#and we’d been talking consistently every day for like a week

[saturnsuv]

.

[sachirobabe]

Chapter 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

Wc: 986

Summary: You, a dedicated member of the girls' volleyball team, find an unexpected connection with Kuroo Tetsurou. Igniting a bond over shared passions and stolen moments, love blossoms on the court; all because you met him at a captains meeting.

Masterlist | Next —>

Taglist: @funky-writes, @lemurzsquad, @02shuuu

It was normal for third-years to be captains, but not necessarily in your case. You had been a captain since your first-year. Your coach had different rules, and everybody voted on a captain regardless of year status. Leading to you becoming a leader from your first year on the team.

Surprisingly, the girls and boys teams were kept separate often. The only one you were semi-close to was Nobuyuki Kai, only because you two were in the same class.

You had suggested numerous times for practice matches or jointed practices, but had consistently been turned down by the other captains and the boys' head coach.

Budgeting, costs and other important factors were assessed during the meeting. It was finally time for your yearly begging of having the two teams be closer.

"What could we benefit from playing with you guys?" Coach Nekomata crosses his arms in his seat.

"We've won the spring national tournament for the past two years." Your coach says curtly. “We’d be great practice.”

He ponders. "You've been at this since you were a little first-year, Y/n." Nekomata chuckles and turns in his chair to face you. "I like your determination. Why not? Let's do it."

"Really?" Your mouth is agape.

"Mhm." He agrees. "We'll plan at least one practice match every week."

"Thank you!" You bow to him and the new captain sitting next to him.

"You won't regret it, coach." Mori, your coach gives him a wide smile.

"We won't go easy on you." The new captain exits along with you.

"Better not." You smile back. "I'm Y/n L/n, I'm sorry I never got to formally meet you in there."

"It's all good. Kuroo Tetsurou." He says back. "New year already, huh?"

"Last one, too." You smile softly, "You think you'll get many new players trying out?"

He thinks for a moment, "Probably not, you?"

"We always have a big turnout, but most of the unserious players quit after the first day. I think we’ll get 3-4 new first-years.” You answer.

"I'm really excited for the training camp, you're assisting right?" He continues the small talk.

"Yeah I will, don't you remember me assisting the last couple of years?" You raise an eyebrow.

He laughs softly, "I do. Just wanted to make sure." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "Well anyway, I've gotta do some supply checks, I'll see you later." He waves and you give a small one back.

The spring wind softly blew, giving a nice breeze to the warm sun. First day of school and volleyball was tomorrow, you’re both excited and a little sad. This would be your last year before going to university.

You began to walk home, putting in your headphones to listen to music to past time. The music stopped, indicating you were getting a call. Confused, you look at your screen and see Himari, your best friend and teammate.

“Hello?” You pick up.

“Hey, you busy?” She asks out of breath.

“No, I’m just coming back from the captains meeting.” You say.

“I forgot that was today, how’d it go?” She questions and hears you sigh, “You know what, come to my house. We can bake some cookies and talk about it.”

A small smile formed on your lips, you had good news, but you wanted to act upset so you could tell her in person. “I’m heading over, you need me to pick up anything at the store?”

“I don’t think so, my mom just went grocery shopping.” She says.

“Alright, I’m 5 minutes away.” You say and hang up, you quickly text your parents that you’d be going over to Himari’s for a little.

She lived next door to you, making you grow up with each other. Your mom had put you into volleyball from a young age and when Himari moved in, you asked her to play and she too, fell in love with the sport.

You don’t even knock anymore, that’s how close your families are. You let yourself in and see Himari sitting at her kitchen counter.

“Where’s your mom?” You say, wanting to greet her.

“She’s on a date!” Himari smiles widely. Her mother was divorced and ended up raising Himari herself.

“Please tell me it’s with the guy from the farmers market.” You ask and she nods furiously, making you both squeal. “Good for her. I hope it goes well.”

“Same here.” She agrees. “Now, tell me all about the meeting.” She pulls out a mixing bowl, already having the ingredients out.

You walk over to the sink to wash your hands, “You know how it always goes. Budgeting, storage, and whatnot.”

“So boring.” She rolls her eyes and eats a chocolate chip, “Did you ask coach Nekomata about joint practices or matches?”

“I did.” You say and stay quiet. “He said yes!”

She screams in excitement, “No way. Really?”

“Yes way. He said he liked my determination and would schedule a practice match every week!” You two hug and pull away.

“I’m so glad. We could definitely beat them.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know.” You smile. “I can’t wait to tell the rest of the team.”

“Speaking of, has coach gave you the practice plan?” She gulps.

“No.” You say with wide eyes. “It’ll probably be bad. She does it so she can weed out the weak ones.”

Himari grabs a cookie from the pan, “Lets toast, for the next two weeks of absolute hell.” You grab a cookie and touch it against hers giggling.

“It’s getting late.” You say, having to be up early after weeks of waking up late. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” You wave and jog to your house.

You greet your parents and quickly head off to your room to make sure you have everything for tomorrow. You have butterflies in your stomach as you lay in bed, forcing your eyes shut.

[aranarumei]

the anomalous agate (part four)

hello, all. we've made it to the home stretch! this is the last main chapter of the anomalous agate—there's an epilogue after this, as well as bonus extra set more in the world of hanzawa to tashiro. I've also been playing around with the idea of doing a sort of… director's commentary? something like that. where I get to indulge and talk about some of my thoughts.

for anyone who has no idea what this is about, go here for part one

for those who do, here's the ao3 link, and if you prefer tumblr, it's just under the cut

case 2-x: the anomalous agate (part 4)

Sunlight set the streets before me aglow. It was, by all accounts, the warmest day in autumn we’d had this year, and I was beginning to sweat. There was a restless kind of itch inside my skin that I couldn’t seem to quell. Part of it was the bruise—the mark had faded, but now the area of pale purple felt consistently irritated. 

The other part was the fact that it was Saturday afternoon. Richard had closed the shop to make a special house call, and it was only now that I realized I’d spent the majority of every weekend working in Ginza. Rather than feel like I was chomping at the bit, though, the sudden free time left my skin itching to head into Jewelry Étranger like always. 

After poring over my various options, I’d decided to spend my day off on various chores and errands. I was currently on my way to the supermarket, but in the absence of any attractive deals awaiting me, I was dragging my feet in the afternoon heat. While looking around for a reasonable distraction, my attention was waylaid by the sight of the café I’d entered just over a week ago, and after considering its merit as a temperature-controlled room as well as my flagging enthusiasm for shopping, I decided to enter. 

The moment I stepped inside, a cooling breeze swept over my skin, and I was immediately refreshed. Then I scanned for a free seat and caught sight of a familiar head of black hair. A chill skittered up my spine; the person in question turned around and froze the moment our eyes met. 

Hanzawa Masato’s mouth parted in an involuntary ‘O’ shape, and I knew, again, that I was bearing witness to a scene I shouldn’t have seen. I thought about tucking myself into a different corner of the café, but the person he was sitting with had already spotted me, and obliviously waved me over. 

Hanzawa’s companion was a boy with half-dyed hair, the natural dark brown color abruptly transitioning into a sharp blond-gold. In the time it had taken me to approach them, he’d moved to sit next to Hanzawa, leaving a free seat for me on the other side. I took the offered seat awkwardly, wondering if there was any normal way to introduce myself. 

Thankfully, Hanzawa took the lead in greeting me. “…It’s nice to see you, Seigi.” 

“…It’s nice to see you too, Hanzawa.” As shocked as he’d been when we’d first made eye contact, he didn’t look irritated or out of sorts. I addressed the person next to him. “And you are…?” 

“Tashiro Gonzaburou! Is it fine if I call you Seigi, too?” 

“Sure,” I said, a little stunned by his easygoing smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Tashiro.” 

Before we could get too deep into a conversation, I ordered an iced americano. Hanzawa took a careful sip of his milk tea—it wasn’t the kind that Richard liked, but I wondered if that was why Hanzawa had asked for the royal milk tea in our first meeting. 

Once I’d gotten my drink in hand, Tashiro asked, “So how’d you meet Hanzawa-senpai, anyways?” 

Before I could muster up a vague enough answer that would satisfy a guy who seemed wholly blunt and direct, Hanzawa cut in with a response. “Seigi works at a jewelry store in Ginza,” he said. He addressed me: “I was under the impression you worked weekends?” 

There wasn’t a hint of turmoil on his face. I thought I’d gotten better at reading him, but I had no idea what he was thinking at the current moment. The circumstances through which I’d met Kaede were kind of awkward, so maybe it wasn’t right to explain… but it wasn’t like these were non-awkward circumstances, either. 

“Oh—well, yeah, that’s normally the case,” I said. “But Richard’s making a house call today, so the shop’s closed… we’ll be open tomorrow, though.” That was at least double the words necessary for an explanation. It wasn’t like Hanzawa was going to show up and buy something—he didn’t need me to prattle on about the exact specifics of Jewelry Étranger’s schedule. 

“A jeweler’s store?” Tashiro mused out loud before clapping his hands in epiphany. “Hanzawa-senpai, were you buying earrings?” 

“…Perhaps?” I’d seen Hanzawa be reticent with information before, but the tone of his voice here was an obvious tease. 

With a put-upon sigh, Tashiro asked, “I guess you’re just allergic to straight answers, huh?” At Hanzawa’s answering smile, he added, “Are you finally going to tell me how many piercings you actually have?” 

Hanzawa seemed to consider it for a long time, before simply declaring, “That’s no fun—I’ll let you keep guessing.” 

For all that I’d worried about an awkward situation, Hanzawa and Tashiro were more than able to carry conversation. Rather than cultivate a sense of unease, Hanzawa’s air of mystery had turned into something almost playful, something which Tashiro’s presence seemed to actively encourage. The two people sitting across from me both carried an inherent kind of charm—from Tashiro, so natural he likely didn’t notice it himself, and a deep, practiced consideration from Hanzawa’s end. I would have been fine just watching them talk to each other, but Hanzawa took note of my sense of distance and conscientiously pulled me into a discussion about various customers that had passed through Jewelry Étranger. We began to trade stories about the interesting people we’d encountered—Hanzawa had stories about almost anything, and Tashiro helped out at a bathhouse near his home that was full of interesting characters. 

Still, I couldn’t help but feel the sense that I was a third wheel in this situation. 

During a lull in the conversation, Tashiro tilted Hanzawa’s drink towards him and took an exploratory sip. “You got a new flavor,” he observed. “Don’t you usually stick with the same one?” 

Hanzawa’s gaze lowered towards Tashiro, slumped forward on the table in the perfect picture of relaxation, Hanzawa’s drink in hand. He tilted his drink back towards him and took a sip. “It is college,” he said. “I think you’re meant to loosen up a little.”

“And have all-night karaoke sessions?” Tashiro replied with a laugh. He straightened back up in his seat, not once breaking eye contact with Hanzawa, and added, “You’ve never really been uptight, anyways.” 

Hanzawa raised an eyebrow. “I was president of the disciplinary committee, you know.” 

“Hirano-senpai was vice-president,” Tashiro replied scathingly. 

I had no idea what that name meant, but seeing as Hanzawa’s lips twitched in amusement, it was an excellent point. 

“Anyways, you weren’t uptight, you were up in everything!” Tashiro exclaimed. With his brows scrunched in concentration, he began to count a list of Hanzawa’s activities on his fingers. “President of the disciplinary committee, captain of the ping pong club, head of the dorm, all the random stuff you did for the cultural festival that you’re still doing…” He punctuated his list with a dramatic huff. “I was right—you are a masochist. I bet that hasn’t changed in college.” 

On second thought, maybe the ability to carry a conversation didn’t exactly mean one was a good conversationalist. I didn’t know how to look at the two of them without feeling embarrassment, but strangely enough, Hanzawa didn’t seem to mind the impropriety.

His lips curled into a threatening smile. “Tashiro-kun, are you sure you want to repeat that?” 

At the deep fondness hidden in his voice, I had a sudden epiphany. Blankly staring at Tashiro, I knew—this has to be what that guy meant. 

Unaffected by Hanzawa’s words, and unaware of the whirling thoughts in my head, Tashiro simply muttered, “This is exactly what I mean.” 

“How is the ping pong club, anyways?” Hanzawa asked, confirming my suspicions as he pivoted topics.

Tashiro flashed him a peace sign. “Doing great! The guys in our year keep telling stories about you—that’s how they terrify the first years!” 

“And I’m sure you’ve let them know that these are terribly unfair rumors?” Hanzawa said, leaning towards him. He fluttered his eyelashes, the action dancing on the edge of mockery and sincerity. “Disparaging a poor alumnus who can’t even defend himself, really…” 

Before he could get too far in his speech, they both seemed to realize there was a third person at the table and jerked back into regular sitting positions. Hanzawa ineffectually cleared his throat, and said, “Ah, Seigi—you used to be in a karate club, right? Don’t you still keep in touch with the members?” 

“…Well, not any of the newer ones, really,” I said, doing my best to convey that I hadn’t seen anything incriminating. “But I help out in events every once in a while, and I’m on an email chain with a bunch of people I knew at the time. It would be hard to pick it back up all of sudden, but I’ve been considering it.”

Hanzawa’s eyes flickered over to my fading bruise. He opened his mouth as if to ask me a question, and then seemed to think better of it.

“I did karate for a year, actually!” Tashiro piped up. 

Genuine disbelief and interest bled into Hanzawa’s voice. “Really?” 

“Closer to half a year, probably,” Tashiro amended sheepishly. “But yeah, I cycled through a lot of different sports back then, so I know the basics. Maybe I would’ve picked it back up in high school, but then I got conned—” 

“You bore the consequence of terms you accepted, you mean,” Hanzawa cut in. 

“Conned,” Tashiro repeated with extra emphasis, “into joining the ping pong club. But karate requires a lot of discipline, so I probably wouldn’t have ever stuck with it for long.” He sighed. “Now that I’m the president of the ping pong club, I can’t even skip practices!” 

“Well, obviously,” Hanzawa drawled. With a lightly accusing finger pointed at Tashiro’s hair, he added, “Unfortunately, I only hear good things about you from your clubmates. They don’t even think your hair makes you look like a ruffian!” 

“I haven’t dyed my hair in two years because of that stupid rule!” Tashiro replied. “Seriously, what was that president thinking…” 

“Probably that you’d grow your hair out and then cut off all the dyed parts,” Hanzawa replied dryly.

“No way,” Tashiro said. “Besides, this is kind of my brand now, anyways.”

“Delinquency?”

Tashiro glared at him. “If only he knew your hair was dyed,” he griped, “then I bet he’d—” He paused in the middle of his complaint and peered at Hanzawa’s unchanging expression. “He knew?”

“Well, my hair doesn’t stand out like yours does.” 

“So what?” Tashiro asked. “Just because you look normal doesn’t mean you are.” 

Hanzawa ruffled his hair in retaliation. “Show some respect for your senpai,” he huffed. Ignoring Tashiro’s squawks of protest, he added, “Besides, we didn’t force you to dye your hair back to brown, right?” With his hand still near Tashiro’s hair, he curled a stray stand around his finger. “Has your hair been growing much longer recently?”

“Yeah,” Tashiro said, smoothing his hair back into submission. “I think I damaged my hair pretty badly when bleaching it, so it grew kind of slowly, but recently that hasn’t been the case. I don’t know why, but it’s useful for now, isn’t it? I might not even need a wig.” 

“…A wig?” I ventured. 

Pink dusted Hanzawa’s cheeks. “I—I forgot… that you wouldn’t know,” he finished smoothly, though I had a hunch what he meant to say was I forgot you were there. I’d feel offended if it wasn’t for the fact that this meant that Hanzawa had drastically lowered his guard around me.

“It’s alright,” I said. “Is the wig for your cultural festival?” 

“You know about that?” Tashiro asked. 

“I heard a little about your… cross-dressing competition?” 

“It’s officially termed a beauty contest,” Hanzawa said, “but unofficially… no one calls it that.” 

“That’s cool,” I said lamely, but maybe Tashiro had picked up on the sincerity in my voice because he blinked at me for a few moments before beginning to motormouth. 

“Hanzawa-senpai’s helping me out!” he exclaimed. For the first time since we’d met, he ducked his head out of shyness. “It’s—for this year, I’m participating… some guys wanted me to do it in my first year, but I refused to, and well, I’m way taller than I was back then so it’s kind of weird, but still—I think it could be kind of fun? And it turns out that a lot of making things look good is in costuming and makeup, which I don’t know anything about, but of course Hanzawa does because he creepily knows everything, right?” He paused, and added, “For that bruise on your face, he could probably help you out there, if you wanted?”

“Oh—he already did, actually,” I said. “I learned how to cover it up when it was way too obvious to go to work, but I didn’t want to bother, otherwise.”

“Of course, he’s amazing,” Tashiro said, like it was a natural law of the universe, and Hanzawa stared, spellbound. “I don’t know how anyone’s going to pull off anything good next year because he’s got things so well-handled. It should really be impossible for a human to actually do that much”—he turned to Hanzawa and glared without much heat—“so maybe actually rest some time, would you?”

Slipping back into his regular grace, Hanzawa gestured at the café. “Isn’t this resting?” 

“It’s—I don’t mind that you’re helping,” Tashiro said, a frustrated edge to his voice. “I’m happy about it; I just need you to be, too.”

Hanzawa’s gaze drifted to an aimless point in the air. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, voice a little strangled. “I’m… going to stop by the restroom before we head out.”

With that said, he glided towards a distant corner of the café. Tashiro’s eyes tracked his back as he moved, and once Hanzawa left his line of sight, he studied me with careful eyes. 

There wasn’t any pressure behind it, but I couldn’t look away. 

Tapping his empty drink against the table, Tashiro said, “Like he said, we’ll probably head out soon.” His voice had dropped in both pitch and volume. “You seem like a good guy, Seigi—it was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Since that’s the case… he jokes about it, but if you run into Hanzawa-senpai again, could you make sure he’s not actually running himself into the ground?” 

Caught by the sincerity and intensity of his request, I agreed without a second thought. “Sure.” Then I realized it wasn’t the kind of promise I could meaningfully keep, but I didn’t know how to clarify my inadequacy.

“I seriously mean it,” Tashiro whispered, “a guy like that has to be a masochist for how much work he takes on. I mean, he’s helping me even though he graduated already…” 

It wasn’t the kind of thing I could say to his face, but I had a feeling that Hanzawa didn’t consider helping Tashiro as work. Hanzawa was only a year younger than me—maybe not even that, since I didn’t actually know his birthday—and so Tashiro was two years younger than me at best, but I couldn’t help but feel a rush of odd assuredness at the fact. Looking at him, I could understand, a little, what Richard had meant by saying that non-interference was sometimes the respectable choice.

When Hanzawa returned, he raised an eyebrow at the slightly somber mood of the table—Tashiro staring at his empty drink, and I, lost in my thoughts. “I’m going to assume you started gossiping behind my back,” he said. 

Rather than lie, Tashiro dismissively waved off his statement and said, “I told him to look out for you, since you’re up to something or the other. The moment you’re out of my sight, you’re doing all of these interesting things I don’t even know about…”

Stunned by his frankness, Hanzawa’s reply was stilted. “It’s… only expected, I suppose. That I can’t be around as much anymore.” 

“It’s not a bad thing,” Tashiro clarified. “It’s just a thing. Drag me around sometime when you go on your strange adventures, would you?”

“…I’ll consider it, okay?” Hanzawa said, gentler than I’d ever heard him, and I knew, surer than anything, that those weren’t empty words.

With Tashiro appeased, Hanzawa and I locked eyes.

There were a lot of things that I wanted to say. That more than ever, I felt that lapis lazuli was a perfect stone for him. That he was absolutely capable of grandness and importance. That Hanzawa carried different aspects of himself like he was a living example of metamorphism. But seeing him like this was the exact reason I couldn’t say anything to him. Today, we hadn’t spoken a single word about his visits to Jewelry Étranger, but I’d never felt the pressure to. Each time I’d met with Hanzawa, he’d been on his back foot—navigating his interactions with Richard and I at Jewelry Étranger, worrying over Kaede, or helping me cover my bruise.

But here, without any jewel in his possession, there was someone that recognized Hanzawa as he was. Maybe, then, he didn’t need anything at all.

Tashiro had asked me to look out for Hanzawa, but really, it was the other way around—I just never had to ask. Though there was a lot I didn’t know, I had the feeling that Hanzawa and I were similar types of people. If someone saw us as special, it would be impossible to let go.

I swallowed down all those presumptuous words, and said, “Have a nice day.”

“…You too, Seigi.”

— — —

Three weeks later, I was making a cursory sweep of the Jewelry Étranger floor, watching the clock tick over to closing time, when the door swung open with a blast of frost. 

In swept Hanzawa Masato. He was wearing the same shade of pale blue he’d worn during his first visit, but he’d opted for a warm turtleneck instead of a light sweater. He’d layered it with a soft brown coat, but his face was still tinged pink from the cold.

The door clicked shut behind him. I felt as if the broom in my hands should have clattered to the floor, but it stayed in my grip.

Even though it was our duty to greet a client, it was Hanzawa that broke the silence first. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be interrupting something,” he said. Something about his demeanor was noticeably different—he didn’t look uncomfortable, but he wasn’t speaking with his usual practiced composure, either.

I glanced toward Richard—he kept a cool face, but there was a slight deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes that he hadn’t yet shaken off. 

“You’re not interrupting,” I said, leaning my broom against the nearest wall. “Feel free to take a seat.”

“Hanzawa-san…” Richard began, before he fully collected himself. “It’s nice to hear from you again. Would you like me to bring out what you’d looked at previously?”

“I’ll make tea—” I offered, but Hanzawa stopped me in my tracks.

“There’s no need,” he said. “It shouldn’t take too long.” He took a deep breath, drawing closer without taking a seat. “To answer your question, Richard-san—you mentioned you carried different kinds of agate, yes?” At Richard’s ensuing nod, he said, “Do you carry any earrings with blue lace agate, then?” 

Professionalism snapped Richard back into action. “We do have a few,” he said, rising from his seat. “I’ll be back out in a moment, then.”

Once Richard had disappeared into a back room, Hanzawa offered me an appeasing smile. “I’m sure all these repeated visits are bad for business, but I do actually plan on making a purchase.”

“Richard treats all of his clients sincerely, whether they purchase something or not,” I said in instinctive defense. Maybe my next words weren’t appropriate for an employee to a client, but I’d run into Hanzawa outside of work twice. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d be back. Even though we ran into each other again…” 

“I wasn’t planning on it, then,” Hanzawa admitted. “So I do appreciate that you didn’t pressure me.”

“What changed?” I asked. 

“I won’t ruin all my mystery,” Hanzawa replied, a little flippant, and I was reminded of the lightness with which he and Tashiro had conversed. “But the simplest explanation is that I figured out what I wanted.” At my blank stare, he laughed, and explained, “I liked the lapis lazuli. But something so ostentatious won’t ever be my style. I said I wanted a statement piece, right? This is one—but it’s a statement to me, not someone else.” He gestured towards his sweater. “And it’s this shade of blue. I do like blue.”

What I’d noticed earlier was the difference between composure and confidence—the latter of which was unmistakable in Hanzawa’s voice.

“If you’re happy with your choice, that’s great,” I said.

In lieu of a proper reply, Hanzawa said, “…If you ever feel like hanging out sometime, Seigi, you do have my number.”

I didn’t give a proper reply, either; Richard returned with his collection of blue lace agate.

There were only three pairs of earrings, so he offered to have a stone worked into jewelry if Hanzawa preferred. Despite his initial hurry, Hanzawa took the time to inspect each set of earring as carefully as he’d studied eyeshadows. Finally, he decided that Richard’s offer wasn’t necessary, and picked out a pair of teardrop-shaped earrings.

“Can I wear these out of the shop?” Hanzawa asked as Richard advised him on the best way to store jewelry. After brushing past his annoyance at the interruption, Richard gave the okay, and so Hanzawa carefully tried them on, closing the back with a soft click.

After making his goodbyes, he paused by the opened door. In the next moment, he whipped back around to face me, displaying a brilliant, evanescent smile. Against all odds, he’d found a way to glow beneath the gray winter sky.

Just outside the door, I caught a glimpse of a green hoodie, and heard a familiar voice. “Your ears!” 

Startled, Hanzawa turned and closed the door behind him, but I caught his response just before the door swung shut. “My earrings, Tashiro-kun. Really, it’s rude to point…” 

As if on cue, the clock ticked over to closing time. I wasn’t sure when I’d see Hanzawa Masato again, but I knew—whatever conversation he was about to have, it wasn’t one he’d run from.

[louisupdates]

Supporting Louis Tomlinson isn’t “lame” – he’s helping new bands to reach the next level

The former One Directioner is using his platform to uplift rising artists – so it's time to put an end to the musical snobbery surrounding him

By Rhian Daly | 31st October 2022

Right now, the internet is saturated with new music. Touring is becoming increasingly harder thanks to surging living costs and complicated new Brexit rules. Everyone, apart from the biggest artists (and even they’re not safe), could do with a helping hand right now. So why, then, are some acts trying to put down both bands accepting a leg up, and those artists using their platform to pay it forward to those for whom these opportunities could make all the difference to?

Last week (October 22), The Skinner Brothers’ Zac Skinner caused a stir online when he tweeted: “I see all these bands going on tour with Louis Tomlinson from onedirection… fucking laughable. I wouldn’t ever do that on account of it being incredibly LAME.” It reeked of old-school snobbery, implying that because Tomlinson was once a member of the biggest British pop group in recent history, being associated with him was something to be ashamed of.

In a follow-up tweet a couple of days later, Skinner doubled down on his position, comparing him hypothetically supporting the former 1D member to “The Clash supporting Madonna”. His one-minute rant about the “sterilisation” of guitar music felt dangerously close to throwing out the term “real music”.

Regardless of what you think about Tomlinson’s music – past or present – his consistent support of the UK’s underground scene is nothing but admirable. Although, as he told NME earlier this summer, keeping up with all the new music around these days is tough, he’s always armed with recommendations to share with his followers online when they ask for tips. He’s regularly given new and smaller bands support slots on his tours and at his Away From Home festival. He’s even helped out other acts financially when they’ve needed it the most, like when Manchester band Maruja had their gear stolen from their van. Last October, after they reached £2,000 on a crowdfunder to replace the instruments, Tomlinson quietly dropped £4,000 their way, helping them reach their target.

“We were absolutely blown away,” singer and guitarist Harry Wilkinson tells NME of the surprise contribution. “Honestly, we’d probably still be trying to get our gear right now. We’ve made a lot of progress [as a band] this year and, without Louis’ help, we definitely wouldn’t be able to be in the position we’re in right now.” The items Maruja had stolen were things they’d been collecting “all our lives”, including “really rare pedals” they’d likely have struggled to get back at all.

That open-minded reaction to bands is something that feels common within Tomlinson’s fanbase. When each band took to the stage at this year’s Away From Home festival in Málaga, the crowd cheered on every band as enthusiastically as each other – from newcomers like Scottish band Voodoos, who won a competition to kick off the day’s events – to indie legends The Vaccines. It was incredibly heartwarming to see, particularly given this was a crowd of predominantly female fans – a force that has shaped pop culture for decades.

Most mentions of fandoms and stan culture these days are barbed and negative, pointing to ever-growing toxicity online. While that is accurate of some people, Tomlinson’s fans have largely reacted to The Skinner Brothers’ comments in a way that make the London act’s point even more redundant. On Twitter, fans have been collating a playlist of unsigned and upcoming bands – some with ties to Tomlinson, others without – and, in turn, giving those artists more much-needed exposure. “He’s got everyone talking and smaller bands have benefitted from it greatly,” Cooper concedes of Skinner’s original tweet, smiling at the irony.

Community spirit – from Tomlinson’s fans, from artists with a platform they can use – is becoming more and more important as the cost of living in the UK explodes. Financially, rising bands are feeling the strain more than ever, limiting their ability to play as extensively as they once might have been able to. “It’s expensive – you spend so much money on fuel and staying in hotels and everything,” explains Wilkinson.

“You’re trying to grow an audience [through touring] so you can start making money,” Maruja saxophonist and singer Joe Carroll adds. “But you’re having to say no to shows because it’s not gonna be worth the journey – you’re not gonna sell many tickets, it’s not in a city you’ve been able to perform in before, and it’s gonna cost loads to even be able to get there. Having support slots with bigger artists is a great way of growing those things.”

For The Outcharms, not only has opening for Tomlinson given them a rise in interest in the band, including an uptick in monthly listeners online, it’s also helped them see their musical endeavours in a different light. “The mentality of the band has changed – it just gave us a little bit more belief and [and made us open to] taking more risks,” Cooper says. Earlier this month, the group played their biggest headline show to date in the main room at legendary Sheffield venue The Leadmill. “Eventually we would have got to that point, but I don’t think we would have made that leap [before].”

Tomlinson’s dedication to lifting up new bands comes from a place of pure passion. Speaking to NME at Away From Home in August, he cited one of his reasons for starting the festival as wanting to “showcase upcoming bands”. “I’ve always been really interested in the development stage of bands’ careers,” he said. “I think they’re some of the most exciting times. So any way where I can help anything like that, that’s always been really important to me.”

Those who’ve received Tomlinson’s support so far are in agreement that his approach to music should be the norm. “If you’re an artist, you want to see art evolve,” reasons Wilkinson. “I think it’s definitely important once you get to a certain level or a certain amount of status to push for more opportunities [for smaller artists]. The more of that, the better.” Instead of belittling artists for their backgrounds or not sticking to the boundaries we used to put around different genres, we should be celebrating those who are willing to help uplift the whole scene, not just themselves – lord knows we need more of that right now.

[marveltrumpshate]

★ AUCTION WEEK INFO ★

We’re partly through Day 5, which means we only have about two more days until the auction is over! Keep track of all the auctions you’re eyeing, and don’t forget to bid before the deadline.

We want to thank everyone who has been bidding on our wonderful golden needle auctions. We started yesterday with 37 needles, and now we’re down to 22. That’s incredible. Of those remaining, about a half consists of fic auctions, so go bid on our lovely writers!

As we’re entering the final days of Auction Week, we’d like to help creators promote themselves. Here are some tips to ensure that as many people find out about your auction(s) as possible:

Reblog your auction post if you haven’t done so yet. You can find your post on our list of creators. Elaborate on ideas/prompts that you'd love to work on and your strengths as a creator, and share the post on Twitter, Discord, and any other social media platform you’re on so that more people know about the great causes you’re supporting with your offering(s).

If you reblogged your post earlier in the week, do so again in the final days/hours leading up to the auction closing time. Some people may not have seen your first reblog, or they may have forgotten about it as it’s been a few days since it crossed their dash. Consider queueing your reblogs (click the post to reblog and on the drop-down menu on the “Post” button, click “Add to queue”) or scheduling them to be posted at specific times throughout the day, so your followers in different time zones aren’t left out (click the post to reblog and on the drop-down menu on the “Post” button, click “Schedule” and choose a time).

Talk to people on our Discord server. Don’t be shy! Everyone’s nice and we love having new people show up every day. Many of our creators have found new bidders this way and made some new friends while they were at it. Don't forget about our creator–bidder #matchmaking channel, where bidders can post ideas they’re looking for creators to fill. Creators can also use matchmaking to get their name out there and tell people they're open to doing things beyond what they described in their auction listings! If you're not on Discord, you can still take part. See our matchmaking page for more info.

Remind people that you're open to group bids if you indicated that on your auction listing. Are you open to making sequels of existing fics or expanding on a universe you created? Did you hear that someone has an exciting prompt for you but doesn’t have the budget to bid on your auction? This is a great way for people to get involved even if they don’t have much money to spare (chipping in $1 or $5 to a pool can make a big difference), and you’re helping raise more money for charity. It’s a win-win.

Thanks for a phenomenal week so far, and see you tomorrow for Day 6!

____________________________________________

Read our daily update posts for more information:

Day 1 - Viewing Tumblr posts on mobile, using our auction watchlist feature, and changing your Discord DM settings

Day 2 - Bidder–creator matchmaking and group/pod bids

Day 3 - Commissioning gifts on a friend’s behalf (fanworks are great holiday gifts!)

Day 4 - Golden needle auctions

Auction spotlights:

Beta services and other fan labor

Craft or merch auctions

Digital and podfic auctions

Poly ships

Fanworks featuring POC

[let-me-love-you-loki]

An Ending Within--Ch. 21

Chapter 21

           “I’m tired,” I mumbled as I stood up and stretched. It felt like I’d been sitting at that table for days. “I need to take a walk.”

           Sammy Guevara glanced up from the photograph he was signing. We’d been doing a meet-and-greet before Dynamite for the last two hours. It was still a little insane to me that people paid to have their picture with me and get an autograph.

           “Don’t take too long,” he said, glancing at his watch. “There’s only thirty minutes left.”

           For a moment, I wanted to kick him. But I’d been wearing my brace consistently since my match with Jon. Stupid Sammy wasn’t worth the extra pain and discomfort.

           “I’m only going to take a lap around the room, dipshit,” I said under my breath. Sammy smirked. I turned toward the people waiting in my line. “I just need to move around guys. Mox jacked up my knee. The loser. I’ll be back in five.”

           A few people grumbled, but I was already wobbling toward the other end of the room. The outside of my leg was numb. It had been messed up in one way or another for the last few weeks. Jon had been worried so much that I’d wanted to smack him. He worried more than Seth. And of course, neither of us had let on to my husband that my leg was acting up like this again.

           Taking my time, I looped around the room once. I stopped every ten steps or so and flexed my knee and wriggled my toes as much as I could. The numbness began to give way to pins and needles. My heart skipped a beat and then relaxed. A huge wave of relief washed over me. Still, I made a mental note to set up an appointment with Dr. Thurman. If I was going to go crazy in the ring, maybe it would be a good idea to get a bit of maintenance physical therapy. I just had to figure out how to tell Seth.

           “Okay,” I said as I plopped back down in my chair. A teenage girl stood at the front of the line. “I’m only talking to people who hate Jon Moxley.”

           The girl grinned and unrolled a neon green poster. Giant black block letters spelled out a message that made me cackle in a way that would make Seth proud.

           Jon Moxley fears Leighton Black.

***

           “How’s the leg?” Tony Khan asked as we passed in the hallway.

           I flexed my foot and bent my knee a few times. “On my way to see Doc.”

           “Good. If Doc clears you, I’ve got a match for you against Statlander. And we gotta build up your rematch against Jon.”

           Before I could reply, laughter echoed down the hallway. I didn’t need to feel the frenetic energy overwhelming the air to know it was Jon. What I didn’t expect was the crackle of electricity along my skin and the warm salt scent of the ocean. Turning to see Seth and Roman walking side-by-side with Jon sent me barreling backward in time to the early days of The Shield. Those early days when the Hounds gathered around me. My heart jumped up into my throat. Tears burned behind my eyelids.

           “What are you doing here?” I gasped.

           Roman’s deep rumble washed over me. “Surprise, itiiti.”

           Joy lanced through me so quickly that it knocked the breath from my body. I was running before I registered moving. Roman held out his arms and snatched me against his chest. I snaked my arms around his neck and hooked my heels behind his knees.

           “Once a Hound, always a Hound,” he murmured against my hair. “It’s time we came to support you.”

           I swallowed nervously. Time to bite the bullet. But at least I could honestly say it was pins and needles now. Normal coming and going of sensation like I’d had for years now.

           “I was just on my way to see Doc Sampson for the all clear.” Roman set me gently on my feet. “If he says go, I’ve got a match tonight.”

           Jon’s brow furrowed. “Against who?”

           A grin spread over my face. “Your girl Statlander.”

           Seth turned to look at Jon with a smirk. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Your girl? You’ve already dropped Llane?”

           “Fuck you,” Jon said as he thumped Seth hard in the shoulder. He pushed his way past Roman and hooked his arm around my neck. He tucked me in close and gave me a fierce kiss on my head. “Dollface here is the only girl for me. Period.”

           I laughed and put my arm around his waist. “Don’t let Renee hear you say that.”

           Jon shrugged. “She already knows. When it comes to this business, you’re it for me, dollface. Names might change, but we’re Lunatic Llane for good.”

           A door opened at the end of the hallway. “Leighton? Let me get a look at you. Tony needs to know if you’re cleared so he can block the show.”

           Giving Jon one last squeeze, I skipped out of his hold and moved between Seth and Roman. My husband brushed his fingertips along my arm as I walked by. Something like peace and calm slipped along my spine.

***

           When I left Doc Sampson’s trainer’s room, I was more than a little surprised to see a cluster of people just down the hall. The Bucks and Adam Page leaned against the wall with Jon, Seth, and Roman across from them. Chris Jericho was tucked in there, too. Nick Jackson looked up as I got closer. He smiled, and a warm sensation rushed through my heart. My old family joining with the new one.

           “You sure you guys don’t want seats? If you aren’t comfortable with ringside then we can get you a box or something. Somewhere you won’t be seen. And definitely won’t be on camera.” Matt Jackson spoke earnestly to Seth and Roman. I could see what he was trying to do, but I knew without a doubt that it wouldn’t work.

           Seth shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “Thanks, Matt. I mean it. But we’re risking our careers enough just being here.”

           “Seriously?” Adam asked, his voice awash with incredulity.

           Jon grunted. “You have no idea what it’s like over there.”

           “Vince isn’t one for disloyalty. Hell, he swore he’d never speak to me again after I jumped ship to AEW. And he is petty,” Jericho added. “If he finds out that they’re here, he’ll bury them as punishment.”

           My heart jumped into my throat as those words slipped into my brain. “What? You both have to go. Right now,” I squeaked. “Leave. Now.”

           Roman pulled me into a hug. He tucked my head just beneath his chin. “Not a chance, itiiti.”

           “But Vince—”

           “Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?” Roman teased. I felt the chuckle rumble through his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath my ear. “My family helped keep that company alive more than once. Let him try to fire me. If he does, he’s going to have to deal with Sika, Dwayne, and Rakishi.”

           “Ro, you know how vindictive he is.” Worry bled into my body, seeping through into my voice. “If you two get in trouble because of me, I’ll murder both of you.”

           The hallway echoed with the sound of Seth’s laugh. “Don’t worry about us, baby. We’ll be fine. Promise.”

           “Both of you are insane,” I said, wiggling out of Roman’s hold to move closer to Seth. He leaned over to press a kiss against my forehead.

           “I promise. Plus, I have another excuse,” he said with a smile.

           “Tina!” came my favorite voice in the world. “Mamma! Mamma!”

           Sefina came barreling down the hallway with a huge grin on her face. She had a handful of what looked like Sour Patch Kids in one fist. Brandi Rhodes had her other hand and rushed along just behind my daughter.

           I squatted down and held out my arms to her. She yanked her hand from Brandi’s hold and dropped her snacks on the floor as she threw her arms around my neck. I held onto her tight and pressed one kiss after another over her cheeks and forehead.

           “Hi, sweetie!” My whole body felt bright and happy at the sight of my daughter there. She hadn’t seen me wrestle since I moved to AEW. “What are you doing here?”

           “Tama and uso brought me!” Her dark eyes were bright and there was a faint blush over her cheeks. “I want to watch you!”

           That burning behind my eyes came again as I tucked my daughter’s hair behind her ear and looked up at Seth. “Well, that’s good because mommy has a match tonight. Do you want to go meet her?”

           Sefina giggled and nodded. I hooked my arms around her and stood up. She held on tight as I walked through the gaggle of people and went off toward Kris Statlander’s locker room. I was sure my daughter would love her alien gimmick.

_________________________

Tag List

@cburdine

@easyobsession

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@echrai

@themumbler

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@spaghetti-hoop​

[headspaceinanutshell]

Hopeful

It seems like Sunday blogging is becoming my thing. It’s like the weeks events all boils down to the one day that I can truly reflect on how I feel.

I actually had something to look forward to this week which was supposed to be today.

On a Monday at work, people sit, sip their hot drink and make small talk about what they got up to on the weekend. Last Monday, I heard how one of my colleagues went to a lovely restaurant and spent the day child free enjoying their partners company. It raised a question in me as if to say… “Why don’t I have those nice moments to talk about on a Monday?”

Most evenings afterwork consist of a glass of wine, cans of beer and hours of watching The Chase before bed. In the summer, we were active and out walking. I honestly cannot wait for those days again where it stays light, maybe it will bring us closer.

I sent my partner a message and suggested that we arrange a long overdue date day soon. Which happen to fall on today. I suggested bowling and some lunch somewhere. To be honest, it’s not even the activities I was pushing for, it was the quality time alone together. On Saturday, we discussed a plan to potentially get the 9:40 train to Liverpool, visit the natural history museum and grab some lunch with a voucher we had received for Christmas.

So naturally, as he seemed keen, my hopes were high and I was super excited but in the back of my mind, it was like I already knew this wasn’t going to happen. I had felt this anticipation before and had something get in the way. It’s like I emotionally prepared myself for hurdle to stop this from happening.

This morning, I woke up early trying hard not to wake him from his deep sleep. Crept downstairs to get ready and sort the dogs out with breakfast etc. I did my makeup and hair with the knowing of going out to a nice restaurant together and potential photo memories being taken. I left him sleeping quite late, the past 2 nights he had been struggling with his sinuses so he needed as much rest as possible.

I watched the clock once ready, I had gotten ready 2 hours in advance to ensure that as soon as he was up and ready we could go. As the clock moved forward, we reached 9:30am. I knew the Liverpool plan would not be going ahead but was hopeful for a later start to do something else.

He eventually came downstairs, and from the moment I saw him, it was confirmed that we were not going to be doing anything. It looked like he hadn’t slept. Like I said, I had prepared myself for this to happen so I just suggested we stay at home and forget the plan. It's as if I had come to terms with this, way before it was even spoken about.

We did manage to get to the supermarket for some weekly supplies but the whole time, I could see that he was irritated and wanted to just get home. To be honest, I picked up on this and just wanted to get back myself.

Jump to now, he’s in bed. Clearly exhausted and not well. I was laying next to him, I turned to kiss his head whilst he lay there, the only physical contact we’d had all day. He mumbled, “Stop smothering me.” With that sentence, I was gone.

I’m sitting on the sofa, feeling.. well, I don’t know how I’m feeling. Every time I sit here and type, I have tears in my eyes. Empty is the only descriptive word I have right now.

[borntoocry]

the mall: pt 2

this is the part two from this request. I am beyond late, I AM SO SO SO SORRY! I was struggling with finals and then I graduated last weekend!!!!! so life has been interestingly hectic (sorry). but as the anon said, they had an idea for another part, so THROW IT AT ME:))). anyways... 

wc: 5K

NOT PROOF READ

warnings: violence, talk of blood, cuts. that’s about all? 

When I’m mad at Maria and Tommy and the sun isn’t frying my body, I like to lay outside and look up at the sky. Tending to the animals doesn’t consume my entire day and once I’ve cared for every single cow, horse, chicken, calf, rooster, etc., I sit out and let the simmering sun beam on my face. I may have slightly burned my face and attracted some sun-damage spots, but I enjoy the heat that travels down my face and cancels out the hatred in my body.

Today is the day when Ellie and I go to the mall, and it is also our weekly dinner where I have to sit and listen to people talk about their interesting patrol stories. Like any other day, I am left to speak about how exciting the circle of life is; how beautiful it is to see baby animals born; how beautiful it is to see them grow and turn into enormous horses and cows and roosters. I hate it because as much as I love my animals, it is all I see: animals born, animals growing, animals dying.

Most times I will just sit and eat my food and drink my wine. I don’t do much else and finish up before anyone else does. I guess it’s because I have nothing new to say. Most of what I say consists of how big one of the calves is getting or how I need someone else to help me. And sometimes when I don’t want to repeat it all, I just watch Ellie talk while I shove macaroni and cheese in my mouth.

“Are you still mad at ole’ Tommy and Maria?” Ellie asks from wherever she stands. I sit up and glance up at the girl who stands before me. Her hands are behind her back and she rolls on the balls of her feet.

I shrug and reach out a hand. She unravels her hands from behind her back and places one onto my palm. I pull her down and she stumbles onto my lap. When she sits criss-cross in front of me, I hold both of her hands in mine. “I don’t know,” I tell her.

She raises an eyebrow and asks, “What do you mean?”

“It’s been a week,” I say. “So I don’t know if I should still be mad or if I should let it go.”

“Have they talked to you about what happened?”

I wrap my fingers around hers and tighten our grasp. “No,” I mutter. “Well, I don’t think I would consider what Tommy said… an actual conversation. He knocked on my door and walked in and sat on my bed. Then he said, “We’re just scared we’ll lose you. You’re our daughter and if we lost you we’d lose ourselves.” Just a bunch of bullshit. An stupid excuse to keep me locked in Jackson forever.”

“But you’re not stupid,” Ellie whispers, and I nod.

“You are correct.” I smile at her and she avoids looking into my eyes for a split second. But then I take hold of her chin and turn her to me so her eyes are looking directly into mine. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“You’ll still go with me tonight, right?”

I nod and lean into her. I hold her cheek and place a chaste kiss onto her lips. “Yes. When I said I would go I wasn’t lying.”

She pulls away and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”

I shrug and stand, pulling her along with me. “Of course. Now come, let’s go help Maria make the same shit again.”

“It’s good shit though! I love her food.”

I laugh as I drag her to my house. “You say this because you eat Joel’s misery of food every single day. Come over for dinner more than just once a week and you’ll see what I mean.”

“How are the calves so far?” Joel asks me from across the table.

I pick at the lamb on my plate and smile as I tear a piece off the bone. “They’re good. Growing.”

“And the chicks?”

“Good. They’re… also growing.”

“Holding true conversation with people shows that you enjoy their presence, Clementine. Try to say more than the same five words,” Maria tells me from across the table.

I push my plate away along with my full glass of wine and look up at Joel. “Sorry, Joel. The animals are good. I feed them and they grow and I tend to them. I bathe the horses and the pigs with my hands even though I need help because I can only do so much, and I talk to the animals because I feel like they get lonely sometimes.”

“You just made your sentence a little longer. It’s like you’re writing an essay with absolutely no meaning behind it,” Maria continues.

My breath falters in my throat. I drop my hands onto my lap and pinch my thighs to make sure this is actually real. Am I being embarrassed in front of the entire table? And no one is saying a word?

“Sorry–”

“Maybe you’re being too harsh on her?” Tommy whispers.

“I’m not,” Maria replies. “Clementine always has an attitude during our dinners and it’s gotten worse these past couple of weeks. Just because we don’t let you out doesn’t mean you get to let your anger out on everyone else.”

“I never have anything new to say, Maria! Yet every single week you make me talk as if suddenly a goddamn alien spaceship landed in the middle of Jackson. Nothing new has happened and nothing will continue happening. I will be your prisoner until you die. Unless I am like my mom and I die sooner than I should.”

Ellie grabs my thigh under the table and the touch alone causes my tears to fall down my cheeks. They tickle my skin and I almost laugh, but realize I’ve just gone mad. “I don’t want to be here anymore. Here, in Jackson. I’d rather die out there at this point.”

“Oh stop,” Tommy tells me.

“What?” I exclaim. “It’s true! I’m locked in here as your stupid princess and you think I’m living the life. I just want to go out and explore. Do something! I’m supposed to be your child and you won’t even listen to one thing I want. I just want one thing–something I have never asked you for. I always obey you, I always do what you tell me to do.”

“And what are you doing now? Obeying us?”

“I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”

Maria laughs. “You’re funny.”

“You hate me,” I yell. “You call me the daughter you never had, you say I’m a blessing, you say you love me but deep down, you hate me. And maybe it isn’t so deep down. I’ve felt it all week.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Maria laughs.

I look over at Tommy, with his stupid mustache and growing wrinkles. I tilt my head to see if the terror on my face will make him defend me. But all he does is turn away and look at Maria.

“I’ve never been your daughter,” I whisper. “I’m just a kid you’ve had to take care of. An orphan you had to take in because no one else wanted me. You’ve never cared for me even though you claim you do. You’ve never wanted to be responsible for me so you’ve trapped me in this pretty town and masqued it by saying you’d lose yourself if you lost me. But I know you don’t care if I disappear.” I scoot my chair back and remove Ellie’s hand. “So I’ll go.”

“What?” Ellie whispers.

I glance at her and then at Tommy and Maria. “I’ll go now. And you won’t have to see me.”

“And where will you go?” Maria asks.

“Somewhere,” I reply. And then I gasp. “Maybe I’ll die like my mom.”

Tommy stands and slams his hand against the table. “Clem, stop. You are not going anywhere. Who’s going with you? No one has ever taught you anything more than how to tend to animals.”

I look over at Ellie and offer a weak smile. “You can come with me if you want. You can leave after I find someplace.”

“Ellie, you better stay your ass in that chair,” Joel warns, but Ellie shoots up and grabs onto my hand, letting me pull her up the stairs and into my room.

There’s yelling behind my door as I pack clothes into a bag. I try to act like I don’t hear anything but it’s hard to. My name is being yelled out, Tommy and Maria are arguing, and I feel hands on me. I can feel my heart beating against my chest as if moths were slamming into every corner. I can feel myself lose breath as the seconds go by and the more I’m being touched, the more I can’t breathe.

“Get off,” I say. These hands are only on my shoulders yet I still feel like they’re wandering across my body. And I am sweaty and angry and wet from tears. “Get off! Get off!”

“Okay!” Ellie shouts. “Okay, Clem, I just want you to sit still.” Ellie walks in front of me and grabs my clothes from my hands. She places the bits into my bag and zips it up. “C’mon, sit. I’ll grab your shoes and jacket. Just breathe, okay?”

“What if I forgot how to?” I hiccup.

She sits me down onto the edge of my bed and hovers a hand over my heart. “Can I?” I nod. She places her hand directly onto my chest and says, “Okay, now breathe in.” I do what she says. “Breathe out.” I do as she says. “You’ve got this, babe. Again. Two more times and then I’ll leave you to do it on your own.”

I do as she tells me to do and by the time my bag is packed, I can breathe on my own now.

Ellie grabs a pair of earmuffs and slaps them over my ears. “Keep these on so the yelling doesn’t get to you so much… ‘Kay?”

I nod and she does too. She pulls my backpack over hers and grabs her own hiding in my closet. She opens the door and grabs my hand, dragging me down the flight of stairs and through the craze of adults. They yell and I can still hear them with the earmuffs on, but I act like I can’t.

Ellie opens the front door and pushes me in front of her. Then she slams the door.

I don’t know if I should be mad anymore. Essentially, I won. Maria didn’t drag me by my hair and tie me to a  chair in the basement. I am walking across buildings with a tipsy mind and body and my hand is clasped in Ellie’s. I should be leaping for joy at both the contact and freedom, but I’m not sure what exactly I should be feeling.

“We just have to climb down the side of this building, walk across the street, and we’ll be there,” Ellie tells me, her hand loose from mine stealing my thoughts from my mind.

I look up and smile. The building is painted with moss, the brick underneath no longer its original shade of–what I think is–white. The lights illuminating the world in front of us flicker on and off, almost like the Christmas lights in Jackson.

“Cool,” I say. “Let’s go.” I sip some of the whiskey in my hand and head for the ladder on the side of the building. However, Ellie’s  body slams into me and the alcohol burning down my stomach leaps into my throat. “What the f– hey! I almost threw up!”

Ellie grabs my arm and caresses my fingers. “You okay?”

I nod and swallow the vomit. “Yeah, I almost threw up, though. You could have been more careful.”

Ellie steals the bottle from me and stuffs  it in her back pocket. She looks at me with melancholy eyes and places her hands on my cheeks. Her hands are cold and lightly scratching my skin as if they were desperate for my touch. So I lap over her hand with mine and push them towards my mouth.

“I mean are you mentally okay?” she asks. “They were rough back there.”

I shrug. Maria has always been tough on me, more than Tommy. He’s been the sweeter out of the two–with his random hugs, his gifts he’s brought me from patrol, the cakes he’s made with me every year for my birthday. However, he has his days. When he found out I kissed a guy for the first (and only) time, he grounded me. He didn’t even let me see the animals, which is technically my job. Maybe it was for a good reason, because guys aren’t my thing.

“You should see them when you’re not around,” I laugh.

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

I suck in the most air I can and pull her hands away from my face. I no longer want to talk about Tommy and Maria. I left for a reason–to be with Ellie in a place where we don’t need to behave or follow rules. “Can we just go?” I ask. “I don’t want to talk about them anymore.”

Ellie nods and plants a kiss on my forehead. She then slaps my ass and whispers, “C’mon, let’s get it going.”

We climb down the ladder and Ellie leads me to the secret mall door she found on her first trip here. She jams a makeshift key into the keyhole and pulls it open. “I searched it out on my last trip. All clear.” She stands behind the door and gestures for me to walk in. “Beautiful princesses go first.”

I nod and walk in, instantly grabbing my flashlight and flicking it on. I look around the room: full of water, dripping onto the floor and splashing onto my boots; the moss has traveled inside and filled the electrical boxes. I wait around until Ellie walks in front of me and I follow her towards the first box clinging to the walls.

“You’re going to walk through the door, turn left, and you’ll see a big red door. You walk through it and yell once you’re in. Alright?”

I hesitantly look around and wave my flashlight around again–as if I haven’t scoped the room out myself. “You sure you aren’t killing me? ‘Cause if you’re with Maria and Tommy, just say it.”

She scoffs and says, “No, I am not with Maria and Tommy. Just go through the doors, turn left, walk through the big red door, and yell for me when you’re in. Okay?”

I roll my eyes and begin walking up the short set of stairs. “Got it.”

I follow her directions and once I open the big red door, I yell “HERE!”

Seconds later, the lights flicker on and music begins to play. Old music that sounds a lot like the pop music on the shelves of the room I inhabited years ago. My eyes wander around the building and I can’t help but laugh. My chest is full and to release the air burning in my lungs, I cackle. “Holy shit!” I yell. “No way, El. Really?”

Ellie runs in and hugs me from behind. She hectically kisses my neck and cheek and I scream from the immense tickling. “All for you! I wanted you to get out for once. This is your gift from me.”

“Gift?” I exclaim. “For what?”

“Does there have to be a reason?” she whispers and kisses my cheek.

I struggle in her grasp but once I’m free I turn around and kiss her lips. “Thank you for this.”

“I didn’t build the mall,” she chuckles.

I roll my eyes and slap her shoulder. “Not the mall, you dummy. But for bringing me here. I’ve never seen a place like this until now. I haven’t even stepped a foot outside of  Jackson since… Well, ever. Once I got there I never left.”

Ellie’s face no longer shines from her smile. She has no idea what to do with them–her eyes–or her mouth, they just float around and wobble. I want to take back what I said because it sounds outrageously depressing, but I know I can’t.

“This is sad,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. C’mon, let’s go where you want to go.”

Ellie pulls me in tighter and shuts me up with her lips. A short kiss evades the short time we already have in this rotten mall, but after a minute, she lets my swollen mouth go. “Don’t apologize. What’s been going on kills me, to say the least. I haven’t said anything because I’m not sure what’ll happen if I do. But I regret not saying anything. I really do, Clem.”

I shake my head. “I would have argued with you if I was mad at you about it. Don’t worry, I understood you’d have consequences of your own.”

Ellie kisses my cheek and twirls me around so I now follow her down the long floor of stores. We pass by every single store, looking in and seeing the mess that was left from before the world basically ended. Some stores hold more than others, but they’re all trashed nevertheless.

Ellie says we aren’t going into any of the stores unless I want to. I say no to most of them but when we pass by a doll store, I pull her in. The front read ‘American Girl,’ and inside held dolls bigger than the average, forearm length toy. These are large, maybe the size of my calf. I grab a random one off a shelf and run towards her.

“Look!” I extend my arms out and push the box into her chest. “A doll. Her name is… Kit.”

“You taking her?” she asks.

I nod. “Never had a doll. So yes. Plus, I found the prices for these and holy shit. I just saved myself like $100.”

Ellie chuckles and kisses my cheek again. Blood rushes to my cheeks and floods me with a warming feeling that makes me want to run around like a goddamn maniac. I swallow it down and hold her hand as we walk through the second floor of the mall.

Once we reach the end of the floor, she stops at a working set of stairs. “You want to go down to the first floor?”

I nod. “How does this work, though?”

She walks up to the stairs and sets her feet onto the first step. “Like this.” She begins moving down and I quickly follow after her. I linger at the first step, worried I’ll be sucked in, but I jump on from the desperation to follow her, and latch on.

We travel down the steps and I laugh at how quick and effective this is. Maybe a little lazy, but it’s quick. Once we get down to the first level, I look back up at the stairs. Above there’s a sign that reads ‘Escalators.’ Then I begin reminiscing on a time I wasn’t alive to see.

“I wonder what it’d be like to live normally,” I say as I follow after Ellie, who’s now walking me down another long floor of stores. Except on this floor there’s a playground for small children: dinosaurs glued to a multi-colored floor. “Imagine this mall packed with kids and parents and teenagers. Girls like us would be irritated walking through crowds of people that don’t know how to quicken their pace. There’d be lines to use the restroom, lines to buy food at food courts and panties at the Victoria Secret.”

Ellie laughs. “Yeah,” she then whispers, like she’s thinking about it too. “I guess when you first said that I thought, ‘Normal?’ Because to us, this life we’re living right now is normal. But to Joel and Tommy and everyone else, this life is weird. I bet they’re still adapting.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, too, because Tommy probably had an entirely different life before the apocalypse. He had dreams that weren’t based on survival, or at least physical survival. He probably didn’t think he’d be living in a small town, killing off infected bodies every time he left one of the only safe places in the world. “We’d probably have a shit ton of clothes and washing machines.”

“We’d be way cleaner.”

I almost want to cry. We’d be entirely different people. We might not have even existed.

“Well the room feels a little sad. Let’s go to the one place I wanted to show you.”

“And where is that?” I ask with a smirk.

“The jewelry store.”

“See,” Ellie whispers as she slides on a ring with an emerald stone in the center. “Fits perfectly.”

“And how’d you know?” I ask as I flex my hand in front of my face.

“You remember the paper rings I used to make you?”

I nod.

“I measured them and then on one of the patrols we found an abandoned high school and I found a textbook that showed how to convert all this bullshit from inches to centimeters to millimeters or some bullshit. Anyways, I figured it out.”

I feel my cheeks redden. “Oh my god…” I whisper, as that is the only thing I can get out.

“Yeah… I wanted to make sure I got it right.”

I shake my hand to make sure this is real and once my wrist begins aching, I throw my arms around Ellie and hug her as tight as possible. “This means so much to me,” I squeal into her neck. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

She laughs and kisses the side of my head. “It was nothing, Clem.”

I pull away and look at her straight on with a stern look on my face. “No, this was something. I love you so much for this, Ellie. It means you pay attention to the little things and that you care for me more than most people.”

She begins to blush. Her cheeks and freckles are painted red and as I push strands of her hair out of her face, I feel and see the intense heat on her ears, too. A smile kisses my lips and I pull her in to kiss her, but a low growl causes us to stop in our tracks.

“Fuck,” Ellie whispers. She grabs her gun and knife and gives me her knife. She cocks her gun and says, “When I say go, run.”

I nod.

And in the blink of an eye, a ginormous infected launches out of the depths of the jewelry store. It crashes through old glass stands and roars as its body meets the glass shards. As it gets closer, I scream for Ellie. I know if she gets bit nothing will happen, but just because she’s immune doesn’t mean she can’t be torn apart.

“Ellie! Ellie it’s–”

“GO!” she yells, but before I have the chance to run, the thing is on top of me.

I grab the knife Ellie put in my hand and stab its back, but nothing comes of it. All it does is spur it on. It roars in my face and I scream. I stab it over and over until the sound of a gun near my head blows its brains out.

I scream and push it off me. I scoot away from it and stand up, holding my body together as if it's fallen apart. I can feel myself dying even though I’m not sure I’ve even been bitten. I stabbed its head, its back, its neck, and I dodged its every last snarl.

Another shot blares through the air and the sound of footsteps rings in my ears. I cover my ears and try my best to just shut the world out before I die, but it’s only Ellie.

I fall into her and cry. “I shouldn’t have gone,” I heave. “I should have stayed. They were right.”

She shushes me and kisses my forehead. “You’re okay, everything is fine.”

“You haven’t checked me,” I say. “Get off so we can check.”

“Shhh,” Ellie says. “C’mon let’s get out of here and then I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

I’m shaking as we leave the store. My right arm aches and burns and as we find shelter on the second floor, I realize my back does, too.

“My arm,” I tell Ellie as she sits me down on a couch.

She nods and grabs both arms, first twisting the left then the right, which is the one that is bleeding as I look at it. I want to scream, but all I do is gasp. “No,” I cry. “No, this can’t–”

Ellie wipes the blood and takes the words out of my mouth. “It’s okay, Clem. It’s a small scratch.”

“That is no small scratch!” I yell. “It may have not bit me but the glass or its tendrils or some bullshit cut into my goddamn skin!”

Ellie nods violently and quickly drops her backpack onto the ground. She digs into it and takes out a bandage. She tells me to hold still while she tightens it around my arm. I scream, even though I shouldn’t, and whimper once she’s done.

“Now my back,” I cry.

She nods and takes off my backpack. As she sets it down on the floor, we both notice that my switchblade has sliced through the fabric. I groan and realize it must have either stabbed my back or cut me.

Ellie curses under her breath as she pulls the back of my sweater up. Then she hisses. I feel my breath begin to fail: I lose breath and start panting, my body trembling in fear due to Ellie’s lack of speaking.

“You’re okay, you’re fine, Clem. It just cut through your skin a bit. You’ll be alright. Let’s just get home and they’ll take care of you.”

“I can’t,” I exclaim. “They’ll kill me. Maria will kill me!”

Ellie kisses the skin of my back (where it doesn’t burn and feels wet), and relaxes my body as best as she can. “I promise you, they will not. Now c’mon baby, you think you can walk?”

I nod.

“Alright. Let’s get out of here before anything else my dumbass didn’t scope out comes to bite me in the ass.”

Ellie barges into my house and luckily, everyone is still here. The door slamming into the wood and my quiet cries alarms the adults in the living room. They all run into the entrance and before I know it, I’m being taken from Ellie and being carried to the couch.

“Tommy, I’m sorry!” I cry as he sets me onto the couch. I wail and he sits me up, realizing the fabric of my sweater is covered in blood.

“What the fuck, Clementine!” he curses. “What the hell happened?”

I cover my mouth so I won’t hiccup but all I want to do is apologize and give him a valid reason to not lock me away. I simply can’t. The pain running through me accompanied by my heavy crying is keeping me from doing so.

“Hey! Don’t get mad at her, it was my idea,” Ellie states, her voice tired and angry.

“Your idea?” Joel exclaims. “Ellie, where the hell did you take her?”

“The mall. The one I took you along with to check out. I wanted to take her because she had never been outside of these walls. I just wanted her to see what it was like.”

“And you didn’t check to make sure there were no infected?” Maria shouts from the First-aid closet.

“I did,” Ellie says. “I made sure there were none. But one just popped out and before I could stop it, it had already jumped onto her.”

“And where were you?” Joel yells at Ellie. But she isn’t flinching. It’s like she expects all this from him. “You know how to deal with them, you know how to use a gun–and she was the one who was attacked?”

“I’m sorry, Joel, I was–I walked around so I could shoot it from another angle. I told her to run but she was in shock! I’m sorry I let this happen. I’m a fucking idiot and I will live with the blame for the rest of my life.”

“You sure damn will. Now go get us some hot wet towels for Clem.”

Ellie storms off and I’m left with not only the brother’s, but Maria. I continue crying as Tommy looks at my cut. “I can’t fucking believe you guys. This is why I didn’t want you to leave.”

I nod. “I know. I’m sorry, Tommy.”

He looks up at me as he dries my cut with the bandage and his wrinkles smooth over. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in–enough to where my back doesn’t burn. “Fuck you, kid. I love you more than you know. You are no burden, you are no task, you’re my kid. If you were killed, I wouldn’t be able to live another day.”

I cry into his shoulder and forget all about the anger and the arguments had before Ellie and I’s adventure. I am embraced by Tommy and Maria and all is well… for the remaining time.

Ellie returns with the hot wet towels and Maria begins patching me up. And once my arm is stitched up and my back is no longer burning and oozing blood, Ellie lays on the floor next to me. She grabs my hand and kisses it–right where my ring is.

“I’m sorry, Clem. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought it was clear. I thought we were good to go through.”

“I understand, El,” I say. “I do. Now hush. Let’s fall asleep.”

Ellie nods and gives me one last peck on the lips before the world goes quiet and we sleep next to one another.

[jerardeusebio]

Here’s a speech I delivered a few weeks ago at my high school:

𝑷𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 Jerard Eusebio 24 June 2022 South Hill School, Inc.

Hello! To everyone here, the guests, family and friends of the graduating class, to the board, staff, and esteemed faculty of South Hill, and of course to our graduating students, good afternoon. It’s great to be back here.When ma’am Osie reached out to me if I’d be interested to speak to my fellow South Hillians, I immediately said yes. It was only after that I wondered, Wait, where are my more successful batch mates? Kidding aside, I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Thank you for this opportunity.Here is one of my treasured photos from high school. Taken 2002, during the sports fest. I was 13, a sophomore from Mt. Caraballo under ma’am Osie’s advisership. I’m the one up in the air, there, in the middle. We’ll get back to this in a bit.

Today’s theme is “Pursuing Dreams and Fostering Resilience in the Face of Adversity.” It seems meant to be. Even at 33, I’ve come to know a few things about dreaming, resilience, and adversity.

My main message for you is simple: pursuing dreams is pursuing life. The two cannot be separated. I believe that if you’re not dreaming, you’re not living. And I’m not just talking about big dreams here. I’m talking about dreams of all sizes: from getting into your dream university to meeting up with your friends after two years of lockdowns. Twenty years ago, I dreamed about being able to do air splits. I wanted to contribute to our cheer dance. So I obsessed about it. For many weeks! I trained, did the stretches, and eventually I was able to. The culmination of all this effort was this day. We got second place, but it didn’t matter, I was able to do air splits. That was a dream fulfilled. And then, I moved on to a different dream.This the thing about dreams. Big or small, dreams change. And that’s okay. How many of us have said we dream of becoming doctors when we grow up? Or engineers? Lawyers? How many of us would actually stick to that dream? Fresh from high school, I wanted to become a landscape horticulturist. But after college, I didn’t practice that, but instead went into research on trees.

And after two years in the laboratory, I realized I was taking someone else’s spot at that office. So I left Los Baños and sought education, and pursued a new dream. Because dreams change, more often than we’d like to think, there is no arriving. You know the expression, “You’ve made it!” Sure, but only up to this point. Big picture: We never truly “make it” because the finish line always moves. The finish line is a horizon. Like today, we’re spending a few hours to celebrate your graduation, and deservedly so! But this ceremony—organized to formalize you “making it”—will run for a few hours and then end. The living, the dreaming—that’s never going to stop. What’s next? College? What comes after college?

Pursuing dreams is pursuing life. And since life naturally comes with challenges, we will need to be resilient. It’s part of the package. Now I can’t say how you can become resilient. That’s something we learn at our own pace. But, I can share who and what I think could help you face all the chaos and joy up ahead. 

There are three: 

Family and friends. I won’t elaborate about family anymore, instead, I’ll talk about your chosen family: your friends. Do your friends have your back? Do they inspire you to do better in school? Are they as kind and respectful to the janitors as they are to the principal? If they are, then these are the people you want to keep in your lives.

A strong sense of self. As my favorite author Toni Morrison once wrote, “You are your best thing.” Every day is a chance to get to know yourself better, to mold your beliefs and values, to embrace your strengths and weaknesses, to grow in the right direction, to listen to your conscience, and check if what you do when no one is watching is consistent with who you are or with who you want to be.

Gratitude. Here, I’m talking about the little things. Being grateful for things like a good breakfast, a nice conversation with somebody you just met, or finding money in your pocket. Gratitude shifts our perspectives. By being grateful, I think you’ll have a happier time.

And just as you can shift perspectives or think of a new dream, you can also create your own definition of success. You get to define what success looks like to you. Maybe to one of you success means graduating first in class, then in that regard, one of you is successful. But maybe success to you looks like this: after a depressing two years of remote learning, in spite of all that you’ve had to overcome during this pandemic, you are graduating senior high school! Face-to-face, even. If that’s true for all of you, and I hope it is, then you should be enjoying this success.

When I was 13, I had a dream of doing air splits. Success looked like this photograph. And then I moved on to do other things. You dreamed about this day and you got here. In a few hours, days, or weeks, you’ll be off to pursue other dreams. Take a moment to be grateful. I want you to look around, this right here, you are living a dream you once pursued. But this dream is done, now you can continue pursuing more of your life.

Thank you.

[bambioleo]

well well didnt the both of us fuck up this is a terrible thing we did of god

so for context 2 of my friends I’ve known ever since I was in senior kindergarten and them in junior kindergarten I’m only 2/4 months older than them so we became friends very fast and our families were and still are friends yea? so um though we were never in the same class at school we still met like atleast once a week and basically did most things together and to make things easy I’ll just tell their names so one guy is named gautam (who we call ambadi) and the other is called govind (who we call just that or maybe sometimes appu) and we had a group the three of us and we’d talk not quite a lot but still we’d talk and the amount of times we’ve called each other or texted each other is not proportional to the strength of our bond cause we did spend like 10 years together with no concept of phones or whatever so we’ve always spent time face to face yea? and then I started senior year and they started junior year and at the time after they both finished sophomore year Govind’s parents decided to move back to india cause they got job offers there and since it was like a good time they took him to India and it was just me and gautum here and we did talk in our group chat for a while but we eventually stopped doing that cause it just wasn’t us to talk over text (I don’t know why it was but the three of us + adi were always together) and then we’d just call each other every few weeks or months and cause we did know that I was in senior year therefore I had so much to deal with and they had just transferred into junior year so it was hard on them too so we left it at that and very rarely called each other but we never like lost the bond we’re just not good at talking online with each other and our parents woulds sometimes call so we could also talk and stuff and the thing was within our little group consisting of us three and adi me and adi were more close and govind and gautam were more close cause we happened to be in the same class pairwise so I and adi even though adi is currently in India and I’m here we still talk a lot and I was in the pretext that they were talking and keeping touch as well like I could obviously go see gautam whenever cause we’re literally neighbors but that was not the case with govind and it was a little tricky with him cause his parents are both teachers and super strict ones at that and they didn’t encourage the idea of us texting but those two always found ways to talk to each other and then I recently saw gautam again and we picked up conversation right where we left off it was not awkward at all and we were talking about govind and I said I need to talk to him but I could only call and have a super long convo after my exam and he said he hasn’t talked to govind either in a long time like they don’t keep in touch anymore and that’s when we both realized that us three (me, gautam and adi) we thought that one of us is keeping in touch with govind but we didn’t and now govind won’t talk to any of us cause he might’ve thought we’re purposefully ignoring him so us three have been a little concerned for the past couple days and it’s not like we can go to his house if we wanted to like before so that’s all the more trickier and this seems a terrible way to somehow lose a friend who’s been friends with you for like 14/15 years

so we’ve decided all three of us in the span of the next month we will call and talk to him adi is already in india and he said his uni gave him holidays for the next 2 weeks so maybe he’ll go see govind and us two will do something and we’re hoping he doesn’t completely hate us and will talk

[watchtheblog]

all hands on d*ck

as always, hello to my 9 true real life friends, some of my 22 (instagram) “close friends”, my 40 internet besties, the handful of you i was able to lure over here with a LiNk iN BiO, the growing number of [redacted] who are unnervingly conspicuous with their surveillance, maybe some other weirdos and haters!, at least 2 of my exes, my therapist if i ask her to read this to understand me better, my daughter in 14-18 years, and anyone else who is here and can read this!!

as a preface to a list of extravagant treasures i wish to receive this holiday season, i am going to tell you a little story. if you don’t care and just want to buy me a gift or just want to use this to curate yours, scroll to the bottom. there are words and jokes down there too if you’re here for all of it!!! (if you need inspiration from years past, i’ve been making this list for 10 years.)

the only times i feel safe are when i am at home, or when i am 5000 miles away from it. anything in between causes absolute chaos within my emotional microbiome.

in america, i am a sentient eggshell and all external stimuli are hammers. outside of america, i am an invincible-cartoon-fireball capable of any and all things through the EU.

once a week i volunteer, and once a month i drive 40-90 miles in one of the four directions to buy a lotto ticket at a random authorized lotto retailer (surprisingly not sponsored), and that’s it.

when i’m home, i do the same thing every day -  i wake up, i go to cult (this is what i call meditation because i’ve been doing it consistently for a year and i have no idea why), i write down everything i’m grateful for*, and i read (a literal book) for 20 minutes before performing my morning ablutions and walking downstairs to drink poison (espresso) and sit in my office tip tapping my ipad for 6-8 hours. then i watch some of the worst television you can ever imagine until it’s time to go to sleep, at which point i do a cult bonus track - it’s called “three good things”, and it’s exactly as the name implies - eat two peppermint patties v slowly, and go to sleep with my television blasting and every light on.

~ (*ok sorry for being sincere for a moment but i need to genuinely recommend the gratitude journal practice because it changed my life. thank you for only engaging with this if it aligns positively with you and excluding it from your personal dossier of me if it doesn’t. anyway, i also love cult because it allows me 30 minutes of controlled focus on every thought i have ever had in my entire life without even a single moment of peace. my inner monologue is a thought-orgy and i am merely a captive and reluctant eavesdropper.) ~

when i’m on vacation, i am a different character from white lotus every day.

this year for my birthday, i chartered a yacht off the amalfi coast (cameron) and sat on it alone for 3 days (ethan). on the 4th day, danielle arrived and we confused the crew by being on vacation together in italy but not fucking. (daphne/harper)

on the 5th day, danielle found out i don’t like music (you’ll need this information later), and on the 6th day, God created man, and one of them asked us if we’d like a massage.

being of sound mind, my first thought was to question this person (employed as a deckhand) on his ability to massage.

he assured us both that he and his fellow deckhand could “of course” massage!

having seen every episode of every franchise of below deck i was wary but i trust men intrinsically (tanya) and i love nothing more than to be consensually touched (dominic) so i said great, we’ll take two! and we settled on “in ten minutes” for the time.

he returned moments later to lead us in a troubling talk on massage logistics - namely, where the massages would take place and on what apparatus.

you, like we, may be thinking: what about a massage table on the sun deck? and that’s a great thought. however, there were no massage tables, so our two deckhand-cum-massage therapists decided they’d conduct the massages they assured us they were equipped to conduct on twin beds in one of the downstairs bedrooms.

10 minutes later we arrived to a room large enough to accommodate two adults lying down, or a small child standing up but being v still:

danielle and i pretended this was not weird (mia/lucia), and as soon as our four adult bodies were within the same energy field we all signed a spiritual contract to never speak about this again! unfortunately danielle and i signed in watercolor and have spoken about it ad nauseam every day since.

one of the guys asked what music he should put on, but before he finished the question, danielle had interrupted him in an octave i’ve never heard her voice go to utter the words “MERCEDES DOESN’T LIKE MUSIC.” … effectively solidifying our fate to have the weirdest experience of our lives in deafening silence!

without leaving the room, they told us to lie down - which we did - and they each returned to our respective sides to *SIT ON THE BED* and massage us with this australian jerk off oil while our faces were mushed sideways into a twin bed for a staggering and completely arbitrary 101 minutes.

the only time ive ever had a massage this unmethodical is every time my boyfriend wants to have sex, and the only reason this one ended was because someone came in to chastise them for being *below deck* for so long… at which point they both got up and left without saying a word!!

anyway ~ that’s how i met your mother ~ (sorry i’ve taken this out and put it back in 8 times. it stays!)

danielle and i are two asexual freaks so this (our villain origin story) never registered to us as a potentially sexual thing, but it has to a lot of people we’ve told! … and to those people i say: interesting. please consider my trauma when selecting a gift from the below list to send to me 😈 thank you!

THE LIST (disclaimer: all i want for my birthday is for everyone i love to be healthy, happy, rich and divinely protected (so far so good tbh!!!!), and for you to donate to the boys and girls club if you have the means. this is merely a list of things i think would be funny or nice or silly to receive:)

the intangible: to pass a law abolishing all waters i don’t like - there are too many to name, but at the very least let’s start with dasani, aquafina, and nestle purelife, for someone to defund Revolve and redirect the money to fund research to corroborate my theory that people who wear clothes that say “spiritual gangster” lack a functioning frontal lobe and should not have rights, for everyone who doesn’t like me to continue doing that because that must be very taxing, for prison reform that allows “love after lockup” to expand it’s filming schedule, for mary kate and olivier to reconcile (please click that link if you’re new here), for jeff bezos to give me a little something in his will, to be paid for all the vacations i’m going to go on in the future and that they never involve a massage on a twin bed.

the ones you can buy: * these gorgeous little poison cups to elevate morning beverages content. also gorgeous!! these are interesting! * i’m looking to redo my whole personality in the vein of someone’s really religious auntie. it starts in the dining room, here. for more in the collection, may i direct you here. *a stunning throw: in pink!!! or this cheaper (v reasonably priced, tbh!) one, the blush pink not that crazy pink in the larger size! * this thing for my desk. i would accept this but don’t really like the branding. * a 5 night stay at this hotel (a suite or above)

* a black birkin with gold hardware in 25 or 35. no links, iykyk * this coat in grey or camel. xs! * buy danielle’s book. (this story is not in it, but better ones are) * this tray to eat chips and peppatties in bed. this will likely be sold out but here. * i don’t want these but definitely want to make you aware gucci are selling incense for one hundred dollars, and perhaps we should collectively look into deplatforming them.

* a pair of solid gold 3 inch hoops. i have no links :( * i’d like to speak to the medium who has a show on bravo, please. this is him. i do not want to be “read” on the tv show. i do not want tickets to see his live show. i want to speak to a dead person through this man. one on one. (you can come if you organize it.) * these slippers. size 8. * this bracelet and bonus if you have a platinum amex, you get $50 back or something for shopping at saks! love to pay it forward!! * this jug of perfume for a room! * this jug for water at varying temperatures. matte black.

* this art, this art, this art, this art, or this art. i’m going to buy this for myself but i love this artist, so i’m sharing. * this alluring bookend that is on sale (x2)! * i don’t need this but i like the way it looks and so i’m passing it on. it’s a weight but who exercises at home… so it’s a hat for your floor. * trying this again: for someone to create a “the floor is lava” set for my birthday where i can do “the floor is lava” SEPARATELY with each of my 9 friends - none of whom know each other, which is intentional and by design. * these shoes. size 8 * these earrings. i tried to buy these on black friday but then i forgot. i may just buy them myself. who knows!

* a real two hour massage * caviar * i like her bc i think we have the same body * these french almond praline sugar things from provence that i bought at duty free and i’ll never find again. and i went on this website and tried to email them to ask them to send them to me (it appears they cannot do that) and i really don’t want to get into it but i spent hours trying to secure them bc they’re that good so i guess this is not an item it’s just a pass on should you ever be in provence or at an airport in france. * a $24,000 tribute to the mascot for Word.

some passing it forward gifts (things i don’t need (because i own them most likely) but they are nice!!) * these cute, non threatening pajamas * my favorite luxe, somewhat threatening pajamas * the only sheets i allow on my bed and body are pratesi but danielle bought me monogrammed pillowcases (super, binx) from here and !!!! * i think i always recommend diptyque candles but we are also a cade (you have to ask for this, they don’t keep them out 😗) household now and newly a boysmells household. * skincare is kind of a lame gift bc everyone’s skin is so different but i have the most reactive skin in the world so i’d like to pass along three of the only things that don’t ruin my life: this (i’ve been using for 3 weeks) is soooo nice, as is this which i’ve been using on and off for a month but the price point was set by the us national debt clock or something. (their instagram clickbait lip balm thing is a waste of money and yes i wasted my money!) also i love this and have used since it launched :)

ok ty for reading come again bye!

[broadwirefilms]

20220821 - First Impressions Of Fatherhood

   The greatest gift I have received thus far in my life is the sight of my baby girl looking up at me for the first time. It was the 18th; my birthday. We'd spent the last two days in the Labor and Delivery suite at the hospital, waiting anxiously for her arrival. Between contractions, the blinking monitors, and the frigid room air, my partner and I held steady to the ever looming reality; as first time parents, nothing really prepares you for what lies ahead. You will never know exactly what you don't know until you know.

   Presently, baby lies on her back in her bassinet as I try to make something of the night shift. Guilt remains omnipresent - whether its the relatives that insist upon seeing my daughter or the idea that I might wake up Michelle again to help feed, or the unease of being away from my post but still hearing the endless notifications, far too many thoughts other than baby fill my head with dread. Maybe this is the imposter syndrome, the sense of ungratefulness, or just my own self-destructive edge cutting me from the inside again - uncertainty reigns. So I make it a habit to insist my partner lies in bed to recover from the past few days so I can have a few moments quiet reflection.

   Is it cold to tell your own mother not to come meet her first granddaughter, insisting that she'll be able the next week? Is it cold to tell her that you want to keep the baby safe? Reasons abound for keeping little one tucked away, but in a sense, it feels like I'm hoarding my pride and joy. I must have been my mother's pride and joy once upon a time, and every which chance she could share that with the world, she didn't dare hesitate, and if we're talking about why parents risked it all to come to this country and give us a better life, would it not to have been amazing to see the fruits of their labor? I prod my partner half-heartedly, but I know that I've made the right decision. Echoing my workmate who's also recently a father, you have to do what's best for you and your family. This is your life - it's not about everyone else for once. And whilst I cry inside for denying myself the chance to see my mother in person after so long, I know that I'll see her soon, and when I do, I'll still be able to thank her for everything she ever did for me.

   Friendships have never been easy for me - I can count on one hand the people I have any kind of regular contact with, and I'd just be naming my workmates. But since I've been with Michelle, the warmth with which her friends hve received me has been nothing short of wonderful. There's so much I have in common with these people and so much I don't. But being able to talk to these people and not have to resort to this showman style personality reminds me that there's more to me than I let myself believe. Each one of them has such a rich world of personality that i can't help but just be in awe of them. Michelle treasures these friendships and I want them all to know how much it means to me. It's not just the fact that so many of them have kids or are going to have kids - it's the fact that each one informs another beautiful aspect of the woman I love. So I try my best to give them pictures and give them updates. Maybe I'm not a close enough aquaintance to keep them on a consistent loop but they just as much family to me as they are to her.

   I'm constantly reminded of something Sam, a coworker from another branch told me when he came out west - "I know you have one foot out the door already, but you could really do something here." January 1st sounds like such a great time to leave but I know my heart left this game a long time ago. Do I entertain the idea of going out to set? Sure, I mean why not? I am not above making more money. But I know what I want out of this life - the prep floor won't get me home by 6PM. I already hate coming home after traffic, do I really need to justify coming home after my baby's first steps? So much time spent outside my house that today, and just today, when alone in the dark trying my absolute best not to wake my family, do I realize just how much I love my home. How much I love the white walls, the gentle breeze, the way the sun rises through the alleyway and fills our rooms with daylight; I'm only ever home when parking is all but gone. But I think of all the complaints we;ve been getting, of how many calls Chris gets because of the service we provide. It's an easy excuse to pin things on operations, communications, the budget, everything except me. But at some point I have to be held accountable. I have ot hold myself accountable - Michael didn't spend so many nights at this place just to let it fall apart. And I owe it to the dedication and passion of each and every person in the office to uphold my end of the bargain. Change beings on the individual level, and if I'm being honest, sometimes I can't tell if I'm tired of the job for what it is or what I've let it become. So even if I tell myself this is my last year, I have to remind myself that it's only just August. I left at a busy time, I will return at a busy time, and until Christmas, there wont be a moment's rest. I just have to keep doing my best. No conditionals, no excuses. Otherwise I might as well leave.

   All in all, I think that fatherhood is what I make of it. I just have to make better decisions. Not just for me, but for baby. I don;t want to come home to be absent and tired. I don;t want to disappoint people like I always do. I want to be someone worth knowing, someone worth looking up to. I want to be the best person I can be.  

[libraford]

The short version: We had a serial thief at the flower shop. She’s retired recently and I think that due to Covid she really means it this time. 

The long version? hoooo boy, here we go.

This story, and others, are viewable on Tablo

There are rules and there are rules.

In dealing with shoplifting in retail, there are rules on how one engages with a thief. The handbook, if there were one, would consist of a single word. 

Don't. 

Don't pursue, don't interrogate, don't accuse. Let them take the merchandise, let them get away. Let them return the Cricut machine for an equivalent amount on a gift card to be exchanged once again for drugs. 

Let them. 

There is no handbook on how to handle Flower Thieves. Prior to working in a flower shop, I never thought that this was a problem. 

Life is surprising. 

 I'm sure some of you have figured that out by now. 

The Flower Thief is notorious, and she has a system. There are days when you simply know that she's going to be in. 

"Break the heads off the flowers before you throw them away," Grandpa will say. "She's going to be here tonight, I think." 

And sure enough, she would be. At 6:45, a quarter til we close- the Thief would announce her arrival. Loudly. 

"Heeeeey, baaaaaaby!" 

The very first time I encountered the Flower Thief, she came in through the back door. 

"Oh Hiiiii, Darlin'- ain't seen your face around here: you must be NEW! I'm Wren, you know- like the bird? Well, Kyle and I have an agreement that I come and work for y'all sometimes. You should take out this trash, it stinks to high heaven. Anyways, nice talkin' to ya, see ya later." 

I may only be a little bit psychic, but I've spent enough time around liars to know insincerity when I see it. Kyle, at the time, was the manager of our store and I have it on record that he's tried to throw her out of the building once or twice. 

While I was taking out the trash, her pile of purchase became so tall it towered over her. I watched Clark massively undercharge her for the sake of getting her to go away. 

She has a pattern.

She comes in during the design classes because she knows that when there's twenty people in the store, there's not enough people to watch her and make sure she's not stealing. "There's a class today," she asks as if it's not literally every Tuesday. "Don't worry I know you all wanna get out of here on time." 

The Flower Thief announces her presence in a grand way and then makes her way to the back to grab a trash bag or an empty box and then proceeds to bury any spare parts she finds in the cooler in the trash bag, hiding them under the things that she's actually buying. 

After that, she checks the garbage cans for things we might have thrown away that will last another three days and stuffs them underneath her other ill-gotten goods. 

Just when you think she's finished, she'll go through her pile of flowers and say: "You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus." And she'll go back into the cooler with it, stuff it in her purse, and walk back to the register. 

And when she's all done being sneaky, she asks one of us to come ring her out. 

This is the part that no one wants to do. Because ringing out the Flower Thief means haggling with the Flower Thief. 

"Oh baaby, you know I don't pay those prices." 

"Oh baaaby, I only pay $19 for roses." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaby, those carnations were on special." 

She'll talk you down to under $100 with a sob story: 

"Oh baaaaby, you know I'm donating this spray to the family. It's for that woman you know- you know the one. She got herself murdered a couple nights ago? Two children and she was pregnant too! Pregnant! Can you believe it? Who murders someone with child? What's the world coming to? So I need a good discount to make sure we treat this family right because they got a looooong road ahead of them." 

"Oh baaaaaaby, you know this one's for that car crash over on Cleveland Avenue? I hear he was taking care of his dying father himself, so it's such a shame for him to go first like that." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, this is for that little boy that shot himself, isn't that sad?" 

Thank you, Sister Mary Loquacious. 

And you nod because you don't want to come off as an uncaring sociopath. And while you're nodding and adjusting the price for her sad, sad consequence and mulling over how good she is for donating to these people in their time of need, she steals some greens from the trash can and sticks them in her bag. 

She hands you crisp $100 bills. You check them and she makes jokes about how she printed them this morning. They're legit. Counterfeiting isn't why she went to prison. 

What she went to prison for was drug trafficking. 

"Do you need some help," you ask, trying to be a good citizen. 

"Oh no, I got it," she insists. "I'll make it in two trips. I'm stronger than I look!" 

And don't you dare get caught looking to see what she put in the bag or she will give you one hell of a lecture. 

By the time all of this has passed, the class will be over and there will two minutes left in the work day. She's spent thirty-seven minutes in the store. Your register is unbalanced because now you don't have enough small bills to balance it and only have one $100 bill to get you through tomorrow. 

And that's why there are rules. 

On occasion, a new person will break the rules not knowing that there's rules. One such occasion was when Clair decided to be helpful. 

"You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus," Wren said. 

"Oh! I'll put it back for you," Clair suggested. And before Wren could protest, it was out of Wren's hands and nowhere near her purse. 

It was mentioned to Sage, who only worked for us one summer, that Wren had failed to pay for something and she immediately chased her out into the street. 

Wren drives very fast. 

If you cross her too many times, she'll make sure you never forget it. One day, she stomped her way in through the front door, angry. 

"You ain't treated me better than a damn THIEF," screamed the Flower Thief. 

Grandpa, who was helping Blue make a wedding bouquet at the time, departed from the desk. "Beg pardon?"

"A thief! You been treating me like a thief ever since they made you manager and I'm sick of it! I see you bringing in your henchmen, following me in the cooler, chasing me down the street. Treat me with some damn respect." 

Words were exchanged. They were not kind. We thought we'd seen the end of her. 

But she was back one week later, doing the same damn thing. 

So now there are rules. 

If you make something and there's an excess of flowers left over from the pack, you have to make something out of the leftovers or she'll pick through them and stuff them in her bag. 

If you cannot make something out of them, you must throw them out. 

If you throw them out, you must break the heads off first. 

The trash cans must be emptied every night before 5:00. 

We do not keep trash bags in plain sight. 

Break down all empty boxes, or she will use them in place of trash bags. 

Do not leave any food or drink where she can find it. 

Do not leave any half-used rolls of floral tape where she can find it. 

Do not let her know anything about you- lest she use it against you. 

If you speak of a Thief, you summon a Thief- speak quietly, and never her name or you invite trouble. 

The basic rules one makes when dealing with pests. Or fairy-folk.

There are rules and there are rules and there are rules. 

If you want to keep a pest away, you make these sorts of rules. But if you want to get rid of a pest indefinitely, you have to remove their food source. And Wren's food source was her discount. 

You start exercising your right to say 'no' to a customer in small ways. 

She saw a bunch of carnations in the trash and said: 

"Oh baby, these are still good! I'll take them off your hands for you!" 

"They've been sitting without water for hours." 

"They're still good!" 

"They were out in the sun." 

"Oh baby, I've been working with flowers for 40 years and I know that these will still be fine for a couple of days!" She picks a bunch of them out of the trash and shoves it in my face. "See, it's still stiff- it's still good!" 

"Okay," I said. And before I could stop myself: "Full price."

Her eyes just about popped out of her skull. If it were just a little bit colder, I would have been able to see steam coming out of her ears. 

We stared at each other for about a minute, waiting for the other to flinch. She took the bunch away from my face and threw them back into the trash. While she was in the cooler, I took the liberty of snapping the heads off of them and burying them further into the garbage. 

And so began a war between the flower shop and the Flower Thief.

She came in: every single night. And each night, she got me. 

Again.

"Oh no, baby! These carns are supposed to be 39 cents a stem. I can bring up the email." 

"Sure." She brings up the email. "I see that they are 39 cents but... this was for Saturday." 

"Yea, and I bought those carns on Saturday and you charged me full price!" 

"Saturday." 

"Yeah." 

"You didn't buy these on Saturday. You bought them Friday." 

"Well I didn't know that they'd be on sale, so I need them for that price because I didn't know they'd be on sale." 

"The sales are one-day only. I can't adjust a sale from Friday to reflect Saturday's sale... on Sunday." 

She made a noise that reminds me somewhat of a cement mixer. 

 And again.

"I got a bad banner last time, can you print me a new one?" She shows me the banner in question. It's white. The 't' and the 'h' in 'mother' ran together. 

"Sure." 

"Okay, I need it to say 'Beloved Mother' and I want it in pink." 

"Sure." 

I print it. I ring her up $5. 

"Oh baaaaaaby, no, that one should be free." 

"Grandpa said- banners start at $5." 

"Oh, but you sold me a bad one last time." 

"We haven't sold you a banner in three weeks. How long have y'all had that body sitting in your cooler?" 

She grumbled, and paid. 

 And again. 

"I swear you been workin' every night this week! You must be tired," she said, nerves plain in her voice. "When do you get a day off?" 

"When the work is done." 

"That ain't what I'm askin'. When's your next day off, baby?"

"I stop working when the work is done, Wren." 

She narrows her eyes, which is a fun change from them bugging out of her skull like a fruit fly. "You don't ever get any days off?" 

"When the work stops, I rest."

 And again. 

"I'll be in and out, I know y'all want to get out of here on time," she said- announcing her presence to the entire class. She piled her stuff across the register counter and Grandpa began ringing her up. 

"Oh baby..." 

"No. We're doing away with the discounts." 

There are twenty people in the workshop for the class and Grandpa doesn't want to make a scene. She pulls her into the back, and I choose to make my instructions louder to mask the sound of them yelling. 

"So you're going to take your hypericum berries and you're going to cut the stem to about ten inches-" 

"How can you do this to me?" 

"And you're going to slowly fill the vase with these berries to kind of set the shape of the arrangement." 

"After all these years and this is how you treat me?" 

"Fun fact- you might know hypericum berries as their more common name: St John's Wort! St. John's Wort has been used as a medication for depression prior to modern medicine." You see- I, too, have taken notes from the Chattering Order.

"You can't do this to me," Wren said, stamping her feet like a toddler.

"But I wouldn't recommend eating them. However, they do smell somewhat like baked brown sugar." 

Stamp, stamp, stamp. 

Wren threw herself into the cooler and began putting a bulk of her flowers back. 

"This is robbery," I heard her say to Grandpa at the register. 

"Is it now?" 

 And again. 

She came in and immediately reached for a half-empty box of oasis bricks (the green sponge material that we use to hold flowers.) She said few words to me, few at all. She talked to Carrie about how she was going out to the country for awhile, to take care of her nephew's property. She needed to stock up. And oh- don't worry about it, she knows what she's doing. She's part of The Family.

She is in no manner of speaking, a member of The Family that owns this shop. Not even a third cousin. 

I saw her beeline for a rose I'd set in the trash. I picked it up, opened my mouth, and bit the head off of it. She stood in the middle of the workshop, absolutely stunned. 

Rose petals have the vague texture of arugula, by the way. Slightly sweeter, though. Tough to swallow in one go. 

She ran back into the cooler and didn't talk to me. 

I began taking down numbers. 

27 bricks of oasis. One pack of roses. Ten calla lilies. 1/2 pack of assorted greens. 

I punched the numbers in to the register. As if sensing something was amiss, she emerged from the cooler. 

"$54? What do I have that's $54?" 

"The oasis. They're $2 each." 

"Oh no baaaaaby, they're $1." 

"I can text Grandpa and ask her." 

"... that won't be necessary. Why are you charging me $22.50 for roses? You know my prices by now!" 

"22.50 is the price for a pack of roses." 

"22.50 is everybody prices." 

"Welcome to 'everybody.'" 

"I ain't paid a price increase in 7 years!" 

"The price of milk went up, Wren. So does everything else." 

She was seeing red, I knew it. There's a vein in her forehead that pops out when she's angry and it's the same shape as the river that runs through my home town. She sized me up, as if wondering if she could take me. 

I'm 256 pounds of 4H beef, and I have a knife. Try me. 

"I'm gonna call Kyle on this." 

"Do it." A lifetime of retail has made me immune to 'I'd like to speak to the manager.' 

She grumbled and put things back. Carrie offered to watch her, I held up my hand. 

"Can you do something for me  on these carns? They're the last pack in there and they're lookin' kinda ratty." 

"9.50." 

"9.50's the regular price." 

"Regular price is $14." 

"No it ain't." 

"Is today. You're taking our last pack and we need those for funerals." 

She put them back. 

She gave me a credit card. It seemed fake, but it ran. Every time I see here, she's got a different card. Did she print this one this morning, too? At least she stopped trying to sell me on Bitcoin. As you can see, it made her incredibly wealthy. 

She gathered her things and left. "Guess I'm getting the rest of my flowers from KROGER!" 

There are things you want to say. Like... I hope they enjoy your company just as much as we do. Or: Haven't graced them with your presence in awhile, huh? But at the time, it was better just to watch her leave with her minuscule bunch of flowers. I get a choice in where I loan my voice. 

Not here. 

Is it over? Nah. She'll be back for another round. But one day she'll finally retire in the way that she's always threatened to. And then? Then it can be as over as it ever will be. 

It is shocking to come from a history of retail, where you're not allowed to even hint at the idea of a customer being wrong, where you have to override every single price change to get the scores up, where you have to just let them steal your things and pull the wool over your eyes... 

... to flat-out telling someone 'no.' 

"No." 

It's such a great word. 

There are rules and there are rules. 

And there are thieves that the rules are made for. 

And there are words like 'no.' 

And all those things are magic in very human ways. 

[dontshootmespence]

Ruined Surprise

Summary: Spencer’s wife is keeping a secret from him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1,262

Warning: Allusions to cheating.

A/N: This fulfills my lying bingo square for @cmbingo​.

With busy careers, Spencer and his wife rarely got to go on official dates - the kind where they’d both get dressed up and go to a nice restaurant. Usually, their dates consisted of pizza on the couch while they watched the latest episode of whatever show they happened to be watching. For weeks, they’d been like ships crossing in the night, so tonight he was going to take her out to the restaurant they went on their first date. 

Nearly ready, Spencer searched through the closet for his favorite tie - a light purple that complemented the shirt he was wearing under his blazer. “Here it is,” he mumbled. As he went to grab it, it fell to the floor on top of a small container he’d never seen before. At first, he didn’t think anything of it, but then he saw some papers in it and decided to open it. 

Inside was a number of bank and credit card statements he’d never seen before. Thousands of dollars had been charged to a card he didn’t think they had - a platinum Visa that they’d gotten an offer for six months prior. Before he could get a closer look at what the charges were, he heard the door creak. “Spence? I’m home!” 

“Hey, I’m in our room!” Hurriedly, he closed the box and shoved it into the back of the closet. 

When she entered the room, he smiled. “You look beautiful.” 

“I’m not even ready yet!” She laughed. “My hair is out of control because of the wind. My makeup looks like crap. I’m in work clothes!”

“Still.”

Spencer kissed her forehead and waited for her to get changed before they went out.

----

Returning to work the following Monday, Spencer couldn’t help but think about the papers he’d found and what they meant. He’d wanted to go back and take a closer look at them, but he hadn’t had the chance to be alone again yet. “What’s on your mind, Reid?” Tara asked, pressing her hand to his shoulder. 

He jumped. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”

She gave him a look that made him laugh. “Well, it might be nothing.” As he spoke, Garcia, Rossi and Emily made their way over. “Anyway, when my tie fell, it fell on top of a box with papers in it. I’d never noticed it before, so I opened it and there were bank statements to an account I don’t know about and credit card bills to a card that I thought we’d turned down the offer for. It might be nothing, but-”

“You don’t know,” Emily said, finishing his sentence.

Spencer nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “Yes. What do I do?”

Everyone said to just talk to her about it because it couldn’t possibly be as bad as his brain was making it out to be. “I will. I just hope I get the answer I want.”

“We’re here for you,” Tara said solemnly. “No matter what.”

----

Spencer was determined to put his mind at ease, so that afternoon, he promised himself that he’d ask her about the papers he found. “Hey, babe,” he started, his voice a little shaky. “When I was getting changed the other day, I saw a box with some papers in the back of the closet that I don’t remember being there.”

“Oh.” She shrugged, picking up her pace as she moved about the apartment. “That’s just some of our tax papers that I haven’t gotten around to filing yet.”

Playing it cool, Spencer replied. “Oh, it looked like credit card statements.”

She stiffened. “Nope, just tax papers. No biggie.”

Taken aback by the blatant lie, Spencer let it go for the night, but the next chance he got to be alone, the following day, he went to look for the box. It was gone.

----

In the ensuing week, Spencer tried to figure out what could possibly be in the box that she wouldn’t want him to see. Every single train of thought let him to a conclusion he didn’t want to confront. “What if she’s-” He swallowed hard and looked off into the distance as he was talking to Emily. “What if she’s cheating?”

Emily looked uncomfortable at the thought. “I can’t imagine her cheating, Spence. She loves you so much. I mean, I know what it looks like, but I don’t want to believe it.”

Spencer didn’t either. The thought made him physically ill, but what else was he supposed to think. 

“Garcia could do a check on credit card or bank statements?” Emily offered.

It would give him some concrete information, but the thought of not trusting his wife enough and running a check on her felt invasive; it made him feel dirty. Spencer smashed his face into his hands. “She’s coming for lunch, so I have to make myself not look like, well, like this.”

Less than a half hour later, Spencer’s wife entered the BAU, smile wide as she went to hug him. Without thinking, he stepped back. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked. “You okay?”

Spencer was never very good at hiding his true feelings; they came out in his behavior. “No, I’m not.”

Though he tried his hardest, he drew the attention of the team as he spoke. “I asked you about those papers the other day and you lied to me. They weren’t tax papers, they were bank and credit card statements. I saw them and then when I went to find the box, it was gone.” Lowering his voice, he looked at her earnestly. “Are you cheating on me?”

“NO!” She practically screamed. “Oh my god, Spence. No, I am not cheating on you and I don’t appreciate the insinuation.” Now the entire team was surrounding her. “I didn’t realize you’d seen the papers. You weren’t supposed to see them yet.”

“What are they? Y/N, tell me what’s happening because my mind is racing right now!” Spencer felt like he wanted to throw up. 

“Spence, I opened up a bank account in my name years ago so that I could save money.”

“But I know about our bank accounts. They’re all joint. Why do you have a separate one?”

Pouting, she stomped her foot. “I was saving for a surprise. Spence, I’ve been planning a trip to Ireland. For Halloween. You love Halloween and Ireland is where it originated - Samhain’s Night,” she said, looking around at Spencer’s relieved teammates. “So...I decided I wanted to surprise you one year, but I knew it was going to take a while to save the money. You know me, I like to go comfortably and in style, so it was a fair amount of money. I knew I couldn’t plan it without you wondering where the money was going.”

“Hence the separate bank account and the credit card statements. Y/N, I’m an idiot, please forgive me.”

“You ruined my surprise. Butthead.” She smacked his arm. “How could you think I would cheat?”

Spencer held his head in his hands. “I’m sorry! You were being secretive and you lied about the papers when I asked and then it moved and my mind just ran with the idea. I couldn’t think of another reason why you’d be lying. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” she replied, holding the end of the word. “Jackass.”

A chorus of laughter from the rest of the team nearly drowned Spencer’s reply out. He asked, hands clenched in prayer in front of his bashful face. “You still going to take me to Ireland?”

“Yes. Dummy. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Moving day

Based on @lucywrites02's writing challenge, with the prompts "1. You're family" and "8. I have a surprise for you". I wish you a very happy birthday, Lucy!

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader (Tony Stark's daughter, not Morgan)

Word count: 3.2 K

Warnings: fluff and pregnancy :) This was very adorable to write.

Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87,@jesuswasnotawhiteman, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7, @toe-vind-ek-jou, @t00-pi, @selfship-mishaps, @sallymagnoliaposts, @deadgirl88, @enderslove

Gif: @moonrainbow

It had surprised Thor greatly how quickly and intensely his brother had fallen for you. He was as committed and truthful as he has never been in his long, long life. He looked at you softly, in comparison with everyone else. As soon as you walked in a room, he followed you with his gaze and invited you to his conversation. It wasn’t a surprise that after a few months of this very silent flirting (that very few noticed, because it mainly consisted in batting eyelashes and repressing subtle smiles when the other was around) you’d come out of the shell and admit you started dating. Thor was ecstatic.

Tony, on the other hand, was not amused. Not amused at all; in fact, he hated the idea of you going around with that God. He said, explicitly “if you ever get in trouble because of him, you solve it yourself. Nothing of coming for daddy to help, clear?”. Pepper had told him to cut some slack, and observe at how happy you were together, but he, stubborn to the bone, had to take a few months more before accepting the fact that his little girl was in love with the God of Mischief.

But the months passed by; almost a year, and you grew closer and closer. You hated to sneak into his room every night, and get interrupted all the time by every single soul in the compound, or mocked to death every time you cuddled on the sofa, watched a movie or read a book together. So, it all boiled down to the same conversation:

“I don’t think he’s ready”, you said while pouring some milk on your cereal. Nat rolled her eyes.

“He’s even readier than you”, insisted Wanda. They were exhausted from having the same conversation over and over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to actually do something about it. “He’s lived much longer, if any of you two were to be unready, that’d be you”.

“Do you think I’m not ready?”, you doubted yourself.

“God, Wanda. You’re planting unnecessary seeds here. The girl’s already anxious enough”.

“I just think… I want him to be with me for the rest of my life. I don’t know if he feels the same”.

“He totally does”.

“Yeah. No doubt about that. Just look at how he looks at you. What are you even waiting for?”.

“I don’t know, a signal?”.

“Of what? You’re impossible. Unless God themself comes down the sky and tells you textually just move in with him, you wouldn’t consider it a ‘signal’”, bitched Nat. But she was right. Commitment was not exactly your thing, even though you were as in love as you could be.

You heard an oncoming scream approaching the room. In silence, you three observed cautiously, and moved away from the middle. The screaming increased its loudness, until a body shattered the roof and fell to the floor violently. Loki laid still among the dusted debris until a second screaming started sounding from the sky.

“Oh, fuck”, he said, managing to get up quickly and making himself as a shield for you three. Thor landed on his feet over the same spot Loki had fallen. Dust flew everywhere and the floor cracked a bit more. “Don’t”, he alerted, pointing at his brother menacingly.

“I’m tired of your whinings, brother. Do something or I’ll do it myself”, spat Thor, grabbing Mjölnir and leaving the room. Loki sighed and sat on the couch, cleaning the remains with his magic. Wanda sighed and put it all back together.

“And what was that about?”, asked Nat, eating a candybar, still on the same spot as earlier. It wasn’t an unusual scene.

“I…”, said Loki, but desisted. You sat on the couch by his side and he laid, using your lap as a pillow. You took out a tissue and started carefully cleaning the blood off his cuts. He smiled softly. “We just had a fight”.

“I can see that. What did you fight about?”.

“He wants me to… well, talk to you”, he struggled to say.

“Well, we’re talking now”.

“Yes. No, wait, no. Like, talk talk”, he clarified, and Nat and Wanda nodded, leaving the room. You could still hear their chattery from the door.

Loki sat up and grabbed both of your hands, making direct eye contact. He was nervous, which only made you even more unsettled. He was never nervous. He was always calm, even in life or death situations. He was unfazed in everything and with almost everyone. Almost.

“What do you want to talk talk about?”, you joked, and he chuckled, releasing some tension.

“I want you to move in with me”.

“Oh. Wait. What?”.

“Like, move out. But with me”.

“To your room?”.

“Out of the Compound”.

“To an apartment?”.

“Yes”.

“Here?”.

“In Midgard, yes”.

“But like, in New York?”.

“Wherever you want, actually”.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, and Loki grew nervous again. You couldn’t help but laugh. He looked at you quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that… a God just fell down the sky and told me to move in with you”, you clarified, which didn’t actually clarify anything.

“You… what?”.

“Yes, I’d love to move in with you, love”.

And in no time you were already packing things up and going together on apartment huntings.

Tony insisted on helping you out himself, which was hilarious, given the repulsion he had for the idea in the first place. So, you’d go to an apartment by yourself, check it out and talk to the owner for a bit; Loki would arrive later, tensing things up (the owners would usually recognize him, but after a little chat they’d find out he’s a fine man), and then, just after you’d be all calm and good, the owners would see in the papers you’re a Stark, and tense up even more. Easier to say, it wasn’t a normal neighborhood chat.

You had finally decided on a small but very cozy apartment near Central Park; far enough from the Stark Tower, but you could get there pretty quickly for every mission.

You found the place advertised on the papers, and when you showed it to Loki, in sickness and all, you insisted on going to visit it that same day.

“My love, my dearest… you need to rest. I’m afraid you might faint again”, he cooed, trying to get you back to bed.

“A little fever won’t do anything to me, really, I’m f…”, you said, but you felt like vomiting, so you stopped your words and sat on the floor. Loki sat by your side and rubbed your back.

“If you feel better tomorrow, we go, yes? Now, come on, I’m gonna call Banner and you wait on your bed”.

“No, but they might take it, we need to go to make sure…”.

“What about I go, call you on one of those animated images, and you can see it from here?”, he proposed, helping you up. He meant a video call.

“That… sounds about right”.

But you had no actual time to have that video call, for when he was in the apartment, Banner was delivering some more important news.

You’ve been to the examination’s room of the compound before. But this time it seemed brighter. The lights shone so strongly, you had to close your eyes a little.

“What would you like to do about it?”, asked Banner. You were sobbing and trembling.

“I… I don’t know, I’m sure Loki will leave me”.

“What? No, don’t base your decision on that guy’s opinion”.

“Well, I don’t want the kid to not have a father, you know?”, you said as he gave you a tissue. “I want to have it, I’ve always wanted a kid. I think I’m… ready? I’m probably not. Not by myself, and I can’t do this alone. He’ll leave me, won’t he? Why would he want to have a kid with a mortal? We’d die as fast as he blinks”.

“Look, I’m no one to talk about it, but this sounds more like your anxiety and less like something he would do. He really loves you, he has for like at least a year, and I don’t see that going away anytime soon”.

“I know. You might be right”.

“You’re allowed to doubt everything. This is a huge thing, y/n. Think this through, talk to people, talk to your friends, or your parents. Don’t let this eat you”.

“Thanks, Bruce. You’re really… you’re being really nice, I appreciate it”, you sobbed. He handed you another tissue as he rubbed your shoulder.

“This is your call, okay? You have time to think. Text me later how you’re feeling, and have bed rest now. And if you feel too bad, take this”, he handed you some pills, “it should be innocuous for the baby”.

One of those days, that same week, you had decided to make it the official moving day. So, you put every box in the van and drove through the city, to your new home. You haven’t told Loki yet what you knew, and you were terrified he’d get even more upset because you didn’t tell him before the moving. But, to be fair, you didn’t think he’d actually leave.

You had told no one about it, despite Banner’s indications. But it wasn’t eating you. You were enjoying it silently. You were glad; you had your doubts, fears… Hell, you were terrified. But you knew, if Loki wasn’t going to be a part of that, you could do it yourself. You hoped he’d wanted to, though.

Loki and you had started taking the boxes inside, all by hand (to be honest, he was a little scared of the neighbours watching him do things with magic and kicking you two out). You laughed through it, and played races to see who’d finish their boxes first. He was wearing one of those midgardians shirts and pants that melted you completely. He wore that for your anniversary dinner the week before that day, and he noticed how much you loved it on him, so he started wearing fancy casual clothes more often than not.

After about two hours, you were done and completely exhausted. You laid in the middle of the wooden floor, surrounded by boxes and a strong smell of floorwax and fresh paint, and looked at each other fondly.

“Welcome home”, you said, and he showed you the biggest smile he’s ever done.

“I think this place is perfect. It’s away, but not exactly far from your family for whenever you’d want to be with them”.

“Yes, it’s perfect”, you said, getting up and helping him up. “You know, I have a surprise for you”.

“Really? What is it?”.

“Tonight at dinner, shall we? In the meantime, what about we get something to drink before unpacking?”.

“Can’t wait for tonight, then. Would you like some tea?”, he said, surrounding your waist with his arms. You played gently with his hair.

“Yes”.

“I love you”, he said, giving you a small peck over your smile.

“And I love…”, you started saying, but the entrance got filled with noisy people, interrupting you. Four of your friends were already filling the place, giving you an idea of how a small party would fit in there. “... you”.

“Oh my God! This place is so well illuminated!”, said Wanda, marveled.

“And what’s that smell? Have you been cooking something weird?”, said Nat, less enthusiastic, but equally curious. Sam and Bucky were still on the door, and Sam seemed to have brought food. Like a cake, or something similar. Wanda and Natasha were quick to invade the place without further notice.

“Oh, you got one of those hidden drawers! What are you hiding in there?”.

“Probably sex toys”, guessed Nat.

“I’d say drugs. But, like, alien drugs. You know, from his town”, apported Bucky, now making his way in and leaving the cake over the counter.

“I thought drawers were supposed to be for clothes”, said Sam, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but hidden drawers? Sexy clothes”.

“Actually, I’m saving my daggers in there”, finally said Loki, kissing your cheek before pulling away from you, and appearing a cup of tea in each guest with a movement of his wrist.

“Boring”.

“So, guys, what do you think?”, you said as you started opening one of the boxes.

“I think it’s small”, said Tony, as he walked in. Pepper rolled her eyes behind him.

“Don’t listen to him, you guys chose perfectly. This place will look very nice once you paint it and decorate it”.

“It’s already painted”.

“Oh. Well, it… it looks nice”.

“Thanks mom”, you chuckled. “It’s small but we don’t need it to be big”.

“You better be actually saving daggers in here”, Tony peeped inside the hidden drawer. “Now that is not so hidden. I wouldn’t like to open it up someday and find a…”.

“Dad, please”, you rolled your eyes and went to Loki’s side. “Don’t worry, you won’t find anything weird. Just the daggers and knives of my very innocent boyfriend”.

“Well, you’ll have to think further about having knives so close to the floor, you know”, he muttered. Loki furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why?”.

Tony ignored him and walked to you earnestly, with the most serious face expression you’ve ever seen, and everyone observed quietly. He grabbed you by the shoulders, and inhaled a deep breath. All of the sudden, his eyes got watery, and you realized Banner had told him about the pregnancy. Your heart beat so fast you thought you’d faint again, right there. The corners of his lips formed a tiny smile, and he hugged you tightly. Loki was certainly confused now. As far as he knew, Tony didn’t like him, and why would he be so happy about you moving out? It’s not like you were his only child, either.

“I’m so proud of you”, he whispered, and then Loki had the feeling he wasn’t talking about the new apartment, but didn’t ask any further.

That night you managed to cook something special, even though you still hadn’t gotten the gas installed. You cooked together, and laughed at every minor inconvenience the house could give you. The doors of the countertop cabinets were the perfect height for Loki’s 6’4” ass to stump his head every time he tried to open it.

After some time of silent cooking, absorbed on each’s thoughts, Loki asked about your dad’s pride.

“Oh, he’s… well, he just, gets very emotional with these things”. He chuckled at your very obvious lie.

“No, he doesn’t. Certainly not with me”.

“Come on, he likes you now. He likes anyone I love, because you make me happy, and because he has no other choice”.

“Well… I thought he’d be less amused”, he admitted. “Hasn’t he? Other choice, I mean”.

“I don’t think so. He’d have to deal. Family is family”.

“Oh, do I know about that”, he said, cutting a carrot more strongly than before. You laughed.

“I meant it in a good way”.

“Well, your family is one thing, mine is another… I can’t push yours to like me, as much as I would like to. They’re very nice, and I wish I had a family like that, but I don’t”.

“Love, family is built”, you said, this time a little more serious. He repressed a smile, still looking at the vegetables. “You’re part of this, too, you know?”.

“Of this?”.

“You’re family”.

He didn’t repress the smile this time.

“You’re right. You’re my family, too, my love”.

“You…”, you took a deep breath. It was the perfect moment. “Do you ever imagine us in the future?”.

“Why yes, of course”.

“Really?”.

“I want to spend all your life with you. I didn’t want to rush into things because… I don’t know, scaring you out of anything, but I…”, he said, and the alarm on your phone went off, to take the rice from the fridge. You two laughed at how mundane this conversation seemed. “But I love you, and I want you by my side”.

“Okay. Well I do too. That’s good, right? That’s good”.

“Yes, of course it’s good, why so doubtful?”, he laughed, grabbing a tomato and stabbing it.

“Because I’m pregnant”.

“Yeah”, he chuckled, without actually realizing what you just said. And then, he fell. “Hold on, what did you just say?”.

“I’m… I’m having a baby. Yours, of course”, you clarified. You felt like you had to, but it wasn’t actually necessary. Silence filled the kitchen.

“Oh dear” he paused. He left the knife over the counter and looked at you, looking for any trace of a joke. You weren’t joking, and you grew nervous as he let time pass by without saying a word. “How could you not tell me this before moving in?”, he muttered, still in a bit of a shock.

“Oh. Well… I…”.

“I wouldn’t have let you carry those heavy boxes, love, I’m so sorry”, he said, and cupped your cheeks. “Are you really…?”. You sighed in relief. For a moment you thought of the worse.

“Yes, I am”.

His arms embraced you completely, hugging you as tight as he allowed himself to. He muttered how much he loved you, and how happy you had just made him, for the rest of his life.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, he cuddled you from behind with his hands on your tummy and his lips on your bare shoulder. You could feel his soft breathing grazing your skin, and his warmth keeping you safe.

“Loki”, you whispered, checking if he was still awake. You couldn’t sleep.

“Yes, love?”, he whispered back.

“Are you sure you want to be a daddy? With me?”.

He turned you around, and lowered his head to your abdomen. He sank his face and kissed all around your stomach and hips, leaving a trace of kisses up to your neck, and then your lips.

“How could I not?”, he whispered in a low voice. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, teased “besides, the word daddy comes out so well from your lips”.

You laughed softly, and after some more silence that was fairly filled with loving stares, a thought crossed his head and you saw the light of his eyes turn to dark.

“What is it, love?”, you put a strand of his hair behind an ear.

“I… I’m just realizing something bad”, he said, and you nodded. “I’m a Frost Giant”.

“Why is it bad?”.

“My actual form is bigger than this. And… colder. And if the baby were Jötun too...”.

“You think the baby might hurt me?”.

“They might. I don’t know. Oh no, what if they hurts you?”, he began to panic, and you shushed him, kissing his temples.

“Don’t worry, Lokes. If that’s the case, we’ll figure it out”, you reassured him. “And maybe it’s not. And we’ll have a little and very healthy half-Jötun running around this small apartment. When have we not solved our issues? We’re good at that bit”.

“You’re right. You’re right, my dear”. He sighed, and then chuckled. “Should we have gotten a bigger place?”.

“We’ll be a very close family”, you laughed.

“We already are”, he whispered, cuddling back to you. “We are a very close family”.

[spookysmujer]

All the Stars, O. Diaz

Summary: After having a stressful week dealing with the Santos, you try to make Oscar feel relaxed enough to get him to open up.

word count: 1.3K

warnings: cute s h e t, fluff, vulnerability

a/n: Hello babes, I am putting in some weRk over these next few days! Also who has been super excited after hearing it’s official: ON MY BLOCK SEASON 4 IS HAPPENING. Our papichulo returns! Don’t worry, angst coming up next, some smut and the whole spiel, hehe. As always please: follow the blog, heart/comment/reblog my work and turn on notifications for when I post new content! 

requested by @justatiredfool

(gif belongs to unknown 🥺)

You were told you were silly to move in with Oscar during senior year of high school. That you had to be knocked up. Even though your parents gave you the OK, they always made it their mission to remind you that there are more important things in life than having a boyfriend. But no one understood just how deeply you connected with him. And to those who claimed it wouldn’t last, here you are 5 years later.

And with living at the Santo trap house came with its occasional inconveniences. Such as Oscar having the stress of ‘work’ follow him home all the time. And mostly, there was no problem in solving them. He did his best to separate business and pleasure. But there were days where he couldn’t and it would take a toll on your relationship. Days like today, so you want to help him relax and relinquish any stress.

When he gets home, he stops in the kitchen to press a kiss to the top of your head. He goes to the bedroom and strips down to his white tank and basketball shorts. You take the liberty to get him a beer, he thanks you with a touch when you hand it to him, “Long day?”

He hums in response as you run your hand over his head, he loves the feeling of you touching him. Touch for him is his love language rather than speaking. Which no doubt was hard for you in the beginning considering that for you, you were heavy in verbal communication. You need lots of reassurance and it was a big adjustment to learn that he likes to reassure you in a different way. 

After mindlessly thinking, you reach over and take the remote to turn off the tv. He scrunches his eyebrows together and looks at you, “Com’n, let’s go.”

“Go where? I just got home, com’n.” You gather your purse and go stand by the doorway, looking back at Oscar who is still laying back on the bed. He looks at you, trying to tell you I ain’t going nowhere with his eyes. But your eyes tend to be more deadly than his. He groans before getting up and grabbing his wallet, “You don’t need it, let’s go tortuga.” 

He pinches your behind as he approaches you, you squeal a little as you get away. Though he didn’t want to, Oscar knows there are days where you don’t see him much except for when he climbs into bed next to you. So instead of complaining, he just follows in pursuit. 

You snatch the keys from his hand and jump into the driver’s seat. He won’t admit it but he loves to see you drive his car, it wasn’t always that way but to see you leant back, wind in your hair and head bopping to music, it’s a sight for sore eyes. Oscar keeps quiet as co-pilot and lets you take him to wherever you have planned.

Oscar doesn’t think anything when you pull up at a taco truck, you tell him to wait in the car that you phone ordered food for the two of you. When you get back to the car, he half expects for the two of you to eat in the car. However, you place the bag of food in the back seat and take off again. You drive for a bit more, taking a turn pass the sign that says “Hollywood Sign Ahead”. Most tourists have a designated area to part and hike near it. You know a way to drive up to it. Call it your rebel memory of high school. “Where are you taking me, hm?”

You look over at Oscar and smile, continuing the drive in silence. Oscar quirks his eyebrows when pulled up near a cliffside. He looks to you then tries to look over the ledge, “Com’n.” And when you walk over to his side to pull him closer to the edge, he feels a certain weight leave his shoulders. The sight is literally breathtaking. Los Angeles in a whole view makes everything that has been happening seem so miniscule. He lefts out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment. 

“That’s why I brought you here. That release of breath you just let out that you have been holding in for God knows how long. Up here it’s different from the beach, down there you can release it but still gotta be cautious. Here, there is literally no one to see you be… you.” He keeps looking at the bustling city below. A small smile forms on his lips before looking at you. His hand cups your cheek, thumb gently gliding across the warm skin. You melt into his touch and smile.

So you both get comfy of the hood of his car and get to grubbing on the tacos. It’s nothing but silence as you eat first. You want Oscar to feel comfortable in this safe space. You have learned that the best way some people release all the pent up frustration is in silence while in the presence of others. It seemed out to you when you learnt this but sometimes it’s just another's presence that can be a tremendous help.

He finishes first and you offer your other taco, he denies it and chugs the rest of his drink. “Cuchillos put me second in command. Lots of new territories to cover. More business to handle and it’s been a fucking rough trip so far. Turning against long time allies. Taking fathers from little ones. I knew what I was getting when taking on the job but…” He shrugs, clearing his throat. 

You watch him closely and quietly sighed. Not pushing him to talk more, you wait it out patiently. “I just need to know you can stick it out with me during times like this.” He says and you stop chewing your food, taken back a bit.

Oscar finally looks at you and you swallow. You set your food down to slide off the hood to stand in front of him. He watches as you step between his legs, he looks at your lips as you rest your hand on his thighs. “Remember when we had that pregnancy scare half way into senior year? Or when Cesar ran off from us at the fair? We didn’t know what to expect to have next then, just like you don’t know right now. But we always did something that no matter the outcome we knew we’d be okay, we always stuck together and did our best. I am here. I am not going anywhere, I won’t run when the going gets rough. When every single day life tries to throw us a curveball, I’m gonna be right next to you. I promise you that.”

Those special moments in life that automatically engrain themselves into your brain, the times where it becomes such a significant moment that you can later anchor yourself to. And right now is one of those moments. Oscar knew from the get go that you would remain a faithful companion in his life the moment you took a leap and moved in with him. Unknown where the future could lead the two of you. Here you are in the moment that you never saw coming all those years ago.

“Thank you.” He grabs your hand and presses a kiss on the back of it. You blush as he pulls your arm around him to get a hug. Oscar inhales your scent which has always consisted of vanilla and brown sugar. The feeling of your embrace keeps him at bay with the uncontrolled thoughts. The two of you share a few kisses, “Despite all this shit, it’s not a bad thought you know.” He tells you and you look at him quizzically. 

He chuckles, “A baby, you pregnant. Doesn’t sound bad at all.”

The warmth in your cheeks makes you look away shyly. But the condensation that spread across the windows later showed no signs of shyness. 

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