#anyway don't expect as much effort for the rest of the month. this was mostly an experiment bc im getting used to ibis paint again

[therewillbenoromance]

jashtober day 1: singles

[legiterallylunar]

right so there are definitely people more qualified to talk about this than me, my family isn't very religious so my knowledge of intricate shabbat traditions are limited but i NEED to talk about this because it's still so important to me

anyway. huge long essay incoming under tbe cut.

LIKE. Shabbat is such an intimate and intentional part of jewish family life (you can't casually keep it if ykwim? if you keep shabbat you KEEP shabbat. nobody's going to all the effort of baking challah and lighting candles and blessing the children and taking a day of rest every single week if they aren't really very jewish because it's not convenient! shabbat is so intentional you have to Actively do it. this is mostly the reason my family don't keep it basically at all) and i think it would be so interesting to see what family dynamics the falsettos develop around it.

like i'm convinced that when marvin and trina first got married they were very strict about it ("very jewish, very middle class, very straight") and did the whole ceremony every week, prayers and all, no cars no lights no tearing paper etc., i imagine they also probably went to the synagogue on the saturday every week especially at the beginning.

Later when marvin first started seeing mendel (which i've decided was probably maybe 2 years into the marriage?? idk?? so anyway jason will be around 2ish here from what i gather from the musical) tensions between him and trina grew considerably so they slowly stopped going to the synagogue, but out of tradition and obviously trying to keep some religion in their lives they would still do the friday evening ceremony and probably still the havdalah on saturday evening (i think this would particularly apply to marvin as he starts feeling more and more out of place in the conventional jewish life he has so he probably had a very strong religious spike to try keep some sense of order), but that they'd get less particular about details like cooking or light switches, they might slowly start driving to the synagogue too. trina tries extra hard with her housekeeping end of things at this point because she doesn't know marvin is gay and thinks she's doing something wrong for the judaism to start creeping out of her life.

Then as jason got older (maybe 6-8ish) i expect he probably complained about not being able to do things on fridays after school so they loosened it a little again (probably eventually stopping doing to the synagogue - jason doesn't like it), but out of marvin's need for a tight-knit family the friday night ceremony with challah and candles and blessings stayed in place. tensions between trina and marvin keep growing and jason wants less and less to do with religious ceremonies that mean he has to stand in between his parents while they bless him and simultaneously avoid looking at each other.

during the divorce process after trina catches marvin with whizzer, i think that they probably had one really difficult shabbat and then stopped doing it completely for maybe like six months before trying again. divorce takes forever so i expect the next time they tried to do shabbat properly was just a couple of weeks before it was legally finalised and it was awkward but then they did it just a couple more times in the same sort of "since this is the last loving thing we'll probably ever do together" sentiment.

THIS IS WHERE THE MUSICAL STARTS. id like to believe that the "we all eat as one: wife, friend and son" is one of the first (and probably the last) times that they try to hold shabbat friday night ceremony and meal with both parents, jason, AND whizzer. it is obviously horrifically awkward and they never do it again at least until act 2.

anyway moving on from trina and marvin.

i think that while marvin and whizzer are dating for the first time they don't really keep religious tradition much, if at all. they obviously love each other but judaism in their relationship takes a back seat as marvin discovers how he feels in a gay relationship for the first time. whizzer being only "half jewish" probably doesn't make a huge effort to be religious, but also that migjt just be because he isn't involved with the wider jewish community around him (guys i'm gonna b honest i don't think whizzer has a lot of long term friends). i think whizzer comes into his own in terms of his judaism in act 2 when he rejoins the family after it becomes less actively dysfunctional.

ANYWAY mendel obviously doesn't work saturdays and i assume he probably doesn't work fridays either just because he doesn't actually like being a psychiatrist and takes advantage of having shabbat on friday evening as an excuse to work shorter time. (this isn't to say that mendel doesn't actually do religion, he does, but he also takes it to his own advantage when he can).

Anyway when he and trina get together i think that Making a Home is a really good description of their home life together and with jason. i like to think they keep shabbat as a custom, but they allow themselves to relax with it because after all it's a day of rest. i think that shabbat at the weisenbachfeld household is a much more pleasant affair than it was with marvin and trina, because they do it out of genuine appreciation for the religion and family life and not out of a feeling of necessity like they 'have to do it because that's what jews do'. jason probably felt uncomfortable with being blessed by mendel originally but eventually comes around to it and learns to take part in the ceremony and take it seriously (remember he's only about 10 at this point). i feel like trina would have grown in confidence in leading the family service and lighting the candles etc with a supportive partner like mendel and therefore she has a better relationship with her religion

this makes it all the worse when marvin comes crashing in and shouts at everyone in Marvin Hits Trina because imagien they were on a friday early evening and trina's just been making the challah before the sun sets and mendel is setting up the table to welcome the sabbath into the home. and all of a sudden it's marvin in a temper. omg i might cry. ANYWAY sorry i've got off topic.

IN ACT TWO after everyone has grown a little as people and taken their lives into a sort of disjointed peace ("and fitfully we co-exist") i think they start having more room in their busy minds for religion to provide a steady routine and a basic beat for them to live their lives to.

even when marvin and whizzer get back together they obviously dont become strict orthodox jews but i like to think they to take some parts of the religion into their relationship. the thing is i think that after being trapped for so long in a heterosexual marriage that he wasn't made for, marvin would start to equate judaism with his relationship with trina, so he would find it freeing to be much less religious in those two years between act 1 and 2 and even going forwards until jason's bar mitzvah.

A shabbat in falsettoland: eventually i think the whole family (including the lesbians from next door obvs) would have had to have a meal together at some point and what better time to do it than the holy day of rest.! (also jason probably advocated for big family passover at some point - actually maybe not but it's a nice thought and i hope they did it). AND OF COURSE everyone has to make a big deal out of the year of jason's bar mitzvah, because even non-religious jews (my family) make a big deal out of the year of their kid's bar mitzvah.

Jason obviously has a very difficult view of religion, not taking it very seriously because he only ever saw it from the context of marvin and trina's resentful rants about each other. This is shown specifically in The Miracle of Judaism where his first direct encounter with religion is trying to decide which girls to invite to his bar mitzvah... probably not the most holy of discussions. But then of course across act 2 jason has to grow up and mature very quickly to adapt to whizzer's hospitalisation, and to deal with such a difficult situation he turns to religion properly and starts to pray for more traditional things like health obviously. ("hello god... i don't think we've ever really spoken" - Another Miracle of Judaism).

anyway anyway whizzer hospitalisation. when whizzer gets sick it's obviously a huge turning point for everyone and disrupts every sense of order and regularity they might have had in their lives. BUT! i think that obviously in desperate times people look to a higher power to help deal, so everyone wojld become a lot closer to each other through finding comfort in religion as well as the obvious just spending time together for emotional support. i would like to think they occasionally did shabbat in the hospital, though idk how much that would practically be feasible so maybe not. i reckon they all (particularly marvin and jason) did a lot of praying by whizzers bedside.

along the same lines i think charlotte would have had a really difficult time keeping faith during the aids crisis because it takes such a toll on her to be surrounded with death and misery all the time that it would be hard to keep the light of god alive in her life.

i'm not gonna talk much about the bar mitzvah because it's all shown in the musical, i just want to say it was so heartfelt and sweet and i cried and i loved how the religion was finally bringing the falsettos together instead of pushing barriers between them. anyway.

@milolovesbmc brought this to my attention that obviously the falsettos would have to sit shiva for whizzer?? and i need someone to explore that in more depth than i'm able to?? please??? i think that's so touching and tender and sincere and i need someone to delve into it and tell me all about it please and thanks

anyway after whizzer passes they probably stay casually religious, and i would think that marvin starts regularly spending friday night services with the weisenbachfeld household and he and mendel bless jason together, also in whizzers name. i also think trina would again get more comfortable in her role as a wife and leader of the sabbath ceremony etc as well as jason cominh more into his own with his religious and emotional intelligence and takes it upon himself to live maybe even more jewishly than his parents expect.

YGH anyway that's it hope someone enjoyed that and thought it was coherent or interesting. thanks! that's it bye

shabbat in falsettos pls. i need to know if trina and marvin do shabbat properly with jason even though they're divorced. i need to know if trina and mendel keep shabbat even though mendel isn't a huge religious enthusiast. i need to know if marvin and whizzer keep shabbat . i need to know if charlotte and cordelia do shabbat by themselves or maybe with marvin and whizzer. please. shabbat in falsettoland. casual religion in media. save me casual references to jewish life in falsettos

[justyouraveragecsmfan]

Studying A Night Before Finals With the CSM characters in Highschool

Denji

Listen, we know you love Denji and all, but seriously- him? What can I say, good luck taking a make-up test because none of you will be properly studying as long as you are together

Denji is the type to start fidgeting after barely 15 minutes, throwing away his books in frustration and scooting over to you, demanding to do something more 'fun'

Except your little 5minute breaks from your study session to turn an hour long. Tried cooking? Nope, the kitchen will be turning into a mess with you and Denji there. Taking a walk? Expect going on a full on run in the city with Denji

And if you think about having a makeout session in between? Sis we know both of you ain't gonna get out of bed after that 😔

With Denji being a hormonal teenager, you guys are pretty much gonna end up fucking anyway

But Denji has some sort of reward system instilled in him we all know

So if you really want to get some studying done, make sure to give him little rewards for his efforts.

A peck on the lips for a correct answer, a certain special promise to do anything for him if he passes and his eyes will shine ✨

He'll be sure to work hard enough to get average marks in order to collect his due reward

Aki Hayakawa

Serious and strict

What else did you expect lmao

He will make sure none of you slack off much before the finals

The type to put on a relaxing study playlist as you both huddle together to cram and revise your notes

He's the type who gets good grades by actually putting in a lot of efforts, so he'll expect you to do the same too.

But if you're not the studious type, then he'll make you study with him enough for you to atleast get average marks.

The type to push himself a bit far, you can see it when his shoulders start slumping down as his eyes get droopy, then suddenly jerking back up only to repeat again.

Coax him a little for taking proper rest by squeezing his hands gently or kissing him on cheek,

Aki will just be like, "Fuck it", and go straight to you for some cuddles.

He doesn't show it but he's such a sucker for you lmao

Don't worry, both of you will be getting Pretty good grades tho.

Reze

Studying with Reze would be a... Surreal experience

None of you will be panicking, the atmosphere would be so chill with her

She is that person who tells you to study with her but you end up doing EVERYTHING besides studying

"Reze isn't it time we star- " We don't do that here. "

You guys will go anywhere that looks interesting be prepared to go skinny dipping

She'll take you to the an enclosed opening high up that shows the full city view, and as you both sit down and relax, she'll smile and tell you to wait as she goes walks out to the bushy trees and disappears, soon coming back with multiple beer cans in arms.

Y'all spend the whole night talking shit and getting high as fuck (probably made out a few times too 👁👁)

When you wake up you find yourself in your apartment, head hurting like hell as you go take your test while still hungover.

Worst part: Reze does manage to get decent marks while you get a makeup test like hoe we both had a hangover hoW

Let's just say that it'll be a while before you decide to seal your fate in the hands of Reze again

Makima

She always ends up having the best results and she expects you to have the same

Studying with Makima will make you less worried about getting good marks for yourself and more anxious about performing up to her satisfaction

She will sit across you, completely relaxed, as she cuddles her dogs while you're double-checking the topics you've learnt, reading any extra info from your notes, and confirming it with Makima's, and the process goes on

Both of you will mostly be revising everything you've learnt, no extra learning on the last night since you already have majority of the stuff on your tips with the special study schedule Makima made a few months back , just for you

After all a while, Makima will get a bit bored but instead of outright telling you she'll do it subtly, you noticing it right away and crawling towards her for comfort

"No need to feel stressed, I know you can do it"

"I-I don't know, how can you say that so..certainly Makima? "

Makima smiles faintly, a knowing look in her eyes as they draw in closer, and you find yourself being hypnotized once again with the burning gaze they held

"Because I'm the one who's prepared you after all "

Yeah Makima scored the highest in school with you just behind her, congrats 🎉

[sleepingdeath-light]

reading the crossover headcanons for TOH was amazing!

i wanted to request a crossover with TOH and Steven Universe if possible! (also with Hunter x Reader) You can decide between reader being half-gem, like Steven, or fully gem! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay! Aand I really love your headcanons! You make them long and detailed! It's truly amazing.

Crossover Headcanons | SU x TOH [Hunter x Gem//Hybrid!Reader]

thank you for requesting, anon

These are written with a gender neutral reader in mind and have a general chronology from the reader’s last moments in little homeworld until they end up with Hunter, so apologies if this gets long!

Note : this is the first time I’ve written for the SU canon, so I’m not as experienced with that universe. Also my portrayal of these characters is still pretty rocky, so I may rework this in the future.

The first few months you spent in Little Homeworld had felt almost like a dream come to life; freedom to be yourself and explore a world full of organic life without the restrictions placed on you by the diamonds? It was fantastic! However, that feeling of unrestricted feeling soon started to grow stale as you realise that the growth of the small colony had already started to stagnate—and that not all humans were welcoming of intergalactic immigrants like your kind.

So to ease your mind you opted to take the warp to the next star system over—craving that same sense of excitement that you had during the gem war

Simply standing on the warp again was enough to get your blood pumping with a reignited vigour for exploration

A feeling so palpable that you failed to notice the array of spindly cracks that spanned the surface of the device, and the way that a sickly dull light pulsated beneath your feet (the sight accompanied by a warning hum far too low for you to notice)

Though you couldn’t ignore the way the warp didn’t immediately go off like usual, nor could you neglect the searing pain that spread through your veins and constricted your throat; leaving you in so much pain that you couldn’t even move or scream before your vision was engulfed in a glitching, sickeningly bright light

It must have been several hours later when you woke up, based on how high the sun was in the sky… was the sky that red before?

Your head was pounding and although your vision was blurry, yet you couldn’t ignore how different your surroundings were from the earth you were used to

The sky was a faint red and the ground beneath your feet was dusted with deep maroon grass—it was soft and warm under your fingertips but with how much organic matter there was you knew that this wasn’t a colony

Hell, you didn’t even arrive on a warp on this end, so either you had been transported to somewhere else because a malfunction (unusual, but likely) or someone had taken you from the receiving warp and dropped you off in the middle of a clearing (far less likely)

Suddenly struck with worry, you sat up and moved your clothes to get a good look at your gem, letting out a relieved sigh when you saw it undamaged (clearly you’d landed where you woke up as most organics would have tried to remove it from your body before dumping you)

Realising that you were mostly safe you slowly rose to your feet and decided to explore your new environment, hand hovering near your gem in case you needed to defend yourself from whatever creatures had made their home here—trying to make yourself appear as small, quiet and unnoticeable as possible as you went

However, your efforts seemed to be in vein as you were quickly greeted by an excitable and loud human girl who practically screamed her welcome to you

You were torn between fleeing and fighting her when she offered her hand and introduced herself as “Luz the human”, her demeanour quite closely mirroring what you’d heard about Steven when he was younger from his mothers—it was almost endearing how much she tried to hold in her joy at seeing another “human”. You almost didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth as she walked you back to her home.

You were accosted at the door by an organic tube with an owl’s face that quickly and gleefully introduced itself as Hooty—the creepy, but rather friendly, house demon

Luz made an effort to hastily brush him off and hurry you both inside where you met with the other two inhabitants of the home as well as Luz’s “awesome girlfriend”, Amity.

Eda, an older witch with grey hair that hardly suited her age, greeted you with muted suspicion, not even taking her eyes off of you as she addressed the human at your side—seemingly unsure of your motives but trusting herself to be stronger than you (if her grip on her staff was anything to go by)

King, however, was much more brazen and blatant in his distrust of you, stomping over and pointing an accusing claw up at you as he threatened you in every way he could muster (even if all that got him was a halfhearted coo from you that left the creature more frustrated and downtrodden than before)

The guest, Amity, meanwhile, looked over at you with disinterest before she caught a glimpse of your (colour) gem peeking out from your clothing—immediately pointing it out and questioning you about it, much to your chagrin

This inevitably led to a very long and semi-complicated conversation discussing the intricacies of your species and how, no, you’re technically not a human

No you weren’t trying to deceive Luz, either, you just felt too awkward to correct her

But when all was said and done (and you were all out of steam after a several hour session of intense questioning and frustration at miscommunications) they seemed much more relaxed around you—even willing to let you stay with them, at Luz’s request, so long as you pulled your weight around the house and helped to keep them safe

And, really, how hard could that be? You fought in an intergalactic war so taking out a few organics should be a piece of cake (as Steven would say)

After spending a few weeks in this strange new world you had come to realise one specific thing; it wasn’t easy. It was, in fact, the exact opposite.

If you had to bubble one more guard you were going to scream

What had they done to make this Emperor hate them so much?

It felt as though half of your time was spent bubbling, blocking or disabling people that had made their way to the Owl House—and the rest was spent painstakingly explaining your abilities and species to Amity, Lilith and Luz

Granted, that wasn’t the most stressful part of your stay

No

That was hands down the stresses that came with visits from Luz’s friends from Hexside: the endlessly kind and protective Willow and the ever-curious and annoyingly quick witted Gus

That being said, you did appreciate their enthusiasm to learn about and accommodate you—even if the look Willow gave you when you spoke about the empire’s treatment of organic life did leave you rather shaken

So what little free time you had was spent learning about the local culture and sharing your experiences with them

Training with Amity and Eda

Helping Willow with her plants in whatever way you can based on your gem

Creating gem clones to help Gus perfect his illusions even further

Teaching Lilith and Luz about your abilities as well as those of your fellow gems, even helping the latter learn to write using gem glyphs

It was heartwarming to see others so passionate about your home, even if their insistence on pushing you to your limits could be rather frustrating (especially early in the mornings when your patience ran thin)

However, the longer you spent there the more members of the Emperor’s Coven (amongst others) you ended up coming across. One particularly memorable instance occurred when you were escorting a fretting Amity through Bonesborough with the twins (who’s presence you had grown rather fond of as their visits became more frequent).

Ed had dragged Em back to the library a good few minutes ago, leaving you and Amity to your own decides as you weaved in and out of the foot traffic—only to stop completely when the youngest Blight suddenly froze before grabbing your hand and darting off to an adjacent alleyway

As you went to protest, she promptly clamped one hand over your mouth and gestured rather violently for you to stay quiet before nodding towards a figure just a bit away from you

From the golden mask and white cloak you knew they were a member of the Emperor’s Coven—but you’d seen them before, on the posters littered around the city, each exploring passersby to join their coven

Golden Guard

That was a definite threat

So you passed the girl a spare cloak and did what you could to mask your own appearance before carefully making your way back home, shopping be damned—one hand over your gem just in case he happened to notice you

Though thankfully he didn’t

Not that it stopped you from filing him away as someone to be wary of anyway; he was the emperor’s right hand man, after all, so there was no such thing as being “too cautious”

And for a while that’s exactly what it was, not that you saw much of him that is, but from what you’d been told about Luz and Amity’s run ins with him you were glad to have never seen him face-to-face. If you had, you were almost certain he wouldn’t come out unscathed—teenage protege or not.

So with all that in mind, the last that you were expecting to see on a relatively peaceful Saturday evening was the unmasked Golden Guard practically unconscious and leaning on Luz and Eda for support as they burst through the door

Completely ignoring Hooty as usual as they carefully laid him down on the seat beside you (after you’d hurriedly gotten up, that is)

He looked to be in an awful state, with his visible skin bloodied, bruised and scarred whilst his usually pristine uniform was tattered and caked in dirt and what seemed to be even more of his blood

Seeming to notice your distress, Eda briefly addressed you and her sister before sending you all off to gather supplies (or heal if your gem allowed it)

“The kid’s been through a lot, but he’s with us now. Trust me, I wouldn’t have carried him all this way if I had any doubts about it.”

And that was that

It took Hunter (as he introduced himself) over a week to even be able to get out of bed and walk around unassisted—and whilst he actively avoided speaking about what had happened to him, you had a feeling that Belos was somehow involved

Though things were still rather tense for a month or so after he arrived, no matter how hard Luz tried to integrate him (and no matter how polite and welcoming Willow and Gus tried to be)

And you didn’t even want to recall the shouting match that occurred when Amity saw him in the living room with Luz….

It seemed as though he was just more content to shut himself away with L’il Rascal and only interact with Luz and Eda; the former to learn from her and the latter because she wouldn’t let him get away with anything but

That wasn’t even mentioning the palpable tension between him and Lilith (she would only say that it was from their time in the coven—and Luz suspected he’d annoyed her a bit too much—but nothing else would come of it)

But the others were worried about him, so you were sent in as a neutral party to talk with him about… things. You weren’t really told what and you didn’t have the time to ask.

Initially he was incredibly closed off and would only address you briefly, barely even acknowledging your presence as he gave his full attention to the scattered papers on his desk, each depicting a different spell and each ever so slightly off

So, as gently as you could you took the quill from him and drew a simple glyph on a spare scalp of paper, carefully leading him through the motions before leaning back and activating the spell (and smiling at his much more openly interested expression)

That then sparked a deep conversation about different types of magic—specifically wild magic and glyphs—as you shared what you knew about the topic with one another, every so often breaking off into laughter or patient silence as he’d run across the room to show you his notes or books he’d found

Naturally this would lead to him asking you about where you came from and you discussing your origins with him

Homeworld

The Diamond Authority

The gem war

Colonies

Soldiers

Shattering

The Crystal Gems

Everything

He was incredibly easy to talk to as he listened with a genuine intensity to what you said, nodding along and even asking well thought out questions about your world where appropriate

Depending on how close you were, he may even ask to see your gem and ask about its purpose

If you let him touch it, he’d be so very gentle, almost treating you as though you were made of glass—maybe even sketching it down and noting down your abilities and weaknesses in his personal notebook and apologising if it was weird

This mutual interest in magic and your shared experiences of either having to conform to a specific role your whole life [full gem reader] or feeling out of place and weaker because of your shortcomings [half gem reader] would be the basis of your friendship turned relationship. The transition between the two would be so incredibly seamless and slow that you wouldn’t even notice it happening—one moment you two were best friends sparring and the next you were hiding your blushing face in his neck as he hugs you and apologises for hitting you a bit too hard with his magic.

Your relationship would be sweet and slow and genuine

Hunter is new to receiving any kind of affection, so you’d probably have to teach him a thing or two—but he’d learn quite quickly so don’t worry

He’d spend hours studying your culture and language just to write you notes or offer you affirmations in ways unique to your culture, even calling you “my (Y/n)” after a while

Likewise, the first time you called him “my Hunter” he was left red in the face for the rest of the day (he loved it, though, so don’t stop)

But the moment someone makes a teasing remark about how soft he’s gotten (usually one of the Blight siblings or his own younger sister figure, Luz), Hunter will partially revert to being cold in public (whilst still being affectionate and openly touch starved in private)

In short, your relationship with him would be built on a foundation of mutual trust, affection and understanding that sprouted from friendship and honest conversations about your passions and pasts

[fxllingout]

patches for dmsp

dream breaks out of prison on a rainy day.

it's absolutely pouring, and by the time dream reaches somewhere he can hide out for shelter, he is drenched to what feel like down to his bones. the cave he finds himself in is tiny and cold, but at this point, anything is better than the rain not the prison the rain is better than the prison. he jumps when he feels something brush against his leg. he looks down to see a cat. it's fur is mostly brown from what he can see, different shades of it creating stripes, with a big patch of white on its stomach. the cutest thing, he finds when he knees down for a closer look, is it's paws are white. like little mittens he thinks. "hello pretty." it comes out a bit broken, his voice still not completely used to being used again, even after being able to talk a lot with techno during his time spent there. the cat looks up at him with big green eyes and meows as a response. dream isn't entirely surprised to see a cat here, he did pass a village about 10 minutes before finding the cave. "you're all wet baby. how long have you been out in the rain?" instead of meowing again, the cat pushes its head against dream's leg a few times before going back to staring at him. "i don't have much right now. i'm sorry." he stands back up and moves further into the cave, before sitting down against the back wall and hugging his legs against himself in the effort to feel a bit more warm then he is. the cat waits until he's done before following him and staring at him again. dream stares back. is it expecting something from him? he really doesn't have anything to give it except for the 3 potatoes he had the forethought of grabbing while he was escaping. its tiny head bonks against his leg again. getting an idea, dream lets go of his legs and maneuvers himself into sitting cross legged. the cat moves immediately, climbing into his lap and settling into a ball. he can feel and hear it purring and it cracks a small smile at how cute it is. he slowly moves his hands down to rest on the small form, petting the damp fur. "okay. i won't move at all, i promise. it's probably best if i get a bit of sleep anyways." he gets more purring in response. his eyes close and the sound of rain takes over the cave. "hey," he whispers, voice barely even audible to his on ears, "don't leave me okay?"

dream wakes up to no rain and the light from the rising sun directly in his eyes. the cat is still curled up on his lap, purring away like it was a few hours ago. he can feel his stomach rumble a bit in hunger, but he wants to reserve the little food he has. he's gone longer without eating anyways. he sits up a bit more to try and get comfortable and the cat lets out a small chirp before opening its eyes and staring at him once again. "I have to leave soon." the cat just blinks. "i'm not. well, i'm not exactly in the best position to take care of you at the moment but, maybe you would like to come with me?" at this, the cat meows, before climbing out of his lap to stand and stare at him again, as if it was waiting for him to move. dream stands and stretches, then begins walking towards the entrance. the cat is right on his heels. "well then," he says while looking down at it, "i'm glad to have you for the journey." he reaches down to pick up the cat and looks it over. "what a pretty lady to have in my company. i'm going to give you a name. is that okay?" he gets another meow. "okay then. how about patches? cause you have this patch of white fur here on your front, and little patches on your paws." she purrs at this. he takes it as a yes. "well then patches. let's get on our way. i don't really know where i'm going, but at least you're here now to keep me company." the smile on his face is the biggest one he has had in months. he's happy.

[antpernas]

Just thought I'd type this out before bed (doing it from my phone which is annoying)

I went out today after being in bed until about 1:30 PM, and getting out of the house helped me feel better. A lot better actually. I really started reflecting on the situation and I'm feeling better. Mostly because I'm acknowledging where my mistakes were, and what I'm going to change going forward.

It really comes down to drawing boundaries early on. If I *know* myself to be someone who becomes attached quickly, as someone who seeks companionship and will cling to anyone who I see potential with, I need to take steps early on to prevent myself from becoming infatuated. Specifically, no lovey-dovey stuff until I'm officially in a relationship.

That's where the issue really lies; in having these sporadic romances right off the bat, I jump to the conclusion that there is this mutual attraction and mutual objective, and I internally start to form expectations for the other party who probably was just here to enjoy themselves and nothing more. And this is what really hit me when I was reflecting; you can't hold on so tight. Those expectations (or maybe "hopes" is a better word) I formed were my way of holding on to these people in hopes that it would keep them from leaving. But the harder I hold on, the harder it is for them to stay. And I become responsible for pushing them away myself.

So I just need to not fall in love in the first place. No cuddling with new strangers, no single date taking multiple hours of your day, no sex, and none of these things ESPECIALLY if they're cute. Buffer out your interactions so you don't become infatuated so soon. Form that bond without expecting anything out of them, no matter how far along into knowing each other we are. Getting off the apps and meeting people organically will help me a lot. I'm realizing that this has probably been the problem all along.

I'm realizing too that that's been the difference between why I feel so abandoned by these fleeting lovers and not my friends who I only speak to every couple of months. Even when I'm the one who's always reaching out, it never bothered me. I've never expected anything out of my friends, so I've never been hurt by them. I truly just love them for them and am happy to be a part of their lives at all.

I'm accepting this. And I'm going to make a conscious effort going forward to keep it from happening again. I still love Taurus deeply, and thinking about all this just makes me want to apologize to him even more. But I can't keep burdening him with these feelings he doesn't reciprocate. I'm accepting that we're just friends, and that's beautiful in its own way. It still hurts my heart when we text, but that's okay too. It just needs time to heal. I won't be texting him so much anyway; putting in that buffer and whatnot.

I've signed up for therapy through my job and through my school. I'm going to be attending group sessions and individual counseling sessions. Honestly, I don't think I *need* it now, I'm just sad about being rejected and like every other time it will pass. Especially with this realization, I already know what I need to do going forward. But I've been wanting to go back to therapy for a while, even before any of this happened. I think it's important even if you're totally fine and content with life. It'll be good for me.

Anyway, that's that. Now the rest of the stuff that's stressing me out is what I need to focus on. I'll get around to journaling about that stuff these next few days. I'll get the routine back up.

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

I’m On Fire [Chapter 2]

With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Spencer start to put a plan together.

A/N:  I’ve got a head cold at the mo’ but I had to get a covid test just in case so I’m not allowed leave my room till I get the results! So enjoy a bonus chapter while I wallow on my own for like 36 hours :( On a positive note, thank you guys all so much for the response to chapter 1 I really didn’t see that coming! I’ve tagged everyone who asked, let me know if you wanna be added

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: Cursing, some NSFW language/themes

Word Count: 6.1k

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Series Masterlist

Masterlist 

"Are you coming up or what?"

The question was still ringing in my ears. It caught me completely off guard. 'Up' as in up to Spencer's apartment? Where he lived? I knew he lived somewhere in theory, just like I knew deep down that he wasn't made in a test tube. 

Without noticing I've undone my seatbelt and I'm hopping out of the car, following him around to the front door. I guess I am coming up.

Spencer's apartment is more cosy than I thought it was going to be. It's warm and lived in. It's not big, but I think that might be what makes it homely. Something about the way he behaves had me thinking it would be fully decked out in stainless steel or glass or something. But it wasn't pristine, it was messy. 

There were books bursting from the shelves that lined the walls of the apartment, along with books laid open over nearly every surface in the place, it looked like he was in the middle of reading all of them, and honestly, I didn't doubt it. Maybe I'd misjudged him. He even had some photos of what looked like his family, and maybe friends, even some of the BAU, lining his walls or propped up on his mantle. He had little trinkets and souvenirs on his shelves too, evidence that he'd been around the country for reasons other than a case. I would never admit it to him but there was a real charm to the place.

Once we got inside he took off his bag and suit jacket, tossing them on the desk just inside of the door. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, and he seemed to pick up on my awkward energy.

"You can make yourself at home" he said, his confident streak remaining. I had no idea what to do with that. What would even make me comfortable in Spencer Reid's apartment? I took a seat on his sofa and just sat with my hands resting in my lap. Really not even sure where I should look without feeling like I was invading his privacy. Even though I wanted to. I think it was morbid curiosity, looking for clues on who this man might actually be outside of the BAU. What I really wanted to do was stand up and walk around, soaking in every bit if this place as if it would help me decipher our messy relationship.

He returned to the living room a few moments later, two mismatched mugs in his hands. He places one in front of me on the coffee table. I pick it up and take a sip. It's lemon and ginger, how did he know what kind of tea I liked? I held the mug in my hands inhaling the steam in an effort to relax. When I look up he's watching me, arms folded across his chest.

"So, how does this thing work. What's the game plan?" I honestly have no real idea. This evening really got away from me, I was still expecting to snap out of it and wake up in my bed at any moment.

"Well I can't say I've ever been in a Sandra Bullock movie before either so this is uncharted territory for me too" I say with a chuckle, trying to ease the tension. Even a little. I can see him crack a small smile but hides it almost instantly, his face hardening again.

"My sister, Margot, she's getting married in like 4 months." I can feel myself tense and I shake out my shoulders, I have to remind myself that he's agreed to this already, "Fuck it, I'm just going to be honest with you. My Mom's mostly freaked out that I'm too attached to this job and that I'll just never find someone again." I shouldn't have said again, fuck. I hope he didn't pick up on that. Who am I kidding. "Even though, I'm not sure I care if I do or don't?" he doesn't say anything, like he's waiting for me to continue. I know I've shared a little too much already but I keep going.

"Margot's 2 years younger than me, I introduced her to her fiancé Philip, we met in college, he's a sweetheart. But since they've gotten engaged Mom's gotten exponentially weirder. I think she's convinced I'm fully going to die alone, as if that would be the worst thing that could ever happen? Anyway, she's been trying to auction me off to all these guys, using this wedding as an excuse. I'm not sure how much of that phone call you actually heard earlier but Mom was trying to sell me on this guy, David, and I just… snapped." I look up at Spencer and he unfolds his arms, leaning in ever so slightly coaxing the story out of me.

"David, he uh, he worked for my father for a while back in high school, filing documents and stuff, busy work mostly. He used to make out with me when he was at our house after school, but then he'd ignore me in the halls the next morning. I know it's because I was a pariah back then or something but I didn't want to think about it today and I just got worked up. I shouldn't have let on that you were my date, I was just going to ask if I could bring Garcia or something, and I'm sorry." I cover my face in my hands, "I'm insane, you can back out if you want to."

I can hear him move from his spot on the opposite side of the sofa, he takes my wrists and gently pulls my hands from my face. He looks into my eyes, "I'm in this now Y/N, what do you need me to do?" he asks, and there's a genuine earnest in his voice that I think I've only ever heard a handful of times. And it's never been directed at me.

"Okay, well we've got a few months before you ha–, wait, fuck!" I throw my head back, there's already a complication, "shit" I curse under my breath. His eyebrows knit together, sitting upright.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"I forgot about my Mom's 50th, it's next month. They've got this whole huge party planned back home in upstate New York. I've gotta go and they'll probably want to meet you, or they're gonna have a load of questions for me at least. I can try and get you out of it I'm sure"

He gets that cocky look again, he shakes his head "I don't know, I've always liked a bit of competition" he reclines back into his corner of the sofa, taking a satisfied sip from his own mug before speaking again. "You know, if I've got to learn enough to pass as your boyfriend in a month, surely that means you've got to learn enough to pass as my girlfriend within the month, no?"

Oh god. What have I done, why didn't I think this far ahead. "I mean, yeah I guess you're right." I had to remember he was doing me a favor. I had to get over myself. "Okay, if you're sure you're up for that?" I ask, and he nods, and I think he looks excited, or maybe he just finds the whole situation funny.

"If anyone's up for the competition it's you" he says, and I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a dig but I nod in agreement.

He takes another sip of his tea, collected and relaxed. I can't help but notice how at ease he is when he's in his own surroundings. I'm so used to seeing him sitting at a desk surrounded by paperwork, or combing through file after file in the make-shift office in a small-town police station, usually flustered or anxious, or antagonizing me whenever he wasn’t. This was a different Spencer. Completely in control, at ease.

"Alright, shall we get started then, we can't really afford to waste any time can we?" he was actually sort of right, so I nodded. It was only now occurring to me that I'd have to share parts of my personal life with him if I wanted this plan to work. We already knew the basics about each other, I'd read his file when I started at the BAU, I'd read everyones. And I feel like it was safe to presume he'd done the same.

His eyes bore directly into mine as he leaned forward, I think he was enjoying how uncomfortable I must've looked.

"How about I ask you some rapid-fire questions and you have to answer 'em?" he asks, and it's as good of a plan as any, and I can't think of any other suggestions, so I nod.

"Okay, shoot." I say, unsure and nervous, so I brace myself. I'm just grateful that he's making my life easier rather than harder for what feels like the first time since I met him.

I really should've known better.

He leans in, "So Y/N, first question, when did you lose your virginity?"

I almost choke on the mouthful of tea I just took, that can't be what he just asked, and he looks like he's savoring my shocked expression.

"I uh, I don't think you need to know that?" is all I can get out.

"Really? You think that's something your boyfriend wouldn't know about you?" he's right, but I didn't want to admit it outright.

"I feel like I sort of already hinted. It was that same guy David, I was 18, he was 19. We had sex on the couch while my parents went out one evening. I kept my bra on the whole time, he came, I didn't. It was all very standard stuff." I wasn't sure what compelled me to add that last part. I think I was giving in to the open honestly thing. "So what about you Doc?" I challenged.

He didn't seem embarrassed, or even shy. "I must've bloomed little later than you" he admits with a soft chuckle, "Vivian Stewart, I was 21, she was too. It was the last semester of my last PhD and I figured I must be missing out on something. And I sure was" he smirks to himself. "I came, she did too, 3 times. I did a lot of research ahead of time" he mirrored my story and I rolled my eyes. It was hard not to feel a little impressed but I tried with everything I had to stifle it so he couldn't tell. I wish it didn't make me feel something but it did. I gulp down the mouthful of tea that's been sitting in my throat.

I have to shake myself back to reality. I can't give him the satisfaction of throwing me. "My turn." I command, "When was your last relationship Dr. Reid?" I ask, "I mean like, serious one, not like hook-up" I clarify before he can ask. He thinks on it for a moment.

"I'm not sure what you classify as fully serious, but I guess it was this girl, Rebecca, we dated for a while when I first joined the BAU but it didn't work out. What about you?" he flips it back.

"So that was what, like 6-ish years ago?" I ask, he just nods.

"Mine was like 3 years ago now I think. I met this guy Nathan on my first week of college, we dated for like 4 years. He moved here for me when I got accepted by the BAU." I had to stop myself from delving into the detail. It was a long time ago now but it still hurt. "Long story short, the hours were demanding and they got in the way more than I would've liked. We ended up splitting a couple months after I got the job." I tried to play it off like it wasn't one of the more devastating things to happen in my life. But something told me he’d registered that, so he didn't push.

His energy picks up and he looks at me with a grin, but there's something a little sinister behind it. "I've got a more fun question for you." he leans in closer to me, "Y/N, when was the last time you got laid?" I just looked at him in shock. 

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, I can go first if you really need me to?" his voice didn't waver,

"Fuck you Reid, I know when it was!" I snapped back at him. I did have to think back a little farther than I'd like to pull up the memory.

"Met this guy in a bar when I was out with Pen one night, we went back to his place and hooked up." I say as deadpan as I can make it.

"Well that's not very exciting is it?" he jokes, "Did you at least cum that time?" I know he's just trying to rile me up, but I answer anyway.

"As a matter of fact I did" I earn back a little of my confidence.

"I'm so happy for you, but you did manage to avoid my initial question" fuck "when was this exciting night of yours Y/N?" he probes, like I really, really wished he wouldn't. I could lie, but I'm sure he'd be able to tell. I cringe before I can say it.

"About 8 months ago" I mutter, just low enough for him to hear.

"Sorry, did you just say 8 months ago?" He nearly shouts in disbelief, he seems to find it funny.

"Hey fuck you Spencer!" I go on the defensive, "When was the last time you even got laid?"

"Like two and half weeks ago" he says, confident, and still laughing, "Wait wait, when was the last time you got yourself off? I know you're not waiting 8 months!" he giggles and I think I could kill him. I know I kept giving him outs but was it too late for me to just get up and leave?

"I'm not doing this with you if you're just gonna make fun of me Reid, I get enough of that at work" I get out, my voice is serious but I'm trying to hide how awkward all of this is making me feel, and I don't know that I'm doing a very good job.

I can tell that's gotten to him, he relaxes and eases up on the giggling. "Look okay wait Y/N. I'll stop, I'm not actually trying to make fun of you. I was being serious, I think stuff like this is important if we're gonna have to be comfortable around each other enough to seem like a real couple. Plus, it'll just help break the ice?" he shrugs. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I soften, because I agree, even thought I hate that he's right. "Fine" I collect my thoughts, "2 nights ago I'm pretty sure." I regret it almost instantly, but breaking the ice is supposed to feel awkward.

"Same here actually," he chuckles, "what'd you do?" I'm so startled by the question I almost forget how to answer.

"I, uh, my, my vibrator? I just felt like uh, I watched some..." I still can't force out a whole sentence. It's not like I was always awkward about sex or anything, I could talk to Garcia, or honestly probably any of the other team members about it. But with Spencer it didn't feel as comfortable. He still sat calmly, smiling just a little.

"Same here, 2 nights back, but with my hands I guess. I wonder if we were doing it at the same time?" he mutters the last part gently and my head goes a bit fuzzy. My eyes drift away from his face and settle on his hands, the mug he's holding looks so tiny with his fingers wrapped around it, I wondered how they'd look wrapped around my-

"Okay I think that's enough for one night, don't you think?" I jump up off the sofa and turn, mostly so that he doesn't catch the blush thats creeping from my neck up to my cheeks. And because I don't know what I'll say, or regret saying, if this conversations continues on its current trajectory.

"Sure," he says, standing up next to me, and I want to move further away instantly, "you're probably right, and it's getting a little late now anyway" he glances at his watch. Ushering me back towards his front door and opening it up. Before I can walk out he lightly touches my shoulder to turn me back to face him, and I wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from every part of me.

"So are you free next Friday after work?" he asks, and I'm so flustered I almost forget why, I just nod. "Perfect, how about we come here again and we can dive into preparing? You could also make a start on getting these onto a hard drive?" he gestures to the antique looking hardbacks adorning the shelves.

'Sounds great!" I perk up, feigning enthusiasm, "See you then!"

"Well, see you Monday morning actually Y/N" he smirks as I walk out the door. Fuck, he was right.

I really hadn't thought this through.

——

The weekend was a bit of a blur. I decided to try and put some useful information into a document for Spencer. It felt strange to try and condense my life into as few pages as possible. I knew Reid had an eidetic memory, and nothing would necessarily overwhelm him. But I also knew that he was someone that the team relied on to fill in a lot of the gaps in the rest of the our knowledge. So I felt bad about dumping a load of information on him, especially considering it was a favor he was doing for me.

I'd complied the majority of my life into a 15 page document and printed it out. Hopefully that would address most of what my family could guerrilla attack him with. There was also something unsettling about the imbalance. I was going to give him so many of the intricate details of my life in a little file, whereas all I really knew about Spencer was what I'd taken it upon myself to learn about him throughout the past few years.

I'd read all of his work while I was in college, given how he was the gold standard of getting into the BAU at a young age, I wanted to know who this guy was. I think I'd pictured something different. And I couldn't deny there was something enticing about finally getting to know him after all of these years of working together. Maybe this could actually be fun, or interesting at least.

----

I arrived early on Monday morning. I thought I was first into the office as usual but Garcia was sitting in my desk chair waiting for me. The second she saw me walk in she tensed, she must've known we were the only people in this early.

"What happened! You've been avoiding me all weekend?" she asked, and she was right. I'd drafted enough texts to her, trying to explain what the plan was, mostly without wanting to admit that she was right. Maybe I was stubborn.

"Alright okay, I drove Reid home." I admitted, dropping my bag by my desk. She rolls her eyes at me, dramatic as always.

"Well I knew that already Y/N damn! What happened next?"

"Fine, we went into his apartment and talked for a while. Trying to sort out the details, get a handle on things I guess?" I said, unsure of how much I should actually give away about our conversation.

"What things!?" She shouts, standing up from my desk,

"I don't know Pen, like logistics and stuff, I still haven't decided how I feel about that little stunt you pulled on Friday night!" I let my frustration get the better of me, and maybe that's why I haven't talked to her. It could also be because I know she's able to read me like a book and I'm not even sure how I feel about this whole situation.

"I call bullshit." She counters, "I know you were relived as hell when I sorted that whole thing out. You would've had anxiety tummy all weekend if I hadn't called Spencer!" I just go silent, she was right. I'd gotten so caught up in the whole, 'how to have a fake boyfriend' that I'd almost forgotten about how stressed I was about Spencer hearing my call in the first place.

"Okay, shit" I sigh. "Maybe you were right Pen. We're actually meeting up again this Friday after work to make a plan for the next while, so I guess that's progress?" I shrug, trying to play it off like this whole situation doesn't make my stomach flip.

"Ohhhhh! So like a date?" She probes, her enthusiasm rising drastically.

"Oh my God Pen no! Like an appointment at best" I diffuse the situation

"Ugh that's no fun" she says, not even trying to disguise her disappointment.

As if on cue Dr. Reid walks through the double doors into the bullpen. Both Garcia and I wave, overall awkwardly, but making an attempt pretend like things were completely normal and like nothing had changed since the last time we were all in the office together.

Penelope heads to her office as the bullpen starts to fill up quickly. Less than an hour later though Garcia's back at my desk and there's a new case that needs the teams attention in Boston. I follow her into the conference room and wait for the rest of the team to join. Spencer follows a moment later with 2 cups of coffee in his hands. I can see my mug in his hand and my automatic response is that he's messing with me. But he places my mug in front of me in the circular table before taking the seat next to me, listening to Garcia's briefing. I don't know if he's ever sat next to me in this conference room, at least not by choice.

I barely had any time to finish my coffee before I have to say goodbye to Garcia and hop on the jet to Boston.

----

The case was grueling. More so than usual. It was wrapped up late on Thursday night and the team decided to fly back home first thing on Friday morning. I was exhausted. Even if there was enough time to get sleep each night it wasn't like I got any. Whenever a case got on top of me like this it made it hard to rest, or get it off my mind at all until it was wrapped up. So even though it was over, that didn't mean I wasn't exhausted.

Hotch gave the team the rest of the day off, given that we have until submit our paperwork by Monday. I wasn't sure if Spencer's invitation from the following week still stood. I didn't want to ask, partly because I was so tired, but also because I was scared. I wasn't about to show up at his house in an effort to have a heart to heart, or hand him a condensed version of my life story on a manilla envelope if he was as drained as I was.

Standing by my desk I packed up everything I'd need to get my paperwork done over the weekend, I was just about finished when Spencer snuck up behind me, perching himself on the edge of my desk. "So, you almost ready to go?" he asks, like it's the most obvious question in the world. I couldn't really hide my surprise.

"Oh yeah. That's fine, I mean, if you're still cool with that?" I ask, and I hate how flustered I sound, like he makes me nervous.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He chuckles, standing up straight.

"Cool, gimme a sec and I'll be good to go."

I pack up the rest of my stuff quickly and we make our way out. There's something that feels a little eerie about the two of us being in an elevator together alone again. It was a different kind of awkward to how it felt a week before hand. It almost felt like a kind of tension rather than a hatred or a rivalry. Either way we rode down in silence.

Once we got to the basement Spencer walks out of the elevator and walks straight to my car without having to ask. I unlock it and he hops into the passenger seat. Like this is a natural interaction. Something we do all the time. And I don't hate it as much as I thought I would.

"So," he says, buckling up his seat belt and breaking the silence, "do you know how to get to my place from here or do you need directions again?"

"Well I've got to turn on the engine first" I tease, hoping he picks up on the reference to our last car ride, he chuckles like he does.

"Are you hungry?" he asks

"Starving."

The delivery guy get's to Spencer's apartment at almost the same time we do.

---

Once the food's been demolished the two of us finally sit on his sofa, the same sides as the week before. "So, shall we get back into this?" He asks, sitting forward slightly to pull a notebook out of his satchel on the floor. It's small and lavender, and it's got a pen clipped into the spine. He cracks it open and flips to a specific page.

"Sorry, what's that?" I ask, pointing to the book, he looks confused,

"They're my notes?" he says, like it should be obvious

"Your notes?" I ask,

"My notes on you." he smirks, again like I'm silly for even asking.

He had notes on me? He had a whole notebook on me? What was even in that thing?

"You've got notes on me?" I ask, my hands reaching out to grab it, but he retreats faster than I can catch him. "What have you got in there that's so serious?"

"Nothing." and his tone's a bit too stern and I don't really want to push it when he's being so uncharacteristically nice to me.

"I've actually got this ready for you" I pull the file out of my own bag and toss it to him. "I'm not sure exactly what you need to know but that should be the majority of it at least."

He opens it up and glances over the the pages. It takes him all of 2 minutes to get through the whole thing. It feels unsettling that he's taking in a boiled down version of my life while I'm just sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. Trying to avoid the attention I pipe up.

"Um, hey, maybe it would be a good time for you to show me where to make a start digitizing your books over here?" I stand up and make my way to the shelf. He jumps up off the sofa and walks toward me, visibly excited.

"That's actually a great idea, I thought that the theses from my degrees could be a good place to start, since I'm pretty sure they're not backed up anywhere." he guides me to a section of the book case by the window. There's a series of leather bound hardbacks, the same gold font embossed on the spines. I recognize all of them, pulling out the first one.

"This is my favorite" I say without thinking about it and he does a double take, clearly thrown.

"You've, uh, you read my work?" he asks, completely puzzled. I'm sort of proud that I've managed to make him this awkward, and I nod.

"Mmhm, back before I joined the BAU actually. Before I really knew you" I regret saying the last part, it comes out a little meaner than I really wanted it to so I back track. "Spencer, I read all of your work while I was in college, you were like the gold standard. I don't think I slept more than 2 hours a night throughout my PHD because I was just trying to get as much done as you." and his face softens at the admission. But it takes him a moment before he responds. Leaving the two of us in silence a little too long.

"I had no idea" is all he says.

"I think this one was best" I say propping up the one in my hand, "you get a bit cockier as you move on” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "but I'll start with all of these I guess" I grab the matching books and stack them in my arms. Walking over to his desk and setting up. Glancing at the clock it was only 7pm so I decided to just make a start.

Spencer didn't contest. Letting me just get settled at his desk, I pull out my laptop and begin work on transcribing the first volume. After a few minutes he silently places a cup of tea down beside me and goes to sit on the sofa. The time rolls in quickly after that, each time I look up at Spencer he's carefully combing through the file I'd given him. Re-reading it and making little markings in his lavender notebook. I'm not really sure what I put in there that was worth making a note on but clearly he was reading between the lines on some things. That little notebook was like a profile of me.

When he seemed like he'd finished writing he pulls out his phone, scrolling through it aimlessly like I'd never seen him do before. It made him look so normal. His eyebrows knit together as he's looking at something on his screen and he stands up. Making his way over to me at the desk and shows me what he was looking at.

"Who's this?" he asks, "This guy you're with?"

I recognize the photo instantly. It's from a few years earlier, Nathan and I on the beach, my head resting on his chest. He'd taken it while we were on vacation celebrating our anniversary. That was about a month before I got into the BAU, I had no idea that was going to be our last anniversary. I gulp down the emotions that it stirs. I'm mostly over the whole thing by now, but looking at old photos like that, photos of happier times, it can still sting.

"That's uh, the boyfriend I was telling you about last week. Nathan, we broke up not long after I joined the BAU?" he nods, but he's smart, and I kind of figure he already knew that.

"Ah alright" he takes out the hardback and jots another note down. Maybe he's trying to get a read on me.

"What are you doing?" I gesture to the phone,

"It's research, do you not think that if you and I were really dating that stalking your social media profiles would be on my agenda?" he's smug, and he's right. But I guess I just didn't expect it from him.

"Well that's not really fair now is it? I can't reciprocate, you've got no social media presence whatsoever!" he finds that funny, letting out a deep chuckle and tucking his phone away in his back pocket.

"Maybe so, but that imbalance is hardly my fault. Besides, you've read all my dissertations apparently..."

"Bastard" I joke, slamming my laptop shut and throwing a pen from his desk at him so that it lightly bounces off the top of his head.

"Hey, there's no need for violence Y/N!" he rubs the spot beneath his curls, "Maybe it's time you took a break actually?" he says, sitting himself back down on the sofa.

I was reluctant to admit it but he was right. My eyes were starting to go a little fuzzy after looking at the screen for so long. I stand up and stretch my arms out above my head, feeling my spine stretch out after sitting for so long, letting out a low groan. Spencer waves me over to the sofa and I join him.

"How about we go back to basics?" Spencer asks with a small grin, and I can't help but let out a long sigh.

"I thought I was taking a break, no more questions" he just laughs at me,

"Relax, you're not that interesting, it's just a simple question." he states, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to find it funny or offensive

"Ugh, fine, shoot"

"Well, actually it's two questions" he corrects, "what's your favorite movie, and what's your favorite snack?"

I'm confused mostly by the fact that it actually is a simple question, I was expecting something a lot more contentious, but also because he looks eager to know the answer.

"I'm not really sure what my favorite movie is to be honest, one of them is Night of the Living Dead?"

He nods to himself, and jots it down in the notebook again, "Alright, I can make that work" he stands up off the sofa before turning back to me, "and snack?"

"Peanut butter cups I guess?" I respond and he grins ear to ear, which is a completely new sight, and I like it way more than I thought I would.

"Perfect, gimme 2 minutes!" he leaves the living room and wanders towards the kitchen.

Spencer returns a few minutes later with a DVD, a packet of peanut butter cups , and a thick knitted blanket gathered in his arms. He drapes the blanket over me and gently places the peanut butter cups on top of it before popping the DVD into the player and sitting down beside me. I'm not really sure how to process any of the situation. Am I about to watch a movie on Spencer Reid's sofa? Sitting next to Spencer Reid?

"I... I, uh, thought you were just asking for your notes?" I ask, pointing at the notebook resting in his lap. He picks it up and throws it onto the coffee table.

"Sometimes I find experience is the best teacher, don't you?" he asks before pressing play, “And besides, it should keep you quiet for a whole 96 minutes” of course.

I can only nod in agreement, I'm not really sure what I'll say if I try to speak. I get myself cosy under the warm blanket and we watch the movie in near silence.

Once the credits roll Spencer finally speaks up, "I actually went to see a screening of this last month downtown, there was this little old horror movie fest-" I cut him off without really realizing, I'm just strangely excited that we've genuinely got something in common.

"Holy shit, I was there!" I say, more enthusiastic than the situation calls for.

He laughs at my excitement, "Well, I guess we have more overlap than I thought, that should probably help with the whole charade." he stretches his arms up over his head and let's out a small, gentle yawn. I'd been enjoying myself more than I thought I would, or would ever tell Spencer, that I'd almost forgotten that we'd both been on a case for almost every waking moment of the past week. I really should feel a lot more drained than I do.

I was just after midnight when I suggested that I head back home. I offered to take some of the books home to work on throughout the weekend but Spencer insisted that I just work on them whenever I came over again. I sort of felt like I should thank him for the evening when I was on my way out the door, or give him a quick hug, no that felt wrong. In the end all I could really muster was a lousy, "goodnight" and a meek wave on my way out the door before I drove home. And couldn't get to sleep.

— —

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Masterlist

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[alottanothing]

Kismet

Summary: Evie prepares a meal for the stranger who helped her and finds herself more than a little smitten.

Previous Part: Hope

Word Count: 5707

Warnings: Language

Tag List: @ramilicious, @txmel, @edteche2, @gloriousdarkangelsworld, @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Okay, I almost didn't get this up today because I was up most of the night sewing kilts for Highland Weekend at the Ohio Renfiare. BUT I stayed awake and did my final read-through, so this should be mostly okay. I skipped a couple steps in my editing to get this up on time but I think, for the most part, it's okay. If you see a grammatical booboo, just ignore it, I'll get in here sometime this week with my other two editing steps and find it, then repost this. Capisce? Okay, cool...now. I hope you enjoy it, I also hope my trying to phonetically write Mer's accent doesn't get too annoying. I know you really shouldn't write accents, but I think it helps add to the characters. And I do try to keep it to a minimum so it doesn't get annoying. Thanks for the love the first part received last month! I know waiting so long between updates is a bit sad after weekly updates with LtR. But life is busy right now and once a month is all can guarantee.

Jonny did not know how to keep a house.

In fact, Jonny did not know how to do much more than drink, argue, and get into fights. He was nothing but a thorn in Evie's side—never mind how much she needed him for a place to lay her head. A necessary thorn was still a thorn. Given the opportunity, she would rip it out as soon as she could and dress the wound promptly so she was finally able to heal better. She stayed only because she had no other choice. And every time Jonny raised his voice or stumbled in reeking of alcohol and red-faced, Evie could hear her best friend's warning in her head. Cynthia had begged her not to go with him, but she hadn't listened.

Oh, how she wished she had.

Luckily, Jonny wasn't the kind of man who liked to stay home which eased the ache of the ever-present thorn in her side. Whatever money he did have, he spent out on the town—the town being New Orleans. Like Evie, Jonny had been born and raised in the Big Apple, the noise and the chaos was part of him. As such, he hadn't taken to the quiet suburban life Bridge City offered as well as Evie. She liked the quiet, easy flow of the sleepy town. Her housemate loathed his new home. He thrived in disarray, thus, he found a group of like-minded young men to run amok with in the neighboring metropolis every chance he got.

If Jonny had been any sort of amicable company, the notion of him leaving most every night to wreak havoc several miles away would have been upsetting. Thankfully, his penchant for city life meant a good portion of Evie's days were spent out from under Jonny's tyranny. The hours he was gone were blissful and calm, and she relished in them. Whether she was creating art or tending to chores around the old house, Evie didn't care as long as Jonny wasn't there—never mind how lonely the routine often was.

Evie had never gotten the chance to meet Jonny's maternal grandmother, though she suspected she would have liked to. Unlike her grandson, she seemed like any other sweet elderly woman judging by the furnishings she'd left behind. There were dozens of lace doilies, and table cloths with soft patterns, decretive china even, but it was the plethora of photos the old woman kept that told Evie she'd carried a kindly heart. All of them were kept in pristine albums or intricate frames; they were the only barbles that seemed to have been cleaned or dusted with any regularity which spoke of how much she must have treasured them. Evie loved those tiny trinkets and black and white memories. It didn't matter that they were not her legacy of family heirlooms to keep, she adored them anyway.

She couldn't count the number of times she'd replaced a broken frame that had fallen victim to Jonny's drunken belligerence or scrubbed tirelessly at a stain he'd left on the patterned tablecloths. It proved to be a hefty undertaking, but dwelling in the fantasies of someone else's history let her forget the grief of her own. She was willing to sacrifice a little elbow grease if it allowed her mind to roam away from the shadow that never really seemed to vanish.

For all the effort Evie put in on the interior, the cottage held little in the way of curb appeal. The porch was sunken in the middle, the paint was peeling off in chunks, and the yard was mostly weeds. Worst, however, was the screen door which squeaked so loudly, every dog in the neighborhood howled in protest every time someone crossed the threshold. The outside needed love that Evie simply didn't have the energy to lend. Despite the grit, however, the foundations were sturdy enough that she didn't worry. The cottage proved to be stronger than she looked—a feat Evie felt she had in common with the old house. And while it was a swell enough place to rest her head, it never truly felt like home. Home was somewhere safe, and as long as Jonny lived under that roof she wasn't safe. Not really.

Fortunately, Jonny wasn't home when Evie returned after her run-in with Mr. Shelton—Mer, she corrected herself with a hint of a giddy smile. Without her housemate there, her evening promised to be hopeful instead of lonely, and she wasted no time in figuring out what to make for dinner.

With her red pumps replaced by her worn-in slippers and her blue checkered apron secured around her waist, she set a pot of water to boil and dialed the phone conveniently located in the kitchen. Every evening she called her sister-in-law to pass the time and keep up on unimportant gossip back home; this time, however, Evie was excited to finally have some good news to share.

"You got the job, didn't you?" Cynthia Clarke asked on the other end, sounding hopeful. "I knew you would."

Evie grinned, still amazed how the sound of Cyn's voice always seemed to settle some of the ever-present anxieties buzzing in her head. She missed her friend so much.

"I didn't even say yes."

"Did you or did you not get the job?" Cynthia pressed.

"I did," Evie confirmed and her smile grew hearing her friend cheer on the other end of the phone.

"See! I knew it." Cynthia said. "My gut feeling is always right."

Evie rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"I think I'm gonna like working there too, so that's good." she mused as she stood at the stove, eyeing the pot of water she’d set to boil.

"That's so great, Ev. I'm so proud of you." Cynthia paused before continuing. "So, what are you up to tonight? Avoiding Jonny?"

"Sorta," Evie nodded even though she knew her friend wouldn't see.

As she continued to watch her cooking pot of water she told Cynthia all about her trouble with Jonny's car and the man who'd been so kind to help her.

"Wait. You invited the stranger over who fixed the car?" Concern was heavy in Cyn's voice, and Evie half expected a lecture to follow.

Despite knowing each other since childhood, Cynthia had taken on the role of her protector since Evie's family was no longer in the picture. The war had claimed Evie's father, and brother—although they'd never found her brother, Jimmy after he disappeared behind enemy lines. Evie never lost hope that Jimmy would one day be found, Cynthia though, was certain her husband was never coming home. After Cyn’s brother, Charlie, died at Normandy Cynthia had difficulty believing anyone was going to make it home. As for Evie's mother, losing a child and her husband to the war was too much for her tender heart and she passed not long after. Ever since, Cynthia was overcome with the need to act as Evie's guardian.

"He wouldn't let me pay him," Evie explained. "So I'm making him dinner—it seemed like the least I could do."

"I suppose…." Cynthia didn't sound convinced, if anything she sounded slightly irritated there was no quick way for her to argue the logic. "Just be careful, Evie. You don't know this guy—he could be another Jonny Doyle. Or worse."

"He's not," Evie said quickly. She wanted nothing more than to tell her friend all about how benevolent Mer was, but she decided against it. Cynthia would only argue that point somehow.

A long pause followed, and Evie wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder so her hands were free to work on the meal.

"So, what are you cooking?" This time, there was a hint of jest in her friend's tone when she spoke.

The art of cooking was one creative outlet that Evie struggled with, second only to music. In her youth, her mother did all the cooking—it was a passion of her mother's—thus Evie had done little more than watch in wonder as her mother whipped up meal after meal effortlessly. Breakfast she the meal she was probably best at, apple pies too, but anything beyond that Evie required a step by step guide to prepare. And even then she lacked confidence. Thankfully, when she'd fled south, she remembered to grab her mother's cookbook. It was a cumbersome tome with yellowed pages and notes scribbled into the margins: a piece of art itself cultivated over years of collecting recipe after recipe starting the moment her mother stepped off the boat that brought her from Ireland. And like a witch and her spellbook, Evie depended on it.

"Spaghetti with garlic bread," Evie admitted feeling as though the meal lacked a certain something.

Pasta was something she knew held a low degree of difficulty when it came to preparing. Surely she couldn't mess up pasta.

“Mmm, I can almost smell it,” Cynthia said.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Cyn replied. “You’re mom’s spaghetti recipe was always my favorite.”

A doleful smile pulled at the corners of her lips, thinking back to her mother happily cooking in the kitchen as she sang a Celtic tune. It seemed strange that those moments would never again play out, instead they’d become bittersweet memories Evie could only relive in her mind.

“Mine too,” she murmured, suddenly missing her family.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Evie’s mind roamed the dregs of her grief before blinking back into reality and the hope of something happy to come.

“I need to go, Cyn,” Evie told her friend with a sigh. “I don’t want to burn the garlic bread.”

Cynthia chuckled and said her goodbye, only after making Evie promise to call her in the morning to let her know how everything went.

With her second hand restored after hanging up, Evelyn reached for her mother’s cookbook to give the steps another look over to ensure she had done everything and added every herb and ingredient she was supposed to. She’d followed everything perfectly, even factoring in the little notes scribbled into the margins left there by her mother—those she smiled at fondly and traced the fading ink with her fingers. Everything was as it should be. Even so, without a taste, Evie knew the sauce she had prepared would never be as savory as what her mother made so effortlessly.

“You were the artist in the kitchen, Ma,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll stick to paper and canvas.”

For the smallest of a moment Evie thought she would hear the warmth of her mother’s laugh, and when it never came she sighed again, trying not to dwell on the shadows behind her. What mattered was the light ahead.

Despite her lack of confidence, the meal came together without any severe hiccups. The noodles were not overcooked, the sauce was a complementing mix of savory and sweet (though, as she had guessed after a tiny taste, was not nearly as good as her mother's) and the garlic bread was nicely golden. A small tingle of pride manifested in the form of a surprised, but satisfied, smile as she surveyed the dinner before her.

“Not bad, Ev,” she told herself, knowing her mother would have been delighted.

With the cooking done, Evie threw a glance over her shoulder to the clock mounted on the wall, triggering a surge of anxiety to bubble in her gut. Stranger, perhaps, was the amount of excitement coursing through her veins. It was as though all of her happiness was riding on whether or not she would see Merriell again. None of it made sense; the man was little more than a stranger. The coupling of nerves and delight was not a feeling that put her ill at ease, however. She trusted it. And it was that peculiar sensation that seemed to fuel her movements.

With a few minutes to spare, Evie wandered into the small bathroom to freshen up. She made sure her hair was still pinned the way she liked—up and pretty. Her make-up was holding up nicely despite the heat; all she needed was a fresh layer of lipstick to complete the illusion of a put-together young lady. It wasn't often she wore a dress with heels and a face of cosmetics—she liked to when the opportunity arose, but she was just as comfortable in a pair of old overalls and smudges of charcoal on her face.

Just as she wiggled back into her red pumps—discarding her worn-in house slippers with a couple of calculated kicks—a knock on the door signaled Merriells arrival. Immediately a grin curled onto Evie's lips and her heart began to pound an anxious-excited rhythm. A blush threatened to color her cheeks to give away the torrid muscle beating in her chest—her ever yearning heart already making leaps and bounds for a man she had known for mere hours.

Don't be ridiculous—she warned herself taking in a deep breath to curb the eagerness coursing in her veins. Untying her apron, she tossed it along with her discarded slippers and went to answer the door, taking one last deep breath to steady the fervor in her heart.

Merriell had changed and showered. The sweet bouquet of his shampoo coupled invitingly with the musk of the aftershave he'd chosen, making it difficult for Evie to keep from soaking in the scent he carried. His curls were still somewhat damp—too much moisture in the air to keep the heat from drying them on his way over—though they fought to spring back into their previous fluff. The grease-covered, jeans he'd been wearing had been replaced by a nice pair of tan slacks, and the buttoned shirt he wore was a soft shade of green that made his eyes glitter a deeper emerald as he stood under the glow of the porch light. All Evie could do was stare—utterly beguiled—every rational thought in her head lost to her.

Mer smirked, amused by her ogling. "Hiya."

Evie blinked, coming back to reality, suddenly feeling foolish, and uttered a nervous "hi" before swinging her arm to invite him inside.

"Come in."

Merriell's smile grew as he crossed the threshold, inhaling deeply. "Mm, smells tasty in here."

He gently forced a bottle into her hands as he passed on his way to investigate the savory smells in the kitchen.

"I wasn' sho what ya was makin', but I figured wine usually goes with anythin'."

"Oh, thank you." Evie glanced at the label, unable to read the French words printed there. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"I know," Mer shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to make a good impression."

There was something almost boyish when he smiled then—cheeks coloring pink ever-so-slightly—that made him even more of a mystery. One Evie was eager to solve.

"Well," she said placing the bottle on the kitchen table. "It should go perfectly with dinner."

His expression lost a hint of its boyish charm as it grew into a look of delight.

"Make yourself at home," Evie gestured vaguely between the table and the sofa in the living room as she ventured to the cabinet where the stemware was kept.

She placed two crystal glasses on the table along with the wine and retraced her steps to fetch some of the nicer china Jonny's grandmother had kept. Mer watched her, his gaze, gentle and attentive, and a little bit yearning as she methodically sat the table.

"Need help with anythin'?" he asked finally.

"Nope," She replied with a smile. "Everything is almost ready."

The hearty red sauce on the stove was beginning to boil again which told her it was hot enough to serve, and Evie eyed the pot with scrutiny, praying silently her attempt at cooking would go over well.

"I'll pour us a glass then," Mer announced.

"Great, lemme…" Evie spun to fish for the corkscrew in the drawer of misfit utensils, finding it, only to turn to see Merriell holding his lighter against the neck of the dark bottle just below the cork.

Before she could ask, a loud pop sounded, causing her to jump as the cork went flying.

"Oh my goodness!" she laughed, a little surprised, a little impressed. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Mer shrugged, a sly expression on his features, and left her question unanswered.

"How much ya want?" He held the open bottle over the top of her glass, waiting patiently.

"Enough," she said, tossing him a coy smirk without really meaning to.

He bit his lower lip as he smiled, chuckling under his breath when he poured a generous glass of red wine for each of them. She thanked him as he took his seat and grabbed his plate to dish out their dinner.

"How much pasta would you like?"

Mer's face lit with charm and mischief as he turned to face her.

"Enough," he grinned.

The expression on his face was playful, his smirk devious and amused by his own response and his cheekiness settled warmly in Evie's stomach. Not only did she revel in it, but she also played into his whimsy and scooped as much spaghetti into his plate as she could before coupling it with the savory sauce and a slice of bread.

Despite being only strangers, the atmosphere that bloomed that evening was not marked by any hint of bashfulness, instead, it was relaxed and amiable. Warmth that Evie had longed to dwell in again—that unrefutable kindness she'd lost with the passing of her family—flowed uninhibited from the man sitting adjacent to her. His conversation was cautious but still jovial and genuine. It was the first time since running south Evie could recall what life felt like without grief and fear weighing upon her. Merriell was a stranger, but she felt safe with him. Jonny had never made her feel that way.

"So," Evie spoke as she twirled the last bit of pasta with her fork. "What is it you do, Mr. Shelton?"

Mer cast her a look of disapproval—no doubt in retaliation to being addressed so formally—before his features softened back into a neutral, yet somehow still amused side smirk.

"Nothin' too excitin'," he stated vaguely. "The odd jobs are what I like ta do the most—like fixin' ya car this aftah noon."

Without really meaning to, Evie leaned forward, resting her elbow and chin on the table, utterly enchanted by the beautiful stranger at her table.

"You like to get your hands dirty, huh? Fixing things?" she was entirely too intrigued with the thought of what he could do with his hands.

He shrugged, suddenly modest after a foray of playfully arrogant smirks and glances. It made him abruptly twice as charming.

"I've always had a knack for it, I guess." Merriell finished the food on his plate with the help of his remaining garlic bread to mop up the sauce still left on his dish.

"What about you?" he asked after chewing. "Ya workin' anywhere?"

All at once, a proud smile lit up Evie's face. After all the excitement of seeing Merriell again, she'd almost forgotten about her good news.

"Actually, I just got a job today—the general store downtown, Southern Comfort."

Mer's face lit up too, "Birdie's place?"

"Yeah, you know it?" Of course, he knows it! She thought, Bridge City's population was slightly less than the number of people who lived in a single district back home in New York. Everyone knew everyone else.

"Sho do—I was practically raised there…ole Birdie's like a second mothah to me."

"Really?" Evie found a great deal of comfort in that notion. In fact the more she thought on it, the more she realized how similar the old woman and Mer were; they radiated the same magnetism and sincerity.

"Mmhm," he nodded, his eyes focusing elsewhere as the veil of memories danced across the contours of his features. "My mama used ta work there…once upon a time…"

"Does she still work there?"

Merriell's face lost a hit of its levity and he swallowed as though to fight off the onslaught of sudden emotion threatening to cast a shadow onto his expression.

"No…" he said softly. "She—uh—she died, about a year ago."

Shit!

Abruptly, sick knots twisted into Evie's stomach, feeling callous, but understanding of the quiet misery he hid under layers of charm and arrogance.

"Merriell, I'm…I'm sorry—I didn't mean…"

He met her eyes and cast her a quick smile—doleful, but enough to ease the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's okay," he reassured her, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a good gulp before changing the subject. "Birdie's great—you'll enjoy workin' for her."

"I hope so…" Evie said softly, still too embarrassed to meet Mer's glance longer than a second or two.

For the first time all night the atmosphere they shared felt cumbersome—perhaps more melancholy—than she'd wanted it to get. Evie sat, worrying her bottom lip, her fingers toying with a loose thread in the table cloth as she stole quick glances through her lashes in Mer's direction.

He was nursing the alcohol in his glass with the same sadness she'd caught plaguing him as he sat at the bar hours ago. And while Evie was eager to know if his grief stemmed only from the loss of his mother, or perhaps more, Merriell was still too much of a stranger to warrant such questions. It didn't matter how easy it was to be near him, she had not earned the right to know his narrative.

A soft sigh broke past her lips as she fought to find a way to properly allay the gloom that was quickly ruining an otherwise wonderful evening. It wasn't until her eyes found their desert sitting on the counter, waiting to save the day, that she perked up.

"Got any room for apple pie?" Evie asked with a hesitant smile. She hoped he wanted to stay long enough to have a slice, though she would not have blamed him for wanting to leave.

Immediately Mer perked up too, the shadows on his features retreating with the promise of something sweet.

"I was countin' on it—seems as how you promised a slice earlier," he said with a boyish grin.

When she stood, he did too, helping clear away their dinner plates, and letting them soak in the sink to be washed later. Evie cut them each a slice of apple pie and the delight on Mer’s face made her smile too seeing him lick his lips as his grin continued to grow. Catching that flash of his tongue was like a bolt of hot lightning striking her without warning; a blush rose so quickly on her cheeks Evie had to look away to keep the blunder a secret. Thankfully, the pie was more than enough to hold Merriell’s attention away from her.

“Mmmm… Almost looks too good to eat,” he said ogling the desert in front of him.

When Evie chanced a look his way, the expression on his face caused her to chuckle, “‘oughta be, I made one for my pa every year for his birthday since I was nine. It’s probably the only thing I have any confidence in making in the kitchen.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Mer quipped as he loaded his fork with as much pie as he could.

The moment he took a bite, his brows creased, and eyes closed as he chewed painfully slow. Those few seconds were like agony. Evie’s heart was pounding in her chest with so much anticipation she feared she might faint as she watched him sample the only thing she could actually make that was worth a damn.

“Fuck me, if that ain’t the best apple pie I’ve evah had the pleasure of tasting.”

A somewhat nervous, but relieved chuckle sounded in the back of Evelyn’s throat as she watched Merriell shovel a larger bite of pie into his mouth.

“Mmm… Yep. God damn delightful.”

“Stop,” Evie said sheepishly, suddenly afraid he was overselling his reaction to keep from hurting her feelings.

“No,” he wiped his mouth and leaned across the table to meet her gaze with a sincere expression that stole away all the doubt writhing in her stomach.

“I mean it. If I wasn’t so full of pasta, I’d eat that whole damn pie right now.”

“Well,” Evie grinned softly, trying not to let her blush color her cheeks too obviously. “Thank you. And you’re welcome to take the rest of it when you go.”

Excitement took form on his face with a smirk that was sweet but roguish all at once—a sort of debonair charm that amplified his magnetism—as if his bright eyes dark curls and razor-sharp jaw did not make him alluring enough already. Again she had to look away knowing the pink in her cheeks would be too strong to combat.

“Imma have ta take ya up on that offah. An’ I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I cut me a slice.”

That blush was unstoppable; her heart was suddenly so smitten, it felt as though butterflies were fluttering merrily in her stomach. She felt weightless with warmth and hope swelling in her bosom, fearing any slight breeze would carry her off. It was ridiculous how at ease Evie felt sitting there eating pie with a complete stranger. The conversation had been easy all night; even when it had delved into less savory topics he still made her feel comfortable. Evelyn had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of a man who wasn’t easy to anger, who was genuine and kind and wanted only to live in the moment.

For a time the whimsy of the atmosphere faded as the warmth in her heart ached, suddenly missing her brother James and Cynthia's brother Charlie. Both of them were good men, kind and genuine—like Merriell—but they had been swallowed by the rages of war. Brave young men were lost forever, while a man like Jonny Doyle was still alive How was that fair?

No matter how pleasant her thoughts could be, they always fell back to the grief that plagued her. She sighed, deeply, pushing those intrusive memories back into the depths of her mind so she could find joy once more in the moment with a kind stranger.

When Merrill finished his plate he made a beeline for the sink full of soaking dishes.

“Oh, no,” she said jumping to her feet. “I can do those.”

Merriell, however, shook his head. “Uh-uh, you did the cookin’, I can do the cleanin’.”

When Evie tried to argue, Mer simply shook his head, his grin amused but determined as he kept scrubbing the dirty dishes.

“Let me help at least,” she suggested. “I’ll dry and put them away.”

Before he could protest, she snatched the freshly rinsed dish from his hand and began wiping away the droplets of water clinging to the porcelain surface, throwing him a smug smirk that made him chuckle.

“Alright,“ he smirked.

She watched him for a moment not really paying attention to her task as he scrubbed the old plates clean, overcome with a blissful vision of peaceful domesticity. It made her stomach fill to the brim with whimsy and her heart was fluttering again; had this stranger bewitched her already? Or did what she feel bubbling lightly in her gut like a seltzer stem from an end to her loneliness—even if it was only for a few hours? Evelyn didn’t know. Nevertheless, she was intrigued with a profound feeling and she wanted to dwell in it for as long as she could.

Occasionally as he would hand a freshly washed dish her way, his calloused fingertips would brush against her skin, igniting a spark she didn’t know how to react to. It was more than an amicable tingle racing from the tips of her fingers right to her heart. And each time they touched, Merriell would cast her a gentle smile that held nothing more than his inherent charm and magnetism. She wondered if he felt it too, or if her need for companionship was playing a dirty trick on her.

When the dishes were all back in their usual places—the night drawing to a close—Evelyn realized she was not ready to say farewell to her Beautiful Stranger. She longed to stay up all night just chatting with him, she did not care about what, Evelyn only wanted to stay encompassed a while longer in the blissful warmth he brought into her life. Once he was gone, all she would be able to do was stay up and ponder the significance of those little touches and the sparks they brought.

Thankfully, Merriell lingered on the old rickety porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his plate of leftover pie, seeming to stall their inevitable departure.

“Well,” he said with a grin. “Thank you for invitin’ a stranger ovah for dinna.” He paused, glancing at the leftover pie in his hand. “Can’t recall ever having a better plate of pasta, an’ nothin’ evah gonna beat this pie.”

Evie quickly looked at her feet to hide another blush.

“It was the least I could do,” she told him before looking back to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much of a savior you were this afternoon…”

A glint of concern flashed in his eye, his brows beginning to crease as his unspoken question lingered between them.

She thought about telling him—telling him how Jonny was nothing more than a throne in her side, and how much she cherished Merriells company—but Mer was still a stranger. It wasn’t right to unload so much onto someone she’d only known for a few hours.

Before Mer could offer any reply, the sound of screeching tires stole all their focus as an old wagon pulled along the curb—narrowly missing a collision with the mailbox. The rowdy passengers were laughing and shouting loud enough even before the door opened to let Jonny stumble out. He staggered on drunk feet and screamed a handful of profanities to his buddies in the car which made them all roar with laughter.

It was only after the wagon full of hooligans pulled away that Jonny began to stagger towards the house, and it was exactly then that Evie’s fluttering heart became consumed with panic.

She and Mer watched him cross the yard, unseen, both frozen: Evie in fear and Merriell in confusion. Jonny’s intoxication level inhibited him from taking notice of them until he was at the base of the steps leading onto the porch. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jonny, this is Mr. Merriell Shelton,” Evie said quickly, willing her voice not to shake.

The Doyle’s were not known for their hospitality, nor were they known to trust most people. Especially strangers.

“He helped me this afternoon with a bit of trouble I was having,” she explained vaguely, hoping to thwart any more suspicion. “I made him dinner to say thank you—he’s just about to leave.”

Jonny eyed Merriell, seizing him up as best he could through drunken lenses. Mer stood his ground, eyeing him back with a subtle intensity that never so much as cracked under Jonny’s scrutiny.

Finally, being the better man, Mer held out his hand in a friendly manner, “nice ta meet ya.”

Jonny cast a prolonged glare at Merriell's open hand, his brows furrowed and part of his lip hiked up in a sort of snarl. Instead of returning the kind gesture, Jonny made a show of spitting at his feet before tossing his heavy leer at Evelyn.

"Evie, do not invite any more strangers into my house. I don't care if they are dying." He shoved past them both, purposely bumping Mer's shoulder (most likely in hopes to start something) muttering as he went: "I don't trust any of these filthy southerners."

Shock sent Evie's jaw slack; this time the redness in her cheeks was a symptom of embarrassment instead of infatuation. She should have known Jonny would say something rude and uncouth. Without another thought, she grabbed Mer by his sleeve and pulled him across the lawn until they stood next to his truck parked along the curb.

"I am so sorry about him," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at Jonny's house, ashamed and angry.

Mer shrugged as he placed his partially eaten pie in the passenger seat through the open window before fixing his hands in his front pockets.

"Ya boyfriend's a bit of an asshole."

"He is not my boyfriend," Evie corrected vehemently. "I don't think he knows that though. I'm just staying here until I can figure some things out."

Merriell was quiet a moment, nodding silently. It seemed as though he was taking his time processing the whole situation. There was compassion on his face and behind his eyes, but it was guarded somehow. Evie caught it though and she was grateful when he didn't ask the questions plainly forming in his mind.

"Well," he said finally, his tone light as one corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. "Since he ain't ya othah half, I feel more inclined ta leave ya with this…"

Gently, Merriell caressed her upper arm as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He let his lips linger slightly longer than was common for such an act, that all at once wove a new hopefulness into her heart.

"Dinna was swell," he added as he pulled away, his smile somehow more charming than it had been all night. "Hope I see ya again, Evie."

"Me too," she murmured.

Evie watched as he got in his truck to leave, her hand held to the cheek he'd graced with his kiss. And when he drove away, it took everything inside of her to keep from running after him.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Sending de-stressing hugs your way! If it helps letting you forget the stress how about: Screenshots of shirtless Eskel in a nice place (I don't know how mods work and hope this is ok) or a little ficlet of Eskel tending to a (very minor) injury of Lambert's, just him fussing over the baby wolf and Lambert being outwardly annoyed but secretly pleased because he's got Eskel's attention. Much love from me!

A/N: Sorry this took a while, my friend. I’ve had it sitting mostly finished for some time and thought I’d polish it up for you. It’s set in the bookverse, so I hope you don’t mind.

Sparks of liquid metal and flux shot out from beneath each hammer blow, singing the flesh and fine hair on Lambert’s arms. The orange glow of the blade reflected in a glassy stare, arms and shoulders moving under the guidance of muscle memory and a need to do something. He held onto the sword’s pommel with a white-knuckle grip, his teeth clenched, his biceps burning.

The frustration and guilt clawed through his chest, stoked to a fervour by the whirlwind of Merigold’s words in his head. She was right. She was fucking right. They hadn’t known. Vesemir had sat there gawping, while the rest of them could only drop their eyes sheepishly. Eskel had obsequiously taken her hand and pleaded for her aid. Completely unnecessary. Made himself look a complete fool, especially when she drew back as if stung, her expression a mix of surprise and suspicion.

Thankfully, the princess had arrived before Eskel could embarrass himself with more grovelling. She was dressed like one, too. Not in the scraggly tunic and slacks she’d been running around in for months, but a blue dress more lovely than anything Lambert had ever seen up close. Well, since Yennefer’s visits, anyway. The sight had tightened something in his chest. Something unpleasant. It was as if Triss had already marked her ownership and started to undo all the good they’d done for Ciri since her arrival. Because she’d already decided she would stay, hadn’t she? She had figured Ciri out, the real reason they had to summon her to Kaer Morhen, and now she would sink her claws in like a grave hag latching onto a fetid corpse, steal Ciri away for her Chapter, and then –

Lambert smashed the hammer down and left it sitting there on the hot metal against all the teachings he’d absorbed about smithing, welding and forging since the fall. With the old keep crumbling around their ears, it was only right that each of the witchers that remained took up a skill or two to contribute. Eskel was a fine mason and carpenter; Geralt was the best hunter and tracker they had, with a keen eye for sewing and tannery, while Vesemir tended to the herb gardens, kept their animals alive and cooked. For his part, Lambert had perfected his alchemy skills and took up smithing.

Alchemy required concentration, careful measurement and always concluded in an expected fashion; a perfectly brewed decoction or elixir that he and his brothers could use. One and one always equalled two. Smithing was less predictable. The skill requirement was still high, the need to time and calculate still ever-present, but each hammer blow was unique. No two swords were ever the same. And sometimes, no matter how hard you worked, how hot your forge burned or how precisely your hammer fell, there was no reward to equal your effort. The sword was just shit and would remain so, no matter how hard you tried. He liked the parallel with his own life. Alchemy was his ideal, but blacksmithing was his reality. He could plan as meticulously as he wanted, but sometimes shit just happened.

The rest can be read here.

[swordandquill]

Title: Winter Break

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.

Ch 2: Fussing - Nate has to choose between supervising a shopping spree or supervising a grumpy hitter. He definitely chooses the lesser evil.

Author’s Note: I still don’t know where this story is going or when the next update will be. 

Many, many thanks to @whumpybliss for beta reading this chapter!

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

"I know what you're trying to do."

Eliot's glare was less impressive than usual, but Nate still would have bet his money on him. Not that he wouldn't always bet on Eliot, and with things much more valuable to him than money.

"Trying to get you to eat saltines, so you don't throw up when you take the prescription strength anti-inflammatories I know you have in your bag?" Nate waved the open sleeve of crackers in front of the hitter.

"Stop fussing," Eliot snapped and snatched the sleeve out of Nate's hand.

Now that Parker had pointed it out, Nate could clearly see Eliot was favoring his left arm. Or, possibly because Parker had pointed it out, Eliot was putting less effort into hiding it.

"They shouldn't be in there alone," Eliot pulled a few crackers out of the sleeve and shoved it back at Nate.

"They're not alone," Nate swapped the sleeve for a water bottle from the grocery bag at his feet, "they have each other. We might be living off of orange soda and Trix for the next two weeks, but I think they'll get each other out of the store in one piece."

Eliot gave him a dubious look but refrained from talking with his mouth full.

"Anyway, I'm listening," Nate tapped the comm he had slipped into his ear.

"Where's my…?" Eliot frowned and tried to reach behind the seat for his bag, wincing hard at the twisting motion.

"Stop it," Nate thumped his side lightly with the back of his hand, "I've got them. Parker hasn't managed to convince Sophie that Froot Loops are both a vegetable and a fruit. Sophie is giving her tips on being persuasive, and Hardison doesn't know the difference between a zucchini and a cucumber, but one of them has made it into the basket."

"How have they made it this far without dying of malnutrition?" Eliot let his head flop back against the headrest.

"Cereal is fortified," Nate said dryly and poked Eliot with the water bottle, "which bag are your meds in?"

"It can wait until we get to the cabin," Eliot grabbed the offending bottle away without opening his eyes.

Nate didn't have to wrangle an injured Eliot often. Most of the time, he was more than capable of managing his own injuries. When he wasn't, Nate usually let Parker take the lead in poking and prodding while he helped Hardison track down whatever medical help their hitter needed.

Parker needed to burn off some energy, though, and Nate would rather supervise a cranky Eliot than his team on a shopping spree. He had trailed Eliot through the first aid aisle, listened to him mutter over spices and knives on the baking aisle, and then dragged him back to the van with saltines and water bottles in hand.

"Just take the anti-inflammatory," Nate argued, "it won't make you drowsy, and the longer you wait, the less well they'll work."

"Stop. Fussing." Eliot growled, somehow managing to drink his water angrily. Nate was always impressed by how Eliot could make the most mundane tasks look threatening. Luckily for him and the rest of the team, Nate was not easily intimidated.

"Just for the sake of argument..." Nate started.

"No," Eliot said flatly.

"We're stuck in the car until Hardison picks a shampoo. Humor me," Nate ignored Hardison's protests over the comm about his sensitive scalp.

"They need to hurry," Eliot groused, 'the snow is getting worse."

"Right," Nate agreed and held the sleeve of saltines out to Eliot again. He was disproportionately pleased when the hitter grabbed a few more without protest, "so let's just say there really is some shadowy figure waiting behind the curtain to get us…"

Eliot raised an eyebrow at that, probably cross-checking his mental list of people who matched that description, but Nate ignored him.

"And they orchestrated stranding the five us in this specific tiny town, in the middle of nowhere, by waiting until we were both split up on five different planes, and there was a massive storm front to force our flights here…"

"Look, I know…" Eliot rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Which is possible," Nate continued to ignore him, "highly unlikely, but possible. After all, shady figures are usually good at seizing opportunity when they see it. So let's say all of that is true. What's their next move? Where do they expect us to be?"

Eliot frowned before reluctantly admitting, "They expect us to be stranded, at the airport or one of the hotels."

"Right," Nate nodded, "and even if they somehow anticipated us renting a summer house, it would be almost impossible to control which summer house we rented. Hardison must have skimmed through a half dozen search pages worth before we went after this one."

Eliot's frown deepened as he worked the problem and thought how he would have managed something like this from the other side. Nate let him be for a minute because he was still eating crackers while he thought, seemingly without noticing.

"There are ways they could stack the deck in their favor," he finally said slowly. "Knowing what we would want in a place to lay low, making it available even though it looked unavailable, monitoring Hardison for the search criteria he was using, then populating it with multiple properties that they have control of."

"Possible," Nate conceded, "ridiculously elaborate and unnecessarily complicated, but possible."

"So, one of your plans, basically," Eliot snorted.

"I don't have the patience to wait on mother nature," Nate let the jab slide, "my point is, the best thing we can do in this situation is not be where we're most likely to be. The rest, we'll just have to deal with as it comes."

"I know that. It's just…" Eliot just looked worn out now, tired of having to run through every scenario and possibility for every given moment.

Nate had figured out fairly early on that Eliot's paranoia was rooted in both a lot of experience and a lot of trauma. It meant they would be idiots to ignore him when he said something was wrong (and Nate had, unfortunately, been that idiot on more than one occasion, although he tried not to be these days), but they also needed to be a second check on those things for him sometimes, because he could always work his way around to those perceived threats being possible, even if they weren't probable.

It had gotten a lot better over the years, and the team had gotten better at finding ways to help him deal with it when it did come up. There was never a perfect solution, but they were more than happy to settle for an imperfect one if it made things at least a little better.

"And we'll deal with everything a lot better if you just take your diclofenac," Nate cut him off again, "so what bag is it in?"

"Duffel," Eliot conceded defeat finally, "they really do need to hurry."

"I know," Nate turned around and started sifting through the bags they had tossed into the third row of seats, "they're almost done."

Parker had been sitting in the back row, and she had rearranged the luggage that hadn't fit in the trunk to make a nest of sorts for herself around the middle seat. Nate had to practically crawl over the back of the middle row to reach Eliot's duffel bag, and he only felt a little bad for messing up her carefully crafted arrangement.

Eliot carried prescription meds with him and had for as long as Nate had known him. He had worried at first about the bottle of oxi that was always packed in the hitter's personal medkit. In hindsight, he could see the hypocrisy of constantly watching Eliot for signs of opioid addiction while simultaneously getting blackout drunk on a regular basis.

It had only taken a couple months for that concern to shift from Eliot taking too many painkillers to getting Eliot to take them at all. Two years in, and Nate had been worrying about why Eliot felt like jobs would leave him in enough pain on a regular enough basis that he would need to always have that level of painkiller with him. These days, Eliot and meds were mostly a bargaining act, a give and take informed by context and where Eliot's head was at at the given moment.

Oxi made him disoriented and dizzy; he wouldn't take it if he didn't feel safe. Diclofenac made him nauseous if he didn't take it with food (sometimes even when he did). Of the two problems, that was the easier one to solve.

Nate finally managed to find Eliot's duffel bag and pulled the medkit out, tossing the bag back in the pile of luggage for Parker to rearrange and poke through to her heart's content once they got back to the van.

"You want one or two?" Nate opened the kit and sorted through the neatly labeled bottles.

"Just one," Eliot was slumped back against the headrest again, eyes closed.

"You're out of Zofran," Nate shook the empty bottle.

"I gave the last of it to Sophie when we hit that patch of turbulence on the way in for the job," Eliot said dismissively, "it's fine. I'll refill it later."

Nate handed the pill and another water bottle over to Eliot, then texted Parker and asked her to get a bottle of Zofran from the pharmacy. A little thievery would do her good after 8 hours on a plane.

Eliot took the pill, and the van went comfortably quiet aside from the rest of the team's chatter in Nate's ear. It was surprisingly relaxing to listen in on them doing something as mundane as arguing over pasta sauce and gummy frog brands. They were on the comms a lot, but during jobs, there was a certain amount of tension, the constant need to be assessing and reassessing everything that happened.

Nate didn't care what kind of pasta sauce they got, and he didn't like gummy frogs, but it was nice just to sit back and listen to them be together.

There was suddenly weight against his shoulder, and Nate held still as Eliot gradually slumped more heavily against him, eyes closed and breath even. Nate waited until he was sure he was settled before shifting to get an arm around him and stop him from sliding down too far. Eliot fidgeted in his sleep for a moment, then relaxed with a soft sigh.

It wasn't that unusual for Eliot to sleep around them, but after how keyed up he had been at the airport, having him resting solid and relaxed against his side felt like winning.

[indecisive-v]

NINJAMUFFIN DOING ANOTHER AMA ON TWITTER, HERE'S MORE SHIT FOR YA! keep in mind i'm just sharing the funkin related stuff, though i am including WAAAAY more than what i shared before 👍 go check out ninja's twitter profile for questions about stuff like ritz! questions in blue, answers in orange. if yall don't wanna read everything i MIGHT make a version of this post where i replace the answers with my own summaries of em (and if the questions are long, those too)

and here's a link to the ama tweet itself! dunno if it's still goin

Q: I figure the answer will be yes but do you have more plans to implement more guest appearances from people in the newgrounds community into FNF? Or are you all gunna focus on OG lore and stuff going forward

A: for guest appearances, I think we have always seen it as getting a healthy mix of both. PERSONALLY I'd like to lean towards having more OG stuff than guest stuff, BUT it's all a matter of what other boys think of that as well. I'm not the sole person working on game!

Q: Are you gonna release the full FNF game or are you gonna be releasing week after week? Like, are you gonna release week 8 or are we gonna wait some years until The Full Ass Game comes out?

A: Release plan for FNF right now is a few more updates or whatev to the 'demo' we have out right now, and then a long silence of probably no updates whatsoever until the full game is done (which will likely be a few years). That's partly why we made kickstarter for game.

Q: Hey so like, how much will Fnf cost after it's finished? And when will you ask the supporters what they want the game on?

A: It's all subject to change, but right now it prob gonna be standard 15-25$ lil steam indie game.

We will ask Kickstarter pledgers and whatnot what they want the game on SUPER close to when its released, to keep options open if we get onto anything like a console people want.

Q: 1. how was your day

2. are you releasing a week 8 song early like week 7, or are you goin full lockdown

A: I am doing GOOD today, and I think recently I've been good in general.

up to the mood, but so far we doing good about not having anything leak or whatev, so I think it'd be fun to have update come out with people not knowing what to expect at all. Build dat intrigue

Q: Will fnf ever get official plushies?? Seems like an untapped market

A: FNF plushies will prob happen some point, we have a lot of current merch stuff on our plates already though! (Mostly kickstarter type stuff, shirts, pins, posters, and all the physical OST stuff) Its a lot to sort out, but in time more and more stuff will happen. We r jus 4 boys!

Q: did you ever expect your game to blow up as it did? what was your first reaction to seeing it become super popular

A: FNF never had a humble moment, literally day 1 before the prototype even came out, the vid on twitter had like 5K likes overnight. Then when ludum dare version came out, it got 5K likes again, like it wasnt just a fluke. Was crazy, and def felt like somethin was different wit FNF

Q: Do you plan on getting other people to come in to help with the music? That seems like a lot of work to dump on one person, what with the erect mode and whatnot.

I guess the question could apply to all aspects of development. Will you be bringing on more people to help?

A: We definitely are getting help from other people. We are always keeping an eye on people for various different things. In terms of programming, already I've gotten 2 people (MtH and Geokureli) to help with certain Week 7 stuff (charting/polish, and loading stuff). Shit like dat

Q: Oh, also, will the Steam version be Workshop compatible? That'd really help streamline the process of downloading mods.

A: Steam version of FNF will likely NOT be Steam workshop compatible, because we want all the mods to NOT be spread out through different places. There WILL be modding support that is as streamlined as Steam workshop though. Mainly for non-steam versions of the game!

Q: Are there any chances that the game will have a physical release? Also any updates on a switch port? I remember one of you guys talking/joking about it.

A: Not impossible for FNF to get a physical release. We would want to see how far we could go with it though. I think it'd be super easy to do something wit people like LimitedRun games or whatev, but I think stuff like that can only go so far. I wanna see Funkin in mf Walmart!!!!!!

not that LimitedRun isn't going to be an option! Just we consider and pursue many different things! FNF release is years away, so we have time to think about everything. Whole mindset can be different just a few months from now.

Q: Out of curiosity, how are you dealing with all the popularity? It blew up so fast id barely be able to handle it if I was in your shoes.

A: The only way I've been able to handle it is having the other boys on the crew and being able to talk to them about all the overwhelmingness.

Part of it feels very lonesome, feels like NO ONE can come close to comprehending exactly how I'm feeling, except them. also other PALS!!!

Q: Do you own any of the bootleg FNF merchandise? Like any bootleg plushies or anything?

A: i dont, i genuinely think they r a waste of money, and I know any bootleg shit that gets made, we can prob go about and make it, and make it 100x cooler because we actually put effort into shit. bootleg shit just in it for the coin, so they aint gettin that from me

Q: How did you go about getting in contact with sr pelo for skid and pumps vocals?

A: Pelo i think was familiar and pals wit PhantomArcade a bit thru various Newgrounds things and collabs and whatnot.

pelo retweeted the first OG FNF posts first ever, and brought a LOT of attention to it. to pay him back, we put skid and pump in game! ask dave for more info prob

Q: what's the plan for having the full ass game open source if it's gonna cost money? couldn't people just download the source and compile the game for free?

A: when FNF is fully released, the full source code will be released as well.

the game will be DRM free so it will be way easier for people to redistribute the released/offical .exe instead of compiling it, so that's not the issue anyways. people will pay for things if they like it

Q: What are the chances of it getting on consoles like switch or Playstation, ps5 would definitely be my preferred way to play

A: it'd be a matter of hiring someone to build out backend stuff for those specific consoles. someone who knows their way around all the wacky code stuff, AND knows console hardware stuff. Then its just a matter of hittin up those console manufacturers (Sony, Microsoft, or Nintendo)

the CLOSEST one is SWITCH. pretty much all of that backend is already made, so it just a matter of gettin all that access and shit.

i think in any case though, there's a lot of NDA stuff required, i dunno how much we'd be able to talk about it even IF we get that stuf sorted

Q: any ideas of releasing it on epic store or another platform?

A: Right now, the only thing that is 100% confirmed and WILL happen is a Steam version, itchio version, and mobile versions on respective app stores. Other storefronts aren't out of the picture though, but we don't want to spread ourselves too thin with it.

Q: Will you continue using HaxeFlixel to make the rest of FNF?

A: yes, because it is what I'm the most technically proficient in, and generally is VERY flexible. just a matter of ME becoming a better coder. It's ALL open source, so if I need something done a certain way, either I can do it, or we can hire someone to do it.

Q: have you seen game theory's videos on your game yet and if so, what do you think about them? (not talking about his predictions because i dont want spoilers. i like mystery)

A: it is always good silly fun to watch the Game Theory vids about Funkin with some pals, and see what matpat thinks of the game. i lov the vids, but wish he used my face less! Or at least used a cuter pic of me like this one!!

Q: Ok so: What does the future of FNF look like to you?

A: future of FNF is a rhythm game that not only exceeds every expectation that people have of it, but subverts most expectations and conventions as well.

Q: Do you plan on retouching on older weeks once the game is fully out? Like reanimating sprites, redoing some charting, updating the background, etc

A: retouching and probably overhauling certain aspects is almost definitely gonna happen. Everything is fluid and can be changed (and should be changed when necessary). i dont think anything should be too attached to, especially this early on in development

Q: I honestly do not care if the answer to this is vague as hell to keep surprises and shit lol but… Since Week 7 was the closest we’ll get to a playable girlfriend (still bf controlling tho), do you have plans to make girlfriend playable in spin-off things or just freeplay?

A: wouldnt be out of the picture for a playable GF, i don't think we've had some hard thing AGAINST it. just a matter of what we want out of the game, and what sort of story or whatev we could do with that concept

Q: How do BF and GF manage to meet famous newgrounds characters (such as pico, tankman and the others to come) like is this all in one universe/ timeline or are they being brought in?

A: i think they are all just there existing. i think there's a lot of wacky things in other media that try to justify crossovers, like MULTIVERSE bullshit or TIMELINE shit, but i dunno, its like subspace emissary. Captain Falcon and Olimar from Pikmin just hang out. Shit like dat

disclaimer that all lore shit is in phantomarcade head pretty much and maybe there is wacky dimensions or somethin

Q: Will the game have dlc?

A: its not too unlikely that we'd have expansions of some sort, but i mean right now we plan on packing in as much as we can into base game, and trying to make that as pure as possible.

if there is ANY dlc, i would personally want it to be 100% free updates

Q: How did you meet Phantom Arcade, Kawai Sprite, and EvilSker? And what do you think about the community and its controversies?

A: me and phantomarcade been fukin around NG for years so years and years ago we naturally crossed paths and became pals

about 2 years ago i found kawaisprites music on NG, and started talkin wit him, made Ritz wit him and we fell in lov

and evilsk8r i met cuz of FNF!!!

quik elaborate on evilsk8r, wanted artist for gamejam FNF was for (ludum dare), and OG person i asked wasnt available, so he referred me to evilsk8r, who I have never met or talked to before ever.

[nervous-ninja]

Part 3 - Conclusion

Finally part 3. After this I will post this only on AO3 if you want to follow me on there. This is the end of this fic but I plan on doing an AU one soon. I hope it’s not too disappointing! AO3 account here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshaBlue/works

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 - Conclusion 

“Nong!” Mew called, reaching for him as Gulf fled the room. The sudden break in contact and the force of Gulf’s push left Mew off balance. "Don't run away."  Mew said under his breath, not entirely sure if he was addressing Gulf or himself.  He would have to do the soul searching later, now he had to deal with his mess. Mew hurried after other man, closing the distance between them quickly. He grabbed Gulf by the elbow before he could disappear into the bathroom.  “Wait a second!” Mew was still a little breathless.

Gulf let Mew tug at his arm a moment before turning around. He faced Mew with a mostly calmed expression, but would not meet his eyes, choosing to stare at his own feet instead. It was hard to reconcile the Gulf who could now barely look at him, his face a storm of shame and residual desire, with the hungry, eager man who moments early had Mew pressed against the fridge, moaning against his mouth, bold hands exploring.

“Please, Phi.” Gulf layed his hand over where Mew held on to his arm. “Can you just give me a minute?” He looked up for a moment before shying away again. Mew’s heart gave a defiant lurch at the sound of defeat in his voice. He wanted to fold him up in his arms and murmur reassurances into his ear, but getting that close did not seem like a good idea right at this moment. Instead, Mew ran his thumb over the soft inside of Gulf’s elbow and let go. Gulf instantly disappeared inside the bathroom, locking the door behind him.  to think of anything better to do, Mew made his way back to the kitchen to make another attempt at some kind of dinner, his mind on the first time, and what he promised himself would be the last time they crossed that line from brothers to more.

It was months ago. The tension had been building for months, their chemistry electric from the day they met and instantly palpable to anyone around them. It became real affection, and real love not long after. It was harder and harder for Mew to maintain his guard against the onslaught of trust, care, and acceptance that Gulf directed at him while asking only for things Mew was already more than willing to give. His time with Gulf became something he increasingly looked forward to, missed when it was over or when their separations were too long. Gulf felt like home. They could be anywhere and so long as he could reach out and find his familiar warmth, Mew felt safe. From the way Gulf sought him out, clung to him, let him into his space, and always made an effort to end their fights told Mew that the affection was far from one sided. Yet even as the entire world around them declared them lovers, between themselves they never broached the subject in any way that might give their feelings clear lines and edges. They stepped around the subject like it was some fragile beautiful relic that would oxidize and crumble under the harsh light of the day.

Then came the night of the Chinese New Year event.

Even on stage in front of so many people Gulf’s was more unreserved than Mew had ever seen him. The younger man delighted Mew with his suggestive responses and flirtatious jokes. They were both at ease, happy having learned that season 2 would be happening. Gone was the dread of parting, replaced by giddy optimism. And it happened right there on stage, the right atoms collided and something passed between them through the wide channel of shared understanding formed when they met each other’s gaze. They stood close noses touching, Gulf’s hands on his neck, playing pretend lovers in front of hundreds of people. Though the pose was in the script, Gulf whispering “I love you, Phi” as he planted a soft kiss on Mew’s forehead, was not.  Neither was the way Mew stopped breathing when he heard those words, meant only for him. The pretense evaporated.  Gulf smiled widely as if in acknowledgement of what they both knew and Mew felt something like a small dam in him dislodge. For a moment they were both suspended inside a shared understanding. Mew felt only the beating of his own pulse, the heat of Gulf’s body in his arms and the delicate fingertips pressed against his neck. Their eyes caught in each others, spilling everything. The rest of the world disappeared. The fans, MCs, stage, lights, all faded into a barely audible hum somewhere on the periphery of their perceptions.

There was no one else in their dressing room when they stumbled in, shutting the door to any possible intrusions. Mew pretended not to notice Gulf locking the door, something he had never done before.  The room was a technicolor kaleidoscope of flowers, stuffed animals, Bhat bouquets and bags of gifts. More had been delivered while they were on stage, leaving little room to stand. They were laughing at nothing of note as they moved through the room, Mew’s arms protectively around Gulf’s waist to steady him, guiding him through the narrow free space on the floor. His attention was drawn to the light catching on the heart-shaped stickers still clinging to Gulf’s neck when he lost his balance. Mew collapsed unto the love seat, landing on a large bouquet of white lilies, taking Gulf down with him.

Gulf landed in Mew’s lap, the flowers crushed beneath Mew’s bulk. Gulf was laughing as he turned around to check if he had injured Mew in anyway. The questioned died on his lips when their eyes met. Their laughter abruptly faded. Though Mew had held him like this a million times, a new feeling ran through the length of him like he had just injected some thing. For what felt like forever they both just watched each other, eyes hungry but neither quite bold enough to speak or move. Somewhere in the back of his mind protest blared but Mew could barely hear them. Then Gulf - shy, reserved, quiet Gulf - his voice soft, words polite, as straightforward as ever, just up and asked if he could kiss him, complete with khun phi and na krap.  It touched the weakest spot in Mew's reluctance, sending the whole thing crumbling. Gulf’s mouth parted in a smile, eyes dancing with self satisfaction at the expression on Mew’s face before suddenly feeling shy with his own request and Mew's lack of an answer. While Mew gazed up at him the other man started to speak again. Some kind of assurances like You don’t have to. It’s ok. I’m just kidding na when Mew closed the space between them.

He moved first partly to stop that pretty mouth from talking, but mostly because he had been wanting to kiss that mouth all night.

He kissed Gulf through a smile first, almost playfully, with little depth or heat. Like he was kissing a precocious kitten. He meant to end it there, foolish faith in his own will power, but Gulf’s hands were suddenly on his face, pulling him towards him, deepening the kiss. He didn’t expect it to feel so different from what it was at work. Didn't expect the surge of what to be so strong, so all consuming, did not remember Gulfs lips being so soft.

Things escalated quickly after that.

They scrambled to fit their tall frames on the overburdened love-seat, crushing more flowers beneath them, their movements spilling petals, tearing tissue paper. After Gulf winded him with a misplaced knew or elbow for the fifth time, Mew wrapped an arm around the other man's waist and in one fluid motion, with grace belaying his size, lifted Gulf and flipped them both.  Gulf landed softly beneath him, snuffing out the remaining life of a bouquet of carnations. The short “hah” that erupted from Gulf's mouth at the motion as he grinned up, his face a mix of awe and arousal, turned Mew’s thoughts into white noise. Mew wanted to watch him longer but Gulf already had his hands on the back of Mew’s neck, pulling him back down. Mew didn’t so much give in as melt into Gulf’s urging.

He did not remember when or how he managed to remove his red silk shirt or how it ended up on the other side of the room unceremoniously strewn over the face of an obscenely large teddy bear.  He remembers coming up for air one more time, pulling away to take in the focused look on Gulf’s face as he worked at unbuckling Mew’s belt. He was mildly aware of his own smile and the blush growing more fierce on Gulf’s face under Mew’s intense examination. Then Gulf looked up at him, those soft brown eyes defiant, pleading, trusting. Tenderness and worry shot into Mew’s heart and then visions rose to his mind unbidden; he was suddenly back in 2018, afraid to leave his house, facing rejection and scorn when he did, the terrible, suffocating weeks of shame and heartache. He also saw the headlines, the hashtags, the comments. He recalled with sharp clarity the ordeal with Poom and the toll it took on Gulf, the way he closed in on himself. His late night LINE messages the only way he could express his pain and only to Mew. He saw Gulf on the receiving end of attacks he knew too well. Past memories swept up with horrible imaginings of what might be and a protective instinct raced down his spine. The spell was broken. He suddenly felt the stab of thorns against his leg where their movements distributed some roses, there were knocks on the door, phones vibrated and dinged with alerts. The thoughts as sobering as a punch. Whatever delirium had taken him that far dissipated and panic crashed in with savage force.

Gulf must have seen the change come over his expression, understood instantly what was running through Mew’s mind as he shot up and scrambled to stand, nearly falling again. Gulf was there at his side steadying him, saying something as he shot looks towards the door. Mew’s head buzzed and all he saw was the indefensible state of the room and their clothes. The sound of knocking and phones seemingly growing louder with each second. He was pulling on his shirt frantically, repeatedly missing a button when Gulf was there again, a comforting hand on his arm.

‘It’s ok’ He remembered Gulf saying as he moved Mew’s hands away from the shirt and buttoned it for him. Before he could find his voice again Gulf was gone. Then there were people in the room and hands pulling him along and voices talking about dates and times and then he was in the van and in his house and collapsing unto to his bed.

It was nearly 1am when his phone buzzed with a LINE message from Gulf.

-I’m outside

Mew met him at the front door.

“Did I wake you, Phi?” Gulf had asked. His face cast in shadow as the lights of his still running car silhouetted him.

“No. I couldn’t sleep.” Mew made to move aside to let Gulf come in but the other man shook his head.

“I’m not staying.  I just needed to tell you this in case…” There had been hesitation in his voices but Mew was not able to read his expression in the dark.

“P’Mew…I’m not like him.”

Mew knew Gulf saw him flinch at that.

“I don’t want you to think you did anything wrong tonight. I don’t regret kissing you. I think I know what you will say yet I can’t bring myself to regret it. But the way we started. How we stopped.” He said haltingly. “I didn’t want you to think that it was impulsive. That I didn’t want it. That I haven’t wanted it for a long time.”

I wanted it too. I’m glad it happened. I don’t regret it either. I love you.  I’m so happy to see you. Don’t leave. Please don’t leave.

Mew's mind screamed but he forced these thoughts behind the expanse of common sense. “Thank you." He said, hearing how awkward that sounded, glad he couldn't see Gulf's face. "But you didn’t need to come out all this way so late.”

“I wanted to see you. I was worried.” Gulf shifted from one foot to the other. He turned to leave. “I better get back before anyone realizes I left," he added and Mew had not missed the disappointment in his voice.

“Wait, Nong,” Mew took two steps towards him “Are we ok?” What a ridiculous question that was. For weeks after he would remember this moment and cringe at his own cowardice.

“We’re fine, Phi.” Gulf had replied with an exaggerated shrug of indifference as he kept walking away, “Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“Tua eng…” he took another tentative step towards him, bare feet on gravel.

Gulf halted at the word.

Please stay.  

“Message me when you get home." Mew said.

“Oh…" There was that disappointment again. The tone clawed at Mew's heart. He hated it doing this. "That’s in almost an hour, Phi. I’ll be fine.”  Gulf whined as he climbed into the car.

“Message me or I will worry” Mew insisted, his hand on the car window.

“Kraaap.” Gulf groaned in agreement.

Mew stood looking after Gulf’s car long after it disappeared down the street. He had gone through all the things he should have said and all the reasons he kept them to himself. Though he returned to his bedroom he did not sleep until the message came.

“Khun Phi?”

Mew was pulled out of his reminiscing by a familiar voice. Gulf stood just outside the kitchen. He stood by the shelf, examining a framed photo of them from the day they were cast.  He turned to see Mew entered and turned back to the photo. “I think I should go home,” he said flatly, “I’ll call a car.”

“You don’t need to leave. It’s late. I’ll give you space” Mew said thrown by the request, not sure which way to push.

“I don’t want space, P’Mew,” Gulf sounded tired, “And I can’t see how I can stay after what happened in there,” he nodded towards the kitchen.

“It wasn’t anything we haven’t done before.” The words left Mew's mouth the instant he knew they were they wrong things to say.

“You know as well as I do that’s bullshit. It was bullshit when I said it and it still is.” Gulf turned to face him. His face impassive, expression unreadable. He stood there, watching Mew intently. His hands still wrapped around the framed photo. Not angry, not judging, just waiting. Mew searched for the words that would somehow make this better and came up empty.

“Alright. I’ll get my keys.” He said taking the photo from Gulf’s hands and replacing it on the shelf behind him.  He lingered on it a moment, pretending not to see Gulf’s expression falter.

“You won’t even try to convince me I’m wrong?” Gulf asked, a hint of anger in his tone.

“About what?” Mew fixed his gaze on Gulf in the photo, not daring to look at the real man beside him.

“About there being something more here. Tell me I’m imagining things. Convince me I’m just getting carried away. That maybe I’m tired. That maybe it’s just the emotions of the last few days. Anything?” With each sentence Mew heard Gulf’s composure crack.

“I’m not a very good liar, Nong” Mew said gently. He turned to look at him. Gulf's expression warring between fear, anger and hurt.

“Try!” The desperation and pleading in Gulf’s voice rolled through Mew like thunder. It seemed to surprise even Gulf, the plea completely erasing the front he tried to put up. He grabbed Mew by the shirt, “Convince me, Phi. Tell me you don’t feel the same way. That it doesn’t mean anything,” He pleaded giving Mew several firm shakes.

Oh Tua eng.

“Would that make it easier? Would you even believe me?” Mew placed his hands over Gulf’s fists balled up around his shirt.

“No,” Gulf said finally and dropped his gaze. His grip loosened and he fell against Mew, headbutting him in the chest. “Why is it so easy for you?” He asked, his fists lightly beating against Mew’s chest.

Easy?

Mew pulled him in closer, wrapping his arms around him. He pressed his own face into Gulf’s shoulder as he spoke.  “It isn’t easy, Tua eng. Nothing makes it easy. But this.” He held Gulf tighter. “This makes it worth it. If it means keeping you safe and keeping you close…”

“This.” Gulf echoed. “And it’s enough?”

Mew pulled back to look at Gulf. He cupped the younger man’s face with one hand. “Watching you go after what you want and succeed? Being the person you go to when things are hard? Seeing the rest of the world fall in love with you? The pride on your face when you take care of your family? The way your eyes light up with every job you do well? Being here for all of these moments and more? Yes. It is” Mew smiled, knowing with his whole heart that he meant it.  

"None of that has to change.” His voice urgent.

"Maybe not right away. But if people found out…”

"They'd throw us a parade" Gulf interrupted "The world already thinks we're married." He added, looking down in a moment of shyness.

Mew took hold of Gulf’s hands in his. “Some people would, yes. We’d make a lot of Waanjai’s happy,” he flashed a quick smile. “Then the media would drag us through hell,” He squeezed Gulf’s hands reassuringly, smile dropping. “It could ruin your career. You have so much success for someone so young, so many opportunities right now and it could all disappear. And for what?"

"For us." Gulf answered quickly, without so much as a second thought. Mew frustrated as he was, could not help but warm at the untarnished optimism in that answer. He beamed at the other man, "And you dare say you aren't romantic,” Mew teased.

Gulf groaned in exaggerated annoyance, not trying to hide his own smile “I’m not being romantic. I’m being serious.” The work stuff isn’t forever. I don’t even know if I want to keep doing this for the rest of my life or even next year.” Gulf pulled his hands out of Mew’s and held Mew’s face instead as he stepped closer. “I don’t know about any of that, but I do know about you. I know I want you to stay with me for a long time.” Mew felt his heart skip at the sincerity in those word, at the closeness of Gulf’s face, at the heat of his hands.

Mew covered Gulf’s hands with his own. "I won't let you throw away everything you've worked for. Your dream to help your parents. I can’t be the reason for destroying that. You understand that, right?”

"It's not your decision." Gulf said simply.

“Can you really promise me that you won’t grow to resent me later when you realize what you gave up or lost? For not protecting you better?"

Gulf swallowed and pulled back, dropping his hands. He said nothing for a moment, considering his answer. “I can’t make any promises about the future. You taught me that.” He said finally, his voice decisive, assured. “But I can make and own my own choices. I would not blame you for my mistakes,” he pressed his forehead to Mew’s.

“Then what about the media, the tabloids. They will tear you apart. They will be so cruel, Nong…”

“I don’t care what they say about me.” Gulf insisted. “You are smart, Suppasit but you can be really dense sometimes. These last few months I have been trying so hard to make you see, to prove to you that I am ready for it, that I am not afraid to be with you openly and publicly if that is what happens.” He met Mew’s eyes. “If that is what you want.”

What I want?

Mew watched the man before him, considering every possible horrible scenario that would face them if he actually went after what he wanted, but they came far less easily now, diverging instead into happier possibilities the longer Gulf held his hands and the longer he looked into his eyes. He felt the wall of reasons against his own happiness crumble.

"You're willing to risk everything...to be with me?"

"Yes!" I love you Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat.” He said with such intensity and force so as to leave no doubt in Mew's mind that he meant every last syllable.

Mew felt the last bit of resistance turn to dust.

“If you tell me now, once and for all, that you want us to remain as we have been, brothers or something like that. I will not push again. But if you want what I think you want, what I think we both want then I am willing to accept the risks, the hardships, the challenges.”

Mew laughed and put a hand over Gulf’s mouth. “You sound like you’re saying vows. Mr. I'm not Romantic. Enough speeches,” He said moving his hand away. He stepped away from Gulf, marveling at the him, at himself, at the foolish, wonderful thing he was about to do.

“Lets go to bed. It’s late.” Mew said, grabbing Gulf's hand, pulling him along towards the stairs.

“Wait a second. You can’t just leave it like this? What’s your answer?” Gulf protested, weakly resisting being dragged along.

“Ask me what you asked earlier, about the interview.” Mew stopped and turned. He faced Gulf, still holding his hand. Gulf, looking confused, searching Mew's face before finally speaking.

“Is…is your heart available?” he stammered out. Mew cocked his head as if considering the question. Abruptly, he tugged at Gulf's hand, pulling him towards another embrace. His hands gentle at the small of Gulf's back as he moved his face close to nearly touching. "Yes, Tua eng. It is.” He smiled

"But.." Gulf’s eyes grew wide with confusion.

“I think you should do something about that, don’t you?” Mew interrupted, eyebrow cocked. The expression on Gulfs face remained guarded and suspicious. He shoved against Mew’s hold.

“Mew, stop fooling around. What are you saying? What do you want?” Gulf demanded, even as a blush began to creep up his neck. Mew pulled him closer, nearly lifting him off the floor and pressed his nose to Gulf’s throat as he did so.

“Stop squirming.” Mew laughed. “I’m saying yes you brat. Yes to all of it. Now come on up to bed and I’ll show you what I want.” He put him down and let him go, turning towards the stairs. He paused when he realized Gulf wasn’t following and sighed, exasperated. He turned to see Gulf looking at him with suspicion. “If you’re teasing me” Gulf threatened narrowing his eyes. “I swear…Phi.”

Mew sighed with a smile. He went back, folded his arms behind his back and leaned in just next to Gulf’s ear. “Come up to bed. And I’ll show you what real teasing looks like.” He whispered, his lips intentionally brushing against the other’s ear. He paused before moving back to see the goosebumps rise on Gulfs’ neck. With a self-satisfied smile he headed for the stairs. He heard Gulf rushing to catch up behind him.

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

Gulf yawned as he slid into the makeup chair.

“Did you stay up playing video games again?” The girl asked as she smiled teasingly at Gulf. “No Phi.” Gulf mumbled reaching for the tea someone handed him. “Just doing homework late with P’Mew.”

The girl stopped her brush for a split second then continued, smiling to herself.

Gulf Pulled out his phone as she worked.

-- Can I stay at your place again tonight?

-- No. I need my rest.

-- Please na. Na kraaaaap. Na na na.

-- Brat!

-- Naaaaa

-- Yes!

“Hey” the Girl exclaimed as Gulf grinned, forcing her to smudge lipstick over his teeth. "Would you sit still."

“Oh sorry, Phi.”

She sighed.

“In a good mood are we?”

“Mmm.” Gulf looked up at the mirror as Mew entered the dressing room. They saw each other and Mew smiled when their eyes met.

“The best.” Gulf answered. The girl gave him another playful shove at the grin interrupting her careful lipstick application.

[2idiots]

Keep Yourself Alive

pt. 6 // pt. 7 // pt. 8a

word count: 1,667ish

NCT Frat Social Media AU // College Athlete & Fratboy Lucas x reader

warnings: not really any, kind angsty, more than just mentions of chronic pain

(I don't know how but the second paragraph got deleted when I first uploaded. I have since added it in. So if you see something new that's why)

---

Getting Johnny from outside the building to inside your room was a lot more difficult than you expected. This was partially because your best friend was much drunker than his texts suggested and partially because each step was sending a pain reverberating down your legs and up your abdomen. A pain that you knew the mild over-the-counter pain meds would do little to numb but you had taken them with false hope anyway. Before your best friend had forced you into letting his drunkass in you were curled into your bed with a heating pad pressed into your abdomen, hoping eventually exhaustion would win over excruciating pain.

This was the real reason you bolted out of Jet Lag the minute your friends were off in different directions distracted. The pain had triggered before Mark's open mic night started but you were not about to miss the night you friend had been talking about for weeks. This was so important to him and you had to be there. So you sucked it up and promised yourself to duck out the moment it was clear and Mark had performed. Woo noticing and staying over for a few hours was just a welcomed surprise. And the leftover baked goods he brought were another plus side, not that you had any appetite. At least your blubbering fool of a friend would benefit from the pile of pastries sitting on your desk, if you could make it past the giggling desk attendant.

The first time you walked passed her with bleary eyes, focused on only the task ahead she called out something about the “cute Oppa” at the door. Immediately a gag raced up your throat at that, Johnny? A cute Oppa? Gross. He was like your brother, actually more like your overprotective mother. Sure you joked about Johnny being a daddy, but it was all shits and giggles to make him mad with Mark. He wasn't actually one.  The second time she made some sort of pass at him that you blocked out and stifled another gag. You didn’t need to see or hear that child making passes at your best friend.

That wasn’t the only thing she was giggling at though. You and Johnny were quite the sight. He was a stumbling, stuttering fool and you were wearing pajamas that had been picked out in the dark, not even your shoes matched. These were things you had thrown on when Johnny begged you to let him in but your headache was pounding too much to turn the lights on, which was also the reason for the sunglasses. 

Speaking of Big Foot, he was using you almost completely as a support and he weighed a lot more than his bony ass looked. How he managed to make it to your building from 7th Sense was beyond you, he could barely make it three steps without giggling and sliding around. Honestly this made you more than a little nervous for Mark, usually he was the giggly one after a few drinks. If Johnny was this drunk, then Mark could very well be dead.

Overall the hardest obstacle for Johnny to maneuver around was your actual room. He tripped over everything. Maybe it was his long spindly legs combined with the alcohol, but he even fell just trying to walk over your rug. You had to catch him before he face planted. Of course he just contiuned blabbering about the night and how well it went the whole time, even while laughing at his clumsiness. “Then Mark fell! Kinda like how he is falling for sunflower boy but like fell… on the actual ground… like how I just almost fell!” To which you just nodded, handing him a pastry and an ice cold water bottle. “And Jae was so funny, he was talking about the basketball team and one of their parties last week where someone drank beer from a ball that had been cut in half. Isn’t that gross?”

“Yeah babe, real gross,” You nodded, trying to push him toward your bed. You might not have been asleep before he messaged but you were still in bed ready to sleep and you wanted to be back there. “Can you get in bed, Jojo? I'll tired.”

Following your direction like a lost lamb, Johnny swiftly removed all his out layers and climbed into your bed continuing to talk about the basketball team and how pretty and funny they were, all the while giving you very pointed looks. Or at least he was prattling on until he went completely silent and tense before screeching, “THERE’S SOMETHING WARM!”

Arms crossed and irritation pulsed through you at the scream, you leaned over to pull the heating pad out from under him and wiggled it around in your outstretched hand, “Johnny you’ve met HP before, HP meet Big Foot.”

“HP? You named your heating pad?” He questioned already snuggling back into your sheets like he owned the bed. This happened every time he was over, sober or drunk it didn’t matter; Johnny took up every blanket and pillow in your entire bed: partially because his size, mostly because he was an asshole. One of the many reasons you were hesitant to let him stay over anymore, even though you always ended up letting him stay.

“Might as well, he’s in my bed so often,” You grinned before grabbing another water bottle out of the mini fridge in the corner of the room and tossing it his direction. While this wasn’t a common occurrence, drunk Johnny, you did know that he would wake up in three hours whining about a dry mouth and you didn't want to deal with it.

“I mean he wasn’t on Halloween.” Luckily you flipped the lights off before you could see his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Here was the worst part, talkative drunk Johnny taking an interest in your life and trying to lay down his tips on life. 

Grabbing an extra blanket for yourself you slid in next to him and laughed that thought off, “Actually HP was, ALSO I thought we agreed to not talk about Halloween, leave the past behind us and all.”

“Behind us? Is that how you like it y/n?” He let out a slight whimper when you turned over enough to give him a solid kick to the shin. This alcohol was giving him far more confidence than normal and you didn’t like it. Throwing his hands up, Johnny tossed out a worthless apology and whined, “I deserved that ok. But you know I wouldn’t call it the past, don’t you tutor the dude?”

That elicited a quiet response from you, a simple, “Yeah.”

“Isn’t it like two or three times a week?” He didn’t stop his incessant babbling long enough for you to answer, adding on, “You’re quite popular, my friends keep asking about you too.” Then a switch suddenly flipped in Johnny’s mind, evident by how he practically climbed over you to switch the lamp back on and give you his best mom glare, “Wait, you’re sleeping with HP?” You let out a few weak protests as the light flooded your room and his bony ass arm squished you down into the bed digging into your side. Drunk friends sucked. Too bad you loved them too much to leave them on the street. “So you’re in pain? You’re in pain and you didn’t say anything? You just went home alone and lied to Mark and me?”

“Johnny I always sleep with a heating pad and I’m always in pain. It's not a big deal.” Tonight just happened to be bad, still was, but you left that part out. “Also Jungwoo just left; I wasn’t alone.” That was accompanied by a successful effort to push him off so you could flip the light off again and snuggle into the heating pad again. “Now go to sleep, I'm tired.”

There was a brief moment of silence before you heard sniffling and an occadsional shuffle.

“Are you crying?” You asked incredulously, flipping over to see him hastily wiping away his tears in the ambient light filtering in through the window. Sure enough, your bitch-ass best friend was laying on the other side of the bed using his white undershirt to wipe his tears away. At least he was smart enough not to use your sheets as the tissue. “Stop crying.” This was new. Your friends probably knew way too much about how hard your days were getting, in fact Johnny had driven you to the ER one too many times over the past year and a half, but they had never cried in front of you. At least not about you. 

You hated it.

His immediate response was denial, no he wasn’t crying. These weren’t tears, they were allergies. "Leaks in my face." But you still heard him mutter a muted “I just want you to be happy and not in pain” as the alcohol running through his system finally knocked him out.

You were struck silent, not sure how to respond. Sure he was your closest friend and that meant he had to like you, but this affection made breathing a little hard: your chest not quite expanding like it should. You felt a warm tear roll down your cheek as you turned to face the other side of the room, an effort to get away. This was exactly why you didn't tell them about tonight, you didn't want them burdened with your pain. They should have to suffer just because you were. 

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you blindly reached out for where you set your phone on the bedside table. You still may not be able to sleep but you could get some reading done and maybe forget the sound of Johnny's tears. And maybe, just maybe, the words would lull you into some dreamlike state so you could rest. It was only a few minutes into reading that a text interrupted the chapter. 

summary: College is hard enough, right? Coursework, two jobs, a social life, and the state of your mental health. As if that was enough now the school’s no.1 athlete won’t leave you alone after a one night stand. And maybe you like him back but you have a tendency to run when life gets too difficult especially now that undiagnosed chronic pain just seems to be getting worse with each passing month.

(I've decided updates will be Thursday at 6pm. I hope you enjoy this chapter)

Taglist: @princeofshenzhenuwus

[squidproquoclarice]

I don't suppose you'd be willing to write that meta about Arthur growing into his role as Hosea's son through the game, would you?

Round 2, FIGHT (dings bell).   Here’s Part II of the Hosea+Arthur meta. 

NB:  Arthur for me will always be written and meta’d as High Honor/Help John Escape pathway unless I’m noting a specific difference between pathways (like with discussing Sadie’s High vs Low Honor dialogue at Hanging Dog), which I suspect is the interpretation most of us take anyway.  It’s probably the “canon” Arthur given that most post-game sequel media or novelizations for these kind of games with moral choice tend to establish the most honorable/optimal position as canon (i.e., Dishonored, Dishonored 2, Assassins Creed Odyssey, etc.) and honestly, it’s usually the one that makes the most sense with the hero’s journey anyway.  So actions, opinions, etc. that I discuss have and will tend towards that version.  Anyway, on with the show. All right, so we’re focusing mostly after Hosea’s unfortunate demise now.  But let’s briefly rewind to some camp dynamics from earlier.  Hosea is physically limited by his long-term pulmonary illness–not TB, that’s a little too on the nose.  Possibly lung cancer, but I suspect it’s some kind of chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder (COPD) from any number of factors, and maybe flared up into bronchitis to boot due to the stress and physical strain of the flight from Blackwater, especially up into the snows.  He’s struggling to breathe somewhat, but it’s not quite in dire straits.  He’s physically limited by this, and by his age (mid-50s), so he’s doing a few jobs, some fishing for the camp larder, but he can’t do out on rough and rugged jobs.  So Hosea’s become more of a camp caretaker, and Arthur’s extremely defensive of Hosea on that score of “he’s earned it” (whereas if you do Antagonize on Dutch, one of them is that he’ll point out that “we all see you and Hosea reading”, and that while Hosea has some reason, Dutch sitting on his ass reading books while telling everyone else to get out there and work looks bad.)  Look, you want Dutch for the rousing speeches, no question.  His Colter speech is pretty damn impressive.  But in between those occasional dramatic inspiratory moments, and very loud public validations from Dutch that are almost creepy in how over the top and cult-affirming they are, you notice it’s Hosea going around the camp doing the day-to-day small jobs, helping Susan keep things in line, helping teach people things, helping try to keep morale up, helping the effort of getting people to see what’s in store “ain’t nothing nice”.

You know who else is doing regular upkeep on camp morale?  Arthur.  He’s the workhorse out hunting, donating, doing chores, going around doing the Greet thing and checking in on people, playing games with them, fulfilling small item requests to make their lives a little easier and happier.  He’s definitely leaning far more toward Hosea’s path of quieter small regular acts and check-ins of showing love and concern rather than Dutch’s big flamboyant moments.You also notice Hosea and Dutch starting to argue repeatedly in Chapters 2-4, with Hosea urging caution, asking Dutch what the actual plan is here, and essentially trying his best to pull this wagon out of the cesspit, or at least let it sink more slowly.

Skip to Lakay at the end of Chapter 5, and Chapter 6.  Hosea’s dead, and with him, the last significant check on Dutch’s increasing paranoia and violence.  Arthur’s found out his TB diagnosis, and he’s profoundly disturbed by the things he saw Dutch do in Guarma, and things it’s making him look back on now.  He’s questioning a lot about what’s important, what kind of man he wants to be, and what he wants to do with the presumably limited time he has.  And he does his damndest to step into Hosea’s shoes.  This is a man who’s obeyed Dutch for his entire adolescence and adulthood, who holds him in a sort of fearful and reverential awe–Hosea might have been his father, but no question Dutch was his god.  Arthur in Chapter 1 would only tentatively question the plan to go hit the O’Driscolls with a quiet “You sure about this?  Folk been through a lot recently, we’re hardly back on our feet yet,” and then when Dutch challenges him with “I know you doubt me”, he anxiously has to reaffirm “I would never doubt you”.  In Lakay he really starts standing his ground.  Hard.  And you can tell this shocks Dutch, because he’s come to expect Arthur’s almost immediate deference, not snarky callouts about how he’s not concerned with figurative games of chess when actual lives are on the line.  It’s interesting and very telling to note that at that first firm challenge, Dutch’s instinctive response is to say, “You sound like Hosea.” And he does.   He’s increasingly choosing non-violence, to talk his way out of things rather than fight.  He’s become a skilled survivalist over the past months, much like Hosea was.  He’s slowly dying–much like Hosea was.  He’s making his peace with that. But he’s going to give the best of himself, and what strength he has, towards trying to keep people’s spirits up where he can, safeguarding their interests against Dutch’s high-flown pipe dreams by countering with a hard dose of reality, and getting who he can off this slow-moving trainwreck.

He keeps trying, over and over, to pull the reins on Dutch and talk some sense.  And the pity is that Dutch is too far gone, and the father/son dynamic, and Arthur’s belief in the best in the people he loves, is too ingrained for Arthur to just aggressively say “screw it” and overthrow Dutch, or for Dutch to be able to accept Arthur as a new Hosea, offering the pragmatic realism that made Dutch’s lofty ideals and ambitions work for two decades.  It’s never going to happen.  It deteriorates to the point of Dutch sneering at him with “Oh, Arthur needs to rest” and getting furious at “He insists” that the women and Jack be let go before this all goes completely to hell.  It’s telling at that point too that Arthur specifically cites “letting them go”, as if he’s finally realized that they are effectively captives in this cult.  Arthur’s there to stand up to Dutch, try to save lives, and avoid pointless bloodshed.  You sound like Hosea.  Damn right he does.  And I suspect in any situation where he survived, Arthur at 55 would likely resemble Hosea in demeanor even more, having made those choices.

[hqimaginess]

Hello can I request a scenario where Tsukki has been neglecting his s/o so the s/o wanted to break things off with him and he was just like 'whatever' shruggs and ' just remember that I wasn't the one who ended things but I don't hold any grudges so idk call me if you need help' and the s/o sort of got close to Yamyams and Tsukki sees this and... please decide how it ends. (: Sorry if this is too specific! (: Thank you in advance! (:

Hope you like it! <3

“We should take a break.”

The words were simple enough, even an idiot could understand what that phrase meant. But somehow, for an unknown reason, he couldn’t find it within himself to properly process these words. “Sorry, what?” was all he could ask, and so you repeated yourself, “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“Why?” again, a question.

Your frown deepened as you thought of just what to say, a heavy pounding continuously beating in both your head and eardrums as you stared at him, with him staring back holding just as little focus. You took a deep, weighted breath before speaking, “I love you so, so much. But at this point, it hurts way too much. I can’t recall the last time that you’ve gone out of your way to talk to me. This past month you’ve cancelled four dates, always because of a new reason. It’s always been me showing any effort, and it’s killing me. I love you, I’ll say it again and again and again. But I don’t have it in me to go on like this anymore.” These words equally shocked the both of you. He wouldn’t have ever expected such a level of honesty in your answer as the one you gave him, and neither had you, really. For a good, long moment, all the male gave in reply was a small, breathy, “Oh.”

Tsukishima was never good in situations like these.

Actually, Tsukishima was never good at expressing how he truly felt in any situation, which was how he ended up with this problem in the first place. His heart was beating dangerously fast, his palms were clamming up, his breath was quiet, yet jerky. He was anxious, and he was desperate, but never knew how to show any of this. And thus, he stared at you with that deadpan expression, as he always did. “Well,” his throat felt oddly dry, swallowing seemed to be getting increasingly more difficult, “If that’s what you want, then I understand.”

You cast your eyes downwards, breathing out a small sigh. During this whole time, you had just a small hope that maybe he would’ve fought you on this, that maybe he would show any sign of anger at you for suggesting such a thing. That maybe, today would be the day he finally would give back all the emotion you’ve been begging for him to show all this time.  That hope, however, died as soon as you grasped onto it, when you looked back up only to see his mostly expressionless face. You took a rather difficult gulp and nodded to his comment, mouthing a croaky, awkward “Yeah.”

You decided that now was your cue to leave, and so you gathered your things as quickly as you could manage and turned to leave, taking a few steps towards the door before you looked back once more to steal one last look at your now ex boyfriend, with your eyes reflecting such a sadness that words could not dream to convey. And for a moment, just a mere moment, you swore you could see that exact same sadness reflecting back at you through those deep golden brown hues. But only for a moment, it had disappeared just as quick as it had formed. So, finally, you took your final steps through the doorway and shut the door behind you, your heart feeling as if it had dropped deep down into the pit of your stomach with no hope of returning. Little to your knowledge, he was experiencing that exact same fear.

Two days had passed now, and you were already starting to wonder if you could have done things differently. ‘Maybe if I just had talked to him? Would that have worked? No, stupid. Remember how many conversations you had with him. Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s over with.’ You were interrupted from your fairly miserable inner argument as you collided with someone, which knocked the both of you over. After you grimaced in pain for a few seconds, you opened your eyes to see who had knocked you over, causing your eyes to widen. “Yamaguchi,” you commented in surprise right before you stood up and held out a hand to help him up. “Oh! Uh, hi..” Yamaguchi spoke with much uncertainty, which you understood the reason behind very much. The air between the two of you very quickly grew very tense, the atmosphere became so thick you could cut through it with a knife. Several moments passed without either one of you knowing where to lead the situation. With you, being the ex of his friend. And with him, being the friend of your ex.

After taking a handful of seconds to think it over, you suddenly spoke, “Say, could I talk to you? Since it’s lunch we have some time left.” Even if he would have wanted to, Yamaguchi wouldn’t have had it in him to say no, not to you, not ever. And so he gave a small nod, following you to a bench that was nearby, but mostly out of sight. “It’s about Kei,” you wasted no time in beginning the conversation with you talking the immediate moment you two sat down next to each other.

“I assumed as much.”

You waved your hands around slowly in frustration, trying to grasp just the right words to say. “Yamaguchi, do you understand him? What he’s thinking?” that was definitely not how you had wanted to word it, but it got the meaning across, nonetheless. He didn’t directly answer your question, but spoke words that he hoped maybe would clear your confusions, “Tsukishima doesn’t like to look stupid. If there’s one thing he fears the most, it would be that. It scares him, the thought of opening himself up, leaving himself exposed, only to face rejection. He fears it more than anything else. And so he acts aloof, even more so with the people he’s most concerned about.”

The entire time he spoke, Yamaguchi refused to face you, his eyes remaining straight ahead of him. However, you stared at him as he spoke, eyes never once leaving his face as you took in every word of his. Somewhere, deep inside, there was a part of you that knew this. But just like him, you were scared, especially after putting yourself out there so many times, completely vulnerable to his will, to only be denied again and again. “I tried so hard. I tried and I tried and I tried,” your voice grew shaky, and without realizing it, your hand reached out to grab his. The gesture was not romantic whatsoever, simply you seeking any form of comfort that you could get in that moment, “And all I ever got was him looking the other way.”

Yamaguchi returned your hand and sighed, before looking at you and giving a subtle, yet joking smile, a blush on his face which seemed to go unnoticed by you, “I know that. How do you think I feel? I’ve had to deal with his nonsense since Elementary school.” To this, you gave a soft, cracking laugh while closing your eyes, in turn making the brunette’s heart flutter deep within his chestt. You then hummed in acknowledgment to his comment, nodding your head before leaning your weight on him, resting your head in between his neck and shoulder, “Is this alright? Just for the remainder of lunch, I’m suddenly really tired from all this drama.”

Yamaguchi didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, which gave you the message that he wasn’t opposed t0 the gesture. Your eyes were directed to the ground, and so you couldn’t see his expression, fortunately for him. A blush painted itself across Yamaguchi’s face as he stared down at your figure, his heart thumping so thunderously, he worried whether you could hear it or not. To put it frankly, was in love with you. It was wrong, and it was beyond messed up, but he was in love with you, his best friend’s ex. He knew it was wrong to feel so much joy by all of this, and yet his stomach and heart both continued to to back flip with excitement. In that moment, he acted  more on impulse possibly than he ever had before. The boy leaned down a small amount, and gave a soft, careful peck to the top of your head. The touch was so very light, leaving you to mistake the ghost of the kiss simply as the wind, thankfully.

For a moment afterwards, his eyes broke away from your half sleeping figure to look upwards, causing him to almost choke in surprise. He stared into the window which lead into the school hallway, and his eyes were met with a very familiar pair of golden brown irises. It was Tsukishima himself, and from the look in his eyes, Yamaguchi could infer that he’d seen what the brunette had just done. “Tsukki,” Yamaguchi began, his voice quiet yet at the same time panicked as he hoped to try and find a way to explain just what had happened. But his words were cut short, as Tsukishima simply clicked his tongue and turned on his heel, a signature move of his but this time with more weight behind it than ever before. He walked away from the two of, while leaving behind a sense of betrayal so thick Yamaguchi felt he could have been suffocated by it. He wanted to stand up and chase after the friend that he clung so dearly onto for so many of his  years. However, something held him back, or someone. His eyes returned back down to you, and he sighed. Today, for the first time in all the years of knowing one another, Yamaguchi would not apologize. He would not go running after his friend as he always had. For there was something, a force stronger than any friendship he’s held, that kept him from doing so.

[today-only-happens-once]

Im new to Hamilton and have an idea on the plot but don't fully understand it. Could you help out?

*tries not to immediately start babbling about how much I adore and will defend this show omg* first, understand my sweet anon that I have absolutely zero chill about Hamilton. So you have come to the right place but also be ready for way more information than you probably cared to know. 

Hamilton is a rap/hip-hop opera written by Lin-Manuel Miranda based on the life and death of United States Founding Father, Alexander Hamilton. It features a predominantly minority cast (which is its greatest point of controversy). If you’ve listened to the soundtrack, you have heard all but one scene of the show. It is based on Ron Chernow’s biography, which Miranda read while on vacation. It is hard to briefly summarize the plot, but I’ll do my best. (I kept it as brief but thorough as i could and it was long as heck so I put it under a cut, friend)

The opening number gives us a crash course on Hamilton’s background as an immigrant from the Caribbean. In the beginning of the show, he meets Aaron Burr, Lafayette, John Laurens, and Hercules Mulligan. All of them end up joining the military shortly before the American Revolution breaks out. Once it does, Aaron Burr attempts to win the good graces of Washington only for Washington to request Hamilton to be his right hand man. Hamilton agrees. 

While fighting the war, he meets Angelica and her sister Eliza at a ball. Angelica has a crush on Hamilton but realizes that Eliza likes him too, and on top of that, Angelica is expected to “marry up” since she is the oldest sister. Hamilton is of poor means, so for all kinds of strategic and sad reasons, Angelica decides to take a backseat and lets Hamilton and Eliza meet and fall in love. Eliza and Hamilton get married.

Back at the war, things are falling apart but Hamilton is doing his best to help Washington pull through. But Hamilton is a hothead and impulsive and when a disgraced soldier starts ranting publicly about Washington and blaming him, Hamilton challenges him to a duel (or rather, has his friend Laurens challenge him to a duel). The solider gets shot in the duel and Washington finds out and sends Hamilton home as punishment. This is how Hamilton finds out that Eliza is pregnant. 

BACK AT THE WAR (there’s a lot of back and forth in the first act), Lafayette tells Washington that he has a plan but like, Washington really needs Hamilton yo. So Washington sends a letter and Hamilton goes back to the war-front but now is like “cant be so impulsive i gotta kid on the way”. ANYWAY he helps Lafayette and Washington win the battle of Yorktown which wins the war.

Now, as a side-note, Aaron Burr had fallen in love with the wife of a British soldier. She had his daughter, named Theodosia after her mother, but I think either died or stayed with the British dude so we never get to meet her but we do know Burr has a daughter now.

Also, Washington becomes president.

The show then speeds through a bunch of years following the war effort in one song (”Non-Stop”) in which we learn that Hamilton and Burr both worked as lawyers. During these years also was, of course, the formative years of our government in which the Constitution was getting drafted.  Hamilton works on the Federalist papers to help the Constitution get accepted. Burr refuses to help him with it, but it gets passed anyway and Hamilton is generally showing Burr up left and right. Thus ends Act 1. 

If act 1 is about the war, act 2 is about the politics. Thomas Jefferson shows up from when he’d been in France during the war and is asked to be Secretary of State while Hamilton is asked to be in charge of the Treasury. They show two political debates throughout act 2 that shows how they butt heads: the first being about whether the federal government should “assume states’ debts and establish a national bank” (Hamilton is in favor, Jefferson is against) and the second being about whether or not the US is obligated to assist France with their revolution (Jefferson says yes, Hamilton says no). Hamilton is trying to establish a banking system for the government and do his job but politics are politics and they’re complicated.

Meanwhile, Eliza wants Hamilton to take a break and spend some time with his family but Hamilton is all like “i got sh*t I gotta do” and refuses to take time off. This leads to Eliza going to visit her family for a few weeks upstate but Hamilton stays behind and ends up having an affair with Maria Reynolds. Maria’s husband finds out and basically blackmails Hamilton into giving him money to keep quiet about the ongoing affair. 

Also, Washington decides to not run for President anymore and John Adams takes over.

As political tensions run even more high, Burr, Jefferson, and Madison (who supports Jefferson) figures out that something fishy is going on with Hamilton regarding money. They assume he’s basically taking money from the government and pocketing it for his own benefit. When they confront him about it and accuse him of treason, Hamilton is like “AW NAW IM JUST HAVING AN AFFAIR HERE’S THE EVIDENCE” and they’re like “yikes but a’ight you’re not treasonous i guess and nah we wont tell anyone”. 

Hamilton is afraid they won’t be true to their word, though, and writes the Reynolds Pamphlet basically saying “hey world i had an affair which is bad but i promise i didn’t commit treason”. Eliza finds out and is devastated and angry. 

Now, remember how I mentioned that Hamilton had a baby? Yeah, turns out it was a son. And that son hears someone talking trash about his dad and is like “imma fight you” and challenges the guy to a duel. Hamilton doesn’t want his son to get hurt and tells him to shoot his gun in the air instead of at the other person, and how the other person should do the same if they’re “truly a man of honor”. Duels are mostly about having the guts to show up anyway. 

But WOOPS because the other guy doesn’t shoot in the air, he shoots Hamilton’s son, and the son dies. 

Devastated and grief-stricken, Hamilton and Eliza move upstate and Hamilton… well, just listen to “It’s Quiet Uptown”. I can’t do it justice here (not that I’m doing any of the rest of this show justice with this summary but yanno)

Now the next Presidential election is up and people are actually campaigning now because Burr is tired of not getting what he wants so he decides to go out and get it. So it’s Jefferson vs Burr and the public keeps harassing Hamilton for his opinion. Hamilton backs Jefferson because even though Hamilton has never agreed with him, he appreciates that he’s at least honest and forthright with his opinion whereas Burr never wants to commit to anything. 

Jefferson wins the election.

This pisses Burr off and he challenges Hamilton to a duel. Hamilton agrees. 

He aims his pistol at the sky, just like he told his son.

Burr shoots him, and he dies.

Eliza is the one left behind to tell his story and continue his legacy. 

This ends our show. If you ever want to know more about characters or the controversies of it (I do have strong opinions on those whoops) or just about anything else regarding the show? I am always completely down to talk about it. I’ve written papers on it for college, I got to see it in Chicago a few months ago, I’ve basically memorized the album… I’m a huge Hamilfan. So don’t be afraid to hmu. <3