#basically I'm gonna smoke all his energy the fuck off

[akumanoken]

watching a show about soldiers who's seen supernatural thngs and a spirit pushed a soldier back into the trenches, did she sve him?? unsure coudln't get the rest beause this dude literally just goes "thats' just a demon and starts talkinga bout demons and satan and the being all around and I'm just... imagine being so ignorant of the supernatural and bullheaded about your religion that you literally turn into Bobby Boucher's mom from the Waterboy...

and then in the next breath talk about your tesla and money and wanting money and talking aout why do thes people worth so many millions still work and I'm sitting here with a thousand year stare.

[softlyspector]

Then and Now

Summary: The boys want a second pass at that fucking money. They need your help. The only problem is that you and Santiago aren't talking, not anymore, not since everything went so sideways.

Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader

Word Count: ~15.5k

Warnings: angst, pining, canon level violence, lots and lots of cursing, PTSD and assorted metal health issues, smut (p in v), best friend Benny Miller (yeah it needs a warning), reader has a nickname (Blue) in the same way the others do (Pope, Fish, etc.) sparingly used

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please forgive anything that is militarily inaccurate/inaccurate to the ravine location, I changed some things to fit the story better. I am so very aware I'm basically writing in what is probably a dead fandom for a meh movie. That doesn't matter to me, what matters is all that Oscar Isaac ass and the fact that this is genuinely my favorite movie at the moment. That, and when @velvetofyourheart asks for something, I can't really say no.

Tanya, thank you so much for your wonderful idea and always encouraging my aquarius god-complex. This is your fic, you own it. This is your Santi, never let anyone tell you any differently. I love you. Happy very belated birthday.

Now

Fog is still rolling over your front yard when Benny Miller’s familiar jeep swings into your driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. 

You sit down your cup of coffee, the many rings lining your fingers clinking against the ceramic, and huff out a breath at his audacity, showing up at your place so early in the day. 

The morning is muggy but cool, condensation beading along the porch railing where your feet are propped up, booted feet crossed at the ankle. 

The jeep’s headlights go out and the driver’s side door pops open. Benny smiles at you when he climbs out, giving you a big, exaggerated wave before he lopes over, all sweetheart golden retriever energy.

Benny is big feelings and big gestures in a body that would never be enough to trap it all inside, that could never cage all that wild energy. 

“Well, fuck,” you say when he climbs the porch stairs. “Look what the cat dragged in.” 

You haven’t seen him in a couple weeks. 

Benny, who you used to see daily. 

But not anymore, not since he came home beat to hell and looking like a lost dog. Not since he told you everything that happened in Colombia.

Not since he told you how Tom died, how everything they did was so fucked. 

Wouldn’ta happened if you were there. You keep our heads on straight. He had told you that day, crying like you were kids again on your back deck in the setting sun. 

Benny laughs and leans against the banister, a brown folder held in one hand. You eye the folder as you flick open the pack of cigarettes in your lap, knocking out a smoke and lighter. “Whatever it is,” you nod at his hand, “The answer is no.” 

“You don’t even know what it is,” Ben says innocently. “And you know they say those things will kill you.” 

“Fuck you, Miller, this is my one indulgence,” you say amicably as you light up, blowing smoke away from him. 

Coffee and a cigarette on your front porch each morning before work, before driving half an hour into town to serve bitchy local teens still half coked out of their minds from the night before and surly truck drivers just passing through town - that was your indulgence, that was all you could allow yourself, all you could afford most days. 

Benny reaches up to pull off his ball cap, runs a hand through his hair and replaces the hat backwards, before he sighs. “We’re going back for that money. We need you there. Can’t do it without you, obviously. First time you aren’t with us and everything goes to hell.” 

You scoff, taking a long drag on your cigarette, holding in the nicotine for a long moment before you exhale through your nose, “You’ve gotta be kidding, Benny.” 

“Not a chance,” Benny says, weirdly serious, “Not with this. Someone else is gonna find it and then what?”

“Suppose it goes to the next drug lord in line,” you raise a brow at him. “Y’all are really going back for that money? That got Tom killed? Didn’t you fuck it up enough already? Leave it lie, it's cursed.” 

Benny winces and straightens, moving to drop heavily onto the wooden porch swing hanging from the ceiling. It creaks beneath him as he leans back and sighs, sounding more exhausted than you’ve ever known him to be. 

“Redfly wouldn’t want that money falling into the wrong hands.” 

“Yeah he’d want it in his hands,” you snap, feeling only slightly guilty about talking ill of the dead. “Or did you forget what happened down there?” 

Benny doesn’t say anything for a moment, cornflower blue eyes staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, well, he won’t be there this time.” 

“So why go back? Pope’s greed eating at him again? You know you guys don’t have to do everything he says.” When Benny doesn’t say anything, you glance over at him, watch the way he sighs lightly and the circles beneath his eyes seem to deepen in real time. “Hey, I’m sorry, Ben. That was cruel of me.” 

You stub out your near finished cigarette and grab your cup of coffee, crossing the porch to slide down next to him and knock your cup into his leg. “You look like you could use this.” 

He takes the mug from you, drawing a long swig of coffee before he hands it back to you. 

He eyes your hands, taps one finger against yours. “You still wear Santi’s ring.” 

Santi’s ring. 

It wasn’t an engagement ring, no, you’d have to be in a relationship for that to have happened. He’d picked it up at a flea market somewhere, polished it up himself and presented it to you like it meant nothing. 

I know how much you like rings, he had said simply, nodding at the many rings that lined your fingers. 

You never take it off. 

You sigh and lean back, your shoulder brushing Ben’s as you both stare up at the cobwebbed ceiling. “Just because he hates me, doesn’t mean I feel the same way about him.”

He doesn’t comment on that and the silence stretches between you for a long time. 

Ben eventually says your name and you roll your head toward him to meet his eyes. You can tell he’s thinking exactly the same thing you are - that you both look exhausted. You’ve known Benny since forever and reading him is like looking at a jumbotron at a Marlins game - so fucking obvious it was painful sometimes. 

“You really wanna keep doing this forever? Stay in this shithole town and do nothing? Serve the fuck ups at that diner?” Benny pumps you, poking your sore spots. He knows you hate being trapped, hates the stupid town you live in. “Treated like shit? Making no money? No thanks for the sacrifices you made?” 

You roll your eyes, “You sound like Pope. Save it, Ben.” 

“Maybe he’s right about some things. Listen, we paid our dues to Tom’s family. We went through hell and everything is still the fucking same. Maybe we deserve that money.” When you don’t respond immediately, he continues, “Think about it. Hard part is already done. Money’s already stolen, we just gotta go pick it up.” 

“Actually got a plan this time though?” You ask, knocking your knee into Ben’s. “Shit went so sideways last time.” 

He looks away from you, bangs a fist against his thigh and stands, pacing around your porch as you watch, the Florida heat finally starting to creep in for the day. “It’s gotta be easy. In and out.” 

“Aren’t Lorea’s men still in the area? Or whoever’s running the place now? Didn’t half the fucking town see your faces?” 

“Who says we need to go into that town at all?” 

“Ah. So there is no plan.” 

“There is,” he nods at the folder he’d left on the swing next to you. “Santiago’s got something started.” 

Santi. 

An image flashes through your mind, of him standing on this very same porch, the roar of thunder and rain in your ears as a midnight storm passed through, the din of it so loud as Santiago stood there and hollered at you. 

“You really won’t do this with us?” His voice had been harsh, a lingering accusation on his tongue. “When one of us bleeds out and you aren’t there, that’s going to be on you.”

You had recoiled, felt that sting like a slap. “Fuck you, Pope.” And you saw him flinch at the use of that name. You never called him that, you always called him by his true name. “Don’t blame your greed on me. Don’t pretend this is about anything else than that money. Lorea is a sideshow at best to you.” 

“And don’t you fucking pretend like this life is enough for you! Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t do anything to get out of this fucking town!”

His hair had been damp, sticking to his forehead, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “I already did, Santiago. We’ve all been to hell and back already.” You had shaken your head, “And this is my line. I’m not fucking up those communities anymore than they already are.” 

Santi’s face hadn’t changed, but his eyes had burned hotter, scorching into you. You’d touched a nerve and you knew it. “You’re a coward. I’m not even asking you to take fire. Not like before. Something happens to one of us, don’t bother coming to the fucking funeral. You’re leaving us a man down and without med support.”

“So that’s all you want me to do, huh? Come with you and play nurse? Fuck off, I’m the best shot of any of you.” 

“Yeah and shit at everything else. There’s a reason we stuck you out as the sniper. Keeps you away from anything important. But now you’re leaving us without cover.” 

And that, that fucking stung, you’d recoiled from him and said quietly. “Fine. I was useless all those years. My answer is still no.”  

And without another glance at you, he’d walked off your porch and out of your life. 

Only when Benny showed up after Tom was already in the grave did you find out what happened.  

Now, you shake your head and glance at the folder, you can see the edges of a few documents poking out. “Did he send you?” 

“No. No one knows I’m here. Except Will.” Of course, anything Benny knew, Benny had already shared three times over with his older brother. 

“I think you’ve forgotten, Ben. Pope hates me. It’s all my fault shit went sideways for y’all.” You swallow, “According to him anyways. I left you without cover.”  

It’s what you know Santi would say to you, if he’d talk to you again.

“You know he didn’t mean any of that shit. He was just pissed he wasn’t getting his way,” Benny says, still pacing the porch, floorboards creaking with every long stride. “He was just pissed he couldn’t get all of Delta back together. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

But as much as you miss Tom, as much as you had mourned him, you can’t help thinking about how much worse it would have been if it had been Benny or Will. 

Or Santi. 

Fuck, Santiago could have died, and that would have been on you.

A member of your family had died and you hadn’t been there, you hadn’t even been allowed to mourn.  

You roll your eyes now and pick up the folder, sliding the edge of your nail beneath the thick cardstock.

But the pain in your heart lingers as you think about the anger in Santi’s eyes that day. The knowledge now that your absence might have caused a rift in the team, that Tom’s reckless play for more money than any of them could handle and Will’s wounded side slowing them down might be your fault for throwing off team dynamics. 

“I get why you couldn’t do it then. But now? No one has to get hurt now. Someone worse finds that money, then what happens?”

You’d grown up with the Millers, met Santiago when you went with Benny into the army and eventually got recruited to Delta. 

It had been the only way to make it out of your small town, with no money for college and no scholarship opportunities despite your grades, you’d felt it was your only chance. And going with Benny to the recruitment center to follow Will, who’d left a few years before, hadn’t seemed so bad. 

You had stuck by Benny and to your surprise, or maybe to no one’s surprise, both of you were good at it. Good at shooting and killing and clawing bloody tracks into the ground beneath your feet. Good at ruining and destroying, good at being disciplined and regimented and hard. Good at following orders and being better than everyone else. 

You and Benny were to become the babies of Delta Force, the younger pair that always seemed to lag a bit behind the other four more mature and experienced guys. If it weren’t for Will, you might not have been placed in the same unit. But Will had been adamant about recommending both of you, about placing both of you with Delta. 

And the superiors had gotten tired of fighting with him. 

Benny and Will were the brothers you never had, the family you always wanted. 

Santiago and Frankie and Tom only pulled you in tighter, only made you cling on harder, gave you something solid to hang onto. 

Santiago. God, Santiago. 

You wanted him the moment you saw him, with that curling hair that grayed as the years wore on, with those crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled that deepened every year, with the way that he stared at you like you held the secrets of the universe, with a gaze so feverish and consuming it was hard not to be pulled into his orbit, right to the center of his world. 

Santiago pulled a little too hard, loved a little bit too intensely. You’d known the second he showed up at your place that stormy night that whatever he had to say to you was about to break you, that he was about to rip the thread that he had wound around his fingers since the second you met him right out of your heart. 

Something about Santi was so magnetic, so intense, you couldn’t look away, pull away, if you wanted. 

He annoyed you to no end, shielded you from nothing despite your awards and metals for excellency in the field, despite your being on a fucking special ops team, and one of the only women to do so no less. He and Tom had taken one look at your record the day you were reassigned to them, and advocated for your shooting skills, that you worked best at a distance, and had taken you under his wing. 

You wanted to slap him and you loved him and he was so complicated that you wanted to cry just thinking about it. 

Santiago was also lonely, lonely in the same way you were. 

You could be in a room full of people, surrounded by those you loved, and still feel separate, apart, alone. 

Santi was the same - and so you drifted together. 

You were something undefined for years and maybe that was the problem. 

There was a tension neither of you dared address when you were in the service together, not when things were so terribly dangerous at all times, not when feelings could get everyone killed, could have the team that was like a family pulled apart by superiors. 

When your time was up and as your honorable discharge along with the rest of Delta approached, things got more real, too real. Santiago was always there at your periphery, like a wraith you couldn’t ignore.

He was the nucleus of your world, the center of your universe, and you wanted to hate him for it. 

“You and Miller gonna shack up after all this, hermosa?” He’d asked one of those last few nights together, at a base canteen. 

You’d looked up from the beer you were nursing. “Which one?” You tried to joke, but it didn’t land, and the tension between you thickened until you felt you might choke on it. 

You had never wanted to kiss someone so bad, Santi tilting his head toward yours until he was all you could see, everything else blotted out, until the smell of his aftershave threatened to drown you or resurrect you. 

“C’mon Blue. Ben seems keen on it,” he notes.  

“Benny’s got more than he can handle as it is.” 

You don’t know why you hadn’t just denied it, you knew there was something between you and Santiago, that he bred feelings in you that you didn’t know what to do with. But it felt too close to the truth, like something too close to your heart. So you didn’t correct yourself, and gave a hollow laugh, like it was all a joke. 

It was only when you got home and things got restless and bad that it happened. Will attacked some guy in a grocery store, you had to bail Benny out of jail for bar fights twice. Frankie and Tom disappeared into their families. 

And Santi…when you called, he came. 

He came and he held you while you cried and wondered where everything had gone wrong. You’d escaped the town, gone farther and faster than you ever thought you would, and yet here you were back again, with a broken heart and a broken soul, and friends and brothers you couldn’t help, a listlessness settling between your bones that you didn’t know how to name. 

You were still so young, and had seen and done so much, and had nothing to show for it. You had seen and done things you could never come back from. 

And then, you were back in the same town, with the same people, and no prospects. 

You’d had half a mind to join Benny in his bar fights, just to feel something, just to make the ache inside your bones go away. But then Will would have had to bail you both out and neither of you wanted that. 

The loss of your routine, your regimented military life, sent you and the Millers spiraling for a while.

But you and Benny tended to follow Will, and when he pulled his head out of his ass, so did the two of you - group counseling, hobbies, jobs, - things that gave you meaning and routine, that kept you from spiraling into the worst kind of crisis. 

Compartmentalizing became key. 

But you never really figured out how to compartmentalize Santi, never knew where to slot him in your mind. 

He’d been there for you, the violence and reintegration into civilian life hadn’t seemed to phase him, and maybe that was because he’d never returned to it - working with independent contractors and security services abroad, right back into the fray. 

He came and went, but he always came back to you. 

When you called, he came. 

He had come with groceries or take out, stayed with you for a weekend. He’d refuse to let you back away from the violent feelings inside you, fucking them right out of you sometimes, letting you use him or him use you, depending on the mood. 

You were something close to a relationship, but not quite. 

Things got better with Santi around, with doing group therapy at the VA, your job at the diner, and taking up boxing as a hobby. Poker nights started up, bar nights, going to Benny’s fights together when he started MMA.

And when Santi was in town - even better. 

You watch Benny pace around your porch now, and flip open the file. “I’ll take a look, Benny,” you say gently. “You’re gonna wear a hole through my floor.” 

You couldn’t lose all of that, you can’t let your family do something so stupid without you again. 

“Think about it, sweetheart,” he says, suddenly dropping next to you on the swing again, causing it to jolt and rattle your teeth. “You could do something so good with that money. Someone else finds it first, it's just gonna have more blood spilled on it.” 

You laugh, “Fuck you, Benny.” 

“And be set for fuckin’ life,” he says. “C’mon, what’s not to like?” 

“Pope won’t like it.” 

“Fuck Pope. He’ll get over it. We all miss you.”

You miss them too, and you can’t let them go alone again.  

Then

The third time you break down after you’re stateside, you call Santi, because he’s your life line, your hook into reality, your tether to the Earth.

Santi always comes when you call, he always knows exactly what you need. 

The first two times you called, he came with takeout, with a movie, and sat with you on your couch for two days straight because you had so much fear built up inside you, you couldn’t move. 

Going into the military wasn’t the hard part, you found, it was coming home. 

The third time, he finds you in the bedroom of the apartment you rented as soon as you were back in town. 

“Hey,” he crouches down across from your place on the floor, curled between your nightstand and the edge of the bed. “You okay?” 

“I don’t think I can do this, Santi,” you mutter, feeling like your lungs are collapsing, like you can’t breathe. “Fuck, I don’t think I can. Everything - God, it's so loud, but it's too quiet. Everyone is just going around like everything is fucking normal - like - like - ”

Like you hadn’t killed and bled and fought and cursed and -

Santi nods, “I remember my first time on leave was like that. Just sat in my fucking bedroom for two weeks straight because I didn’t know how to be anymore.” 

Your frantic eyes seek his out, his intense gaze that was heavy enough to feel like a weighted blanket against you, soothing the ache inside you a little, before he holds his arms out to you. 

You crawl across the carpet to fit yourself into his lap when he falls to his ass with a groan. You breathe hard and fast, his scent like catnip to you, fingers tangling hard into his shirt. 

“Thought you were gonna hole up with Ben.” 

“Fuck you, Santiago. You know Ben is like my brother,” you grit out, pulling so hard on his shirt that you think it might rip in your fingers. You tuck your head under his chin, feel the slow slide of his touch up your side, listen to the steady beat of his heart. 

His touch is warm, it grounds you, makes you feel so very safe. 

His comment about Benny reminds you of something, of something you should have told him that night weeks ago at the canteen. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t say it now, but Santi I -,” 

Before you can continue, he presses a finger under your chin, to tip your head up. He doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything, just stares at you - just pins you down with that unwavering stare, brown eyes like chips of amber. 

“I know,” he says simply, so gentle and cocksure as the corner of his mouth quirks up. “I know, hermosa. Me too.” 

You suck in a breath but whatever you’re about to say, dies on your lips. Santiago presses a hand to the back of your neck, holds you firm and doesn’t let you look away, his eyes flicking down your face. “Tell me you want me, baby. I’ll give it to you. Help you shut out the world.” 

You’re so drunk on his gaze, at the way he holds you hard and soft and tight and fucking perfect - that you don’t hesitate when you say, “Please, Santi, I want you.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears you. 

One strong hand cups beneath your chin, fingers tight against your skin as Santiago kisses you for the first time. 

It’s not a gentle kiss. 

It’s like breathing in smoke, like choking down hot coal, but you revel in the pain, you take pleasure in the way he fights to consume you, in the way his strong jaw juts forward in a harsh pass of his lips against yours. 

He’s rough with you, that first time, because he knows it's what you need, that you can handle it, that you’ve had worse.

But you’ve never had better, will never have better again. 

Santiago kisses you like a man possessed, he bites you, he tears his fingers into your flesh, down into the marrow of your bones. He pushes you down into the carpet and doesn’t waste time with helping you out of your clothes. 

He shoves his hand down the front of your cotton shorts without preamble, his fingers expert in seeking out your wet heat. His mouth stays on yours as you tug at his hair, pull and pull until he hisses and shoves a finger inside you. 

You forget about the world, about how you don’t recognize your town and recognize it all too well - how the ordered madness you were used to sustaining you was gone. 

The pain you feel is subsumed by Santiago’s heavy presence, the way he pulls back from you but hardly lets you breathe - his fingers in your mouth, the taste of yourself in your mouth, his hand insistent on the back of your neck. 

You claw at his back, raking your nails over him as he licks into your mouth, holding your head still with a hand on your neck, beneath your jaw. He pinches your nipple through your shirt so hard it stings but all you can do is arch up into him. 

Santi pulls back from you, a whine you can’t control rattling out of your throat. 

“Fuuuck,” he groans into your skin, “Fuck. Fuck.” 

He pulls back and yanks on your shorts, “Off.” 

You scramble to remove your hands from him, to push your shorts down your legs until they get caught up on your ankles. 

Santi doesn’t bother with undressing, just yanks down the zipper of his jeans until he can free himself. He sits back with a groan, knees protesting, so he can yank your shorts off your ankles before he slots himself back over you, his dick slipping against you. 

The heat of him clears your mind, the anxiety and the thoughts you couldn’t stop from consuming you before, washing away until your mind is pleasantly empty, a blank white space that only Santiago can fill. 

The town doesn’t exist, the past doesn’t exist, none of the things you’d done exists, you are purified, you are only the tips of your toes and the edges of your fingers, one long nerve ending. 

His mouth is back on yours and you curl your hands back into his hair again, groaning into his mouth when he roughly yanks up the hem of your shirt to your armpits, large calloused hand palming your tits roughly, his mouth skating down your throat to your chest, until he can pull one stiff nipple between his teeth and tug. 

You can only moan, fisting your hand into his hair to jerk his lips back to yours. 

“Santi,” you murmur against his mouth. “Santi.”

“That’s it, hermosa. Say my name,” he breathes into your skin as he notches his cock at your entrance. “Say my name,” he demands when you don’t immediately answer. 

“Santiago,” you whimper, pathetically needy, the air punched out of your lungs when his hips snap forward. He’s fully seated within you in one hard push, your thighs burning, the stretch of him so painful you cry out. “Don’t,” you hold onto his arms, force him to stay where he is when he starts to pull back. “Fuck, don’t, feels so good.” 

Santiago doesn’t need anymore encouragement, hips drawing back just far enough to slam into you again, pushing you up the carpet. 

He sets a brutal pace, your cunt stretching to accommodate him, the burn easing and the pleasure settling in. 

Santiago whispers to you in Spanish and even though you speak the language well enough, you can’t make yourself understand what he’s saying. 

The heat builds inside you until you feel like you might scream, until you feel like your body might give out on you. 

But Santi always knows what you need, always knows you. 

And so he slows the pace of his hips, dips his mouth to your neck and presses a finger through your folds, tracing circles around your clit until you come with an earth shattering force. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s muttering against the sweat slick skin of your throat, the only thing real in the whole world to you in that moment him. “Look at you, fucking soaked my cock, baby. So perfect.” And then he’s whispering in Spanish again, something about so fucking perfect, all mine. You’re fucking mine.  

You don’t let Santiago pull away from you, the hot weight of him against you drowning out every horrifying thought in your head. You feel him seeping out of you, feel the grip of his fingers against the fleshy part of your hip, tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck. 

He doesn’t move, doesn't try to, and stays buried inside you. Santiago whispers sweet as sugar words right into your hairline until he’s hard again, and then he fucks you so softly - you’re sure its what love should feel like. 

~

And so, for a while after you come home, that’s all your life is, fighting and fucking and hating the world for chewing you up and spitting you out, and not being strong enough to fucking take it. 

~

The fucking is by far the best part. 

You feel best when Santiago is with you, when his cock is buried so deep inside you it’s the only thing you can think about - when you’re cockdumb and sex drunk. 

That’s when things feel normal again. 

That’s when your brain finally shuts the fuck up. 

But then Will pulls it together, starts getting real help, and inevitably you and Benny follow suit. 

It doesn’t stop you and Santi from fucking like rabbits, but it makes it softer, it lets you round out the edges of your heart against his. 

The thing between you stays undefined, but it comes somewhere close to ownership. Santi is yours and you are his, though it’s never said out loud.

He dances with you around your kitchen, spars with you in your backyard when you put a down payment on your house, cooks you breakfast, and asks for input on his consulting jobs. 

Santi tries to get you to come with him, back to those places you’d left behind, back to the fight, back to the guns and blood and drugs. 

But you can’t do it, at least not yet.

For a moment in time, you are content, content with that small town, your little job. 

Will starts giving speeches to recruits, Benny starts MMA, Frankie gets married, Tom spends more time with his daughter. 

You and Santiago - your worlds revolve around each other, when he’s in town and when he isn’t, how quickly he can drive from the airport to your house, how he catches you in the front yard in his arms and spins you around. 

Sometimes, you don’t even make it inside. 

You have no neighbors for several miles, and the front porch steps were a good a place as any to fuck. 

Unfortunately that’s the same day that Will decides to swing by with your new boxing gloves you’d asked him to get you. Will gets a full view of Santi’s ass, but he never pulls out, never stops fucking you. 

“He’s seen worse,” he laughs into your ear, nipping at your skin as heat pools embarrassment around your bones, the man who was like your brother doing a one-eighty to hightail it back down the road. “Don’t worry about him, cariño.” 

It’s then as he laughs and kisses you, kisses away the annoyed groan, that you realize that you love him, really love him. 

And that you’d probably never love anyone else. 

Now

“Hey, there she is!” You hear Will announce as soon as you slam the door of your truck shut, parked against the curb outside Santi’s place. 

“Hey Blue,” Frankie calls when you approach the group sitting around a picnic table, a canopy of emerald green shielding them from the sun and prying eyes. A cooler of beer popped open, burgers on the grill. 

You smile and accept the hug Frankie offers you, moving quickly to Will and then Benny, despite seeing the Millers often enough, now that you and Ben were back to seeing each other daily. 

Santi can’t even be bothered enough to turn from the grill. He says nothing and a fissure of pain cracks open your chest, your heart bleeding all over again, just like that.

“How’re you Frankie? How’s the baby?” You slide into the open space next to him on the bench, accepting the beer he reaches down into the cooler at his side to hand you. 

Will automatically starts constructing a burger for you, disregarding the onions and adding extra pickles and an extra slice of cheese, without you having to ask. 

It makes your heart hurt to be with them. These were the people you’d been through so much with, who knew so many little things about you. 

No onions, extra pickles, extra cheese.

You feel the absence of Tom suddenly, like a hole in the middle of your little family. 

Santi’s disregard does nothing to help the feeling. 

“Good,” Frankie says. “They’re okay.” 

“That’s great-,”

“So,” Benny interrupts, ever tackless, “We gonna talk about this thing or not?” 

“Jesus, Ben,” Will says. “Let her settle in.” 

Benny raises his brows and looks at you, “You settled?” 

“I’m good,” you nod, “Always.” 

“There ya go, girl’s all settled up. Let’s talk.” 

Santiago joins you at the table then, plate of freshly grilled burgers deposited in the center of the table. 

Will passes you the burger he’d assembled for you. 

Silence descends, awkward and piercing for a long moment as you look around at them. Pope holds your gaze when you meet his eyes, and for the first time in years, you can’t read the look in them. 

You glance away, back at Frankie who you haven’t seen since forever and Will who you infrequently saw these days. “I missed y’all,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. 

The heckling that immediately follows breaks the ice surrounding the group of you, Frankie cooing sarcastically at you as Will laughs and Benny breaks open a bag of chips that you know he won’t share with anyone else. 

“Fuck you guys,” you say without venom. 

“We missed you too, kid,” Will says, Frankie throwing an arm around your shoulders. 

“Yeah, sister,” Frankie intones, “When are you finally gonna come meet my kid?” 

You take a sip of your beer, “As soon as you invite me, Fish.” 

“So you take invitations now?” Santiago’s voice cuts through the chatter, his eyes are still glued to your face when you look back at him, the coolness in his voice matching the ice in his eyes. 

Something in your chest crumbles and you can’t make yourself keep his gaze this time. 

You glance away. 

“Pope,” Will warns, a threat lurking in his voice. “You wanna start us off?” 

Santiago finally looks away from you, his jaw clenching, before he rattles off the strategy he’d devised - a one day plot to get the money.  

You sit and listen without looking at him, thinking of all the ways this plan can go sideways. Again.

Thinking of all the ways you could lose another one of your boys, how the group might not survive losing another member. 

You hear the others take up threads, concerns - namely how you would get the money out of the ravine, how it could be transported without notice to the beach. They would hire the same boat as the last time, to transport the money off the coast and out of the country, to the same bank setting up the off-shore shell accounts. 

“Can you approach the ravine from any other way than through that town?” You ask. 

“Not unless we’re goin’ over the fuckin’ Andes again,” Benny answers you. “And I’m out if that’s the plan.” 

“No,” Santi confirms, “Through the town is the only way.”

You consider quietly, biting into your burger as Will details the town’s layout, where you could expect areas that would probably cause issues for you. 

“And weapons?” You inquire. “We need to be armed.” 

“There’s a shipping freight -,” Santi offers.

“Oh, fuck, you’re not seriously considering arms trafficking on top of everything else, are you? That’s so fucking tracable.” 

“You got a problem you can fucking go,” Santi bites back at you. “We don’t have the benefit of time to go scrambling for arms sourced in-country.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek and consider for a moment wondering if you should offer or if Pope would just bite your head off again. “No,” you say quietly. “I think I might be able to help there. Contact that might be able to make a drop for us. Something locally sourced.” 

Will is nodding, smiles at you, “So no arms trafficking. That’s something.” 

Santi reluctantly nods, shoulders loosening. 

You might be at odds at the moment, but he does trust you with things like this, knows you would never suggest something that might put the team at a real risk. “I’ll reach out and let you know when it's confirmed.” 

Pope saws a hand over his chin and nods, and you recognize that gleam in his eyes, that intensity that said he was starting to believe in this plan, he was starting to see the fruits of this labor. 

It's akin to the way he used to look at you, when he would make promises to you that he eventually broke. 

The rest of the conversation passes you by, rappelling gear and fuel and rations and passports and how to move the money once it was out of the ravine - but you can’t stop looking at Santi. 

He’s always been beautiful, since you first met him all those years ago, when you and Benny had just passed the ASVAB and were then recommended to join Delta by Will. 

Anything to keep the siblings together. 

He’d been beautiful then with wild dark curls and brown skin darkened by sun exposure, solid and sure and steady.

But now, with the pepper of gray in his hair and the darkness in his eyes, the kindness that he showed every stranger, the slightly startled way he always laughed, his creaky knees - well, he’d only gotten more beautiful. 

Age suited him well. 

The conversation closes - with you assigned to the arms issue and Will sorting out local transport, if the money was even possible to retrieve. 

Benny pokes you in the side as he helps Frankie ball up the used paper plates and gather empty beer bottles, and tilts his head toward where Santi stands fiddling with the grill. 

You roll your eyes and shove him back but take the hint and stand. 

Santi doesn’t turn when you stop next to him, watching as he meticulously cleans the grill. 

“We gonna hate each other forever?” You ask, stepping close to him, his shoulders going stiff beneath his t-shirt. 

“I don’t hate you,” he mutters, glancing up but not quite meeting your eyes as he drops the scrub brush in his hand, folding his arms over his chest. 

“No? Sure seems like it,” you muse. “Didn’t even invite me to Redfly’s funeral.” 

Santi says your name, a sigh that makes your stomach curdle. “We didn’t want you implicated. Everything had went so fuckin’ bad and you knew way more than I should have told you.” 

You nod, like it makes you feel any better. “Yeah, I get it.” You almost don’t ask, but you can’t help the question that slips out, “And after that? Why didn’t you come home after that?”

Santiago finally looks at you, his intense gaze locking onto yours and you freeze, pinned down by that heaviness, that stare that is so soft and piercing. The ice in his eyes has curiously melted down into a warm brown, his brows tugging together. “I’d done enough damage.” 

And he leaves it at that. 

~

Santiago always comes when you call, and you call him for the first time since he left your porch that last night before things went to hell. 

Benny’s already at your place, parked on the couch in front of the TV with a beer in his hand and a bag of cheetos spilling onto the worn fabric. 

“Hey Benny boy,” you hear Santiago say when he comes in the back door. “Our girl around?” 

Our girl - something all the guys used to teasingly say, something that had annoyed you to no end because you just wanted to be, be a part of the team and the family. It was only after a year being with Delta that you’d realized that was exactly what it meant. That you belonged. 

“Blue’s in the kitchen,” you hear Benny say through a mouthful of what you’re sure is toxic orange cheeto dust drifting down onto your couch. 

Santi laughs and his footsteps sound on the linoleum, tracking closer to you. “Hey,” he says. “Benny’s fucking up your couch.” 

“Yeah nothing new there,” you say, turning from the counter where you’ve just finished rolling out premade pizza dough onto a tray. “It’s a Friday tradition at this point. Beer and fucking up the couch with crumbs.” 

Santi stands in the doorway, gazing around with a stricken expression for a moment, and you wonder if it's jarring for him - to be back in this house with you, after spending so much time in it and then leaving it abruptly behind. 

You’d quit each other cold turkey, and the separation had not been easy for you. Especially not when traces of Pope lived all through the house, not when he’d fucked you in every room, made you laugh in every room, carried you from the couch to bed, cooked meals together, danced together.

But when Santi meets your eyes, his gaze goes intense, assessing, like he’ll never know everything about you. But sometimes, like now, that ferociousness also feels like it's concealing something, hiding something. 

“You had an update?” He prompts, leaning against the door jam with his arms crossed, ball cap shading his eyes as he scuffs a booted toe against the floor. 

“Yeah, thought I probably shouldn’t be sharing over the phone,” you wipe your hands on a dishtowel and try not to feel his gaze lingering on you from beneath the bill of his hat. You turn to the fridge and dig out the pizza sauce you’d made earlier in the week with the tomatoes that Santi had once planted in your backyard, various cheeses, and the toppings Benny had brought over. 

He had a bizarre palate that you didn’t try to understand - so one side would be Benny and the other just cheese. 

“My contact got back to me. He can make the drop. But only to me,” you hip check the silverware drawer closed after grabbing a spoon and turn back to the pizza, spooning sauce onto the dough. 

“I’m thinking this,” you continue, “I go into the town alone, do the weapons pick-up, get the transport Will is arranging, meet y’all down the coast and we go around and up into the mountains. I know it's a way longer route but it's probably worth it for you guys not to go through the town. In the meantime, you guys just have to sit tight in that cove's cave.” You nod at a folded map at the end of the counter. “If we can get enough fuel arranged, there’s a way around that I mapped out. Roads shouldn’t be too much trouble this time of year.” 

He doesn’t move to pick up the map.

You finish with the sauce and start sprinkling cheese, feeling Santi lurch away from the doorway and approach you slowly, until he’s beside you and every muscle in your body is tense and hot. “Fuck, you’re serious, aren’t you?” 

“It’s a good plan,” you say, tearing some fresh mozzarella. “Keeps you boys outta the town. Gets us weapons that were sourced in-country, fuel, and a ride.” 

“And puts you right in the firing line. You’d haveta land and be without weapons until the drop. What if your contact doesn’t show?” 

“I’ll be fine. I’m the only face that won’t be recognized.”

Santi rolls his eyes, “They’ll know you’re a foreigner and that might be enough.” 

“I’ll be careful.” 

You can feel Santiago’s irritation building. “Why are you so gung-ho to do this now? You’ve always been shit at infiltration. There’s a reason you’re the sniper.” 

Since one of you died! You want to shout. 

“Fuck off, Pope,” you say instead as he takes his hat off and tosses it down, leaning his forearms onto the counter next to you before ducking his head and running his hands through his hair. “You know why I didn’t want to do it the first time around. And now -,” 

And now you were terrified that if you didn’t go, another member of your family would come home in a bodybag. 

And you wouldn’t even get to go to the funeral. 

And this time it could be Santi or Benny or - 

You clench your eyes shut, the heat of Santiago next to you too much suddenly. You suck in a sharp breath and try to get the panic bubbling up under control. 

“Hey -,” 

His voice is too soft, too close. 

“Whatever,” you cut him off. “What-fucking-ever, Pope. I’m shit. I was never valuable to Delta. I get it, okay? But this is your best shot. Unless you wanna go coordinate shipping arms into some backwater town through cartel territory.” 

Santiago stares at you, his gaze wide and shocked, so unlike the hard stare he usually sported. His mouth softens a fraction but you turn away, adding the gross shit Benny wanted onto his side of the pizza. 

“Yes or no?” you ask. “This is it. This is how we do it.” 

“One of us stays with you. We split two-three.” You open your mouth to retort when he continues, his voice strangely quiet. “I understand you have to go to the drop by yourself, everything else doesn’t haveta be. You need someone watching your six.” 

You heave a sigh, picking up the pan with the finished pizza to stick in the oven. “Jesus, what the hell does that kid eat?” Santi asks, noting the toppings. 

“Shit,” you answer, snapping the oven door closed. “Who?” 

“Frankie. He can make up for your shit Spanish.”  

You quickly catalog another thing you’re deficient in, swallowing thickly.

“Fine.” 

Santi nods and keeps staring at you, staring at you standing in the middle of your kitchen with your arms crossed. 

And you feel the sudden urge to cry, to break down and scream. 

Your breath is heavy in your chest, and the weight of Santi’s eyes on you doesn’t help. 

“We should talk about it,” he says.

You shake your head, grab a beer from the fridge and walk out of the kitchen, down the hall and past the living room where Benny was invested in a baseball game, and out onto your back deck. 

Santiago follows you, snapping the screen door closed after him. “C’mon.” 

“No. You left it the way it is. We don’t need to talk about it,” you knock the bottle cap off the beer with one well placed smack against the edge of the deck railing. 

But you can’t find it in yourself to drink it and so you set it aside.  

Santi’s jaw clenches and he runs an agitated hand through his hair, pacing a line back and forth before he stops and cups a hand over his chin. “Don’t be stubborn about this, Blue.” 

“Fuck off, Pope.” 

He rolls his eyes and approaches you, stepping right into your space, crowding you against the banister, bracketing his arms around you, palms against the railing behind you. He tilts his head over yours, his nose nearly touching yours. “I missed you. I wanted to come back. I didn’t know how.” 

You scoff. “It was easy. You could have walked through the door.” You grit your teeth, “Would you have even told me Tom died? Or would I have seen it on fucking Facebook from his widow months later?”

Santi flinches at your accusation but doesn’t back down, his eyes still boring into your, his voice quiet. “Yes. You’re our family. You know one of us would have, if Ben hadn’t.” 

“Right,” you say disbelievingly. “It hurt the most that I didn’t hear from you. Did I ever really mean anything to you? Or was I just a liability to the team? Another whore to get you through the night?” 

“What?” 

“Don’t fuck with me, Santiago. You never came home. And I know you were fucking people when you were out of town. I always knew.” 

His eyes are so dark they read black in the fading evening sunshine. “Is that what you think? That I was sitting around here playing house with you for fun?” 

Your belly lurches. “Get away from me,” you snap, shoving at his shoulder. “I don’t need you to call me stupid in my own house. I got it, Santi. I wasn’t good enough for the team and I wasn’t good enough for you. I get it.” 

He makes a noise of frustration and doesn’t move. “Stop being so fucking hardheaded.” 

“Okay,” you sniff. “Go ahead then. What do you want to say? About that night, about why you never came home? About what you said to me?” 

Santi gapes at you, clearly not expecting you to just give into him, “I - I -,” he flounders. 

“Yeah,” you duck under his arm, snatch up your beer, and head back inside, “That’s what I thought.” 

~

“You never went out there to see her? Fuuuck man, no wonder she’s pissed,” Benny says, offloading their tac bags into the sand of the cove from the dinghy, the walls of the cave-like outcropping reflecting in the shallow water. 

Will moves the bags further up the sand and doesn’t say anything. 

And Santiago - he doesn’t know what to fucking say about any of it. 

Going back to that house, back to you, after everything he’d said to you, after he’d implied that any injuries they got would be your fault, after he told you that you were a weight to their team even though it was the farthest thing from the truth. 

He didn’t know how to go back to you. 

He didn’t know how to make things right, and so one month had turned into two had turned into six. 

“She never said anything?” Santi asks Benny, almost afraid of what the answer might be. 

“Not like we sit around talking about you, man. I wasn’t out there all that much for a while. Going through my own shit,” Benny says, jumping out of the boat to work on tying it down. 

Santi thinks about Benny going out to your place, dumping all his shit on you and leaving. Of Will and Frankie visiting infrequently, because they were, as Benny so eloquently put it - going through their own shit in the aftermath of that mission. 

All of them wrongly assuming that Santi had been to see you, that he was still seeing you. 

All of them thinking that you were okay because Santi was always with you. 

Fuck. 

Fuck.

No wonder you felt abandoned. No wonder you believed him when he’d said - 

He can’t think about that right now. 

You must have felt like you lost all of them for a while. 

“Check-in with Fish and Blue,” he snarls at Benny instead. “I want an update. They landed yesterday and should already be on their way here.” 

Benny glances at Will but neither of them say anything as he fiddles with the comms. 

Santiago makes a point of not looking at either of them, pointlessly cataloging the shit they did bring with them, mainly rappelling equipment, rations, and protective gear.

The comm in his ear statics and then Benny’s voice is reaching out for a status report. 

Your voice comes back after only a few minutes. “Hey Ben,” you say, your voice clear but with a rift in it, a thick line of tension. “Heading your way. Should be there around 1900 hours. Sit tight.”

“Roger. Sitting tight.” 

Santiago opens his own line. “Report,” he barks out, not satisfied with the way you sound, that slight crack in the edge of your voice. 

“Cargo en route, Pope,” is the only response he receives. 

“Roger, Blue,” he says. “Any trouble?” 

There’s a long silence before you respond. “Minor incident. Intercepted in vehicle retrieval. One dead. No witnesses. Minimal injuries.” 

“Injury report.” 

“Fuck, Pope,” Will mutters, “They’ll be here in a couple hours. Leave it.” 

“Fish is fine,” you say and Santiago’s heart seizes because that means - “I was grazed. Minimal impact. Over and out, see you soon Delta one.” 

Your line clicks out, the static retreating. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck.” 

“C’mon, Pope,” Will says, “Quit thinking with your dick. We’ve all been shot. She was only grazed. They’re fine and heading to us.” He sits back on the sand, Benny following suit. 

He knows. 

Fuck, he knows. 

He tucks the information away - compartmentalizes it and hopes like hell it works. 

~

You and Fish show up exactly when you say you will, radioing out to them when you were a couple klicks away. 

Santiago and Will head up to help you hide the truck you arrive in, grab the duffle bags full of weapons.

The cache you’ve been provided with is well stocked and Will whistles when he sees it. “Fuck, Blue, you’ve got one hell of a contact.” 

You smile tightly at him, limping around the front of the truck. 

Santiago’s breath catches when he sees you. 

It’s hell to see you looking like that again. Although you’re in jeans - the rest of the getup is similar enough to the fatigues you used to sport that it makes his chest tighten. Your hair is tucked back, a backward ball cap on your head, and he recognizes it as one of his, one he must have left at your place. Sunglasses are hitched up above your brow. 

You have a strip of cloth tied around your upper thigh, and Frankie has one concerned hand under your elbow. 

Santiago never wanted to see you like this again, never wanted to have to think about you being shot at again. 

You ignore his stare and say to Frankie, “C’mere and help me calculate this fuel shit. We need to be sure it's more than enough to get us there and back with room for detours.” 

Frankie opens the back door and lets you rummage around in another bag before turning back with a scrap of paper and pen. 

When Santi just stands there staring at you, you turn and tilt your head. “Gonna help Ironhead with that shit, Pope?” 

He flinches, can’t help himself when he hears you call him that, it takes him back to your porch, to the words he can never take back. 

Santiago doesn’t say anything, catches Frankie roll his eyes as Santi turns and grabs a couple bags to drag down to the cove. 

A few minutes later you and Fish make your way to the cave. “-wish we had a bit more but that should do.”

“It’ll be fine,” Fish assures you, sounding a lot less concerned than you.  

“Uh huh,” you say, dropping next to Benny on the sand to take the canteen he offers you. 

Will turns to look at you, his eyes flicking over the bandage on your leg. “What happened?” 

“Exactly what I said. Some guy caught us grabbing the truck. He shot first, Fish took ‘im out.” 

All cold practicality, Will answers, “Clean it properly.” 

Fish laughs and raises a brow at you and Santi knows he had already told you to do it. 

You roll your eyes and glance at Benny with an exasperated huff of breath. 

Before, when you served together, Santiago would have read that look all wrong, would have seen something more than what it was. Now, he sees it for what it is - two younger siblings exasperated by their older brother. 

You and Ben have been attached at the hip since the third grade, and have done nearly everything in your life together. You were best friends and nothing more than that. In fact the idea probably repulsed both of you. 

He wonders what it was like for you then, when Benny suddenly wasn’t around anymore after the failed Colombia mission. 

Santi hooks one of the hand guns into the holster on his hip, grabs a first aid kit, and crosses to you. “I got it.” 

He holds out a hand and you hesitate for only a moment before taking his hand and letting him haul you up. He leads you a little way from the group while they continue sorting the weapons out, nodding for you to lean back into the edge of the beached boat. 

“Shit,” Santiago mutters when he crouches down and peels the makeshift bandage off of your thigh. “This is more than a graze, you got ate, mi vida.” 

“Only a little. No bullet in me.” 

He shakes his head and briskly cleans the wound, dresses it with a proper bandage and a wrapping of gauze around your thigh. He slides his knuckles down to your knee and glances up at you. “Fuck, Blue, please. Be careful.” 

“You think I got shot on purpose?” You ask, amused rather than pissed for once, as he stands. 

He licks his lips and plants his hands on his hips, not able to keep his eyes off you. 

Fuck were you pretty. 

Even in fatigues and sweating from the humidity, you were so fucking beautiful.

And then he notices the rings on your fingers, notices the ring that he gave you years ago now, and his mouth goes dry, his heart pumps like it’s trying to break the cage of his ribs.  

“‘Course not. Just saying. Be careful.” 

“Okay,” you agree. “When should we head out? Frankie -,” you call and the other man glances over at the two of you. “We thought 0400 hours, right?” 

“Right,” he confirms quietly, “Early enough that we’ve got a bit of light but it's still dark,” he agrees. 

“There ya go, Pope,” you say. 

He doesn’t look away from you, can’t quite manage it. “You’ve got my hat.” 

“My hat now,” you snip. “Left it in my house.” 

“You ever gonna forgive me?” He doesn’t know why he asks, it's not like he deserves it. 

“Dunno, Santi,” you say. “You ever gonna apologize?” 

He clenches his jaw and walks away from you, announcing, “We’re out at 0400 hours. Sharp.” 

~

The sun is only really starting to blaze alive when you park the truck at the edge of a canyon. “We gotta walk from here, y’all,” you say, slapping the map down between Will and Santiago in the front seat. 

“Hooah,” Benny intones, popping open his door so you can slide out behind him. 

When the truck is hidden in the foliage and you’re all geared up, you say, “So, I was thinking, I can split with you guys here, follow the ridgeline up so I can see farther-,”

“We aren’t splitting up again,” Santi says, lowering protective glasses over his eyes. “You’ll be able to see plenty in either direction from the ravine.” 

“Are you sure-,”

“Yes,” he grits his teeth. “We’re wasting time, let's go.” 

So you wrap the strap of your rifle around your neck and go. 

You don’t talk as you move through the canyon and through the mountainside, up the steep rocky crags, Santiago at the head with a GPS and the coordinates. 

Finding the correct ravine is surprisingly easy, and you peer over the side to see a mountain of snow at the bottom. “Looks like you guys will be digging.” 

“Wonderful,” Frankie says. “You wanna trade? I’ll man the horizon.” 

You smirk, “Nah, I’m good here.” You screw a silencer onto the end of your rifle and walk away, scouting for a position where you could easily see in all directions to cover them while they worked. 

“Not too far,” Pope says into the comms and you don’t bother to turn, waving a hand above your head to show you heard. 

You settle down, between two rocks, adjusting the scope on your rifle to make sure you have a clear view. 

“Blue, check-in,” Frankie’s voice comes over the comm. “Pope can’t see you and has his panties in a twist.” 

You chuckle and respond, “That’s the idea. Present and accounted for. How’s it going, boys?” 

“Benny and Santi rappelling down now.” 

You don’t respond, focusing instead on your task, wondering how long it would take them to get all of it out of the ravine, if they would have to dig it out of the snow, if it was even still there, how long it would take to haul out to the truck. 

Two hours pass in which the horizon in all directions is clear, and which the boys stay silent in your ear. 

And then - “Fuck yeah! Money’s still here baby!” Benny nearly deafens you and the others. A long string of curses and hyena-like laughter follows. 

“Shut the fuck up, Ben! Jesus,” Will mutters. “Just get it the fuck up here.” 

“Keep your head on straight,” you say into your comm. “We’re not taking more than we can handle, got it?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Santi says. “Of course.”

“I’m serious. I will leave you here, Pope.” 

“I’ll leave him here,” Frankie adds.

The rest of the day passes by slowly, and without incident. Occasional comments come through but nothing that warranted a response until near sundown, “Come on back, Blue,” Will says. 

“Done already?” 

“For tonight.” 

When you approach the camp, duffle bags are strewn around. 

Many more than you expected.

“Jesus, you sure this isn’t all of it?” You assess the amount of bags. “Think we might have to be okay with this.” You shoulder your M16, “We should start moving it to the truck now.”

The guys glance at each other. “C’mon,” you whine, annoyed with them. “Y’all really gonna let money go to your head again?” 

“You don’t want any?” 

“Any is more than none, which is what I have now,” you say. “And no, Ben, I don’t need a Ferrari.” 

They all glance at each other, then, “One more run tonight and then we’re done. We’ll move the cash in the morning, and be on the boat by the afternoon.” 

You roll your eyes, “Fine, whatever.” 

Benny hoots and goes about getting strapped into the harness again, Will following suit. 

“That was kind of you,” Frankie says, coming to stand next to you with arms folded across his chest. “We coulda used your level head last time.” 

You feel your heart sink, surprised Fish would say anything about it to you. “Yeah,” you say softly, watching Santi help Ben and Will start down the cliffside. “I know it's my fault that it went down the way it did. I’m sorry.” 

Fish is silent for a few minutes as you watch the boys, before he suddenly turns to you, “Wait, what? Your fault?” 

You press your lips together, Will and Benny finally disappearing as the last light faded from the sky. “Threw off the team. Wasn’t here to-,” 

“Hold on. We’re grown fucking men and you had the choice to say no. No one’s holdin’ that against you.” 

You don’t answer, watching Santi, the broad line of his shoulders, the firm set of him as he keeps an eye on the ropes. 

“Not everyone thinks that.” 

“What, Pope?” When you don’t answer he continues, shaking his head. “God, if I know anything about Santiago it's that he’s upside down, head over heels, makes him look stupid, in love with you. And he has been since you and that fucker Ben rolled up to Delta like you already belonged.” 

You swallow, not sure what to say, your throat dry as you rub your hands together and then stuff them under your armpits to keep them warm in the cooling air. “Oh yeah? Helluva way of showin’ it. He said I was fuckin’ useless. Called me a coward. Said anything that happened to y’all was my fault. And then Tom died. And you all were never around anymore, not even Benny.” 

“Shit, honey,” he says softly. “We thought Santi was still going out there to see you every chance his dumbass got.” He pauses and then looks over at you, shifting to cradle his weapon in his arms. “As for that other shit, Pope says some shit when he gets mad, and no one gets under his skin better than you. You know nothing that happened down here was your fault. It was our fault, our choices.” 

You bite the side of your cheek. “Thanks, Fish.” 

“You can call it stupid if you want. It was.” 

“It was stupid and you’re all greedy bastards,” you say, knocking a shoulder into his. 

He smiles, “Yeah. But it might just work out this time.” 

~

The night passes easily. 

You don’t start a fire, and the guys are curiously silent about the prospect though you know it's smarter not to start one and draw attention to your position. 

Benny takes the first watch and you end up sandwiched between Frankie and Santiago. 

It takes all your willpower not to curl into him, the smell of him exactly as you remember, the heat of him, the press of him against you. 

Right when you’re about to fall asleep, you feel Santi’s fingers curl through yours and squeeze gently, his lips at your ear. “I’m so fucking sorry, mi vida.” 

~

The next morning, at first light, with most of the cash already transported to the truck, you spot movement on the ridgeline, and when you lift your scope to your eye and see bodies traveling down the rocky mountainside. 

You call out a warning just as the first shot slams into the ground several feet from you. 

You duck for cover before coming up on a knee to squeeze your own trigger, the silencer muffling the sound of the shot.

Santi turns and watches a distant body fall to the ground, as he too falls behind one of the many boulders.  

“Hey, hey, what the fuck are we shooting at?” Ben yells at you as you grab him and yank him down beside you. 

“We gotta go,” you spit out over the comms as Benny lifts his body away from yours to take a couple shots of his own, clearly felling his targets by the look on his face, “Looks like somebody patrols this area now. Probably because of you fuckers.”

“Frankie, Will, stay where you are,” Santiago says over the comms. 

“What’s going on?” Will snarls back. 

“Fuck just -,” 

You pop off another shot, using hand signals to tell Santi to start moving his ass toward the treeline. He’s closer to your exit route than you and Ben. “They’re all down the fucking mountain - we’re about to be cut off. We need to go,” you say into the comms. “Grab that shit and let's go,” you say to Benny, pointing to the last duffle bag at your feet before gripping his tac vest as you start moving forward together against the rocks as fast as you dare.

You look ahead and note that Santiago isn’t moving, instead standing his ground and shooting back at the ridgeline, covering the two of you. 

It’s a stupid fucking move. There were too many of them, too many shots for it to make a difference. But he’s clearly waiting for the two of you, the babies of Delta, to make it back to him before he moves off. The rest of them had always been overprotective of you and Ben though none of them would ever admit it. They know you’re both more than capable but that didn’t stop them from double and triple asking if you were sure you wanted to do something, or making it a priority to intervene when one of you were in trouble, especially Will when it came to you and Benny. 

And while you hadn’t been here before, you know. 

This is where Tom died. This is where they lost everything. 

Santiago doesn’t like to lose. 

“Fuck!” You can hear him shout, directing Benny to stop with a raised fist, moving back toward you instead away from you. 

They’re close enough now that you can hear shouts, and you meet nearer to the trees, all three of you pressed behind a rock. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Benny is screaming, the noise muffled in your ear, your concentration fastened back on the moving targets, the bodies, the people. You take a steadying breath and line up your shots. “You’re going to get us fucking killed!” Benny continues. “What the fuck, man! We had it!”

You always were the best shot of Delta, and the people closest to you fall. 

You can’t tell if they’re dead. 

The clip is empty and you take a moment to reload, slamming the cartridge into place with more force than necessary. 

“You really must think me fucking useless if you think I can’t move six feet without you!” You shout at Santiago, who grabs the two of you and shoves you ahead of him, crouched down low. “You fucker!” 

“Fuck! It’s not about that-,” he starts, but you ignore him moving quickly over unsteady ground. 

You and Benny are younger than the rest of the team by years, and it shows now, Santi panting as you run and cuss without a hitch in your breath. Ben cursing in front of you the whole way.  

“You stupid fucker,” you snarl again, Benny echoing your sentiment as you pause again, bullets richoching around you. 

Santi pants as he leans back against the rock for a moment, letting you rage against him, fear eating your heart because he had just ran at you. He had ran back to you for no fucking reason and now he might die with you and Benny. You raise yourself up to shoot back again, Benny taking shots to the right.

“They’re closing in, we need to move,” Benny says, radioing over the comms to warn Frankie and Will to have the truck ready and waiting.

You and Santi are silent, taking coordinated shots. 

“Fuck! Why are there so many of them?” You grit your teeth, the recoil of the gun against you starting to bruise. 

“They knew we lost that money, they’ve been waiting for someone to come poking around for it so they could get it,” Santi says, his breathing even again. “Probably set up patrols here after we came though.” 

You glance over at him to ask why he hadn’t shared that thought before this moment, and feel your heart stop. Up the rockside and to the left, there at the edge of the rocks, a kid stands with a gun sighted up on Santiago. 

“Santi,” you whisper, voice hoarse. And then so loud, you hurt you own ears, “Santi!”

He starts to turn but you reach over and grab him by the back of his neck, jerking him down, and using the leverage to haul yourself up above him. The kid shoots at the same time you do. 

Your bullet lodges between his eyes, but the shot that would have split Santago’s skull in two, lodges deep into the fleshy part of you between your shoulder and your clavicle. You wobble and then crash back between Santi and Ben, not entirely sure what just happened. 

You look down at yourself, where the bullet perfectly caught right at the edge of your skewed tac vest, just above your heart 

Panic surges up through you suddenly and your vision clouds as you grit your teeth against the pain. 

Santi grips your jaw hard, those dark fathomless eyes boring into you, shouting something at you. 

But you can’t get enough breath into your lungs to feel like you can respond. “Fuck,” you whisper, touching the blood on your hoodie. One of Santi’s old hoodies, you hadn’t realized until now. “I think I’m hit,” you say as Santi slaps your hand away from the wound. 

Blood gushes out of the hole in waves. “Blue, look at me,” Santi says, a sudden pressure on the wound making you bite down a howl. His hands are covered in red. Blood, it must be your blood. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

“Okay, Pope,” you whisper, the edge of your vision fading, “Fuck I think it hit my heart.” 

You don’t hear his answer, the last thing you know is Santi and Ben leaning over you, dead panic on their faces but you can’t quite figure out why. 

~

Carrying you to the truck, your eyes unfocused and glossy, feels a lot like carrying Tom’s corpse home. 

Santiago doesn’t scare easy, but cradling your head in his lap while Ben cries his eyes out and snarls at Will to drive faster, scares him. 

Frankie’s worried eyes turning back to assess you, scares him. 

Will’s stoic silence, scares him. 

But nothing comes close to the fear he feels at the prospect of having to carry home your corpse. 

And suddenly that money, everything in the world, nothing matters to him but you - and it’ll be his fault if you die now. 

He leans down over you, presses a kiss to the shell of your ear. There’s blood caked on your neck, crusting along the edge of your sweatshirt. Your ball cap and protective glasses are on the floor of the truck at his feet, stained a crimson that his brain can’t make sense of. 

The graze of the bullet against your thigh was god’s warning to turn back, and he hadn’t heeded it. 

Ruthless. 

He’s always been ruthless. 

And now maybe that ruthlessness really would get you killed. 

He can’t really make himself understand it, why you would jump up like that and pull him out of the way. 

“Santi,” you murmur, your breath sweet against his skin, your bloody fingers scrubbing against the stubble on his cheek. “Santi,” you whisper against his skin, the copper smell of you making him sick, makes him want to fucking vomit. 

“Hold on, cariño,” he says gently. “We’re gonna get you home safe and sound.” But your skin is ashen, your lips chapped already and he knows there isn’t a chance in hell of you making it to the States alive without them addressing the mess that is your shoulder. 

“Fuck,” he snarls when your eyes flutter closed again, your body going limp as you pass out. “Benny, grab that med pack. We’re gonna have to sew her up before she loses any more blood. She’s not gonna make it if we don’t.”

Pope rips back the straps of your tac vest, rips your sweatshirt open as Benny goes cool with determination, grounded and levelheaded even as tears slip down his nose. There’s no exit wound and so Benny passes over the supplies Santi needs to dig the bullet out of your shoulder. 

He stuffs cloth in your mouth when you lurch and give a blood curdling scream, forceps squelching deep in the wound until he can finally rip the metal out of your shoulder. 

He forces you to keep it in your mouth so you don’t break your teeth, bite your fucking tongue off, when they dump peroxide over the wound. 

Benny holds you still after he hands Santiago the threaded needle, closes his eyes and takes a breath, before he unsteadily and messily sews your shoulder closed. 

By the time he’s done with you, you’re so still he might as well have killed you himself. 

Then

“Hey, killer,” Santiago says when you thrust open the front screen door with a toe. 

“Hey yourself, old man,” you snipe at him, “Wanna help me out a little?” 

Santi finishes wiping his hands on a dishtowel and moves to hold the door open for you. 

You’re wearing ratty gym clothes, boxing gloves spilling out of your duffle bag, a couple of grocery bags fisted in your other hand. 

Santiago gently takes the groceries from you and dumps them on the kitchen table as you wave out at Benny’s retreating jeep. 

Ben obnoxiously lays on the horn all the way down the road, but it makes you laugh and so he doesn’t roll his eyes too hard at it. 

“You weren’t here when I got in last night,” Santiago says when you beeline into the kitchen and dump your bag on the floor. 

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything else because you kiss him, your palms against his cheeks, the line of your body against his. When you pull away you smirk at him and peer at the breakfast he has started on your stove. 

“Don’t you have your own house to go to?” 

“My own house isn’t where you are.” 

You laugh, bell bright, but he knows you think he’s just fucking with you. “You stay at Ben’s?” 

“He lost last night and was pouting about it,” you say, unloading the grocery bags. “Me and Will stayed with him. Re-watched Predator for the millionth time. Knew we’d end up at the gym in the morning together anyways.” 

Santi tucks his arms around you and drags you back against his chest, pressing his lips to the nape of your neck and then the shell of your ear. “Left me high and dry here, honey.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you managed to entertain yourself, Santi.” You turn your head and bump your forehead against his temple. “You’ve got a hand don’t you?” 

He scoffs, “That’s fuckin’ cruel. Expecting pussy and getting a hand.” 

You turn in his grip and wind your arms around his neck, smiling and stretching against him like a cat. “Lemme shower and this pussy is all yours, babe.” 

“Shower, breakfast, then pussy,” he says. “I know you didn’t eat this morning.” 

You roll your eyes, “Hurts my feelings when you ignore me like this Santiago.” 

“The last thing in the world I’m doing is ignoring you,” he says, cupping his hands under your ass to lift you onto the counter. 

You settle back against the cabinets and he slots himself between your legs, running his hands up your thighs, beneath the fabric of your gym shorts. “You’re so pretty. Have I ever told you that?” 

A grin splits your face, one he’s glad to see, one that had taken a year of counseling and fucking and boxing and bar nights to coax back out of you. “Sure,” you say.

“I mean it.” 

“I know.” 

Santiago licks his lips, takes your hands in his, the dozens of rings that line your fingers grazing his. 

It was one of the things you’d started wearing to feel more like yourself again, to recapture your identity outside the military, outside Delta. 

He traces the rings carefully for a moment when your voice reaches out to him again, your hand touching his jaw. “Santi?” you ask. 

“I brought something back for you,” he says, squeezing your knee gently. “Stay here.” 

He looks up and meets your eyes, searching the gaze he knows so well, and still coming back empty, still confused about what it all means to you, what he means to you. “Okay,” you say, “What is it?” 

Instead of answering, he ducks out of the kitchen to rifle through his own bag that he left in the front hall the night before. 

When he returns to you, you have one heel up on the counter, a cup filled with coffee at your side, picking bits of food out of the pan on the stove. 

He knocks your heel down, jolting you, “Feet on the counter? Really?” 

“It’s my fucking counter, Garcia,” you snap at him, but you smile when you say it. 

“Fucking counter, huh?” 

“Shut up.” 

“I mean I have fucked you there enough times, haven’t I?” He asks, watching you roll your eyes, tracking your every movement, unable to glance away from you. 

You lift that same foot and shove at his shoulder as you sip your coffee. “Fuck off.” 

Santi catches your foot, presses a kiss to your ankle and lets it drop again so he can slot himself between your legs again, holding up the ring he has pinched between two fingers in his other hand. 

Your eyes lock onto the gold, lips parting. “Found it at a market in Bogotá. Polished it up on the way back. Thought you’d like it for your collection.” 

Gingerly, as though the ring is made of smoke and not metal, you reach out to take it from him. “It’s beautiful,” you say, examining the stones embedded in the gold. 

Santi takes it back from you, and examines your hands, the many, many rings that stack on your fingers. “Which finger you want it on, mi vida?” 

You wiggle your right ring finger and he slips it into place. It's a perfect fit. 

He looks up at you, he means to tell you in that moment, that there’s no one else, that there’s only you, that this thing between you is solid and real and he wants no one else, ever. That you’re his and he’s yours. 

That you are his girl. 

But the words die on his lips as soon as he looks at you, and then you’re sliding off the counter and kissing him so hard, he feels like he might bruise. 

“Why don’t you shower with me and we can kill two birds with one stone?” You ask. “I get clean and you get pussy.” 

He holds you so tight he feels you exhale a sharp breath, tilting his head over yours, brows pulled together as he watches you, watches the widening of your eyes. 

“All for a ring?” he undercuts his own fucking plan, his own feelings. 

“It’s a pretty ring.”

Now

They have to leave you in the hotel they check into, to meet with the bank, to deposit their fucking money. 

Fifty million and it feels like nothing. 

Benny and Will wait with you while he and Fish go to the bank first, and then switch places. 

You’re awake when they get back and Santi wants to cry. Fish pretends there’s something he forgot in the lobby and leaves. 

Santi pulls up a chair next to you and takes your hand. “What the fuck were you thinking?” He murmurs. 

“Was thinking I didn’t want your brains all over me,” you say, weak fingers tightening on his. “You did a shit job stitching me up, by the way. But I think it saved my life.”

Santi says your name quietly, picking up your hand, your skin clammy against his. “Well our combat medic was out.”  

He closes his eyes, gritting his jaw, trying to wash away the image of your prone body on two different boats, carrying you with Benny away from the line of fire like you were already gone from the world. 

“Why?” He asks again. “Fuck, why would you do that?” 

You grip his hand weakly, “Because. Because you - probably the same reason you ran toward me instead of away. Because I knew you were about to die and couldn’t let that happen.” 

“And what if you fucking died, huh?” 

“Guess I’d be dead then.” 

He winces but doesn’t let you look away from him. 

You swallow, “Help me sit up? I want some water.”

Santi hurries to help you sit up, listening to the way you groan tightly before he fetches a bottle of water for you and unscrews the cap. 

Your hand shakes when you lift the bottle to your lips, and he has to cup the bottom of it to hold it steady for you. 

When you’ve drunk your fill, you handle the bottle back and yank down the strap of your sports bra to look at the gauze webbed around your shoulder, the blood that slowly begins to stain through because of your movement. 

You sigh and then fiddle with your rings, his ring on your finger, where it's never moved since he placed it there. “Santi,” you murmur. “I know we never said it - but I love you. That’s why it hurt so goddamn bad when you left. It just confirmed that it really never mattered to you. And this - this stupid fucking money - I know how you get. I couldn’t believe - couldn’t believe you just dropped me like that. I told myself you didn’t mean it. That we’re both mean sons of bitches when we’re pissed but then you never came home.” 

You take a long stuttering breath, and his heart feels like it's stopped beating, like god has a boot on his chest. “I never woulda done that to you. You left it up to Benny to tell me what the fuck happened. I didn’t just lose you, I lost all of you. You know what that’s like? To have your best friend, who you’ve never been apart from for more than a couple days, just drop you? To have - to have you - for better or worse, the man I fucking love - abandon me?” 

Is this what it takes to get him to spill his guts to you? 

Having you half dead in his arms, your eyes lined with circles, your skin tone off by several shades, telling him things he already fucking knows? 

He cups your cheeks in his palms gently, swipes away the tears that fall. Santiago hasn’t seen you like this in years, since you finally started coming back to yourself. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers. “Fuck, mi vida, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

~

Santi curls his arms around you, shifts you on the bed until he can lie down with you, the pressure off of your injured shoulder as you turn on your side to fit yourself against him. 

“I can never take back those things I said to you. But you have to know - I didn’t mean a single word of it. Nothing that happened on that mission was your fault. Not a fucking thing. As soon as things went sideways the first time, the only thing I could think was thank god she’s safe at home.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead and you feel more tears leak down your cheeks. “You are the best shot we have - proved that a couple times over yesterday, I think. You were never just a medic, you know that. You’ve beaten me in hand to hand more than enough times, all the rest of those fuckers too. You’re the best of us, honey. I was just so goddamn scared you’d never forgive me for the things I was about to do - you had it right about Lorea and the money and my motivation.”

You feel the movement of his throat against you, arms tightening by a fraction, before he says, voice hoarse, “And I’ve always loved you. Always. I never knew how to say it. You’ve been my only girl for so fucking long.” 

You shove his shoulder gently and feel him stiffen but you only bring his forehead to yours, peering into those eyes that were always so intense, that missed nothing, and read you like a book. 

You scrub a hand over his stubbled cheek, the pull of the hair against your hand soothing. “You know I love you, Santiago.”

“I love you,” he answers sincerely. “Sorry it took so goddamn long.”

You pull him down into a kiss, your shoulder aching, a biting pain that lances across your chest. “Me too,” you murmur, gingerly unbuttoning his jeans, careful of the very messy stitches in your shoulder. You hiss through your teeth and Santi stops your hand. 

“No, your shoulder-,” 

“Yes,” you murmur. “Yes. You just have to be careful with me. You just have to be gentle.” You peer up at him, into those brown eyes that feel so like home to you, like the warmth of a summer forest. You touch the hinge of his jaw, “Just be gentle with me.” 

Santi’s eyes clench closed and then he’s nodding and kissing your forehead, all resolve gone. You thought the strings of your heart had been wrapped around his fingers all these years. You never imagined that you held his too. 

He pulls away from you to undress, since you won’t be able to do it for him in your state, and you use the opportunity to push your shorts and underwear off with your good arm. 

And then he’s back, naked against you, one arm under your neck to support your head, the other curving around your knee to hitch over his hip, pressing so close to you. You feel the ridges of his cock against your pussy, already wet.

“Just like this,” he murmurs to you, never breaking his eyes from yours, his gaze just as steady and intense as it always has been, but now there’s a thread of vulnerability that makes you duck your head to press a kiss over his heart. Your good hand against his cheek, the other carefully skimming along his abdomen, the thick muscle and padding he carries. 

You both watch as he slides into you, watch your bodies join slowly, the stretch of him so fucking good and heavy. 

Your breath leaves you in a gust and Santi pauses, more gentle with you than he’s ever been. “Fuck. You have to tell me if I’m hurting you. Okay?” 

You meet his gaze, rolling your hips against his, “Santi.” 

He moves then, meeting the slow thrust of you. “Yeah, baby, tell me what you need.” 

Instead of biting something out at him like you usually would, you cup both hands against his cheeks as he tightens his arm around your waist, bringing you that much closer. 

Santi leans his forehead against yours, and neither of you shut your eyes. You can’t, you have to know he’s there and real and everything that he’s said the last few minutes is true. 

He’d always been better at doing than saying and now is no different - his gaze unwavering, making love to you so softly you feel a tear bead and slip down your nose. 

Santiago swipes it away with his thumb as he shifts the arm beneath your neck so he can cup the back of your skull, fingers digging through your hair. 

The pleasure in your belly builds slowly, but that almost feels secondary to the other things you’re feeling - like you finally belonged, like you were no longer adrift, like you finally found your home. 

You press your hand flat over his sternum and feel the thrumming of his heart against your hand. 

“It beats for you,” he says, closing his eyes briefly to press his nose into your hair. 

You almost want to laugh, at how corny it is, if you didn’t know for certain that he’s never said anything more sincerely. 

Sweat beads along his salt and pepper curls, the smell of him like his cologne and cheap hotel soap and sweat. 

You move your hips more frantically, Santiago matching you thrust for push, when you bury your nose in his neck and inhale sharply. 

“I’m close,” you murmur. “Please, Santi.” 

“Look at me, baby,” he says. “Lemme see those pretty eyes when you come for me.” 

You meet his eyes, trace the long sweep of his lashes with your gaze when the pressure in your belly snaps and you cry out. 

Santiago captures your lips, swallowing down your moan, as he presses a hand to the back of your neck, fingers slowly sliding down your spine. His thrusts become sloppy and slow and his brow is furrowed. 

When you whisper, “Come for me, Santi,” he exhales sharply into your mouth and comes inside you, hips slowly stuttering to a stop. “I love you.” 

“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, if I don’t love you more than I deserve to.” He tugs you close, careful of your shoulder which aches more than you’re willing to admit in that moment. 

But you’ve been shot before, and it's not as bad as it could be. 

“Yeah,” you coo. “But I want it anyway. I want all your fucked up love.” 

Santi laughs and it sounds like a sob, and you curl your fingers through his hair tugging lightly. “I meant to - the day I gave you the ring. I meant to clarify that day that we - ,”

“Mhm,” you hum against him. “Is that what this ring means? You claimed me?” 

“Means we belong to each other.” 

You nod, “Move in when we get back.” 

“I’m gonna put in a pool in your backyard, that deck is begging for one. Gotta have somewhere to keep the boys entertained when I need to fuck you.” 

You laugh and then wince at the movement in your shoulder. “Backyard is all yours.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Just then someone knocks at the door. “We have the contract for you to sign if you’re done fucking,” Frankie calls, loud enough that the whole hall probably hears. 

You groan but Santi just keeps gazing at you, lips pouted, “And a dog. We gotta get a dog. And a new couch, I’m done sitting on Ben’s cheeto dust.” 

“Anything. As long as you’re there.” 

His breath catches and he looks like he can’t quite breathe. “Yeah,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over yours. “As long as you’re there.” 

Your heart beats so hard, you think it's trying to break free from your chest to join with his.

[utahlive]

This ask isn't directly for Wilbur or the blog, but rather the person who runs this. A bit of an ooc ask about world building and expanding this universe since I'm invested

Are we as the audience perceived as people in this universe watching this show/documentary about Utah at our homes, sending in questions via telephone. Or are we just random people that show up in the gas station and keep coming back one by one at random times to talk about the "Dabi cosplayer". (I'd like the imagine the second one; just a but of faceless people pressed up against the glass outside asking the weirdest questions. Fits the vibe)

Do you, the owner of this blog, have a part to play in the universe? Are you the director to the show, a main camera man, or something else.

The fanart that's made for this blog, I'd like to imagine it's—again—just faceless people running up and slapping drawings they make on the convince store windows and running off, leaving the producers and Wilbur with it. Stuff like that :]

Im gonna be honest I said I was gonna do author q&a today specifically so I could answer this ask because I feel weird just answering it willy-nilly

I tend to be... pretty bad at storytelling. I always get wayyy too into my own head, and things get so complicated to a degree where only I can understand whats going on, which is something im obviously trying very hard to avoid. However I don't wanna sacrifice the story I want to tell, so I'm just doing my best here.

One of the biggest limitations right now is that I'm just struggling to explain exactly how the world works/the translation between "Utah" and irl/us. The biggest ones are time and what exactly is being aired, because obviously it doesn't take one whole day to answer two questions, but I don't have the energy to answer more than two q's per day. And of course the 'film crew' arent actually filming Wilbur while he's sleeping or anything like that, but it's hard to tell the story I want to tell without having scenes like that. Im hoping that things will get smoother as we go, but for now I've just been making it so that episodes that dont have 'transcript's in them aren't filmed (or have "artist rendition" notes), and lets say that even though its been over a month of answering questions for us, it's only been two or three weeks for wilbur.

As for what you guys are, you're viewers who are calling in from home! Kinda like a radio show. No one is physically showing up to the store or his house (that would be really funny though). I did have some scrapped ideas that I may bring back later about the film crew, but for now "they" dont have any deeper place in the story. I'm the camera man, I guess! I've been imagining it as just some guy with a camera in one hand, a headset to listen to calls, and a little paper pad to write down answers.

There are 886 asks in the inbox right now! Not all of them are asks, some of them are just comments about whats happening (which I love, I <3 hearing what you guys think) but unfortunately I can't answer all of them. I have a general outline so whenever I do pick story/plot asks, its ones that fit that outline, and every other time I just try to be funny.

nor/mal (jk. he/they/xe)

I was typing out the whole story and reasoning behind the pictures I chose but it was getting way too long (because I ended up going down a rabbit hole). Basically I found an old blog from 2010 where a girl had posted a picture of her room, it was a very positive post so I didn't think it would be offensive to use it (also there's a comment from 2016 on the blog post asking if the image can be used as reference, no reply, the author of the blog has not logged in for years). The bathroom was made in the Sims 4/I used pictures of my own dorm bathroom

smoked a blunt in the woods and thought about cwilbur's character arc a little too hard

im shy 👉👈

fucks me up that people continue to think about this blog after liking/reblogging

[red-might-be-dead]

hello.! could you spare some bitb headcanons? i'm planning to start writing some stuff for it in the coming months and you seem like the expert so :3

sorry this took so long to reply to.... jkghksfjhgkjfha

KIAN!! -

i like to think that he was the smartest in the group, he would always do well in tests and classes and shit and he would bunk off most of the time, it would really piss off his teachers because he would fly through school and get As on everything

he left just after finishing highschool, probably before rolan left, his parents didn’t even notice he was gone

he was homeless for a while after music didn’t work out but eventually made money through stocks or whatever the fuck he had going for him lmaoo

his monster is always some kind of tarantula to me, the fur or hair or whatever is the same as the animal pattern on his jacket and he has lots of reds and hot pinks all over :33

ROLAN!! -

he moved to town when he was about 5 or 6 and made friends with rand and kian (they were already friends)

he was the least book smart but he tried really hard in school, unlike the other two, and although he still skipped some classes he was definitely a teachers pet (i feel like he would just seem very trustworthy even if he had just been smoking weed with his friends behind the bleachers)

he left highschool and then stayed with rand after kian left, he didn’t really talk to him he more just stayed in galloway, after rachel died (or went missing) he stayed away from rand but he couldn’t bring himself to leave him behind

when he left he told rand he was going (this was the first proper interaction that they’d had since highschool ended) and rand got so pissed off at him

in college he was quiet but lots of people gravitated towards him, he was a sweet guy with a nice energy so he made lots of friends very fast

he did a lot of sports in highschool, i think he carried on doing some of them until he went back to galloway (probably running)

his bug arm always reminds me of a preying mantis, i think if he had gone full bug-o-mode he would have been some kind of preying mantis creature with whites blacks and blues

RAND!! -

okay so this fucking guy, this guy, this greasy freak is my favourite ever jrwi character and i will NOT be able to get all of the shit down i want to for him because there is SO. MUCH. i’m definitely gonna write this more concisely than i did the shit for the other two

okay, he was smart in highschool, the teachers all hated him so much (he was a less charismatic version of kian) he did well in exams because he actually did study out of class unlike kian BUT he was 10 times more distributive (really he was just doing anything to make his friends laugh)

spent a lot of time IN school writing the d&d campaign and a lot of time OUT of school catching up on the stuff he should’ve been doing IN school

he had a girlfriend for a time, they kissed, he didn’t like it, he realised he liked men, he realised he liked rolan, he repressed all of that and moved on, him and his girlfriend broke up (due to him not spending any time with her, ignoring her in school and spending all the time they did have together talking about rolan or kian, basically him being an overall bad boyfriend), he moves on with life, basically forgets she ever existed

all through all of this time he has also been constantly getting into arguments with his parents and trying to do everything he could to NOT be with his sister (not that he didn’t love her it’s just he didn’t want to spend every waking hour with her)

his parents liked rachel more than him, it wasn’t her fault, rachel was always the most perfect child ever, she admired rand so much she really wanted to be as cool as him (she didn’t understand much about her brother but she loved him anyway)

after rachel was kidnapped rand started to ignore kian and rolan, he started slipping behind in classes and he stopped distracting people in classes, then he stopped coming into school at all, he never graduated

he locked himself in his room during the day and spent all night looking for rachel in the bayou (miracle he didn’t get turned lmao, maybe rach was protecting him in some way) he regretted everything and he would do anything for just another minute with his sister

kian left and didn’t even say goodbye, rand thought he deserved to be ignored for being such a bad friend

it was rolan leaving that broke him, everything was falling apart, he screamed and cried and cursed at rolan as he was driving away, the last thing he said was “i love you” but rolan never heard

he didn’t leave galloway, he couldn’t leave his sister alone again

if he ever went bug-o-mode i think he would be some kind of scorpion creature, or like, idk, a cicada lmao

honestly this is just how i thought the campaign ended canonically but idk anymore: when he talked to his sister he was hallucinating (the same way as when he was talking to dead kian) and he bled out floating in the swamp looking up at the sky

OKAY THATS IT…. BUUUT i do have a shit ton of conflicting headcanons and also smaller character headcanons that i might just drop in your inbox sometimes if that’s okay with you :DD!! sorry this took like one billion years… i didn’t even get everything….

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Nana rant time because I've been putting up with some shit at work and I need to vent! (also, I'm still writing requests, I should have enough to queue up for the week once I finish this last one. And then I'll work on more for the following week. I'm trying to have a system and a schedule)

ANYWAY! So my shitty ex was finally terminated from the job that we both worked at. I was so happy, the drama was gone, I felt like I could breathe again! It was amazing! Sure, I had to work by myself three days in a row, but the actual store manager is the coolest and allows me to wear my headphones so I can just get in my zone and get shit done.

Everything is going great, and then I get this message from my work friend/work mom. Her daughter got hired. Now... Her daughter is only 17, so she isn't much help anyway, but on top of that, I've heard some shit about her daughter from her. The way she described her daughter for the past 8 months, this girl seemed like an absolute nightmare.

Queue me internally panicking because I have to work with this kid.

So she works with her mom first, and obviously her mom is going to say "she did great!" ya know, it's her kid and all, I guess she's gotta hype her up in some way. So I'm like, "okay cool, this kid works. Work mom wouldn't lie to me about that."

SO THEN SUNDAY COMES

And this kid comes over to me and says "Are you *Nana?" and me, being the cheerful, happy, super nice person that I am, I'm like "Yeah, hi! How are you?" And she just hits me with a "my mom says I'm better than you."

Like... Okay?? WTF WAS THAT SHIT?! Whatever, I'm just trying to work and not be stressed.

So, I continue trying to be nice to this girl. I buy her an energy drink because she wants one, I'm just trying to be a good person. I let her come out with me during my smoke break... And then she starts spewing some unnecessary family drama to me... Which was really awkward for me because like... I don't know this girl other than what her mother has told me, and I've heard some stories... Some fucking horror stories about this kid. So I just do the awkward smile and nod thing. I'm just trying to enjoy my cigarette before I start frying.

I get back inside after my mini smoke break that was less peaceful than I wanted it to be because this kid would not shut up. I start frying my donuts, and she just SHITS ON ME. Everything I do, she's just criticizing it to the point where I'm about to just throw down my frying sticks and walk the fuck out. Everything I did I was apparently doing it wrong, even though Sunday was only her third fucking day of working.

On top of criticizing my every move basically, she didn't do shit?? How the fuck is she gonna say that her mom said she's better than me when she didn't fucking do anything??? She's allowed to have a 30 minute break while only working 5 hours because she's a minor, but then she just takes it upon herself to take an HOUR break because she needed more time with her boyfriend I guess.

I end up working until almost 1 in the fucking morning on Sunday because the kid literally didn't do ANYTHING.

So then I got to work by myself monday, happy as hell, living the life, got out of work by 10pm because I'm just good like that. I don't need help.

But then I have to work with her on Tuesday. So I go in early. I go in THREE hours earlier than my regular schedule, because on top of being stuck with the worlds most conniving, manipulative, down-right shitty, brat, I also have to make everything that everyone else is too fucking lazy to make. I try to ignore the kid when she does come in, I already started frying, so she has donuts to decorate already and I just assume she's going to stay in her fucking lane and decorate them since she's "so good" at it. But no... She starts trying to glaze. And in the process of trying to glaze, she shits on the glaze I just made because it's "too thick". Like bitch, it's fresh! It's not watered down. IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE THICK! FUCK OFF AND GET AWAY FROM MY GLAZER!

I tell her to start decorating. She doesn't want to do that yet because the donuts are too hot. Get good, kid. If you were as good as me, you'd be burning your fingerprints off like I do and filling the fucking donuts. But no. She's a whiny little shit face who doesn't wanna fucking do anything but wants to get paid to stand around and act like she's queen shit just because her mom has been working there for 7 years.

Anywho, I take my little cool down break, which is like 7 minutes tops, just the right amount of time to smoke a ciggy and get back in before my next rack of donuts are done. AND THIS BITCH! She has the nerve to ask ME if she can take another hour break like on Sunday because that was "fun". OF COURSE IT WAS FUN! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO FUCKALL AND YOU STILL GOT PAID AND I GOT STUCK WITH THE WORK. So I told her no, that I didn't want to get in trouble for it, and I didn't want her to get in trouble (because I'm still trying to look out for her for some fuck ass reason), and THIS FUCKING BIIIITCH says "well who's gonna catch me?" ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! THERE'S CAMERAS EVERYWHERE!!! Spoiler alert : She did get caught because her ass tried to take another extended break. Eat shit, kiddo.

I was off work tonight, and her mom texts me and says "She did really good tonight, she filled the marshmallow, she came back in from her break at the right time." OF COURSE SHE DID! SHE'S NOT GONNA DO THAT SHIT IN FRONT OF HER OWN MOTHER! THAT DOESN'T CHANGE THE FACT THAT SHE'S A FUCKING BITCH WHEN SHE WORKS WITH ME! I DON'T WANNA WORK WITH HER ANYMORE!

Long story short, I'm about to lose my fucking shit and I still have to work with the worlds laziest, brattiest fucking child and I'm overworked, underappreciated, underpaid, and expected to just put up with constant bullshit by everyone. I can't find a new job fast enough.

[aviradasa]

I got you 🖤 to make this authentic I smoked a fat ass blunt just for you anyways I did the characters you requested plus a few extra and I decided to do small HC/ drabbles cause I have to many imagines atm 🤣 anyways also I added nuada from hellboy 2 cause he's pookie all the way @horny4bj-blog

Characters included:

Hellboy (2004)

Prince nuada ( hellboy 2, 2008)

Daryl (Alexandria timeline)

Sam (supernatural)

Dean (supernatural)

Castiel (supernatural

Lucifer (supernatural)

Let's get startedddd

Different characters react to you stoned/couch-logged

Hellboy:

Honestly was not surprised when he walked into him room one day to it smelling entirely of weed. Honestly he was mostly impressed because not only did it smell. But when the door opened all that came out was smoke.

Like damn.

When he went to venture further he was also not surprised when he saw you sprawled out on the couch with like 6 cats laying on you.

You didnt register him calling your name until he threw a candybar at your face

This is pretty much how it went

“Hey???” “…” “Hellooo??” “…” “Hey!” “Ow fuck what do you want.” you say as you open the candy bar and take a bite

Honestly he doesn't really care but he expects you to share you weed with him. If you don't he will lowkey just take it without asking and deal with you later. (no he won't pay you back hes always magically broke when you ask him to 😒)

As for you being on the couch he tells you to move over. If you don't he moves you himself.

He finds it funny to mess with you when you get to the point when you think everything is in slow motion And your basically not registering anything the way your supposed to

Like one time yall played Uno. And you were at the point you couldn't even read the cards and you were slumped over leaning on the back of the couch like a corpse thinkin the number 6 was the funniest shit on earth

And what did he do.convinced you to give him your cards so he could read them to you.in your state you agreed. That prick (this is based off a true story i have a lot of these adafia if you see this. Fuck you I should have one that game 🖕)

Yeah naw i dont have much for him he's just an asshole who also smokes so he don't really care yall end up watching a lot of movies though.

Nuada:

Now he's interesting with this idea lmao

He's confused as fuck cause he don't really do shit that could alter his mind, he want to stay sharp and ready for anything (boring fuckaaaa)

He at first acts like a disappointed mother

“ now why would you go and do this to yourself knowing what we have to do.” “because I'm a whole ass adult and it makes it more fun.” “that's besides the point (name)” part of a real argument yall had at one point

Yeah like don't get me wrong he doesn't hate weed he just thinks it makes you act dumb

He's lowkey right though

But anyways back to the prompt. When he walks in and your just spaces out in your bed he just shakes his head and goes to do what he needs to do.

If you are logged somewhere is his way this man with nudge/kick you with his foot until you move and if you don't he will just use his foot to roll you out of the way.

He acts like he doesn't care and to be frank he doesn't have the energy to put into caring about something so dumb so he leaves you alone.

But then there was the one time that he accidentally ate an edible.

He took that shit like a champ though and was able to function decently, but for the most part he was just chillin just silently staring off into space

He says he would never do that again. But you decide not to say anything when you notice some of your edibles missing.

Bro thinks he's slick 🤣🤣

Sam:

Ok gonna be honest his brother is dean. Need I say more

He knows what to do he pulls up with the munchies and some red box movie

If your slumped on the couch this man will sit on the floor

Y'all can talk for hours even if he is sober

Or you pass out from him typing on the computer cause I mean that sound is just relaxing.

Honestly don't have much for him he's just a chill guy

Dean:

He don't walk in

He's slumped with you on the other side of the couch

He eats all the damn munchies

He refuses to watch anything besides old Scooby doo reruns.

(he has a crush on the hex girls)

He's literally just a grown up child when he's high (not much different then normal)

Yall are laughing high people

The jokes are hilarious

Cass

He walks in and sees you on the couch looking half dead and he's confused

Like really confused

“Are you ok?” “huh?” are you ok??” “HUH??” “nevermind.”

He doesn't know what to do so he does nothing 😭😭

If you ask he will get you snacks

He's kinda hard to talk to so if you are laughing its at him not knowing anything

(these are getting short cause of my beautiful bong so its not my fault blame daisy that's my bongs name.)

Lucifer:

Ok let be honest here

He's lucifer he's hilarious

If you wanna feel like your gonna suffocate from laughing then he's your guy

He doesn't even try to be funny he just says out of pocket shit.

All the time

I haven't seen much of his character yet but he's already a favorite

I don't think he would light up with you unless you peer pressure him

Yes you have to peer pressurethe damn devil to smoke the devils lettuce with you.

If yall do he just spaces in and out while your on your phone on that couch unmoving

But during this spacing in and out he just says weird shit

I dare you to show him the dark crystal afterwords tho just trust me.

Daryl:

This man could not give less of a fuck

He's used to seeing people on all sorts of shit so some weed don't scare him

He just goes about his day

He will sit and chat with you

He's a horrible high sitter tho

If you get to high he's your worst nightmare

Will throw fake spiders and shit at you knowing your on that couch to see you jump

He's lowkey funny tho 🤣

He might smoke with you once in awhile

It's rare tho he's more of a drinker

Anyways that's all for today hope you enjoyed dis shitz

Edit: sorry I sounded like a fuckin idiot here also sorry I forgot Crowley and carol 😭😭 I wrote for nuada took a break forgot it was nuada and gaslit myself into thinking I wrote for Crowley 🤣🤣

didnt mean to but its really late and I'm to lazy to write for them rn so I hope you enjoy what I got down please forgive me🖤🖤 also sorry nuadas there you didnt ask for him I was just living it up with daisy at that moment.

[recordsfm]

╰   ☆  ◞ milo manheim / cis man / he/him  ———  no way is that dallon markham? you know they’re TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD and they’ve been in los angeles for THREE YEARS. they’re chillin’ as the OWNER of BLAZED. oh and they’re notoriously known for being CLOSED OFF but there are some people who have seen them be LOYAL. i heard they’re a part of a BAND called THE WALLETS, yeah they’re a VOCALIST/GUITARIST/BASSIST to be honest they sound a lot like WALLOWS. they’re actually RISING STAR.

PART ONE: STATISTICS. 

basic information:

FULL NAME: Dallon Fable Markham

NICKNAME(S): Dally boy

AGE: 26

DATE OF BIRTH: September 28th 1997

PLACE OF BIRTH: Chicago, Illinois

GENDER: cis man

PRONOUNS: he/him

ORIENTATION: hetrosexual

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English, some Spanish,

NEIGHBOURHOOD: Riviera Beach

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: Seaside oasis apartments

family ties:

MOTHER: Angela Anderson Bertuzzi

GRANDMOTHER: Abigail Anderson

FATHER: Brandon Markham Carmen Bertuzzi

SIBLINGS: Violet Bertuzzi, Michaela Bertuzzi (12)

SPOUSE / PARTNER: none

CHILDREN: none

PETS: none

occupational information:

OCCUPATION: Owner/chef at blazed

POSITION: Chef

SKILLSET OR SPECIALISATION:  Cooking, heat tolerance,

NAME OF THEIR ACT: Wallets

SO THEY PLAY INSTRUMENTS? IF SO WHAT?: Guitar and bass

HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN A PART OF THE ACT?: 10 years

ARTIST INFLUENCES: The wombats, the 1975, twenty one pilots

CURRENT MONTHLY SPOTIFY/APPLE MUSIC LISTENS ON AVERAGE: 510.2 K

personality:

WESTERN ZODIAC: Libra

CHINESE ZODIAC: Ox

POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, hard working, comical

NEGATIVE TRAITS: closed off, Independent, stubborn

HOBBIES: Smoking weed, playing around with his guitar, cooking, surfing, having sex

AESTHETICS: fading hickies, empty bottles of jack, grease stained aprons

PART TWO: QUESTIONNAIRE. 

IF YOUR MUSE IS A MUSICIAN:

start at the beginning, who are you and why are you important?

"Uh yeah, my name is Dallon Markham. I play the bass and sing for a band called The Wallets."

how long have you been making music?

"Oh Jesus, uh...", Dallon trailed off as he scratched his beard, trying to do math while currently stoned out of his mind. Fuck. Why did they wanna interview us all separately? What was I doing again? Or right. "Since I was like 18. That's when we really started to do the band seriously. But I was in music lessons ever since I was a kid."

how would you describe the kind of music you make?

"It's pretty much just three kids fucking around with their instruments really."

who are some of your biggest musical influences?

"Definitely Cartel, Peach pit, Jimmy Eat World, and Finch."

what is the first record you ever bought?

"Oh god. My step dad got me take off your pants and jacket, by Blink-182 for my 5th birthday, when he was still just dating my mom. We always were listening to The Rock Show"

what has working in the music industry meant to you thus far in your career?

"As bad as this is gonna sound, it's not really a career to me... It's just a hobby. Something that I do because it's fun and I love it. A career to me is a legacy, and for me, I hope that's my food and culinary career."

what are some stand out moments from your career so far?

"Well touring was pretty cool. But that didn't last very long at all."

how would you describe your style of performance? what makes your shows worth seeing?

There was a grimace that spread across the man's lips, quickly erasing his smile. In that moment, he really wished that Ash was there. Or hell his aunt. Anyone who could feed him lines. "I think we have a good energy", the man thought on his feet. "I try and interact with the crowd as much as possible, and I know Ash does too."

what are you still hoping to achieve in your career?

"Honestly, I'm not wanting much more from my music career. Wallets was something I just did with my cousin. It's fun and all, but it's not my passion anymore." I just use being in a band to get laid really, the man silently added. Knowing more then enough not to let that thought slip past his lips.

what’s next for you?

"Uh well", Dallon paused to think. "My main goal right now is to actually focus on my business. About six months ago I officially opened a food truck called Blazed. We're the only food truck in LA that currently sells cannabis infused food. But we sell regular food too, because there is such thing as too many edibles."

PART TWO: BACKGROUND:

will be added

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-Seven

Just letting you guys know that in the next 2 chapters this part of the story will be wrapped up and I'll be starting on the second volume and will be adjusting the masterlist as well for it. Thank you so much for the first 100 chapters being so fun to write. I started this 3 years ago and it's been crazy how supportive and kind you've all been to me and I hope to have done the same for you. Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Words: 3.4k

Warning(s): Explicit language

Tag list: @squiddtheekidd @unknownoblivion @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19  @oskea93  @mgkobsessed  @sharon6713  @itsametaphorbriansblog  @miriampraez  @allie-mcginn  @rebeccaphillips14  @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie  @emariehorror  @floregrohlssard  @oldschoolimagineblog  @abaldboi  @liith-ium  @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels  @ytwahsog  @scarecrowmax  @random-internet-user-4471  @solohqrry  @sparxx27  @kaitieskidmore1  @cruecifymesixx       @gingerspicetalks @fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @m-1234 @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @viinceneil @heavymetalgirl420 @gabriellasmind @breakfastonpluto19 @thechangingme

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

The tip of my heel taps against the pavement, a flury of cigarette smoke ghosting over my face as Izzy takes one last drag of it and puts it out, raising his brows when I speak into the payphone and say, "I think you're overreacting, Tommy." 

"Uh, no, don't think I am, Viv." He replies. "He's a grade-A pain in the ass now because absolutely everything has to be perfect. And if it isn't, guess whose fault it is? Not his." 

"He's Nikki, he's always been nit picky."

"I could handle him being like that when he wasn't sober – or when we weren't sober so it didn't really bother me all that much – but now it's like the second I even tap the fuckin' drum he's blaring in his little microphone about something he's found wrong with what I'm doing." He explains.

A frown pulls at my lips, hearing how fed up he is despite the fact they haven't even been working on much aside from trying to get the energy back that was once there when they had first started.

"If he's like this and we haven't even started on the album, just imagine what he's gonna be like when we do start on the album. I'm gonna kill him." He points out.

"I don't even wanna think about it, right now, Tommy." I groan, rubbing at my forehead while he lets out a breath. 

"Well, I'm about to have to go. Heather's gonna be in tonight." He informs me, sounding like an excited little kid.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, I've been trying to find a way to ask her when we can start making some babies." He adds and I wrinkle my nose.

"Ew, Tommy, I don't wanna know about that."

"I have seen you getting fucked on the hood of a car, Viv, and you draw the line at me telling you I want to have little Tommy and Heather's running around?" 

My face heats up at the memory he's recalling and I'm resisting the embarrassed urge to bang the phone against the hook.

"You're basically telling me you're gonna have a talk with your wife about her letting you creampie her." I shove any discomfort for the conversation aside and I can practically hear him cringe hearing me say such a thing.

"Don't say stuff like that." He says.

"What? Creampie?" 

Izzy's looking at me funny, raising his brow, an uncomfortable look on his face at the fact I'm saying it as Tommy shouts, "Viv, stop, it's like my mom saying that or something." 

"Sorry…" I reply, waiting a moment before adding, "...I had to get creampied to make my ba–"

" – Vivian, stop!" Tommy yells as Izzy lets out a loud, "ugh," covering his ears. 

"Okay, okay, I'm done." I promise, laughing. "I hope you have a good night with Heather." I add.

"Thanks, I hope you have a good night with Izzy." 

"Ha! He'll probably be conscious for another hour before he crawls off somewhere to pass out in a cross-faded stupor." I look at Izzy as I speak and he casually holds up the middle finger of his left hand. "Stay sober, alright." I say to Tommy next. 

"I am, don't worry – I'm also keeping the guys on the wagon, too." He adds.

"Thank you." I look at Izzy, who taps on his watch. "Alright, Tommy, I gotta go. I love you, tell the guys I love them, too, and I'll see you when you get back home."

"I love you, Viv, and I will. G'night." 

"Night."

We hang up and I look at Izzy.

"I stayed my thirty minutes, I'm going home." I state to him, referring to the dinner I'm about to leave that consists of him, Axl, Tansy, Duff, and Tom Zutaut.

"What? C'mon, you haven't even gotten your food yet." He states, his face scrunching up. 

"Izzy, I'm really tired. I just wanna go home and go to bed."

"You always wanna go home and go to bed." He says. 

"Well, what's so wrong with that? I'm carrying a kid. I wear out easier now than I did before. And at least I came, that’s more than Slash can say right now.” I remind him of Slash informing us he’d had a nasty stomach bug, before I’m leaning against the phone. 

"It doesn't have anything to do with you being knocked up, Sixx, and you know it." 

His words bring a heavy breath from me and I take the cigarette from his lips and toss onto the ground, stepping at it to put it out. 

"Tell me what you think is wrong, Izzy, since you know so much." I smartly tell him, raising my brows. 

"I think you're depressed again." He says to me. "And you won't talk to anyone about it because you don't want Duff to be worried and you don't want Nikki to be overprotective like he's been in the past about it." He continues. "And I also think you need to get back with Eddie about what he called you about."

"I still have to think about all that."

He had called me to see if I would be interested in meeting and hanging out with his wife, Valerie, because she and I were going through very similar situations – only I had gotten pregnant from mine – and she had been voicing how she wished the two of us could talk, but she never reached out herself out of fear that I'd judge her for stepping out on Eddie first. Of course I wouldn't, but – like me – she didn't want to risk scaring off potential new friends with her mistakes that left her isolated.

"What's there to think about? You just get pizza or something and chill out at your house or her's and do girl things like talk and shit." He shrugs.

"I haven't talked to anybody aside from my existing friends about this whole situation, Izzy."

"Well, she cheated, too, and Eddie cheated, too, so it's no different than your whole clusterfuck with Nikki. Except neither of them got caught publicly." 

“Shh! That is super secret information and you cannot tell a soul.” I say, glancing around to see if anyone has heard us, but no one is around. 

“I’m not, I’m just saying.”

I think about it for a moment. 

"I guess you're right…it can't do any harm."

"Yeah, neither can finishing your dinner." He points out.

I realize that this is a losing fight, the expression on his face telling me that he's not going to back down from the argument. 

"Fine, Stradlin, c'mon." I roll my eyes, shoving aside my exhaustion from socializing so much thus far, and we head back into the restaurant. 

"There she is!" Duff tipsily exclaims when he sees me, earing an abrupt, "Shh," from Tom as he tries to keep him quiet in the peaceful atmosphere we're in at the moment. 

"Oops, sorry." Duff whispers to him as I sit back down between Duff and Axl, Izzy taking his place across from me between Tansy and Tom.

"Okay, this," I grab at Duff's glass of wine, scooting it on the other side of me so he can't reach it, "Has got to go." 

"Viv – "

" – The baby wants it to go." I interrupt Duff and he looks at me, blinking.

"How do you know?"

"He told me." I reply, sipping my water before handing the rest of it to Duff. 

He doesn't argue, taking the glass of water from me to finish it off. 

"Speaking of baby, Viv, I really wanna throw a baby shower." Tansy starts, moving a curl of a blonde hair from her eyes. 

"I don't want a shower, Tans, I've told you." I decline her offer politely. 

"How the hell else are you gonna get things the little tike will need, huh?" Axl asks me, and I look at him.

"I can get it, Duff can get it, Nikki can get it…I don't wanna leech off my friends to provide things for my kid."

"It's not leeching, Viv." Tansy argues, raising her brows. "They're gifts. Friends giving you gifts does not equal leeching."

"I don't want a shower. I've already told you and Sharise that and if you try to surprise me with one I'm not gonna be happy about it." I bluntly declare. "I've had enough surprises the past year to last me a freaking eternity." 

She doesn't say anything else about it, drinking her iced tea while she and Axl have a silent conversation. 

"How's Sixx?" Tom changes the subject, and I push my food around my plate and let out a breath.

"Tommy said they're doing good. Apparently Nikki's just being a perfectionist." I reply, looking to Axl. 

"Maybe you can give him lessons on how not to be a douchebag when getting his vision across to his band – I mean, you know, whenever you learn how to yourself."  I say to him, and his eyes cut at me. 

"I wish you knew just how badly I wanted you to stay home tonight." He replies in an aggravating tone and I elbow him, causing him to try to elbow me back but I arch away from him, letting out a laugh and a, "I'm pregnant, you can't," to which he playfully shoves at my bare shoulder blade.

"So, what all are you guys about to have to do since you're big stars, now." I ask, swatting at Axl's hand when he attempts to put his finger in my ear. 

It was the point of the whole dinner, a celebration of the fact that Guns N' Roses had broken the MTV switchboard during their shitty time slot for their music video for Welcome to The Jungle to air on the network. Too many calls had come in at one time to request the video be played again and the spark from each call had overloaded and caught the actual switchboard on fire. MTV immediately decided to air the video as often as they could, and by that point everyone in North America knew exactly who Guns N. Roses were.

"Shit ton a press." Duff tells me. 

"We'll try to be nice this time and maybe not get someone else beat up over something stupid." Steven adds, and I furrow my brows.

"What?"

"You know the whole thing that happened." Stevie tells me as if I know what he's talking about. 

"What whole thing?"

"Steve, dude, no." Axl shakes his head and Steve deliberatly looks him in the eyes and keeps talking. 

"When Slash said something to Hit Parader about Poison last year and they got – "

He's interrupted by Tom loudly clearing his throat in an obvious move to get him to shut up while Izzy rubs his forehead as if he's stressed and Duff sighs out, closing his eyes, bracing for impact.

Steve stops speaking before he can go on any more, as if realizing something.

"What happened?" I furrow my brows.

They all stay quiet, even Tansy has her head down to keep from looking me in the eyes.

"Nothing." Tom bullshits me.

"Steven," I say, raising my brows. "What happened?"

"It was stupid and it's been handled already, alright, Viv? Just drop it." Axl interjects.

"Duff?" I ignore him, looking at the father of my child, and he rubs his eyes, moving his blonde hair from his face as he starts, "Last year a reporter from Hit Parader was grilling Slash and he said that Poison's a bunch of posers or some stupid shit like that. He didn't mean anything by it, really." 

"Okay, so…?" I know there's more to it from the way they all acted at the risk of Steven telling me, and he pushes out a breath.

"Okay, so…Bobby saw Geffen's publicist at a party and was being a prick to her about what Slash said about him and the guys and she asked him why he was so worried about us when we've only sold, like, 200,000 records and they'd sold over two million and he flipped his shit and poured his drink on her and Bret got involved and was a dick to her, too, and it was this whole thing. But it's over now so just leave it alone." 

The more he spoke, the further into the story he got, the angrier I became. It's a wonder Monroe didn't cook in the womb from how hot my blood got, but even then I tried to keep my composure, deciding that my temper and habit of blowing things out of proportion and resorting to violence first thing instead of trying to handle it in a healthy manner, was the reason no one had told me about the debacle when it had first occurred because they knew how I would react. So, despite the fact I already knew how I was going to handle the situation in my own way – even though it had nearly happened a year prior – I eased everyone's minds at the table by simply saying…

"Okay." I keep my cool, all of them glancing at one another as if they were expecting me to blow up. 

"That's it?" Tom asks me.

"What? If it's settled then it's settled, there's no use in me getting angry about it or the fact that none of you told me this when it happened, but it's alright." I assure them. 

"Hmm…" Tom nods. "Therapy really did you some good, Viv." He nods.

"Mhmm." I reply with a soft, closed mouth smile, hoping the don't notice my shaking, balled up fists under the table. 

The next week is filled with trying to finish up the nursery with things already bought, my dad surprising me with a changing table and a crib while my mother continued to pretend I wasn't in existence…not only did I marry Satan in her eyes, but I also stepped out of my marriage to Satan with another Satan and had created a Satan 2.0 spawn from it. 

G'NR were plastered everywhere, record sales skyrocketing, and with that influx of brand new and rekindled attention, so came the more ballsy articles about Duff knocking me up. He'd barely get through an interview without someone bringing it up, asking how I was doing, and how Nikki was doing, as if we were some fucked up throuple. He'd take it all on the chin, though, not taking it to heart because he knew it wouldn't do any good – offering up a, "they're great, things are great, let's keep it on the music," each time. 

Nikki and the guys were working on a new song for a Tom Cruise movie, the main subject of Tommy's random phone calls throughout the day, but I also think he'd call just for the hell of it without their being something major in the works. We'd been slowly but surely working through our rocky past year and trying to repair our friendship that was once unbreakable but had been wrecked. He worried about me being by myself, as did Nikki, Duff, Dad, everyone, especially the closer I got to my due date. 

But I liked living by myself for the most part. It was the first time I had lived by myself, ever, and although it was hard to adjust to but it was a step in the right direction of getting some independence. 

Nikki moved into an apartment for the time being and had found a roommate in Faster Pussycat band member Eric Stacey, while Duff and Mandy had gotten a house down the street from me so Duff could see the baby as much as he wanted when he was home. 

However, I finally took up the offer to hangout with Valerie.

"...Are you sure it's a good idea to be here, Vivian? You are very pregnant." Her smooth, chipper voice pulls at my best interest, my head turning so I can look at her before I'm putting my corvette in park on the grass of the large house.

"We're not staying for long." I assure Valerie. "Matter of fact, you probably don't even have to come in. It'll be a quick in and out." I add, Tansy and Sharise pulling into the empty spot next to me. 

"That's a freaking lion's den of drunk morons, I'm not letting you go in there by yourself." She shakes her head, checking her makeup in the rearview mirror before the two of us get out of the car.

"What do you have to do here again, Viv?" Tansy asks when we meet her and Sharise.

"You guys are gonna stay close to the door while I go talk to somebody." I vaguely state as we walk up to the door. "Also, Sharise, this is Valerie. Valerie, this is Sharise Neil." I introduce them. "And I'm sure you've already met Tansy."

"Yes, I remember." She recalls with a nod as Sharise and her extend their hands to one another at the same time. 

"It's nice to meet you." They say simultaneously. 

"Can we get some food after this, Viv, I'm starving." Sharise asks when I ring the doorbell, loud music already escaping the house through opened windows, the yard scattered with various cars and the door swings open to reveal Robbin. 

"Sixx!" He shouts, throwing his arms up. 

"Robbin!" I do the same, giggling as he kisses the top of my stomach before kissing my cheek, pulling me under his arm for a hug, glancing at the ladies with me, his eyes catch on Tansy and he says, "How's it goin', Tans?"

"It's good." She says back, any inkling of flirtation being stripped from her voice as she addresses him, a stark change from when they had first met – surely for the fact that Axl didn't exist to her back then, yet – and she's not taking too long to look at him before she's averting her gaze. 

He gives an odd look at Valerie, as if he knows who she is but doesn't know what the hell she's doing here with me.

"What're you doin' here?" He asks, looking down at me and I wipe the remainder of white residue from his nose.

"I gotta talk to Bret and Bobby for Nikki." I lie. "Are you gonna let us in, or what?"

"Does anyone know you're here?" He asks us, and by "anyone" we know he means our husbands and we glance at each other, silently answering his question and he lets out a heavy breath. "If they find out, I wasn't the one who let you guys in. Understood?"

"Got it." We all say with a nod and he steps aside and lets us in to the madhouse, letting me go from him.

“Hey, they should be in the front living room.” He adds, referring to the men I’m looking for. 

Smoke saturates the air in a fog, red solo cups litter any flat surface as well as ashtrays, various drugs, and liquor bottles.

"You can wait outside, Tansy!" I tell her over the loud music, seeing the way her blue eyes linger on a bindle of coke tossed onto the coffee table and she looks at me and shakes her head. 

"I'm good!" She assures me. "I do have to pee, though!" She adds.

"I'll go with you!" Valerie insists, and the two of them interlock hands and disappear to find a bathroom while Sharise and I look around.

"Why do you need to talk them, again?!” Sharise asks me. 

"Don't worry about it!" I say back to her before we’re heading to the front living room, and I stop as we get to the doorway of it. "Hey, can you grab me some water?" I ask her, next, and she furrows her brows. 

"Right now?"

"Yeah." I nod.

"Okay, gimme a second." She turns on her high heels and heads to find the kitchen, giving me a window of opportunity to approach the couch facing the window, blonde and brunette hair on the back of their heads as I pluck two stray  bottles of Jack, halfway full. 

The eyes of their hangers-on that are facing me lookup over them just in time to see me pour the drinks over their hair, making sure it's far enough up that it cascades down their faces, hopefully getting into their eyes. 

Upon instinct they scramble up, shouting profanities, ready to fight as they wipe at their eyes and see me. 

This seems to make Bobby more pissed off.

[gyroshrike]

Gamzee for the ask game? (I think I can guess the otp :) )

For the “Send me a character and I’ll tell you…” ask game

Oh ho ho ho, yesss, one of my boys, thank you.

My NOTP for them - I... Do I have any Gamzee notps? None of the general ships you see around really get to me all that much?

This is gonna sound weird, but I'm so picky about end game gamtav that it ALMOST creeps into notp territory. It's really, really hard for me to enjoy endgame/Earth C gamtav unless it's very specifically done. It's so hard for me to see a future for Gamzee at the end of Act 7. They're at such points in their lives that I absolutely would NOT want to see them in relationship immediately at the end of canon. There would need to be countless amounts of emotional progress, growth, and/or redemption on their own terms first, THEN they can get together :3

Not a notp, but I am pretty strictly pale gamkar. Not a flushed gamkar person, but I still find it cute so shrug???

My BROTP for them - GAMZEE AND TEREZI. TEREZI AND GAMZEE AND TEREZIIIIIIII. THAT BADASS SUBJUG AND LEGISLACERATOR COMBOOOOO. DEADLY. DON'T FUCK WITH THEM. FUCK YOU HUSSIE THEY'RE QUAD CORNERS AND WOULD KILL FOR EACH OTHER.

Actually, also really like Gamzee and Cirava getting to just hang out and smoke together. That's all I want.

My OTP for them - pfft. Psssh. Pft. Uhhhh, like I even need to say this one. I can survive off the dew of a single ginko leaf, the energy of the universe, and pbj sandwiches. (Link is to my 3k+ word rant on why gamtav is my absolute otp of otp’s. I would absolutely kill for them.)

My second choice pairing for them - Pale gamkar all the way. Love me some opposite moirails. I realized recently why I think Gamzee is so good for Karkat.With almost anyone else Karkat talks with, Karkat gets push back in some way, and I’m not saying that’s a bad thing! Or that it’s bad for Karkat! I was just thinking about that one chance Gamzee got to calm Karkat down post murderstuck and it was Karkat literally just so ready to fight and Gamzee is just “nah man :o( just maybe thinking you should try to calm down a little” and Karkat just seemed... so floored? By the lack of fight? And he’s basically just, “OH. RIGHT. OKAY. YEAH, YOU’RE MY MOIRAIL. YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO CALM ME DOWN. OKAY. I’M CALMING DOWN.”

And it just made me think of Karkat not knowing how to deal with Gamzee’s lack of pushback so he just... runs out of steam? Because he has no conflict to cycle off of? And idk it just makes my heart soft...

And speaking of opposite moirails, Karkat is just the HIGHEST strung motherfucker while Gamzee can be THE most pliable pile of soft goo. They balance each other :’D

My fluffy pairing for them - Not a romantic ship, but I adore a familial relationship between Gamzee and Calliope and Caliborn. Either with him just really caring about them as babies or AU's where he can be more of a dad to them (CALLIOPE SEEING GAMZEE AS A DAD POST CANON FUCKS ME UP DON'T TOUCH MEEE I'M IN THE THROES OF EMOTION.) Or humanstuck AU's where he's actually their dad, older brother, or adopts them ugh they get me. Dads who don't know what they're doing, all they know is they care a lot and trying their best? So good.

OH AND I GO STARK RAVING MAD FOR PARENT/CHILD DYNAMIC KARAKO AND GAMZEE. OLDER TEEN/YOUNG ADULT KARAKO TAKING IN TINY BABY GAMZEE??? AHHHHHHHHHHH???????

My angsty pairing for them - This is just copy pasted from my Terezi ask:

 If I don't fully indulge with bffs Gamzee and Terezi in an AU, then I love me some ashen Gamzee♣️Rose♣️Terezi when it comes to more canon compliant material. With how upset over his qudrants Gamzee was in openbound? Plus it being post murderstuck? PLUS Rose having to deal with some of the most difficult trolls? I feel like there's a whole slew of really delicious angst just waiting there. A Gamzee afraid of losing Karkat, a Terezi lost in her guilt over killing Vriska, and both tearing into each other in some ugly, misdirected pitch flirting, Rose would absolutely have her hands full and probably get a kick out of it. I also love the idea of Rose just seeing it as a fun social learning experience "oooh troll quadrants and getting to play therapist" type thing, but then she really starts to understand the depth of the bonds ashen relationships have and she really comes to care so much for both of them.

Honorable mention to pitch Aradia♠️Gamzee with Gamzee being full on servant of Lord English and Aradia trying to be the keeper of time and the two of them meeting and clashing over and over throughout time and space as two opposing forces.

My favorite poly ship for them - Oooh, ho ho ho, love me some Gam♥️Equius♥️/♠️Tavros. Gamzee adores Equius so much tbh. Gamzee was just a huge sweetheart to Equius pre-game and just loved talking to him. Equius seemed pretty pitch (and I love Gamzee♠️Equius) towards him, but I think I like the idea of Equius letting himself be loved and recieve soft red affection from Gamzee is so cute.

I have a lot more thoughts about them, but it mostly focuses on Tavros and Equius’ dynamic, so I’ll save it for my Tavros ask.

My weirdest pairing for them - Probably the weirdest I've got for Gamzee is him pailing his auspistice, Arsast Aporia, a fantroll from Miracle Child. I call it "The Naughty Auspistice" series. It really all started while talking about the idea of Gamzee and Arsast kissing in a hypothetical game of truth or dare and then they realize, "Uh oh, they kind liked it," then Arsast gets the funky idea to distract Gamzee's desire to pail Sephar (the other ashmate), by pailing Gamzee himself. It's just... I've explored 'rails with pails before, but this is this the first time considering clubs who pail (there's probably a more clever term for it out there). It's just some silly thing I've come to really enjoy eheheh, especially with the social inappropriateness of it and them kind of needing to sneak around to do it.

[palpipeen]

Clone HCs: Hardcase

If you're under the age of 18 dni, this isn't spicy or anything but just like. Don't talk to me if you are a child.

I'm just gonna spew garbage about my fav ADHD coded clone for a minute

So I think that even if the clones probably have some genetic tweaking that makes them tougher/heal faster than normal human beings, there's still basic wear and tear on parts of the body, and Hardcase is not exception to that. So personal HCs (which are also in a fanfic I'm working on) about his physical state

He's had surgery on both his shoulders due to the strain of using heavy weaponry like his Z6. My dad used to lug around a 30+ pound camera on his shoulders/in his hands frequently, it's a pretty common thing for some of the ligaments/joints in their shoulders to get fucked up. Scars on his shoulders are fairly small and he still has problems from time to time

Also some canon source somewhere states he's been in the med ward more than any other clone in Kix's records - there's bound to be body parts that got blown off or are missing. (Personal HC: one of his legs from the knee down is a prosthetic, he just rarely takes his armor off so it's not obvious.)

I think honestly that Hardcase and other heavy-gunners would probably have a lot of chronic pain - some deal with it with basic pain killers (which leads to a lot of health issues when it inevitably becomes an addiction) and others deal with it by...imbibing.

I didn't decide Hardcase would smoke that gud kush, the fandom did and I just adopted the idea

His tattoos cover about 80% of his body, and he's very proud of them

We all know the clone troopers are strong, but I think he's got to be a bit more bc he might be a bit of a gym rat - gotta keep in tip-top shape to lug around the big guns and explosives. Also to get some of that excess energy out of his system. So he's got a bit of extra bulk and the calories he has to consume in order to maintain a healthy body gives him a slightly different build. Very much a 'functionally fit' guy with a bit extra (and stretchmarks, oooooo)

[virgil-says-things]

I don't understand why Veronica is upset when she already knows about Kevin's wife - I mean. 'u should've seen his face when he saw her' the implications do make sense there but the rest of it?

love Veronica saying the house is quiet and Fiona immediately yelling to wake everyone else up for breakfast

is Frank drinking an egg. that is vile. ew. I'm imagining that. ew!!

Sheila gave Frank money and he is so not gonna use it for the doctors appointment Hymie needs to go to idk if he even took the address from Sheila

'Kevy-caf' brb while I throw up what the hell.

employee snapped and quit so Fiona immediately takes the job opportunity and I think I should have that kind of energy in my life tbh - also they get everything for free which is cool

the manager. does the manager want to fuck Fiona? sir she. she's ur employee now??

what the fuck?? Frank. injected Hymie with. a drink??? I can't remember what he ordered but what the fuck!! see I knew he wouldn't take Hymie to the doctors can people stop trusting him now

'I'm calling the police and reporting child abuse' pls do Kate.

of course Frank thinks vaccines cause autism

Lip, Carl and Ian are going pedophile hunting as they should tbh

Frank none of ur children r dying quit manipulating people

hold up why'd they go grab Terry of all people to go beat up this child rapist is it not implied that he rapes Mandy?? or am I misunderstanding

Mickey <33

the way they all hesitated when child rapist turned out to be female

Ian thinking Kash did nothing wrong hurts every single time I see this scene 'I was 15 I was old enough to make my own decisions' 😭

what the fuck Frank is tricking Carl into thinking he has cancer

he's shaving Carl's hair and the hair is falling onto Hymie for fucks sake Frank!!! choking hazard!!

Lip walked in and Frank said he's shaving Carl's head because of lice. oh my god.

'make sure u wash ur sheets too' (Lip) 'I look like a woman?' (Frank) shut up Frank

'the cancer makes u a man' Carl please. u don't have cancer and u shouldn't keep this whole thing a secret. 'and as a man, it's ur job to keep secrets from the women who love u' Frank!!!

Lip's trying to prove that Blake (convicted child rapist) is actually a child rapist because when all of them went over there she claimed she didn't screw the kid just loved him and it's so awkward to watch

Ian's upset over Mickey fucking Angie. and Mickey doesn't seem to realise or care. ouch!

'you tried to run me over with ur car' (Kevin) and she starts laughing?? 'it was the pregnancy hormones' (Kevin's ex wife - Cheryl) what the fuck.

she's had a kid for 12 years and only just told Kevin about him and that he might be Kevin's

BLAKE IS KISSING LIP. OH MY GOD. EW. does this mean this whole thing is over now?? I really fucking hope it does I hate it I hate it all so much

this kid is 12 why is he smoking actually ignore me his mother is Cheryl

Veronica just found out about Cheryl's kid maybe being Kevin's.

'he doesn't have a year!' (Frank) now Carl thinks he's gonna be dead in less than a year!! I want this whole thing to be over too

Estefania ignoring Jimmy even though he's saying no to sex over and over. what the fuck

Ian is somewhere with Ned I can't remember where and Mickey's watching from across the street 😭

Veronica and Fiona are talking about their whole situation in the kitchen and Veronica said she doesn't wanna make Kevin pick her over his wife and kid so she's basically admitting defeat and Fiona responded with 'screw that' and stormed out of the house 😭

Fiona grabbing the drink out of Kevin's hand and just. dropping it onto the floor. and it shatters. and then she just. absolutely goes off. iconic tbh.

Ned referred to Mickey as Ian's boyfriend and Mickey laughed, said 'the fuck u call me?' and started beating Ned up. that. I forget he's actually homophobic during the earlier seasons.

Ian punching Mickey to get him off of Ned and then going to check up on Ned and everyone around them going to call the police yet Mickey doesn't run until Ian runs with him <3

them playfighting and giggling sm as they just. ness around. watch me sob they both sounded so happy

btw Lip ended up being fucked by Blake (if that's her name) and then after the scene with Ian and Mickey I just mentioned it cuts to Lip trying the same sex tactic with Mandy and Mandy wants to be the one doing it after a little bit and finds out Lip's not even hard and somehow finds out Lip basically cheated (idk where the correlation came from I know nothing about sex but she knows now because Lip did admit it by trying to justify it)

Kevin coming into the house and reassuring Veronica that he's not gonna leave her for Cheryl and Veronica starts sobbing and Fiona starts crying with her I love their friendship sm. Cheryl comes in and they both start laughing instead KSNDMFBDN

oh shit?? Kyle isn't even Cheryl's?? Kyle is Cheryl's sisters kid. so Kevin isn't the father. meaning this whole thing WAS a tactic to try to get Kevin back.

Veronica immediately getting up and beating the shit out of Cheryl (they're both fighting now) and Fiona cheering Veronica on <33

Veronica shoving Cheryl onto the sofa and sitting on holding one of her arms behind her back and yelling at her to sign the divorce papers and Kevin just quietly going 'if u could initial there too..' 😭

Kyle and Debbie's awkward child romance is lowkey so cute

Mandy going over to Blake's house while getting two of her brothers (not Mickey idk what the other two r called. Iggy and Colin??) to dig her grave 😭 love that tbh. telling her to move tonight or she'll be in the grave. 'tick tock. kid fucker.'

Fiona starting to cry while she and Jimmy are kissing and Jimmy putting away and going 'hey..hey, hey, hey..' he sounds so GENTLE oh my GOD I need him to communicate what's going on. I need this relationship to work out even though I already know it won't. 'I trust u' FIONA. PLEASE. I'm gonna sob. 'that's bigger to me than I love u. it's a bigger deal. I trust u.' FUCK.

Blake moved out so who'd they put in the grave they dug 😭

[nah-fr]

a night at ÑBA LEATHER/how i became a boldy believer [an article]

On a breezy afternoon at 4 PM young fans waited in line for the third installment held in San Francisco of what was about to be the greatest, hardest, unifying, and most smoked out concert of the year (so far). When announced mid December most if not all fans (including some homies and I) were buying tickets at lighting speeds and getting ready to lose vocal cords for the main event. Some fans came in with memorabilia from previous eras others came in with their love of the artists in some form. Overall it was gonna be a long night...

Once doors opened around 8 with two separate lines across from each other wrapped around two city blocks time was only ticking before the artists hit the stage. Walking there was three different merch tables for each is own. The 1st table had a mix of earl sweatshirt merch ( a brown hoodie with his character on the front and tour dates in red on the back, a SICK long sleeve , a SICK tshirt, and a NBA leather shirt featuring the iconic Kobe championship jacket on the front with tour dates following on the back ) , 2nd table contained a combo of F**K that's delicious merch with various NBA Leather logo shirts, and last but not least the alchemist & Boldy James merch table featuring multiple 80s cult classic themed logo shirts.

So for the people who've never been The Warfield I need you to understand how small The Warfield is especially for as close to 5 city blocks of people where taken up just to get into the theater. I was lucky enough to get barrier and hold my space the whole night. First act of the night was the illustrious alchemist & all star quarterback Boldy James, who I'm not gonna lie to y'all, never heard of him before that night so trust & believe when I say this will make you a full believer in him before he even gets into the third song in his set. From DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS into the winter BRICKMILE TO MONTANA Boldy's lyricism mixed with the alchemist melodic production makes it a pair to be reckon with following a requested encore from the audience.

Then Earl & BlackNoi$e came in for the second half of the event. He was everything I dreamed of just with a lot more morbid realist energy. Basically just typical Earl shit. From instant hits off of SICK! which dropped last month into unreleased tracks not even heard of by most of the audience Earl set was truly superb. For real I really can't even back track all the songs he preformed, I think it was after preforming E Coli where I zoned out and was transported into autopilot vibes mode. Thankfully I witnessed a hilarious moments where Earl rejected touching someones prosthetic leg for Coronavirus reasons. Then threw a girls phone back to her after throwing it in the middle of the stage barely missing him.

Last but not least briefly seen doing reps or push-ups (either way ready to tear shit up) early during Boldy & Alchemist set twas Mr baklava himself, Action Bronson.

Since dropping Only for Dolphins September of 2020, then releasing his book "F*ck it, I'll start tomorrow" last year it was only a matter of time before Bronson came out the cave for a all star tour like this. Coming out swinging with Daringer the heavy hitter Dmtri you can feel the unity of the crowd once "Knock em out the box bronson" comes up. I've honestly never quite seen a energy like that, especially from a audience mixed of people who drove up and down the coast to catch this legendary concert. Honestly sobered me right the fuck on up only to get me faded off the pure joy of knowing I actually got to see some of my favorite artists off my top ten list before i die or at least before I turn old and get tinnitus. Low key everything else is a blur after he signed my shirt on stage.

[BTW shout out to the guy next to me who got his Palo Santo signed he was the one who passed my shirt up to him.] During his set he preformed classics like Baby Blue , Golden Eye then what the crowd thought to be the final song preformed which was Terry only then swapped out for the late Mac Miller's song featuring Bronson Red Dot Music.

All in all if you miss out on this tour then you are officially missing one of the greatest nights of your life.

Check us out Sunday for a new episode only on nah fr. - Ant

Photo creds belong to nah fr inc.

[punkscowardschampions]

Jac & Savannah

Jac: Are you warm enough? Jac: 🧣🤗🧤🤗🧥 Savannah: No but that's a total secret, okay? I can't cope with the others judging me for trying to look nice Jac: I'll never tell Jac: [subtly getting her a blanket or something though, obviously] Jac: no one can come for your look 😍 Savannah: [you know we're snuggling under this blanket together because shameless excuse to be close af] Savannah: oh I see, you're trying to warm me up by making me 😳 it's fine that can be our secret too Jac: [would be so 😳 forreal] Jac: you can blame the 🔥 Savannah: [putting her head on the bae's shoulder like we're not already close enough and doing a little happy sigh] Savannah: but your compliments deserve full credit, anything else would be unfair Jac: [patting her head under the guise of checking out the boujee hat] Jac: your outfit arguably deserves a higher class of event but I'm still glad you're here Savannah: [doing a hat swap because we do so love sharing clothes with the bae and it's amusing as well as a shameless excuse to check her out like hmm what do we think] Savannah: I'm glad I'm here too Jac: It would be weird if you weren't Jac: I'm as close to you as my siblings now Jac: in a different way, obviously but still Savannah: [swapping the hats back because the bae is serving a look and also then we have to fix her hair and make that a moment™ soz Amelia for this blatant flirting you are witnessing rn] Savannah: I feel so at home here, with you Jac: [when you think the bae is perfect so you can't even pretend to sort her hair, so you end up fussing with your own after her like ugh it's so unruly but we're 🥰 and seriously soz have a more or something] Jac: You are Jac: you're always welcome, even when we're celebrating weird non-holiday holidays Savannah: [just giving her all the compliments out loud because we see that fussy and also we don't care who hears us, again soz Amelia and snuggling again] Savannah: I'd make you the same offer in a heartbeat if I felt welcome at my house Jac: [snuggling her extra hard for a hot sec there] Jac: I know, baby Savannah: [likewise and just burying our face in the bae's shoulder fully because emotions and doing a little sad sigh this time] Jac: [doing something to make her happy, probably posting the picture of her for example] Savannah: [giving her all the compliments again because that is a good picture tbh gal you clearly have skills but then because I'm evil I'm gonna say your bf sees it and so you're texting him forever while he's with his friends doing whatever] Jac: [at least you have an excuse to get up, like your other guests lol] Savannah: [just gotta do something extra as she's getting up like take her hand and make her do a little spin or something cos you're a nerd and we know you care more about this than whatever your bf is saying] Jac: don't faint Savannah: catch me & it won't be an issue Jac: I don't need to tell you it's dangerous to play near or with 🔥 Savannah: [as close to a LOOK as we can get away with] Jac: 😈 Savannah: he wants to see me, like, right now Savannah: but I don't think he's offering a higher class of event Jac: 😏 and obviously, you have to make him sweat it out a bit Jac: right? Savannah: all night at least Jac: Poor Ty Savannah: Do you think I'm being too 😈? Jac: not enough, if anything Savannah: oh really, well I hate that Jac: I'm sure it'll do the job on Ty Jac: but I think you could do better Savannah: of course I could, especially if the alternative means disappointing you Savannah: I don't ever want to Jac: It's very unlikely that you could Savannah: It's impossible, I promise Jac: Don't worry, it wasn't a challenge Savannah: I'm not worried if it is, I'll rise to it for you Jac: 🌠🌠🌠 Jac: I am going to have to challenge my brother not to be that basic white boy who brings out an acoustic 'round the campfire, excuse me 🙄😅 Savannah: 😄 Savannah: as long as Isabelle doesn't decide to sing along, because it'll be a challenge for me to sit through that Jac: 😬 Jac: she ALWAYS gets the words wrong! Jac: I think she might be partially deaf Savannah: you would know Savannah: it's a shame she's HOPELESS at sign language Jac: honestly, she'd need to do some brain training first Jac: bless her Savannah: I'm still waiting for you to teach me, maybe I'll be worse than she is Jac: [gutted you can't say gay things 'cos most people here can understand but you can still come teach her] Savannah: [Amelia do be watching you and she definitely can] Savannah: [Jude would also just be chiming in telling Savannah what she's doing wrong like a blunt bitch so now we're mortified because we have to be good at everything] Jac: [just showing her how to tell Jude to fuck off or something like excuse you] Savannah: [literally never swears because she's that kind of trying to be classy so you've been spared gal but we're not forgetting that you made us look a fool] Jac: She literally couldn't tie her own shoes 'til like last year Jac: I wouldn't spend any energy on her Savannah: it's fine, I'd rather know my mistakes Jac: She knows it's as rude to listen in on a sign conversation as it is a normal one Jac: honestly, I don't know where her manners have gone half the time Savannah: I'll have to get better now so we can have a conversation worth listening in on Jac: I'll show you properly Jac: when we have some privacy Savannah: you can come home with me, we'll have plenty of privacy if we leave here late enough Jac: You're really gonna make him wait then Jac: 😘 Savannah: he'll be too drunk to be any use to me once his friends are done with him Savannah: & anyway, I want to be with you Jac: Good Jac: of course I'll come Savannah: I feel like I haven't even seen you since Ty & I reconciled, I've really missed you Jac: he had a lot he had to make up for Jac: so I've missed you more Savannah: [touching that necklace he gave us without realising we're doing it as we recall that horrible argument] Savannah: I'm all yours now Jac: Good Jac: because we're both going to need really long 🛀 to get the smoke smell out of our hair Savannah: ugh true! I'll wash yours if you wash mine Jac: 100% Jac: and would you ever trust a boy with your hair, no matter how sorry he is Savannah: No way! Savannah: plus he's too tall to fit in the 🛁 with me, even the huge one at my house Savannah: he'd just sulk the entire time Savannah: I'm so sorry I'm taller than the other girl you dated Jac: the basketball boys always go out with tiny girls Jac: it's like their thing Jac: so weird Savannah: right? 🙄 Savannah: it's a totally possessive thing, I'm glad you can't stand over me to feel powerful, excuse me Jac: honestly Jac: people always talk about short guy's complexes but tall lads think they're so superior just for having a few inches, okay we get what you're trying to put out and it ain't cute Savannah: exactly Savannah: & if picking me up & throwing me around is SUCH a turn on for you, work at it 💪🏾 I have to put in effort to look good too Jac: Not about it Savannah: Ty isn't either, he's the gentlest boy in the world Jac: Yeah he is Savannah: maybe too gentle sometimes, but I didn't say so Jac: I get it Jac: you don't have to think he's perfect just because you're going out with him Savannah: he definitely doesn't think I am Jac: he's got no complaints though Savannah: for now, I suppose Jac: he told me, you saw Jac: he thinks you're good, if not perfect Savannah: he doesn't want to lose me Jac: he's not stupid Savannah: ^^ he'll say anything, that's what boys do Jac: yeah Jac: how much they mean is a different story Savannah: my dad's never meant a single word he's said to us Jac: even if he meant it at the time Jac: he didn't stick to his word, and that's what counts Savannah: yes, it is Jac: Ty's dependable Savannah: I'm not though, I'm a wreck Jac: hey Jac: [looks at her and shakes her head like no] Jac: do you want to go inside for a bit? we can be getting more food and drinks or whatever Savannah: okay Jac: [casually run off hand in hand so you can go properly talk about this] Savannah: [soz not soz everyone] Jac: [also said your garden would not be that big so probably gonna need to go upstairs or down so everyone's not just 👀 lol] Savannah: [get in the basement for that parallel] Jac: [sounds creepy but yes lol, go forth for that privacy hens] Savannah: [yet again we're just telling the bae stuff that we haven't told anyone including our bf #bonding] Jac: [we know the fucking vibes, y'all gonna be ages and do not care remotely] Savannah: [gotta fix Savannah's makeup for her to because she'll have done a little cry so that's gay & intimate] Jac: [honestly how this kiss doesn't happen sooner hun] Savannah: [that's the scolding hot tea] Jac: [casual patience of a saint somehow] Savannah: [we both know you're scared to cross that line hens] Jac: [mhmm how you just don't though when the tension is this high and obvious but you know, sort yourselves out] Savannah: [for now though go back outside to find Amelia has left] Jac: how rude Savannah: Do you have any messages from her? Jac: she told them she was feeling sick Jac: but she's not said anything more than that in a message either Savannah: one of her migraines? Jac: probably Jac: smoke can be a trigger, I guess Jac: oh well, I'll message her in the group chat, make sure she's okay Savannah: I hope she got home okay Savannah: it was a bit rude of Is not to go with her & make sure Jac: ^^ I'm like, girl Jac: you've had THREE hot dogs Jac: you could've done without the last one to be a better friend but priorities, I suppose Savannah: ^^ she could've at least come & got us so we could do the right thing if she wasn't going to Jac: Seriously Jac: now I look lowkey bad like thanks 🙄 Savannah: No, it's my fault Savannah: I feel bad, poor Amelia Jac: Oh my God, no, it's so not your fault Savannah: it's okay, I know I'm beyond demanding Jac: You aren't Jac: She just has a headache Jac: you're actually going through it right now Jac: you deserve time to vent Savannah: 😔 Savannah: but I do understand if you're upset with me Jac: I'm not, at all Jac: just at Is a bit for not handling the whole situation properly Savannah: Would you like me to talk to her? Jac: That's fine, we don't need to get into their drama Jac: it's like, not a situation and not going to be one because Is either wants it to be or is literally too ditzy to check in on Amelia herself without being explicitly told Savannah: You're right Savannah: you deserve a good night even if it is a fake holiday Jac: I'm having a good night with you Savannah: Oh please, I can do better Savannah: I've been crying for most of it Savannah: [proves it by doing the most, throwing ourselves into all the activities and thus the bae as well] Savannah: [I like to imagine poor Isabelle trying to get involved & we're just subtly not having it] Jac: [montage time, honestly Is you would've been better to leave too, at least the fam is here so you aren't being totally ignored lol] Savannah: [soz that we're just falling in love here] Jac: [literally can't help it sorry they don't mean the harm they casually do] Savannah: now you're having a good night Jac: an even better one, yeah Savannah: I'll be your 🌠 Savannah: anything you want, all you have to do is whisper it to me & I'll make sure it comes true Jac: Tinkerbell's got nothing on you Savannah: your happiness is so important to me, with or without the 👏🏾 Jac: you know I'd do anything for you too Jac: I feel like I should do more Jac: be better Savannah: you do more for me than anyone else EVER has, if you did more you'd be putting your own mental health & wellbeing at risk for the sake of mine Savannah: I'm not trying to be a drain of you like Is, who literally needs her hand held through every little thing Jac: I know, you're just so good to me Jac: but you're good FOR me too Savannah: I'm not always this selfish, I swear Jac: you're literally the most selfless Jac: all you do is look after Sienna and you're the best friend to me and girlfriend to Ty Jac: it hurts my heart sometimes Jac: I just wanna take care of you and make your life so easy you can thrive and shine Savannah: You're going to make me cry again Savannah: [IRL 🥺 because the bae is so pure & genuinely takes such good care of us] Savannah: I'll survive this & you'll see what I'm actually like without all this drama surrounding me Savannah: I really will be the best friend to you forever Jac: [we're such emotional bitches atm and always tbh hennys] Jac: I know you will, you're already amazing Jac: you're going to be unstoppable Jac: and I'm gonna be right there with you Savannah: [it's the only emotion we can safely express rn because smooching is forbidden] Savannah: I'm totally fine with doing trust falls Savannah: you know I believe in you & our future together Jac: 🌍 sister connection Jac: [because we are all earth signs except Amelia soz gal] Savannah: ^^ yes! Savannah: [take your bae to dance because it's a party and that's the only excuse we need] Jac: [bye at how much of a moment that'd be] Savannah: [literally there's every chance it's the first time they have because her bf would always be there at parties and stuff so I'm deceased] Jac: [we know you'd have no qualms stealing her away but a party with loads of peers is different from how intimate this is, at best everyone has a few friends] Savannah: [exactly that, so glad you don't have to see this Amelia you really would have a headache] Jac: [yeah this would be 💔] Savannah: [thank god we've got Isabelle cockblocking rn because y'all are too in love tbh] Jac: [just joins in 'cos not in love with you and thus oblivious] Savannah: [they'd be so annoyed lol] Jac: [lmao oh isabelle] Savannah: [go get some drinks or something gals and whisper shade to each other about this poor third wheel because any excuse to keep that intimacy going] Jac: [it's a good thing you are lowkey oblivious or you'd be way more upset by it all too] Savannah: [god bless you Isabelle, so soz you get done so dirty] Jac: [in the end you live your best life, just not being friends with this squad lol] Savannah: [the best thing for you is getting new friends my love, but for now I like to imagine she's talking to them about some boy or other, remember those you massive gays] Jac: 😬 him Jac: seriously?!? Savannah: What is she thinking of? & more importantly, what part of her body is leading her in those thoughts Jac: 😷 I can't Jac: so many cold showers necessary for her and honestly just some 🧼 for him Savannah: He asked me out, knowing full well I'm not single or interested, it was horrific Jac: the definition of no shame Savannah: I didn't know what to do Jac: I bet you didn't Jac: the actual nerve Savannah: Not to sound like Amelia, but I genuinely have no understanding of what she approves of or thinks we'll approve of about most of the boys she talks about Jac: Availability? Jac: like, imagine that was all a boy had to say about you Savannah: that's so sad Jac: like if they weren't so gross themselves, I'd feel sorry for them Savannah: I've just decided, I'm going to find her a boyfriend we can all stand to be around, Ty'll know someone Savannah: it'll give you a much needed break from how clingy she is & my heart won't hurt anymore from hearing her talk like this about boys who aren't worthy Jac: Such a nice idea 👼🏾 Jac: does he know anyone that will deal with her though Jac: she's a lot Savannah: It may not be an overnight success but I'll work my 🔮✨ Jac: I believe in nothing harder than I believe in your magic Savannah: I'm your girl too, just like you told Ty, of course you have faith in me & because you do, I feel so capable of anything 🥰 Jac: It had to be said Jac: like we said, the possessive thing, not it Jac: you're you and you're so many things to so many people, and you're especially important to me Jac: if he wants you, he's gotta accept that Savannah: ^^^ Savannah: I love you & you're always going to be part of my life, I hope he is too, obviously but there's none of that uncertainty with you, you are & you will be Jac: Right, romantic relationships are arguably almost always the least secure, that's just realistic Jac: ask any girl who ditches ALL her friends and then gets dumped Savannah: oh god, I could NEVER Savannah: I need you Jac: The concession they must make in their lives, like, who do you talk to about the stuff he has no interest in, who gives you advice from a woman's perspective??? Jac: so toxic Savannah: He & I have very different styles of self care, I'm sorry I simply would not survive Jac: 🏋️ is part of the daily grind, NOT a way to unwind, sorry Ty Savannah: 😄 Savannah: Don't worry, I promise I won't wake you as early tomorrow for our workout Jac: I'm not, I nearly ALWAYS wake up before you Jac: but that's okay, you look adorable and very peaceful 😴😘 Savannah: well it takes me longer to fall asleep Savannah: you look even more adorable & peaceful then 👼🏻☁ Jac: okay, so we're even 😅 Savannah: the universe is keeping everything in balance for us Savannah: I love that Jac: I know, right? Jac: if we had a 👶🏾 or a job share we'd be KILLING it Savannah: 🥺 you're going to have the cutest babies ever! Jac: 🤞 the dad's DNA doesn't screw that up Savannah: No way, we'll find you someone perfect Jac: I have more hope for Uni Savannah: you don't trust my matchmaking skills? Jac: No, no Jac: just the boys you have to choose from here 😬😂 Savannah: 😄You're right, an LDR makes much more sense for you & I wouldn't have to share you as often Savannah: I'll find you a first year uni boy who goes to school with Ty's brother Jac: You think so? Savannah: definitely, he'll fit into your schedule without wanting to become your schedule Savannah: & you may actually be able to have & sustain a proper conversation, depending what he studies Jac: you really do have the best ideas Jac: Obviously down Savannah: [immediately starts sending her pics and profiles because we're extra] Savannah: Let me know who you like & I'll totally make it happen Jac: I'll look properly tonight at yours Jac: [like no, Isabelle, you may not have more than a peep so you're #curious] Savannah: there's no rush, whenever you're ready Jac: 😍😍 Savannah: [snuggling again with our IRL 😍 because we're in love bitch] Savannah: [Savannah is just that touchy feely hoe like soz gal she's gonna just be touching you ALL THE TIME] Jac: [at least you'd have to vaguely get used to it or literally die haha, we know the 😍 are and will be for you but we'll pretend to be into these lads so we can scheme it together] Savannah: [we've since the pics you had a touchy feely vibe with Amelia too, even if it was more like hugs and piggy backs lol you can do this] Jac: [mhmm, arguably you can't but you carry it on for a long time lol]

[lilacsos]

Hey Britt 💛 i'm so sorry to hear that you're not feeling too great and i hope things start looking up soon! 💛💛 Since you mentioned blurb requests, i've got one: reader surprising luke on tour and it's Soft as heck?

This blurb got really long. Thank you for requesting this. I got home after work and basically slept all of today and tried to have a self care sort of day. Here’s the blurb. I hope you like it. And thank you for the kind words. Also I thought about adding a “read more” but I have zero energy for that so sorry its v long

Three months ago Luke and the boys left for tour. It was a time of mixed emotions because as Luke’s longtime partner, you were ecstatic that he got to go on tour again and do what he loves, but it also hurt that he was going to be gone. But this was part of the life. With plenty of tears and longing kisses goodbye, Luke boarded his flight and left.

With three months of time apart, you felt like this second half of you was missing. And apparently, you weren’t the only one feeling this way. Luke called you and texted you any moment he could, letting you know just how much he missed you. After the first two months, the other boys had gotten sick of Luke’s constant whining and moping around. So, to solve their problem with Luke’s sadness, they bought you a plane ticket. You were meeting him in London, since the band would be there for four days, one of them being a day off. With the help of your three spies, you flew to London and your flight landed only half an hour after the show. The boys were still at the venue, packing up their equipment while you caught a taxi to take you to the hotel. The whole ride to the hotel, you kept shifting in your seat, playing with the hem of your outfit, and even chewing on your fingernails. You were nervous. You knew Luke would be excited to see you, but this was your first time surprising him and what if something went wrong? After all, your intel and recon were Ashton, Michael, and Calum. They were amazing friends but not the brightest. The soft ping of your phone brought your attention back to the world around you. Your phone screen shone, your background of you and Luke kissing lighting up the back seat of the cab.

One new message

Lu💖: Hey pretty babes, I know you’re working but just needed to text you. The show went great, but it would have been better if you were backstage watching me. I’ll call you in the morning my time. Love you x

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his message and a smile easily form on your lips. It was crazy to you how he knew just what to say every time. Luke really was perfect, and he was the best partner you ever had. He was sweet, caring, loyal, funny, and smoking hot. He deserved all of the love on the planet and you were going to try to do that as best as you could. You felt as though that your surprise visit would bring some happiness and joy to Luke and if he deserved anything, it was happiness. The cab slowed to a stop outside of the hotel and after paying the fee, you took your bags and dragged them into the lobby.

The woman at the front desk smiled brightly, though it did look a little forced. “Hi, do you have a reservation with us?”

After explaining to her who you were and that Ashton said there should be a room key waiting for you, she handed you the little plastic card. With a quick thanks, you tugged your things to the elevator and swayed nervously as you waited to reach your floor. With a ding, the doors open and only a few minutes later, you were in Luke’s hotel room. He had clothes thrown around the room and some take out trash on the desk that needed to be cleaned. He has said that he’s a mess without you and it looks like he was telling the truth. So, to keep busy while you were waiting for Luke to come back, you decided to clean his room. He’d better say thank you.

The room was almost perfect when you heard the sound of Luke’s voice outside in the hall. You quickly crawled onto his bed and sat where he wouldn’t see you right from the doorway. He must have been talking to Ashton because you heard his laugh and a quick complaint. “Stop complaining about not seeing Y/N in so long. You’ll be fine.”

“Look mate,” the sound of Luke’s voice brought butterflies to your stomach as you anticipated seeing him in a few seconds. “I miss them. I miss the love of my life, sue me.”

With a snort from Ashton, the door handle began to jiggle. “Just tell Y/N hi for me.” His footsteps faded down the hallway and the hotel room door creaked open.

“The fuck?” Luke mumbled to himself as he caught sight of the clean room in front of him. “Who came in here? Why was the light on?”

“Sorry, that was me.” At the sound of your voice, Luke jumped and stuck his head out from behind the corner.

“Y/N!” Luke dropped his bags on the floor and lunged at you, tackling you down onto the bed. “You’re here!” He planted a kiss on your cheeks, then your forehead, nose, and finally your lips. “How did this happen? How?” His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“The boys were tired of your complaining and they bought me a ticket.” Luke’s reply was muffled but you could only assume he mentioned telling the boys thank you since that would be the nice thing to do. “I can’t believe I'm here.” Luke finally tugged his face away from you and it was then you could see the tears in his eyes. “Baby, why are you crying?” Your hands came to rest on his cheeks while your thumbs brushed the tears off of his face.

“I just can’t,” Luke began but stopped to take a deep breath, “believe I finally have you here, in my arms again. I know it was only going to be another month, but I just missed you so much. Talking on the phone and facetime just doesn’t cut it. I couldn’t feel your hands on my face like I can now, I couldn’t smell your body wash. You were there but you just weren’t here. And now you are, and I never want you to go.”

Now with tears in your own eyes, you planted a soft kiss on his lips, bringing Luke as close to you as possible. “I’m never leaving you. I’ll be here until you leave for Paris and then Piggy and I will be home waiting for you. But let’s not think about us being apart for now. We have a few days together.”

Luke smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. “I know just how to spend it. I think I figured out why my room is so far away from the boys.” He leaned in close but before he could kiss you, you tugged away.

“Are you even gonna give me a thanks for cleaning your hotel room? I worked hard cleaning up this train wreck.”

With a giggle, Luke rolled his eyes and slowly kissed down your neck. “Shut up and I will.”

[engekihaikyuu]

I'm curious about the Nekoma vs Fukurodani match and how'd they handled that. Thanks for all the work you put into this blog!

Full review under the Read More

(Spoilers ahead to anyone who’s only watched the anime and not read the manga) 

So they started the match, and showed a few highlight moments, but they didn’t actually finish the match, so that still leaves room for them to revamp it in a later show, I think.  It felt like a preview for their match, and moments from this match were interspersed throughout the Karasuno vs Wakunan match.  Sometimes to show parallel moments, sometimes I think just to put a break in the action.  

Kenta wearing that suit jacket and glasses get-up is so that he can be the emcee for their match, and OH MY GOD they introduce it like a fucking WRESTLING MATCH.  They come out on stage in those big, hooded coats that like... boxers wear?  But of course color-themed, so Nekoma’s in red, Fukurodani in white.  And Kenta as emcee is ridiculous.  I mean, he’s basically doing the really loud boxer emcee shtick with the whole IN THIS CORNERRRRRR...  Plus they added the smoke so it’s extra melodramatic.  

Kuroo tries to whip off his jacket dramatically and catch it behind him, but fails.  Pretty sure that’s a direct reference to (1) how Bokuto throws his jacket and has Akaashi catch it, and (2) the fact that Shouri dropped his jacket during one of his dramatic removals during the Revival tour (which was shown in the bloopers in backstage footage).  Kenma teases him about it, like, “Nervous, Kuro?” 

And when Bokuto and Akaashi enter, of course Bokuto flings his coat in the air and Akaashi catches it, just like the manga.  And here I’m gonna take a little moment just to say that Takumi’s Bokuto is fantastic.  As is Shungo’s Akaashi.  Something about Shungo’s Akaashi feels a little bit softer... like, this is the Akaashi that just can’t help but baby Bokuto.  Takumi’s Bokuto moves with a lot of energy, and I know he’s trying to channel Kouki’s Bokuto in a lot of ways, but little bits slip in that make the character his own.  He loves screaming Akaashi’s name lol.  

The mirrors that they have circling the stage for their match are kind of trippy, but they definitely give the illusion that there are more players on-stage than there actually are.  All their movements are parallel, so Kenma and Akaashi are mirroring and Bokuto and Kuroo are mirroring, and then there’s a lot of... four-man sequences with flipping and cartwheeling.  At one point, Akaashi and Bokuto pressed their backs together and then sat down in the air so that Kenma and Kuroo could cartwheel off their knees.  Things like that.  

They showed Bokuto forgetting how to hit crosses and Akaashi pointing out that fatal flaw #37 lolololol.  Bokuto teasing Kuroo about not being able to block him was great, so was the Kenma and Akaashi banter.  The two pairs really do feel like rivals.  

But like I said, they didn’t finish the match, so to me it felt like a preview for a full match later on.  

[a-magpie-witchling]

Hi! I'm a new witch and I was wondering what you could tell me about being a secular witch? Especially how you might cast a circle and invite spirit to join without honouring a deity or particular spirit? Thank you!! 🌿💚🌳

Hey there, sugar! Sorry I took so long, I wanted to answer properly and I needed my desk PC for that.

So, the fact that I’m a secular witch doesn’t mean I don’t believe in spirits or deities (big spirits). I just don’t worship them nor I feel I need them for my craft.

I don’t cast circles unless I’m gonna drop a BIG spell.

Basically I mentally divide my practice in two categories: everyday magic and craft that requires an extreme amount of focus and energy. Of that sort of spell, I’ve only made a handful (don’t fuck with that unless you actually NEED IT. You’ll deplete yourself too much).

So I’ve cast circles for THE BIG SPELLS, but I don’t feel I need it. It depends on my mood and my intuition.

I bow to no god, so when I want to do something related to a spirit or a deity we work as equals. Partners. You want something from me, I want something from you. Fair trade and we both go on our merry ways. There’s not a reverence from my part, just respect as long as they respect me back. I’m both spiritual and corporeal so no matter how powerful a god is, as long as I retain my material form, I’m stronger. That’s an unpopular opinion, but it’s what I believe. Gods need us more than we need them.

Imagine there’s a locked chest and you have a hammer and a loaf of bread, and there’s someone that’s starving and has the key. You could trade them the key for the bread, but if they are cocky and just downright awful, SCREW YOU, MAN. IT’LL BE HARDER BUT I’VE GOT A HAMMER, I CAN OPEN THE CHEST WITHOUT YOU, WITHOUT ME YOU’RE DONE FOR.

That’s how I see chiminage, the practice of paying spirits to aid you in your craft.

Most of the time my own energy is enough to pluck the threads of reality. I just will it hard enough.

As for circle casting, I believe we have to actually talk about what a circle is supposed to do to understand how to “not need it”.

A circle is a form of order, an harmonization. You limit your space, set up your stuff, and call upon the elements each in their respective place.

People tend to use material signifiers to represent each element, being the witch the element of spirit.

But my bones are earth, my blood is water, my lungs are air, and my nerves are fire. I don’t need to cast a circle because I contain my magic within my body and I can manifest it outside whenever I need. Casting a circle is a way to physically see this and that’s always helpful (that’s why we use correspondences/materials/ingredients in our spells at all). But once you’ve got enough practice it’s easy to slip in and out of that state of mind when you comprehend the raw power you have as a person. Whole cultures and religions revolve around this principle. I need to cast circles for big spells because I can spend hours doing them, so I need something to focus on, so I don’t get distracted.

If casting a circle is too hard/tedious/dangerous for you, using a candle should suffice. The flame is fire, the wax is earth, the melted wax is water, and the smoke is air. The limit will be everything its light reaches. 

I have my own creed when it comes to secular witchcraft. One of the main points is that you should understand the physical world in order to understand the astral world. STUDY THE SCIENCES.

That’s why when I heal someone it’s through scientifically proven methods. I don’t go and leave quartz under their pillow if they’ve got the flu, I make a special brewing that will alleviate the symptoms and then send them off to a doctor.

I don’t really think secular witchcraft is different from other branches of the craft in any other significant way. I’m probably forgetting stuff, but oh well. Lines are blurry anyway so surely people of other branches can relate and other seculars can’t. I hope this was helpful! Don’t hesitate to reach me if you’ve got more questions