques [1909], a brightly colored painting showing a scene in a Martigues canal. It is not completely realistic nor completely geometric and abstract. He favors color over outlines. In the background is a bright blue sky interrupted by yellow buildings with tile roofs, maybe houses, lit by the unseen sun. One of the building's lower doors is open. There is a small tree to the far right. In the foreground in the sparkling water of the canal are several small work boats, probably fishing boats judging by the silvery nets lying over the hulls. On the right a boat is coming in, there is a pale skinned, dark haired man working on one of the nets. His sail is red and white. On the left is a pale man in an orange hat and yellow shirt. He is stooped and just by his pose appears older, both of the men are too far away for many identifying details. End ID)

Possible Orientation: Mspec ace, gay ace, or aroace with an aesthetic attraction to multiple genders. (I am so unsure I have changed "probable" to "possible.")

I admit this one is a stretch on my part.

I am classifying Guttero based largely on absence, i.e. the absence of a remembered/recorded spouse, sexual/romantic partner, or liasian. I have no quotes or historical documents to prove my point. I have none of his personal philosophy or writings to draw from. Just the fact that he dedicated his life to art more than human relationshipa. That this is something I have seen before: Cause and its role in the life of many aros/aces/aroaces (outlined in Weil's entry the other day) and the fact that he had no recorded romantic/sexual partners that I can find in hours of research.

This illustrates why it is so, so difficult to find aspecs in history. We are not, as aphobes believe, impossible to locate, there is externally visible evidence, but it is less obvious than most other orientations. And cishets would rather we didn't exist so we are often buried under excuses. The easiest ways to find them are 1) if they were notably "married to their job" in their lifetimes (e.g. Jeanette Rankin and Carter Woodson), they talked/wrote about it in some capacity (e.g. T.E. Lawrence or Frédéric Chopin), they were distrusted because of it (John Ruskin and James Barrie), they made it part of their persona (Nikola Tesla and Florence Nightingale), aside from that I really need to search deep into their personal lives. Information not always available.

And often even when people essentially say "I am aromantic and/or asexual" the general population will not accept that. After all Newton is often remembered as allo and gay, despite never expressing interest in men. Chopin is often listed as allo and bi. Rankin is often considered cishet but too deeply concerned with her work. Barrie gets called a pedophile despite showing no interest in children. For eccentric aspecs like Weil/Tesla/etc. their being aspec becomes part of their oddness. If they weren't Like That they would be allo. Their being aspec becomes a symptom of their weirdness and would be unacceptable in a "normal" person.

History with a capital H does not want to acknowledge aspecs and, as with other queer identities, will go to insane measures to erase them. But even other queer historians will do this to aspecs. I am shocked how many people do exactly to Newton/Lewis/and the like what cishet historians do to Alexander the Great. In the case of Alexander the cishets ignore the obvious accounts that he loved Hephestian in nearly every way possible and queer historians and history buffs call them out, then often the non-aspec ones look at Newton and Lewis who had no interest in men and say they must have been gay. And it isn't really just history, Tim Gunn is by his own admission both gay and ace and the second part of that statement is either erased or, even crazier, I have seen aphobes say that he is mistaken about his own identity.

Anyway the root cause of this lack of nuance in the discussion of sexual orientation is a long sidebar that this is not the place to explore. I have left Guttero behind paragraphs ago. I have written a lot about how aces and aros end up getting erased from history and this isn't about that.

This is about Guttero and the difficulty of finding aros and aces. The presence of something is so much easier to find than the alternative, obviously, like if Historical Figure X exclusively slept with/courted men and was a man we can say he was (most likely) gay. But if Historical Figure Y didn't sleep with anyone/court anyone it is harder to prove. This is obviously severely simplifying identity but for the purposes of this example I beg your apology.

Long Story Short: the absence of evidence of something is not proof of the absence of something. A lot of aphobes will point this out and utterly ignore the fact that sometimes it is.

So, Guttero. The only thing I can say conclusively is that he never married and he was romantically or sexually tied to anyone as far as I can find. He was, in his time, very active in the art world. If he had been involved someone would probably have taken note. Especially considering his art is often very appreciative of the human form, especially the male one, it would not be hard to believe he was allo and gay or mspec.

I am going to take his art another way putting some dusty analysis/critique/art history skills to good use. Here's the thing, those who follow me on my personal blog or even here know I find the Death of the Author extremely important but it is also extremely complicated (it was actually the topic of my senior thesis). I don't want to use an artist's work to talk about their personal lives because art is often not reflective of life, but there is always some cross contamination in one way or another. I am going to explain what I mean on a superficial level, using myself as an example so I can say this is 100% accurate. I love the found family trope, and I think those relationships are the best in the world. So whenever I write something you can be damned sure if I can get some found family goodness in there I will. What I am saying is, I don't love or even approve of everything I write about, but I do write about some things because I love them and want to explore them and experience them on some level. The same may be true for Guttero and the subjects he painted.

Guttero often pays a lot of attention to human form. Look at his work The Market (I couldn't find a large enough image to put it in this post) and you will see his appreciation for amab musculature and on the other side of the male spectrum...

(image description: Retrato de Lucien Cavarry [1911] It shows a thin, lanky, and well dressed young man reclining on a green floral patterned couch and a black pillow. He is pale with neat, dark hair. He has a shadow of 5 o'clock shadow on his super hero jaw. His suit is white, his slightly rumpled tie is black, as are his socks and polished shoes. One arm is across the back of the couch and a red and gold pillow the other is dangling. This style is very different from the other portraits I showed/referenced. Still a modern but more realistic style, more flowing, less geometric. The man is drop dead gorgeous by Western beauty standards. End ID)

As for women...he seems to find them colder, more distant, but there is still a physical appreciation there. (Linking Mujeres Indolentes so I don't get flagged for "female presenting nipples" or whatever Tumblr's BS is. [The name alone tells you a lot]). Or the somewhat judgemental gaze of the woman below:

(Image Description: Georgelina. It shows a portrait of a pretty young woman sitting in front of a field. She is pale and long and beautiful. She has red hair, sharp eyes, a long flowing white dress with a gold sash around her waist, and a white hat with a black bow that is blowing in the wind. She takes up most of the frame and her expression is challenging and she holds eye contact with the viewer. The colors are bright and she is almost porciline in color. The background is mostly flat planes of color. In style it is somewhere between the self portrait and the portrait of Cavarry. End ID.)

Not all of his portraits of women have them so sour/distant but they all have a sort of challenging look. Beauty tinged with something dangerous, while the men always seem more innocent.

So here is why I say aspec rather than allo using his work alone, none of his work is particularly sexually inviting even with the sexiness/physical European attractiveness. The men are bashful or unaware of the viewer, the women are certainly not interested.

And back to the self portrait at the top: Guttero is in a fairly sexy pose, but it is sexy without being sexual. He is rumpled but the thing he was doing was painting, there is a sexless explanation. He is looking at the viewer, but you are distracting him from working. At first glance I thought his legs were spread, but they are simply in motion so he can face his guest more comfortably. This all could mean nothing, but I found it striking that this is how he chose to depict himself, at first he appears to be inviting the viewer in for a more physical interaction, but then it seems he is doing exactly the opposite, his passionate energy has been instead put into painting.

And in reality toward the end of his life that was what he did. He dedicated himself to his own art and the art of others.

So again, this could mean nothing. But...it could mean he is aspec.

And that is how the person I am least sure about got the longest entry.

(image description: Elevadores [1928]. A painting showing a factory complex. There is a raised platform running around it and several buildings in bright colors. There is a tree to the right side and a green hill. The building in the near-center [lightly left] is red. The sky is yellow and blue, perhaps the unseen sun is rising up behind the right-hand buildings. In style it is mostly geometric and flat color. End ID.)

[blazerina]

(😁😁 Ask game! If you get this message, choose ANY fanfic/fanart/other prompt you want, and send that same prompt to three creative people in your fandom! Don't forget to include this message! 😁😁) Prompt: "I can't believe I just said that out loud."

@firefly-hwufanficwriter - this has taken me forever to respond to but here you go! The prompt was: I can’t believe I just said that out loud.

PS This was not what I was intentionally going to write but the inspiration kind of took over and here we are. :) Thanks for sending me this prompt!

“A Regular Tuesday” - The Sophomore - Chris x MC & James x MC

Bridget stared through the oven window at the baked pasta that was almost ready. While she watched the cheese pulse and bubbleover the edge of the glass dish it was cooking in, the smell settled over the kitchen like a cloud, and she began to imagine how delicious it would taste.

“This is going to be sooo good!” She clapped her hands in giddy excitement, as she declared the news aloud to an emptyhouse.  She and her friends had beenliving in Professor Vasquez’s old house for about 2 months now, and they were well into themiddle of their fall semester.  The kitchen was her favorite place to be. It made the house feel even more like home. This is where she could provide for those who meant the most to her. Baking and cooking brought life; not only through nourishment, but time together and and joy from one another’s company as people gathered to break bread at the table.  Feeling confident and at peace, Bridgetmoved to the refrigerator and pulled out some vegetables, closing the door withher foot while humming a Taylor Swift song.

She had been preparing for this meal for a few hoursnow.  The apron around her waist wasproof of that. It was smeared with tomato sauce and chocolate, from the pastaas well as the chocolate pie she made that was cooling on the counter.  This would be the first night in a few weeksthat she and James would have together. Even though it was a Tuesday, she wanted to do something special forhim. He had been majorly stressed lately as he tried to balance his work with the paper, upcoming graduation, finding ajob and his general search for perfection in all things.  Making dinner for him was the leastshe could do to take his mind off of those troubling situations for a while.

The timer on her cell phone rang out and she dropped thelast of some bell peppers into a bowl of salad she was mixingtogether.  As she pulled the pasta dishout of the oven, she heard the hinges on the front door screech as it swung open.

“You’re here early, my love!” She called, beaming as she turnedaround with potholders on her hands, holding out the pasta dish, clearly proudof her creation.

Her face fell when she realized it wasn’t who she wasexpecting.

“Oh, shoot. Bridge! I’m sorry – I didn’t know you werehaving a…a…thing…” Chris blushed slightly as he looked his roommate up anddown.

Her hair was up (which was not the norm) and her diamondstud earrings sparkled in the candlelight that was reflecting from candles she lit on the kitchentable.  She had pulled out all the stopsthis time.  Chris knew that she loved tocook but hadn’t really experienced it much. He was so busy with Student Government or football, that he wasn’taround that much anymore. He made sure of it. Being around her was too difficult these days.

As he continued to take her in, he noticed the gleam in hereye as she nervously laughed, placing the hot dish back into the oven to keepit warm.  Her simple black dress wasstrapless but casual at the same time. Small, white, lacy designs decorated the bottom of her dress and while her heelsaided in her height, she was still small. He smirked at the pink and yellow apron around her waist and the many fresh stains that had been wiped upon it.

“Hey! It’s no problem at all.” She chuckled, taking the pot holders off of her hands and returning toher salad.  “I assumed since it was just a regular ole Tuesday evening, everyone would be gone…” Bridget trailed off while she absentmindedly grabbed a peeler and began peelingcarrots to add to the salad.

“Practice out early?” She asked, focusing on the smallstrips of orange that were landing in the sink. 

Something had been different this year with Chris and she didn’t knowwhat it was.  They had been making an effort to spend more time together, as friends of course, but they had come to rely onone another in a new and different way.  

Bridget knew that she loved James and that James loved her.They weren’t having problems, they were stronger and closer than ever…but inthose moments when it was just Chris and Bridget, there was somethingdeveloping and it made her nervous.  

They had spent more time together over the summer and the past few months, one on one. Bridget was busy with her book and her own writing for the paper, but she still wasn’t as preoccupied with life as James was.

She wasn’t worried about her relationship with James. For the first time in a while, since the whole California debacle, they were in a good place.  He trusted her, she trusted him and they really worked to make time for one another when it felt like things were getting too hectic.  Tonight was supposed to be a prime example of that new-found intentionality that both of them were working to bring to their relationship.

Is it just me? Shethought to herself.  I can’t be the only one that feels like something has changed between us.  The way he stares.  He looks at me different…he’s looking at me right now, I can feel it.  What’s happening - why am I struggling with this? Sometimes I’m sad when I don’t see him or hear from him for a while…be cool, Bridget.  Don’t be awkward. This is Chris – one of your best friends!

Lately she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about move in day, when she and Chris met. Her mind always traveled back to the kiss they shared on the rooftop their very first night together at Hartfeld.  After the kiss that night, she laid awakethinking about their future and all the opportunities that were waiting for her.She was sure that Chris was her one true love and they’d be collegesweethearts, living out their 4 years at university together and riding offinto the sunset at graduation to live their lives and start another adventuretogether.  As things began to unravelwith Becca, the sorority, writing for Vasquez and meeting James, Chris fadedmore and more into the background.

Bridget was lost in her thoughts again before a sharp pain interrupted them. “Ow!”She seethed, quickly dropping the carrot and the peeler into the sink with aloud clang.  

“Shoot.” She muttered, clasping her hand.  “I always do this.”

“You okay?” Chris dropped his gym bag by the door and walkedquickly to her side.  “What’d you do?”

“I’m fine, thanks, it’s stupid.  The peeler missed the carrot and got myfinger.” She smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t paying attention.”  

Her knuckle was bleeding, but she ran it undersome water anyway.  “So – how waspractice?” She asked again, trying to find a way to fill the void or ease thetension or whatever it was that was happening lately between them.

“Eh, it was alright.” Chris shrugged, opening therefrigerator and scratching the back of his head, absentmindedly.  

He didn’t know what he was looking for. He wasn’t hungry. Hewasn’t thirsty.  He felt like he was in afog.  It took every ounce of strength to take his eyes or hismind off of Bridget. And he didn’t want to.

Look at what I missed out on. He toldhimself.  I don’t know how much longer I can do this…the more time we spendtogether, the more I realize how much I like her…but James. He’s my friend too!And she adores him…look at what she’s done for him…wish it was for me…it couldhave been for me…if I wasn’t so stupid…

“Just alright?” Bridget persisted, wrapping a paper towelaround her injured finger.

Chris snapped out of his mental diatribe with the refrigerator door still open. Without lookingaway from the fridge he answered, “We ended early – it got really hot inside thepractice facility and people were getting sick, so coach called it.  No one drinks enough water.” He grabbed abeer from the fridge and cracked it open.

Bridget raised an eyebrow, looked down at the can and thenback up at him, “Thank goodness you’re perfect, then.” She smirked, biting herbottom lip to stifle a laugh.

“Hey.” He raised the can as if to toast her, “I earned thistoday.”  He took a long sip, let out asatisfied sigh and moved closer to her, as if he all of a sudden mustered upcourage.  He held his breath whilereaching out for her arm.

Her back was to him as she used one hand to mix the contentsof the salad bowl, when he gently grabbed her elbow, trying to force her toturn around.  “Let me see your wound.”

Bridget closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, feeling his skinagainst hers.  “It’s really nothing…” Shesaid slowly, almost whispering as she turned to face him.  

His eyes locked with hers as he took her hand in his.  “Bridget, I’m in love with you.” Chrissighed, but kept his eyes focused on her face. 

“I can’t believe I just saidthat out loud…” He glanced at the floor for a moment, scared, but determined.

“I have to tell you this now, or I’m never going to.  Every day I find myself more and more attracted to you. Themore I get to know you, the more I see of you, the closer we become…” Hetrailed off, still holding her hand, the damp paper towel around her finger,now unraveling a bit.

Bridget couldn’t help her eyes from growing wide. “Chris. I…we…”She stammered, inhaling sharply, not knowing what to say. The two of them werecloser together now, facing each other.  

“I’m so confused.” She confessed, breathlessly.  “What…what’sgoing on between us?”  

“Very good question, Bridget.  That’s what I’d like to know.” James voiceechoed in the quiet house as he stood in the entry to the kitchen, waiting foran answer.

—

Shout out to my girl @joyfulchoices who has taught me and given me a whole new appreciation for Mr. Christopher Powell. Thank you, friend!