#but yeah i hate sad feels and job sucks right now and the store manager is an asshole who only protects himself

[shingodzillaa]

Im tired of having to weigh the pros and cons between reporting someone for misgendering me multiple times (having been corrected multiple times by multiple people) and feeling comfortable and safe at work.

It’s like, as long as I’m the easy going, super nice tranny that doesn’t overly correct others on their pronouns, doesn’t “shove their identity in my face”, then I get treated somewhat decently. People are nice to me, they seek me out to talk to me. No one is on edge around me or uncomfortable. I’m not blacklisted or a trouble maker.

But then that means they get to be disrespectful and misgender me. Constantly. It doesn’t matter how politely or forgiving I am about correcting them, they will still misgender me, because I’ve shown that I won’t really force it down their throat.

As soon as I complain, as soon as it gets to me and I say something, a switch is flipped. Im basically treated like an outsider. “Ooo watch out, don’t talk to Lukas too much because if you mess up once he’ll report you to HR.”

all I wanted was to be treated like everyone else. All I wanted was to not be disrespected and made uncomfortable by the constant barrage of misgendering.

But it doesn’t help when my store manager basically tells the people who are constantly. on purpose. Misgendering me (and telling other people that I am trans when they don’t know and correctly gender me and my other trans male coworker as well!!!) to basically just ignore me if they can’t get it right.

Like on the one hand, not being constantly misgendered. On the other hand, being actively ignored by people you work 40+ hrs a week with.

It’s just feels like I’m losing no matter what right now and I hate it here.

[arenskreigh]

Another short thing

Yeah, idk how to title these. Yes I suck at writing. Also, don’t get on my ass about ending dialogue with periods. Ending it with commas bothers me to hell.

(Melody’s POV)

Dealing with the pain was an issue for both of us.

Both physical and mental.

I walked into his room one night to check on him, and I found him curled up tight against himself.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him gently.

“I-it..it hurts, please Melody, it hurts so much.” He says, as he tries not to cry.

“Hey, hey, shhh. I know it hurts, I know you feel bad. I want to help you, but I can’t let you take anymore painkillers right now.”

“W-why?! Please I need it!” He begs me, tears running down his scarred face.

“I can’t, you already had some in the past few hours and the ones you were given are strong. You can’t take more or you’ll get addicted.”

He continued to cry as he laid back down, pulling a blanket over himself.

I hated seeing him in so much pain, I felt horrible.

“Shhh, just try to breathe. I know you’re hurting, I know it’s horrible.”

He was able to calm down a little bit as I brushed my hand through his hair, gently caressing him.

“It- it hurts! It hurts so much!” Still, he continued to cry. I felt so terrible.

“I-I-I just want t-to sleep, that’s all! I can’t- I can’t do this!” He begged to me, probably hoping I’d put him out of his misery.

He did tire himself out from crying so much, and managed to sleep a little.

All of the sleep he got was somehow interrupted whether it be nightmares, getting sick, or for no reason at all.

In the morning I went to wake him up so he could take his medicine, I knew he would want it.

He was very confused when he awoke, however.

“No..let me sleep…you can hurt me after I sleep. Just please…please let me sleep.” He begged, half asleep.

“She’s not here, she never will be. It’s just me, you can sleep as long as you want but I know you want your medicine.”

He took it, and fell straight back asleep.

I was tempted to lay down on the spot there with him, but I didn’t want to rush things. I too was incredibly tired from taking care of him all the time.

It’s not a bad thing, I just wish I could sleep more.

When I did have my moments of silence and being alone, I had to do work stuff. It wasn’t anything huge or difficult, but I knew I had to keep up if I wanted to keep my job.

I was so tired I ended up falling asleep on the couch. I woke up an hour or so later, still exhausted.

Tyler was somehow still peacefully asleep, I was almost jealous.

I knew I had to support him, he was going through something extremely hard.

I took this opportunity to go to the store and pickup stuff we had been needing.

It was also another moment for me to buy more cigarettes.

It’s that thing where it only gives you relief for a few minutes, but at least it’s something.

I know I should quit, it’s bad. Tyler also gets triggered by it.

I forced myself to not get any, and rather get the stuff that was necessary.

I hadn’t tried before to stop altogether, but I thought I’d try now.

Well, withdrawal symptoms is another thing I have to deal with.

I get irritated easily, and that doesn’t help when I’m close to giving up on trying to comfort Tyler.

I got back from the store and he was still asleep, thank god. The one time I had left him alone he had an entire mental breakdown cause I wasn’t there.

It was so sad seeing how badly he was hurt. He was such a caring person before; kind, thoughtful.

Now he was isolated, paranoid, and extremely broken.

Neither of us could afford a therapist. Tyler became nearly 100% broke after purposely crashing his car in an attempt to end his life.

He drove straight into a tree, crushing the front end of the car. He got out when he realized he wasn’t dead, and couldn’t feel near anything due to shock.

Which meant he didn’t feel his broken arm, or the giant gash in his side from being impaled.

Apparently he doesn’t remember anything from that night. The only thing he can recall is Harmonie hurting him, badly.

That night he tried to cut things off with her, but it only made her spiral.

From what he told me, she stabbed him over and over again, bruised his body to hell, and drugged him up.

But there is probably more she did, I don’t doubt it.

I got a look at the photos taken of the crash, and there was blood all over the car, everything.

…I almost threw up in front of the police because of it.

I really don’t know how he managed to survive that. I mean, he didn’t want to survive at all.

I stayed in the emergency room for hours until he woke up, barely even able to talk.

He held my hand the whole time, as I kept us together, close.

I didn’t want to lose him, I couldn’t.

He was the most important person to me, he’s…he’s more than my best friend. I think he realizes that too.

No criticism accepted please thanks I’m sad and sensitive

[mono-dot-jpeg]

tower of mistakes [pt.2] - o. tooru & k. kyotani

summary; i had to use you to make me feel strong.

genre; angst with no happy ending, angst, sad, there is no happy here, regrets were made

word count; 1.3k

warnings; dark themes, mentions of scooter ankle [su*cide], mentions of bullying

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ part 1

a/n; so people actually want a part two of my dumbass lowkey venting with a song? litty, this is gonna be following oikawa more than it will follow y/n and kyotani so yeah. take this sequel that will never top the first part

this one will be based off the song, “my time” by bo en. the translations might not be accurate so forgive me. i know the song isn’t abt scooter ankle but it fits well with the story.

Close you eyes, you’ll be here soon.

Oikawa didn’t think much after you left the team. One less person that could ruin the team right? He thought.

At first.

He saw you in the halls once in a while. You looked so dull...almost dead. It nearly scared him. What had happened after you left? Why did you look like that now?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 minutes

As time passed by, he watched you from afar as others hurt you with words more than actions. Is this what happened even before you joined? He had wondered. He had noticed how the new manager got too close to his teammates. He can remember how you were too scared to get close to anyone. Yet, you were somewhat close to Kyotani. Why?

I really want to sleep. But I cannot.

But he realized, you saw him as a form of protection from the world. Even with how rough and rude Kyotani was, you found a safe place with him though it wasn’t much. It meant a lot to Oikawa when he noticed how you preferred the angry male over him at first but now that he looked back at it, it made sense. Kyotani kept people away, you just wanted a safe place away from others. He was that safe place.

The rumors and everything took that away from you. He took that away from you. Oikawa couldn’t imagine the pain you felt after you were forced to quit. He took away something you found safety in. The only safe place you had was taken away from you.

Goodnight.

The new manager seemed rather lazy as the days went by. Oikawa noticed it, Iwazumi noticed it, and even Kyotani noticed it. She did the bare minimum of her manager work. y/n would always do the most. Oikawa thought subconsciously. When the new manager finished the minimum of the work, she would be on her phone.

Goodnight.

y/n wouldn’t do that. He thought again. He can remember when you were so generous with helping the others. Iwazumi often had to scold you and tell you to take a break. Kyotani would even urge you to take a break. The new manager took a lot of breaks, it was questionable to the entire team if she really did her job as manager or not.

Goodnight.

Oikawa often used to find the girl snickers with others and pointing at someone. That someone was you but Oikawa never had a chance to find out.

Goodnight.

Oikawa was restless, what more did he take away from you? What more bad did he do before you went up and left without a trace? The rumors.

Goodnight, goodnight. Close your eyes and you’ll leave this dream.

He knew how bad rumors could get. He was popular after all. He can think about a few of those rumors that made you and Kyotani uncomfortable. Sometimes you were assumed to be a couple but you knew it was far from being that. 

That’s strike one.

Somebody had framed you for hurting someone. Everyone believed the rumor. Unfortunately, the team did too because all the evidence had pointed to you despite you knowing you never did it (and the mere fact that no one let you defend yourself).

That’s strike two.

You paid your way into the team. People had claimed. They thought you weren’t worthy enough to be a manager. Oikawa sometimes felt like that when it came to volleyball. He wondered how often you felt that way when you were in the team.

That’s strike three.

Goodnight, goodnight. I know that it’s hard to do.

Why couldn’t he realize it sooner? Maybe this wouldn’t have happened then. The dread that hung along every member of the team everytime your name would be uttered. People would talk about you as if you were an old friend but it was far from the truth. You were a victim. The team realized that. Fellow classmates didn’t want to acknowledge the truth. They were the cause of your demise.

Days go by. Oh, well. Moments passed, shattered glass.

The team lived with the guilt, the misery, the suffering of knowing that they could’ve done something but they didn’t. Oikawa watched the life get sucked out of the team as news of your death spread. It hit him rather hard but not as hard as it hit Kyotani. While Kyotani didn’t talk much to you, he liked your presence.

But his last words to you were, “Stop getting in my way!” He yelled at you before you got kicked off the team and that was the last time he talked to you. He regrets it now. He wished he didn’t push you away when you were only trying to care for him. His last words to you were burning in his mind. He hated it because he knew he was one of the reasons you were now gone. 

Hands of time. Where’s that chime?

He never said anything but he knew that you found a safe place with him. He was your safe place and he managed to mess it up when it was so easy to not mess it up. He knew a lot about your situation back then, he told you to ignore it. That he would take care of it. But he didn’t. That’s what made it hurt more. 

He was supposed to keep you safe. But he didn’t. 

In my head. I’ll just...I’ll just...I’ll just...I’ll just...

It was the day. More like the anniversary. It was the day you died. Oikawa swallowed the lump in his throat. It was his last year in Aoba Johsai, it would’ve been yours too. It was time to pay you a visit. The third years and second years stayed behind as the first years left the gym. There’s a dead silence. Everyone knew what was gonna happen.

The walk is short. Or maybe they were too fast. They all stood in front of the gravestone.

y/n l/n

Your name was engraved with the usual stuff that would be on a grave.

Hands of time will wring my neck. Every little moment spells regret.

Oikawa’s hands shake as he places the flowers the ground. He starts to talk as if you were still there. Still there and able to be their manager. Still there and alive. It doesn’t take long for the other to join in. They seemed to understand that Oikawa did this to cope easier. Iwazumi knew he did this every time they visited you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t do it either.

But I don’t have to feel this way. As a voice inside my head.

“I’m sorry.”

Goodnight.

“We hurt you.”

Goodnight.

“You didn’t deserve it at all.”

Goodnight.

“I hope you will live peacefully in another life.”

Goodnight.

Kyotani was the first one to leave. He didn’t want to face you even in you were in a grave. He thought he didn’t deserve it. To see you. To even face you. That this was his fault. He walked. And walked.

Goodnight, goodnight. Close your eyes and you’ll leave this dream.

He stopped by the convenience store, walking right in to grab a drink and a snack. More specifically your favorites. It had become routine for him and you to go here and buy stuff. It was still routine for him. Maybe it was because it left so many memories for him. He didn’t wanna leave the memories. He wished he cherished them more.

Goodnight, goodnight. I know that it’s hard to do.

He arrived home, waving off his mother and father and going straight to his room. He was greeted by the corkboard that hung on his room. It was filled with memories. Memories that he wished that he was happier in. 

Goodnight, goodnight. Close your eyes and you’ll leave this dream.

Goodnight, goodnight. I know that it’s hard to do.

He sat on his bed, face buried in his hands. His shoulders trembling and before he knew it, he was crying. 

Goodnight, goodnight. Close your eyes and you’ll leave this dream.

Goodnight, goodnight. I know that it’s hard to do.

“Goodnight y/n. I wish I was there for you more.”

[magioftheseas]

Stick It To Dis Bear!

Summary: An alternate/bonus scene about THE STICKER in Chapter 25 of Super Danganronpa 2: Matsuda Yasuke’s Battle of Despair and Wits.

Rating: PG

Warnings: None really.

Notes: I just didn’t feel right leaving out the stupid sticker. I still haven’t gone to a theater in over a year. For obvious reasons. I think I’m done with theaters. Like, forever. The last film I saw was Birds of Prey. That was good. I don’t need to see another movie.

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

They managed to get all the testing done in one day, although if Hinata played along in hopes of being told everything, he ended up sorely disappointed. Another to add to the list of people who found Matsuda in general to be a disappointment as a person. At least, Matsuda had an inkling that such was how the chestnut felt.

He was dealing with his own disappointment—with Komaeda still dragging his feet even after Hinata got too exhausted to keep fucking around with them.

“I feel like nothing of value actually happened,” Hinata groused.

That’s because it did. So little happened that it’s barely worth a passing narration, Matsuda thought.

“You’ve done well, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda chirped. “Great work! As expected of an Ultimate!”

“Shove it,” Hinata snapped. “It would’ve been nice if any of that felt like it mattered.”

“Aw, Hinata-kun...” Komaeda does pout, and it visibly gets Hinata more flustered and frustrated. “I really am sorry that you feel like your time was wasted.” Komaeda turns the full force of that pout to Matsuda. “Hinata-kun feels that his time was wasted. Isn’t that sad? Don’t you feel sad?”

“Yeah,” Hinata agreed through gritted teeth. “Doesn’t that make you sad?”

What romcom bullshit did I wake up in now?

“...I guess... It’s sad?”

“It’s so sad!” Komaeda exclaimed emotionally. “Matsuda-kun, you must make up to him! If only it’d abate his pain a little!”

“I mean, I guess it was a pretty big pain,” Hinata agreed with that, too, even if he seemed more confused about it. “It’d be...nice if I got some compensation...”

“What the hell?” Matsuda balked at the idea. “You volunteered?”

“I don’t REMEMBER that!” Hinata shot back. “For all I know, you lied to my face AGAIN! You do seem to like lying if it benefits you!”

Matsuda opened his mouth but hummed thoughtfully. When he went to speak again, he thought against it and hummed some more.

“C-Can you at least pretend you’re ashamed?” Hinata asked, exasperated. “Like, if you agree, surely you see that it’s wrong...”

I don’t really care.

He especially doesn’t care to pretend he cares. That said...

Komaeda was pouting at him. Lower lip stuck out, puppy eyes, the works. For a kid who looked half on death’s doorstep, it shouldn’t have been that effective. What the fuck.

Matsuda sighed loudly.

I don’t really care, but...

“Alright. Compensation. I guess I can do that,” he said before muttering, “What kind of compensation, though...? Do you want a coupon or what?”

“What would I use a coupon for?” Hinata asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean—I would’ve been fine with just an apology.”

“Oh, Hinata-kun, such a martyr...” Komaeda gave him a pitying look. “You need to raise your standards.”

Hinata flinched for reasons beyond the current conversation.

“...I guess...”

“Yeah, you’re not getting an apology when I’m not sorry,” Matsuda said. “Pick something else.”

“Seriously?” Hinata gave him a look. “I... What the hell am I supposed to ask for?”

“A raise!” Komaeda exclaimed. “Extra vacation days! Or maybe a cruise!”

“I’m not paying for a fucking cruise,” Matsuda snapped. “Just how much money do you think I have?”

“Eh? But, Matsuda-kun, you’re a renowned neurologist,” Komaeda pointed out. “Even if you’re still a minor, you should be making a considerable amount of money...”

“Paid intern,” Matsuda corrected. “I could afford rent and instant food without having to pick up a parttime job on the side. Better than most...other people of my status...” He paused, having to stop himself for a moment before continuing, “I’m still not living the fancy life, though.”

Living as an orphan is never easy, especially in this country.

“That seems unfair,” Komaeda pointed out.

“What rock do you live under? That’s just how it is,” Matsuda scoffed. “Maybe if I had rich parents or even grandparents, it’d be different but I don’t.”

My worthless dad fucking ran the second shit got only a little difficult. Come to think of it, how did I manage after...?

“Rich parents,” Komaeda echoed as Matsuda rubbed his temple irritably. “I see.”

What now?

“Oh nothing!” Komaeda chirped, waving his hand as he was stared at by both Matsuda and Hinata. Right. Hinata.

This was supposed to be about Hinata.

“I, uh, don’t know much about making money,” Hinata confessed rather pitifully. “I’ve done some job-hunting...and I guess I’ve helped out at a convenience store? But only because my parents knew the owner...”

“How down to earth,” Matsuda remarked. “I knew a convenience store owner who gave me a sandwich because she felt sorry for me.”

“The one I knew hated me,” Komaeda chirped. “She said I was cursed! Which I guess was true!”

Both Matsuda and Hinata stared at him again, this time harder than before. Despite that, Komaeda remained bouncy and cheerful.

“Since financial compensation isn’t an option, I guess the best we can do is find something on the island to give Hinata-kun!”

“There’s a supermarket,” Matsuda pointed out dryly.

“I can just go there myself and grab whatever I want,” Hinata said. “I don’t need you picking up anything for me.”

“Do you want to be compensated or not?” Matsuda snapped.

“You’re not the kind of person who gets easily taken advantage of, right?” Komaeda asked, looking at him pityingly again.

“I’m not answering that,” Hinata griped. “But yes, I want compensation, I just... I don’t think I’m going to get the kind of compensation I actually want...”

Komaeda looked at Matsuda next.

“Sucks,” is all he had to offer.

Hinata grumbled, but wasn’t one to give up easily, almost as if he was motivated by a higher force.

“There’s stuff to do, right? Like, go to the beach...”

“I guess I can take you a beach and toss a frisbee for you to fetch,” Matsuda conceded.

“O-Or maybe relax at the park!!”

“Oh, should I bring a leash instead?” Matsuda asked, head tilted.

“T-There’s the movie theater!” Hinata exclaimed in a fit of desperation. “Let’s try that! Let’s go to the movies!”

Matsuda stared. Komaeda stared. Hinata took their silence as agreement.

“The movies,” he decided. “L-Let’s go to the movies.”

Matsuda and Komaeda traded looks.

It was decided, but not without reservations.

--

“Surely there’s more than one film showing,” Hinata said, looking up at the sign. “I mean... I know I wanted to come here but... This film is supposed to be really bad, right?”

“It is,” Matsuda confirmed.

“It really, really is,” Komaeda agreed. “No offense, Hinata-kun, but you’re going to have to watch this alone if you have your heart set on it.”

“I-I thought I was supposed to be getting treated?!” Hinata protested. “And—I won’t want to see it anyway! I just...” He trails off. “I just...thought it might be nice to watch a move... I wasn’t thinking about...”

Wasn’t thinking is right. I’m also surprised you have the energy.

“Guess it can’t hurt to check,” Matsuda said as he made his way inside. “Of course the main issue is asking...”

Komaeda whistled before Matsuda even had a second to truly dread what came before.

“WHAT AM I, A DOG?!” Monokuma shrieked. “Call me by my NAME or at least a TITLE if you can MANAGE IT?!”

“Why would I when you already answered?” Komaeda retorted. “I just wanted to ask some questions about any films playing?”

“Why? So you can break my fragile little bear heart all over again?” Monokuma sniffled. “Critics are vultures! Vultures, I tell ya!”

“Get the fuck over yourself,” Matsuda snapped. “We’re only here because this dumbass wants to see a movie.”

“I-I’m not a dumbass!” Hinata protested, but Monokuma looked at him as if he were, in fact, a dumbass. “What?! Do you have a problem with that?!”

“Eheh... Upupupu, and here I thought you didn’t want to watch it!” Monokuma cackled. “You were just being tsundere all along! Should’ve known!”

“I don’t want to watch that film, just a film,” Hinata hurriedly corrected but Monokuma just squealed.

“Such a tsundere that you even threw away millions for a sticker!”

“Millions...?” Matsuda echoed.

“For...a sticker?” Komaeda wondered, wide-eyed.

“Don’t worry about it!” Hinata yelped, waving his hand frantically. “I-It’s nothing to worry about!”

“I think tsundere syndrome IS pretty worrying!” Monokuma exclaimed, smacking Hinata on the ass and retrieving the one and only sticker. “I mean, honestly! Imagine paying 150 million yen for this lovely sticker just so you don’t have to watch a movie! Check it, check it!”

“Stop, don’t!” Hinata shrieked, but Monokuma couldn’t be deterred, flinging that sticker into Matsuda’s face.

Matsuda got a good look at it, as did Komaeda. The Monokuma sticker grinned back at them, with the cheekily written following words underneath: I’m sorry, I was born stupid.

Matsuda stared. Komaeda stared. The sticker smugly kept on staring back, radiating contempt and malice.

“H-Hinata-kun,” Komaeda began shakily, sounding close to tears. “You bought this for 150 million yen?”

“I-I had to take out a loan,” was Hinata’s pitiful explanation. “I didn’t...pay for it upfront...”

“What were you going to do if it accrued interest?” Matsuda asked blankly.

“And what are you going to do now that you’re gonna watch the movie anyway?!” Monokuma exclaimed. “All that money—wasted!”

“I can’t believe you’re going to go bankrupt over this shitty sticker,” Matsuda lamented, feeling genuinely apologetic for his cruel fate. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

And Hinata.

Just.

Screamed.

“ARGH FORGET IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!”

--

In the end, Hinata ran out of the theater. In the end, Matsuda and Komaeda wordlessly left as well. In the end, Monokuma surely laughed his furry ass off.

Another day largely wasted.

“Do you think Hinata-kun’s going to want his sticker back?” Komaeda asked, grimacing at the thing as if it had committed great offense. Which it had. Simply by existing. “Monokuma didn’t write up a contract. His word isn’t legally binding. Hinata-kun might not have to pay.”

“Hm.” Matsuda stuffed the sticker into his mouth, chewing it and swallowing it much to Komaeda’s awe. “It’s his word against ours. I can at least afford a lawyer.”

“I’ll pay for legal fees! Just for Hinata-kun!” Komaeda exclaimed, fired up now. “And—!”

“Once we get out of here, we’ll take him to see an actual movie,” Matsuda said.

Komaeda shut his mouth.

“Once we get out of here,” Matsuda repeated.

Komaeda said nothing else for the rest of the day, but there was a particular glimmer to his gaze. One that Matsuda took note of, and couldn’t help but hope for a greater significance.

[thisissirius]

the most important mark to leave [AO3 Link] eddie/buck, chris. birthdays, marriage proposals, fluff and family.

“This is gross,” Eddie mutters.

If Abuela were to ever see the inside of his fridge; Eddie doesn’t wanna think about it. He moves some of the tupperware out of the way, wrinkling his nose. He doesn’t know how long some have these have been here. He gets a steady collection of pre-cooked food thanks to both Abuela and Buck, who are determined that Chris never eats anything Eddie cooks.

Which, fair, when Eddie’s not taking a dent to his pride, he can admit that living off of canned and boxed food isn’t the healthiest.

“Dad?”

Eddie looks back over his shoulder. Chris is at the table, doing his spelling for the next day. He’s been going through a nope phase with anything writing related, so Eddie’s pleased to see it. “Yeah, buddy?”

Chris shifts on his seat. “Is Buck coming over next Saturday?”

“Uh,” Eddie says, trying to think what’s happening next Saturday. He’s not working and he’s almost positive Buck’s been making noise about the aquarium. “I think so. We’ll have to ask.”

“No!” Chris looks contrite right after his shout.

“No?” Eddie raises his eyebrows and drops some of the tuppers into the trash. They’re beyond saving and it’s easier to buy new ones than expose himself—and Chris—to whatever’s inside. “Chris—”

“I meant,” Chris starts, “we have to ask him because he’s gotta come to his birthday party.”

Eddie’s not forgotten it’s Buck’s birthday; he’s already got Buck’s gift planned out, he just needs the right time. They haven’t been able to go on a proper date in weeks, but that’s never bothered them. Buck likes the domesticity that comes from being a father—and Eddie’s always going to be grateful Buck loves his son like he’s his own—and Eddie loves being under his own roof and not having a ton of people stare at him when he's inevitably awkward. “I don’t know if Buck wants that.”

Chris frowns, then puts down his pen. He meets Eddie’s eyes unflinchingly. “Dad, Buck’s not gonna say he wants a party. He doesn’t think you want a fuss.”

Eddie is, apparently, a failure of a partner. “Buck—”

“He told Abuela,” Chris says, matter-of-factly. “I wasn’t meant to hear but they thought I was sleeping. He knows you don’t like big celebration things unless they’re inside but he wants a backyard party. He wants fireworks because he thinks they’re cool and he never got them when he was as old as me. He also never got cake like I do. That’s really sad, Dad.”

It takes Eddie a moment to get his feelings under control. When he does, he closes the fridge door and sits across from Chris. He doesn’t know any of this about Buck but he’s not surprised; they don’t talk about their pasts because there’s so much there they don’t want to address. Their present and their future have always been their focus because they’re more important. Eddie thinks maybe it’s a mistake.

“Buck wants to be happy.” Chris stares down at his homework, still frowning. “He doesn’t want you to be upset with what he wants.”

There’s clearly things both he and Buck have to talk about, but Eddie’s overcome with emotion; he wants Buck to have whatever he needs, to enjoy his birthday instead of worrying about what everyone else thinks. “Well,” he says, leaning across the table and sharing a grin with his son. “I guess we should plan Buck’s birthday, shouldn’t we?”

Chris cheers and then looks down at his homework. “Does this mean I don’t have to do my spelling?”

“Nice try, buddy,” Eddie says with a laugh. “Unless you want me to call Buck and tell him you’re not doing your homework.”

“Alright,” Chris says. “I’ll finish it.”

“It should be superheroes,” Chris says.

Eddie pulls into the mall parking lot, cursing when there isn’t an available spot. Where are all the people coming from? It’s his only day off and he doesn’t wanna spend it driving around a parking lot. There’s a woman in a minivan almost on his tail and he rolls his eyes. Tapping his fingers on the wheel, he curses inwardly. “Why’s that?”

Chris sighs dramatically and Eddie snorts. He’s definitely been spending too much time with Buck. “Because Buck loves superheroes, Dad. That’s why he wants a replicon Steve shield for his birthday.”

“Replica,” Eddie corrects gently, grinning. A spot opens up and he manages to swipe it before the woman in the minivan. She looks harassed, four kids in the back, and Eddie gets a flashback to Chris’ sleepover. He doesn’t envy her one bit. “It’s a good job we managed to get it then, isn’t it?”

Chris meets his eyes in the mirror. “We’re the best.”

“Yes, we are,” Eddie says, shutting off the truck. “How about we grab Buck a cake?”

Navigating the market is an exercise in frustration at the best of times, but even more so when Chris is demanding everything be perfect. Not that Eddie’s complaining; after the couple of years Buck’s had, he deserves to be lavished with affection and Chris is nothing if not the best source of that where Buck’s concerned.

They scan the row of cakes and Eddie’s not finding any good enough. Now that he knows Buck’s never had one, he wants it to be perfect. Chris also comments on most of them; he likes some of the characters he and Buck watch on television. (Eddie doesn’t have the heart to tell him Buck watches the cartoons because Chris likes them). He stops at the generic ones; round chocolate cakes, red velvet, the occasional long and thin caterpillar cakes.

“I like that one,” Chris says. He points to a heart-shaped cake on one of the lower shelves.

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Why that one?”

Chris tips his head back, looking up at Eddie with a grin. “Buck’s got a big heart, Dad, and he gives it to all of us all the time. Now we get to show him we know.”

One day Eddie’s gonna stop being surprised by his son’s goodness. Though it’s less surprise and more awe that he’s responsible for such a beautiful human being. “I love you so much, kid.”

“I love you too, Dad,” Chris says and Eddie’s not sure if that’s a roll of his eyes. Honestly, Buck time is being rationed. “So are we getting the cake?”

Eddie agrees easily and puts the cake in the cart. It’s probably cheaper to make his own, but he’s never tried baking before and he knows the instant he turns on the oven to try, Buck’ll appear somehow to yell him out of the kitchen. “I think that’s it, bud.”

“No.” Chris unfolds the piece of paper he’s been clutching the entire trip and gives it to Eddie. “We haven’t got the decorations yet.”

The list is small; Cake. Decorations. Dad. Friends. Me. Kisses. Hugs. Lots of Love. Abuela’s cooking. Not Dad’s cooking.

Swallowing, Eddie takes a moment. “Is this what we need for Buck’s birthday?”

Chris nods. “The decorations have to be superheroes too, Dad. Captain America because that’s Bucky’s favourite, but they need to have Buck’s face on.”

Eddie slips the paper into his pocket—his son understands Buck so well that sometimes Eddie doesn’t know what to do with it—and guides the cart after his son. “I don’t think that’s possible, Buddy.”

“Tia Pepa can print out lots of pictures of Buck’s face,” Chris explains, and Eddie keeps one eye on him, the other on the other patrons of the store. “Then we can stick them to the balloons and things.”

Chris rambles as they walk and though Eddie doesn’t know how they’re gonna go about sticking Buck’s face to everything, he dutifully puts the Captain America decorations in the cart. His bank balance isn’t going to thank him, especially with what the replica shield cost him, but Buck’s the second best thing in his life. Eddie gets to spoil him the same way he spoils Christopher. His son isn’t wrong about Buck; he does give his heart, usually in pieces, and doesn’t expect anything back in return. Eddie tries to give it but he knows he’s not the best at emotions and being candid. He’s working on it, and hopefully this party will help.

The cashier runs them through quickly, though she gives Chris a bright smile. “One of your friends having a party?”

“My Papa,” Chris says easily, and Eddie’s heart skips a beat. It never gets old, the words themselves, or the casual intimacy with which Chris says them. The love Buck and Chris have—Eddie knows he’ll never find someone else who loves Chris as much. “He’s never had a party before!”

“Chris,” Eddie says gently. The cashier doesn’t know Buck, but he’s not sure Buck’ll want everyone knowing his business.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Chris says, grinning at the cashier. “Buck doesn’t have to be sad anymore because he’s got us.”

Eddie can’t say anything for a moment, but the cashier kindly gives him the total, holding her hand out for Chris. “You make sure your Papa gets the best party.”

“Yeah,” Chris says, hi-fiving the cashier over the counter. “He’s gonna be excited.”

Excited or pissed off, Eddie thinks, when he sees the state of their house.

The confetti was a terrible idea. There’s no way it’s coming out of the carpet easy even with the tech-heavy vacuum Buck insisted on buying—and knows Eddie fucking hates.

(“It doesn’t suck properly!”

“Maybe it’s been taking lessons from you.”

“Fuck you, Buckley.)

Blowing up balloons is fast becoming the worst preparation for the party and he’s ready to give up when there’s a knock at the door. Only too happy to abandon his assigned task, he yells, “I’ve got it.”

Abuela’s in the backyard with Chris and Eddie’s got no idea what they’re up to. He’s not sure he wants to find out. When he pulls open the door, he grins. Chim and Maddie have arms full with food and gifts, and Eddie gestures them in.

“Gifts on the coffee table, food in the kitchen. No,” he continues at Maddie’s look, “I won’t be touching it.”

Maddie snorts and takes the food through to the kitchen. “Where is Buck anyway?”

“We sent him on an errand,” Eddie explains. “I can’t even remember what, Chris’ idea. Who are you guys supposed to be anyway?”

“I don’t know any superheroes,” Maddie says with a shrug. “Chim picked for me.”

Eddie and Chim share a knowing look. The Buckley lack of pop culture is a shock until you know their history.

“If I’m coming as Falcon,” Chim explains, “She’s gotta be the Winter Soldier.”

“Is this because he’s a guy?” Eddie asks.

“Chim!” Maddie slaps Chim’s arm and he laughs.

“What? You said you wanted to hide your body, not expose it!”

Eddie bites back on another laugh. “Be thankful he didn’t make you come as Man-Ape.”

Maddie obviously doesn’t know who that is, but she settles for beating Chim with a pillow. Eddie’s saved from having to intervene by the doorbell going off again.

It doesn’t take long for the house to fill up; Hen and Karen bring their kids, Bobby and the Grants arrive not long after, and Chris finally comes to find him in the kitchen absolutely not touching anything.

“Dad, I wanna get ready.”

“I thought you were,” Eddie says. “Where’s your outfit, buddy? Are you still going with Superman?”

Chris shakes his head. “No. I asked Abuela to get it for me and Tia Pepa helped. I want you to help me put it on.”

Eddie’s got no idea what’s happening, but he yells to Bobby and Athena that he’s helping Chris get ready and could someone please call Buck and tell him to come home? When he joins Chris in his bedroom, he knows he shouldn’t be surprised to see firefighting gear on the bed.

“I wanted to go as Bucky,” Chris explains, looking at the floor. “I don’t want you to be mad.”

With a pain in his chest that Eddie tries to shove down, he crouches in front of Chris, holding his hands. “I’m not mad, I promise. Why would I be? Buck’s important to you and to me.”

Chris still isn’t smiling. “I love you, Dad, but sometimes people don’t like sharing.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, he sweeps Chris into his arms and sits on the end of the bed. Chris gets comfortable, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “Buddy, there’s nothing in this world that I want more than to share you with Buck. Seeing you two happy makes me smile the hardest and you know why?”

“No,” Chris says, shaking his head.

“Because I love you both so much. Sharing you with Buck is easy, mijo, and you shouldn’t ever be sad to tell me you want to be like Buck, or love him, or anything else, okay?”

Chris doesn’t answer for a moment. “Does that mean you won’t be mad about this?”

Eddie looks over his shoulder to see what he’s talking about and almost has a heart attack.

“I need you to help me in the bathroom too,” Chris says, making his way across the hall. Eddie follows, a little emotional about Chris in the firefighter outfit. With his curly hair he passes easily for a younger Buck and Eddie can’t wait for Buck to see him. “I need Buck’s birthmark, Dad.”

Oh, oh no. Eddie almost can’t stand it. “Buddy, that’s great. I didn’t think of that.”

“Buck’s not gonna know otherwise,” Chris says.

“Oh, I think the jacket gives it away,” Eddie says.

Chris watches his face as he sits on the toilet and hands Eddie some face paint. Abuela’s doing again, no doubt. He carefully applies some of the red to Chris’ face; he doesn’t have to look at an image of Buck to know what he’s doing. He’s spent hours of his life memorising every inch of Buck’s body, but especially his birthmark. It’s his favourite place to press a kiss, the best way to elicit a shiver out of Buck, the place he touches when he knows Buck’s sensitive. It’s a reminder for Buck, sometimes, that he’s beautiful inside and out, something Eddie knows he doesn’t believe all that much.

“You’re not mad about the jacket, are you, Daddy?”

Eddie puts down the face paint, rubs his thumb against the mark on Christopher’s eye. He sighs, scratching at the back of his head. “No, buddy. I wanted to do it for his birthday anyway, but I haven’t had time to figure it out.”

Chris nods, looking at his feet, but Eddie places a finger gently under his chin. Chris doesn’t look away. “I want to help you. Buck needs to know we both want him to stay.”

“I don’t think there’s any doubt in his mind,” Eddie says gently, “but I think it’ll help.”

Chris’ smile is worth the discomfort Eddie’s gonna get from this. Buck deserves the world, isn’t that what he’s always saying? Buck’s world is right here; Chris, Eddie, his station family.

“Buck’s here!”

Maddie’s yell breaks them out and Chris panics. “Dad, I’m not ready!”

“Calm down, mijo,” Eddie says, kissing the top of Chris’ head. “We’ll be out there in time.”

Buck’s face when he opens the door is priceless.

The scream he lets out when they yell, “Surprise!” is the best sound Eddie’s ever heard.

When he sees Christopher and starts crying, Eddie thinks he’s probably gonna burst into tears as well.

“Thank you, Chris,” Buck says, pressing his face into Chris’ neck. “You look great.”

“We have to be our favourite superheroes,” Chris says, not protesting when Buck picks him up. He throws his arms around Buck’s neck. “I even had Daddy do your birthmark.”

Buck laughs, kissing the side of Christopher’s face. He pretends to gasp, eyes wide. “So I see.It looks so real!”

Chris giggles, “It’s only face paint!”

“No,” Buck says with exaggeration and yeah, Eddie knew he’s the reason for Chris’ sass. “I thought I was looking in a mirror.”

“Silly,” Chris says.

Buck’s eyes are suspiciously shiny when he tugs Eddie in for a hug, their son trapped between them. Buck’s lips are brushing his ear. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“Myself, apparently,” Eddie says slowly.

“Daddy doesn’t think he’s a hero,” Chris says decisively, “so I had to remind him that he’s your hero!”

Buck looks Eddie in the eye, thumb rubbing the skin beneath his eye. “Damn straight.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says, turning his face away. “Pretty sure that means you’re the one supposed to be wearing this shirt.”

“I don’t know,” Buck says, pitching his voice low. “I like you in your uniform.”

Eddie definitely doesn’t wanna be thinking about that in a packed household. “Come on, Buckley, there are other guests.”

“Oh,” Maddie cuts in, “you remembered us, then?”

A laugh runs around the room, and Buck obliges when Chris asks to be put down. Eddie stays on the periphery, watching Buck do the rounds and getting the hugs and appreciation he deserves. Buck’s surprised by all of it, he knows, and he understands why; Buck’s starved for affection, accepts it from Eddie without hesitation. Still, he doesn’t know his own worth and Eddie’s gonna spend a lifetime showing him.

The cake is a hit. When Chris explains about the heart and giving out pieces, Eddie thinks everyone in the room is a little teary-eyed. Buck gets to bury his in Chris’ hair, and Eddie’s lucky enough to have Abuela nearby to do the same.

“You did good, nieto,” Abuela says, touching his elbow.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s all Chris. I just paid the bill.”

Abuela tuts at him, rolling her eyes. Okay, maybe Abuela’s responsible for 50% of Chris’ sass. “You underestimate yourself, Eddito. We both know how much you love that boy.”

“And everyone else is about to,” Eddie adds dryly. His Abuela’s shrug and lack of shame are obvious, but he can’t bring himself to be sorry that she enabled his son. “How did you know?”

There’s a short silence while Abuela looks at Buck, then back to him. “I didn’t care for Shannon,” she starts, and Eddie doesn’t want to hear this, but Abuela holds up a hand. “I know you loved her and I know she loved Chris, that she wanted what was best for him, but you, Eddie. You were never happy. Not like this.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say. “I was happy.”

“Perhaps,” Abuela allows, “but you didn’t show it. Not like this,” she says quietly. “Not when you look at Evan. You don’t see it yourself, but I haven’t seen you smile and laugh as much as you have these past few years. You’ve changed, Edmundo, and maybe he didn’t change you, but he made you love yourself and for that I can never love him enough.”

“Abuela,” Eddie says and hears his own voice break. She hugs him, kisses his cheek. It’s a lot to take, a lot to hear, but he knows she’s right. Buck does make him happy. He can’t remember the last time he felt the burn of anger, or the overwhelming need to run after a flashback or nightmare. Buck’s always there, guiding him through the pain, reminding him that he’s loved, that he’s got a family. It’s always Buck.

It’s time.

Buck’s in the middle of a conversation with Maddie and Hen about something, so Eddie finds Chris, whispers in his ear that he should get his jacket. Abuela promises to take him, and Eddie heads off Bobby and Karen who both want to talk. “Sorry, I have to do something quick.”

Bobby’s eyebrows raise and Eddie panics that maybe he knows. “Something important?”

“Kinda,” Eddie says, then raises his voice. “Okay, gift time!”

“Eddie,” Buck says, flushing. “We don’t have to do that now.”

Eddie looks at the pile of gifts. “Okay maybe not those, but there is mine.”

“We don’t wanna be a part of this,” Chim cuts in, only to get a slap from Maddie. “What? There are kids here!”

“Which is why,” Eddie says, “this is a PG gift.”

Buck’s staring at him, torn between embarrassment and confusion, but his eyes flick to the doorway, where Chris is coming back into the room. He’s got a turnout jacket on, grinning widely, and Abuela’s gaze finds Eddie. She nods encouragement and he swallows once, twice, and then wipes his sweaty hands on his pants.

“Buddy,” Buck says, sounding awed. “The jacket looks awesome!”

Athena and May, both directly behind Chris, exchange a look and Eddie knows he sees tears in Athena’s eyes. Bobby looks at Eddie and yeah, he definitely knows.

“Wait,” Chris says, “I gotta turn around, Bucky.”

“What—,” Buck starts. His voice cuts off, mouth dropping open as Chris turns around and he sees what’s written on the jacket. “I don’t.”

“Oh,” Maddie says, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Eddie.”

Eddie moves around Chris, sees the lettering stamped on the jacket.

B. Diaz.

“It’s because you’re a Diaz now!”

Christopher’s words have Buck’s gaze flicking to Eddie.

“Almost,” Eddie says, and goes down on one knee.

“Oh my god,” Buck says.

“Oh my god,” Chim echoes.

“Daddy, you have to ask the question,” Chris puts in.

“I’m getting there, Chris,” Eddie says with a laugh. When he’s considered this moment before, he’s always imagined it in private, the two of them mutually proposing, or Eddie doing it at the wrong moment. This feels like the perfect moment; surrounded by family, Chris shoving him along like he always does, and Buck looking at Eddie like he’s surprised he can be so happy. “I love you, Evan,” he says.

“Eddie,” Buck starts. “I love you.”

“I know.” Eddie fumbles for the box in his pocket, the one he’s had buried in his closet for months. “I think if I give a speech, Chris might riot, so I’m just gonna ask; you wanna get married?”

Buck laughs, leans down and drags Eddie into a kiss. “Obviously, idiot.”

When they part, Eddie looks offended. “That’s not nice, Buckley.”

“Diaz,” Buck says breathlessly, pupils dilating. Inappropriate but understandable.

“Diaz,” Eddie agrees. They’re not married yet, but what the fuck ever. Buck’s been a Diaz from the moment he met Chris.

“What the hell kind of proposal,” Chim mutters.

Maddie’s crying, but she still manages to slap Chim on the arm.

Arms come around Eddie’s legs and he laughs, leans down to lift Chris up, who promptly wraps his arms around both Eddie and Buck. “Diazes!”

“Diazes indeed,” Buck says, sounding pleased.

When the sky starts to darken outside, Hen and Karen make noises about leaving.

“Thanks for coming,” Eddie says, hugging Hen tight.

“Are you kidding?” Hen grins. “Who knew you were a closet romantic?”

“I did,” Buck says, handing Nia back to Karen. “Thanks, guys.”

With a quick kiss to Nia’s cheek and a promise to Denny for a sleepover soon, Eddie gives Buck a knowing look. “Spilling my secrets already?”

“What are husbands for?” Buck says with a grin.

Husband. Okay, wow, Eddie’s deliberately not thinking about that word but now it’s out there he can’t not. From the expression on Buck’s face, he knows it.

“Alright boys,” Athena says, shoving at Eddie’s shoulder. “There’s still kids in the house.”

Buck immediately drags her into a hug, and if his wince is anything to go by, Athena’s grip is strong. “Thanks, Athena.”

Touching a hand to Buck’s face, Athena shakes him once. “I’m proud of you, Buck. So proud.”

“Yeah,” Buck breathes, looking like he’s gonna start crying again. Athena kisses his cheek, then steps towards Eddie.

“Don’t hurt me,” Eddie says, holding up his hands.

“Idiot,” Athena chastises, and gives him a bone-crushing hug as well. “I love both of you boys. You take care, you hear me?”

Eddie nods, a little overwhelmed, and catches the tail end of Bobby’s talk with Buck. Buck’s definitely crying, and Bobby’s holding him. Whatever they’re saying is too low for Eddie to make out, but he’s not sure he wants to know. May and Harry interrupt, telling Eddie they’re happy for him, and Michael’s soft congratulations are just as welcome.

“I never thought,” Bobby says, when he finally gets around to saying goodbye to Eddie, “that you’d come this far. All those months ago in my office, I wasn’t sure you’d ever be ready.”

“Neither did I,” Eddie admits. He doesn’t have to ask how Bobby knew, whether or not he’s always been obvious because he knows he has. He’s been afraid of plenty of things in his life, made a ton of mistakes, but this thing with Buck isn’t one of them. Buck himself is the best thing that’s ever come into Eddie and Christopher’s life and he’ll never feel worthy of it. “Thanks for everything.”

Bobby nods, hugging Eddie tight and Eddie returns it.

Eddie loves his father and he knows deep down that his father loves him too, but there’s a lot of shit between them. Loving Bobby is easy, believing that he’s a surrogate son in Bobby’s eyes is easy.

“Take some time,” Bobby says, with a wry smile. “Couple of days. We’ll cover your shifts.”

“I dunno,” Eddie says. “I kinda need to pay for this party.”

Buck flips him off behind Bobby’s back and Bobby looks unimpressed. “I saw that, Evan.”

Maddie, Chim and Abuela are the last to leave.

Maddie’s hug is tight despite her growing belly, and she whispers, “Thank you,” in Eddie’s ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Evan so happy.”

Eddie nods with a shrug. He can feel his face heating up, but he knows he’s grinning like an idiot. “He deserves more of the credit.”

“You’re both dumbasses,” Chim adds, but he gives both of them a tight hug anyway. “I can’t believe you’re gonna marry before us.”

Maddie snorts, but Buck just elbows Eddie. “We have a kid before you too.”

“Ouch,” Chim says, clutching at his chest. “Right for the heart.”

“Sorry about him,” Maddie says with a roll of her eyes. “Come on, idiot. I’m craving pickles and ice cream.”

“Gross,” Chim mouths, but dutifully follows Maddie out of the house. Buck’s making a face as well but Eddie’s never had pickles and ice cream; it sounds like it might be okay.

Abuela’s saying goodbye to Chris, whispering to him in Spanish and Eddie rolls his eyes. He’s sure he doesn’t wanna know what’s happening there. The face paint smudged a little while ago and Abuela wets her thumb, starts to smooth it out, but Chris stops her with a pout.

Laughing, she approaches Eddie and Buck.

“I’m happy,” she says, bringing Eddie in for a hug. “Maddie and I have a lot to talk about, no?”

“Small wedding,” Eddie warns.

Abuela waves him off, and Eddie can only laugh at Buck’s panicked expression. Eddie knows better than to argue with Abuela, but maybe he and Buck can marry first, let Abuela and Maddie have the reception. It’s something they can talk about. Later.

“And you,” Abuela says, dragging Buck into a hug. Buck buries his face in Abuela’s neck and she soothes his hair, whispering something. There’s a lot of whispering and while again, Eddie doesn’t wanna know what she’s saying, it’s because this is just for Buck. Eddie doesn’t know anything about Buck’s grandparents, but he’s taken to Abuela like he did Chris and Eddie both; wholeheartedly and without reservation. “Wednesday, Corazón Salvaje.”

“You got it,” Buck says with a laugh and yeah, he’s definitely crying again.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why you watch that when you can’t understand it.”

“Idiota,” Abuela says, at the same time Buck says, “Stop trying to understand Abuela Time.”

“Abuela Time,” Eddie says, sounding confused.

Buck flushes, but Abuela laughs, patting Buck on the waist. “Later, nieto.”

“Bye, Abuela,” Buck says, and Eddie echoes the sentiment. They wait until Pepa pulls out of the driveway and close the door. Buck turns, making a face at the state of the house. “I hate cleanup.”

“You can vacuum the confetti,” Eddie tells him. “You bought the stupid thing.”

Buck opens his mouth, probably to object, but instead he tugs Eddie in, giving Chris a quick glance. Their son is busy with the TV, queueing up one of Buck’s gifted movies. “You,” Buck says, hands on Eddie’s face, “are the most amazing man.”

“It’s all Chris,” Eddie admits. “Everything. He knew you wanted this, wanted to celebrate. I’m sorry I didn’t know it.”

“This was perfect,” Buck says. “It would have been perfect just us.”

Eddie nods. He knows. “But you have to tell me,” he continues, kissing Buck gently, “when you want something, even if you think I won’t want it. Relationships are a compromise.”

“Marriages are,” Buck agrees, awed.

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs. “So as husbands, we should be honest.”

Buck’s grinning like an idiot as he pulls Eddie in for a tight hug. Eddie feels lighter than he has in weeks, knows this is the start of something amazing.

“I’ll grab the snacks and you get settled on the couch.” Buck pats him on the ass and moves off towards the kitchen. Eddie’s halfway across the room when he remembers about the trash and winces at Buck’s yell. “Eddie Diaz, I am celebrating my birthday so why the HELL is there good food spoiled in the trash?”

“Fuck,” Eddie says.

“Curse word!” Chris adds helpfully.

Eddie sighs. “I can explain!”

He really, really can’t.

[youaresimplycomplex]

Lady of the Orc [Part 3]

“Sooo….” Varbuk said, “Where did you want to start.”

“I.. uuuhhh,” was all Ashlynn could manage. She had tons of questions but they wouldn't come to her.

“How about you start?” She said hoping to give herself some time.

“Uuuhhhhh…” he said as well, they were both hopeless.

“Oh I've got one! What is this place?” Ashlynn asked.

Varbuk looked confused and said “My house?”

“No, I mean the town. What it is called.”

“OOOHH! Sorry, it's called Buried Hatchet.”

“Not a particularly subtle name, is it?” Ashlynn teased his home.

“Subtlety is overrated, we say what we mean and mean what we say. Also isn't your home a valley full of Birch trees, called Birch Vale?” Well he had her there. Though the flexible Birch does make a beautiful crest for her family.

“Fair enough but if it was named like your home, it would be called Utter Incompetence.”

“Or Bad Neighbor,” Varbuk offered with a laugh, that she joined into. It was like thunder the way he laughed. She was a little jealous on how his voice boomed and filled the room.

“So the humans are experiencing famine right now right? That's why Utter Incompetence invaded?"

“Yeah harvest was bad these last couple years. You here seem unaffected though, what's your secret?” It had been a tough two years. The store houses had keep everyone from starving but not by much.

“How do I know your not a spy?” He said in his playful way.

"Hhmm well, I've obviously gone rouge."

"True," he said while pretending to think, "So I guess I can trust you." He then laughed again. "My father being so connected with nature helps. We also switch around what we are growing from time to time."

"And switching out crops helps?"

"That's what my dad told me, says it keeps the earth spirits happy."

"Earth spirits?"

"Yeah, spirits of the Earth?" Varbuk said almost confused. Ashlynn had heard of the fey and many magical phenomenon, but never considered anything so close to home.

"Sorry I've just never heard of such things"

"Well the natural world has tons of spirits. Me and my dad commune with them."

"Wait you can talk to these spirits?"

"Not me my dad can. I can more or less call on their powers with the right rituals. That's how fight by calling on the strength of a bear."

"Does it work?"

"Well I'm still here aren't I?" He said while looking away, posing with a huge grin.

"Fair enough," Ashlynn said while stealing a glance at Varbuk's still exposed chest while his eyes were elsewhere. "Is there anything else you can do?"

"Uhhhhh…" he said deflating from his pride. "OH! I know, I can talk to animals!" He ran out of the with a quick assurance he'd be back. Ashlynn could hear and feel his footfalls head down stairs and towards the kitchen. She was left alone with her thoughts again. That was most of her days honestly but now she just wanting Varbuk back in the room with her. She realized how strange it was, about a week ago she was about to be forcibly married to him and dreading it. Now though she lying in bed, eager to see him return.

"Well I don't want him like that I just want to talk to him." she said to herself quietly. As soon as the words left her she knew how much it was a lie. She had been peeking at his pecs all day. He was tall, and handsome so unlike all the other men at court. She had seen how courtly men like their women though. Not wanting love they just wanted something to own. Varbuk actually listened to her. Let her speak and was receptive to it.

As her mind swirled around, her heart suddenly thumped in her chest. It took her by surprise because she had barely noticed it all this time, muffled by the poison. Now though it was surging with life. She started to worry but then she heard Varbuk thundering up the stairs with someone else's familiar footsteps.

Sure enough Fluffy came bounding into the room and hopped up onto the bed and then laid down on top of Ashlynn. She panicked for a second but he hadn't stepped on her at all and the new weight was nice. Varbuk enter the room, with some candles and some herbs.

"This will take a minute or two but once I do this, I'll be able to talk with Fluffy." Ashlynn was a little taken aback but remained silent as the orc set about. He took off his shoulder coverings and great axe, leaving his entire top half exposed. This was the most she had seen a man undressed in all her life. She couldn't help but admire him. Hair dusting his breast and leading down to a happy trail down his stomach. His pecs were most prominent sticking out of his barrel chest.

Ashlynn tried to distract herself by petting Fluffy but to no avail. He lit candles and burned some incense. He also put painted claw marks on his chest. Then he sat down on the chair facing Fluffy. His hands were placed in his lap for meditation. He was so focused on his spell he didn't notice Ashlynn's cheeks turning red. He closed his eyes and began to speak in a low voice. She couldn't understand him but it definitely sounded orcish.

This went on for a time then suddenly he let out an animalistic growl. This spooked Ashlynn but it was not the end of the weirdness. A menagerie of animal sounds came from between his two tusks. It was strange but as quick as it happened, it stopped. His eyes flew open and glowed slightly. He then looked at Ashlynn.

"Watch this," he said turning back to Fluffy. He then began to bark at the dog in a way that could not be an impression. Fluffy's attention immediately went to the orc. They barked back and forth like they we actually conversing.

"What are you two talking about?"

"I'm just asking my best bud in the whole world how he's doing."

"And he can understand you?"

"Yeah, we've been talking to each other forever now. Though back when I was little, my dad would do the talking for me. I asked him so much he taught me this ritual so he could stop being the middleman." He went back to barking at his dog for a second.

"Fluffy says he likes you," Varbuk said with a goofy grin.

"I can tell, let him know that I like him too."

"He's said he's happy." Then as he listened to fluffy his face showed some concern.

"Everything ok Varbuk? What did he say?" He looked a bit stunned for a second but then said, "I can finally hear her heartbeat. It's been so quiet ever since we meet." He took a moment to think, "What does he mean by that?" She knew exactly what he meant.

"Whatever is affecting me seems to be affecting my heart and just now it started beating at full force again."

"Really!?" Varbuk said before putting his ear up to Ashlynn's chest. She was more than a little flustered at a half naked man who now had his head on her breasts.

"Wow it's going really fast are you ok?" The intruding orc said before looking up and seeing his blunder. He pulled away and stammered

"I'M SORRY, I DIDN'T MEAN-" Now both of their faces were painted crimson embarrassment. Ashlynn pulled herself together first.

"It's fine, no harm done, just no one else has gotten that close before."

"None of your suitors make it that far?" Her answer was plain on her face before it left her mouth.

"I... didn't have suitors. Unlady like behaviors such as quick wit and speaking out, wasn't very popular back home. What about you? There must be someone vying for your affections." Now it was Varbuk's turn to look self-conscious.

"I'm the only orc my age here. Most people were too afraid to have kids in their old orc clans. Afraid to bring kids doomed to their fate." He looked sad for a moment but then a bit of happiness warmed his face as he continued.

"Not my mother though, she had before my father convinced her to leave. They did their best to make sure I didn't fall into the hateful ways of my peers." It was quiet for a second but then Ashlynn spoke.

"Well they did a wonderful job. You're overflowing with kindness, even to me who not too long ago was a stranger, and worse your enemy."

"Thanks, I want to protect the home my parents worked so hard to build. What about your family though? They can't be all bad."

"Unfortunately yes they are." Ashlynn said with a sigh.

"Really!?"

"Yeah, my mother died after having Franklin, my younger brother. So it's just me, my two brothers and the colossal asshat that is my dad. And since my brothers want to rule one day they suck up to my father like it's what they were born to do. They all found new ways to belittle me because of how I speak my mind. The family library taught me all I needed to know though so I didn't need them."

"Geez, that must of been rough though."

"It was, I felt like there was nothing I could do and nowhere I could go. Those books let me go places I could never go." There was another silence between them. Varbuk started to awkwardly fidget and then said,

"You know I could take you sometime." Ashlynn was surprised but he continued.

"I've traveled around a good bit and still know the way around. Once we get this curse and Bad Neighbor situation figured out maybe we can go somewhere."

"I would like that" Ashlynn couldn't help but smile, this orc had that effect on her.

__________________________

“Finally I got a hit on the beast and I cut his head off with one strike of my axe!” Varbuk said while play acting out his story, decapitating the empty air.

“Impressive but if you dodged all its swipes how’d you get that scar?” Ashlynn said pointing to wound on his foot that started this story.

“Well on the way back, me and my hunting master are carrying back our prize. Then he stubbed his toe and dropped the dead thing onto me. The owlbear got its revenge when one of it’s lifeless talions dug into my foot. To this day I won’t let him live it down,” Varbuk sat down in the bedside chair.

“Sure, it was you hunter master and not you inability to evade owlbears, that earned you that shinner.” Ashlynn playfully mocked her friend’s bravery.

“It's true and you don’t believe me, we’ll go pin down ol’ Ferger and he’ll tell you the same story,” Varbuk, came back with. “Besides that how I got the feathers for your cloak.” Ashlynn picked up the cloak and started to puppet it around.

“Varbuk I’ve come for... THE OTHER FOOT!” Then she threw it on top of him as they both laughed.

Shouting from outside stopped their giggles. Another new arrival in town. One glance and then they were hurriedly getting ready.

“You think it's Rachthar?” Ashlynn said slipping into her shoes. The fancy dress shoes now carrying about six days worth of dirt, from running out to see everyone who comes to town.

“Let's pray it is, they've been overdue for 2 days now.” They both shared a worried look.

They both were making a quick pace towards the eastern gates. The orcs had fortified a lot over the past couple of days. The once small cobble walls now rose into a looming fortress barricade. Lots of Fields were left outside guarded by fences and the people who worked them. There was a tension in the air. Anyone new could be a simple merchant or a herald of war.

The odd duo made their way up one of the lookout towers that flanked the gate. From there anyone could see far along the path that wound through the hills. On that road today three figures walked to the town. Each one with a different shade of skin, green, red and blue. The green figure was obviously an orc, with a large frame Ashlynn had seen plenty of by now. The other two were strange she had never seen or heard of people with such skin tones.

“It's Rachthar!” Varbuk shouted with a leap. He started to wave at the small band.

“Where's the cleric?”

“He's the crimson tiefling”

Ashlynn paused and turned to him and said, “What's a tiefling?”

“Wait you don't know? We really need to get you out more. Maybe put you out on fluffy's old leash.” He said quite smugly before he got elbowed in the ribs by Ashlynn. “Should put you on a leash.”

“Woof woof” he said with a laugh. “Well tieflings are people with infernal blood.”

“Like demons and devils? Does that make them dangerous?”

“No they just get a bad reputation. Besides if they're dangerous because of their heritage what's that make us.”

“Fair enough. I'm sorry I didn't mean to insult.”

“I know you didn't, you just gotta be willing to have an open mind."

“Alright then, then I'll try.”

“Sweet,” he said, smiling. By the end of their talk the trio of people had reached the gates.

“OPEN THE GATES OUR FRIENDS ARE HERE!*

Varbuk yelled, his booking voice thundering out. Ashlynn, Varbuk, and his parents all meet up at the gates to meet the Peacemaker and his companions. The imposing wooden barriers swung open to reveal the new arrivals to Ashlynn.

The orc was built like many the orcs she had seen. He wore an array of colors, along with the tambourine and lute he looked more like a mistrial then a diplomat. The Peacemaker had each side of his head shaved down and hair left on top was tied into a four part fishtail braid. He walked with a confidence in his stride. He looked closer to Varungad's age than anyone else.

The red tiefling, up close, was clearly the cleric. His robes were plain but practical. He carried a pair of small wooden hands bound at the wrist with red cord, the holy symbol of Ilmater. His skin was a darker red like a velvet rust. His horns came from each side of his head and around the front like a bull's.

He had a thick tail trailing behind him off the ground. His eyes glowed with a warm yellow. The poor man of god looked a bit nervous his hands drawn up and walking as close to Rachthar as politely possible.

Now the second tiefling was a wild sight. His skin varied from sky to navy blue fading across his body. Which a lot of it was on display. He wore a jacket with no shirt underneath. And his pants only went down slightly past his knees. Unlike the other two, who each were attentive to what was happening, he seemed bored and uninterested. His horns were the wildest part about him, 6 of them rose out of his head of red hair to form a small crown. The horns in the front higher than the back. He had a tail but it was much thinner and flicked around like it had a mind of it own.

“Varungad!” Rachthar said greeting him with a hug.

“Sorry for the delay, we ran into a bit of trouble on the way. Just some bandits with bad business savvy. How are things here?” The chief paused and after a look around and responded,

“Complicated, but first we need the help of you clerical friend.” It was only a moment of surprise before the horned priest stepped forward.

“How can I help, is someone hurt?” His previous nervous demeanor replaced with a serious face and tone.

“Come and I'll explain,” and with that he began to lead the way.

_______________________________

Varungad and Varbuk caught up their guests on the recent events. As usual Varbuk was very active in his storytelling. Ashlynn sat and listened to this story again. He was getting rather good at telling it but he may be running out of people to tell it to. As she listened she found herself distracted, but not by Varbuk this time. Cackle the blue tiefling, had a presence that Ashlynn could feel. An Aura that seemed to surround him. No one noticed it, except for her but just as she started to pay attention to it he seemed to notice her eyes.

She looked away but Ashlynn new she was caught. Cackle didn't say a word, but his aura began to push outwards. Ashlynn could feel it shoving her she tried to ignore it but it shoved anyways. She tried to shrug it off and surprisingly it worked. Cackle's aura was pushed back.

She looked and saw that the tiefling was staring at her with a question on his face. Before he could ask the others had finished their retelling.

"So what I'm hearing is things have gotten messy." Rachthar said leaning toward in his chair.

"That's a nice way of putting it but yeah." Varangard said.

"You're definitely not in a envyable situation, my Friend. The Duke Brandon is going to be quite a foe to face, but I insist we try to make peace again." Rachthar said.

"AFTER SUCH NAKED HOSTILITIES!!??" Varbuk's mother shouted with slammed fist.

"Gurrock," Varangard tried in vain to calm his wife.

"THAT WORM LITERALLY TRIED TO STAB US IN THE BACK!" Despite her volume, she had some solid ground to be mad.

"Yes he did but going to war with him will lead to not a lot of good things. First of all it's exactly what they expect of us. It will confirm every suspicion that all those nobles have. Secondly if we win, he'll just limp back to his keep and call on his allies for aid. Then you'll fighting your whole lives to keep want you've gained." Rachthar paused and let it sink in, then went on.

"Now two of his plans to sweep you away have failed. So he could be a bit easier to sway towards peace. Also you have Lady Ashlynn on your side." All the heads in the room looked at her.

"Well I'm no use, he won't listen to me."

"Well he's going to have to, you're the only high ranking human that isn't in your Dad's pocket," Rachthar said. Ashlynn still wasn't sure but then Varbuk spoke up.

"And we'll have your back. We won't let him ignore you." The young orc said with such conviction that she almost believed it.

'But maybe let me see If I can remove the curse, so she's in proper health." Lumos said speaking up reminding Ashlynn of her supernatural illnesses. She got up and leaned onto the cleric letting him carry her up to her room.

"Sorry if this is weird, but -"

"If you're going to ask why I turned to Ilmater, It's okay, I get that a lot."

"Actually I was going to ask about Cackle, what's his story?." The tiefling was a bit surprised. Ashlynn was looking for any answers about that aura he radiated.

"Here go ahead get into bed and I'll tell you." She did as she was told and got onto the large bed.

"I'll be honest, I don't know much about him. We meet him along the way. He helped us out fight off some bandits that had thought we had something valuable."

"How's that he doesn't look the type to be able to use a sword too well."

"Well he's a sorcerer."

Ok that's new, Ashlynn thought.

"So like a wizard?"

"Sort of but they can use magic innately without having to study but they can't learn new spells easily." She had never heard of such powers. That might explain him having an aura.

The tiefling bowed his head in prayer as began to move his hands over Ashlynn. She felt the holy magic take hold onto her then suddenly it felt like she couldn't breathe. It's like her soul was being pulled out of her chest. The familiar darkness spiking and clinging to her. Then it stopped and Ashlynn gasped for air.

"Are you okay?" Lumos asked, sounded scared. It took a minute of deep breathing before she could answer.

"I'm okay but it's not gone."

"I've never seen a curse like that."

"Any other way to get rid of curses?"

"A dispel magic by a powerful wizard might work but I'm not sure." Lumos saw the despair forming in Ashlynn and tried and comfort Ashlynn, but then a shout from outside

"SPY!"

Ashlynn ran outside with everyone else. They saw a human running and jumping from house to house. Varbuk and Varungad ran after him and without thinking so did Ashlynn. They chased after him barely managing to keep up. The human ran for the wall. The orcs shouted for him to stop but he rudely keep running away. Ashlynn could feel whatever darkness flaring up inside her. The pain was growing in her chest.

It was certainly one of her Father's spies. He had built up a 50ft lead on them and wasn't getting slower. Arrows and crossbow bolts flew at him but all missed.They had to stop him, her father already had enough of an advantage. All the people he would hurt.

Thump.

The people trying to live their lives.

Thump!

The pain in her chest swelled but her heart started to beat over it.

THUMP!

So she reached out a hand and with the most commanding voice she could muster she shouted,

“STOP!” The pain shot into her arm. Suddenly the spy twisted and stopped, paralyzed.

There was a pause a long shadow stretched from Ashlynn to the frozen human. She could feel that she was holding him in place, somehow.

This moment was short lived though, as she had only stunned him. Gravity took hold and had him tumbling down and off the roof. He landed on the ground face down and some of the guards ran up and grabbed him.

"How did you do that?" Varbuk asked as he rushed over to Ashlynn side?

"I don't know I just reached out an-" she was cut off by a loud laughter, a Cackle if you would. The blue tiefling was bent over laughing. Before anyone could say anything he spoke.

"I KNEW YOU WE'RE LIKE ME!" He said pointing rather triumphantly at Ashlynn.

"What are you talking about?" She asked worried and confused by it all.

"You a sorcerer too!"

[lovemesomesurveys]

“spin me around like you did when we first met”

What do you have to shave more often: legs or armpits? I rarely have to shave my legs because hair doesn’t really grow there.

If someone gave you a broken car, would you be able to fix it by yourself? I could take it somewhere or ask family members who work on cars, but no I have no idea about car repair. I know nothing. I’d like to not be given a broken car in the first place, though...

Have you ever seen a tornado? Nooo.

Do you have any pet chickens? No.

Does the color red look good on you? I don’t think I look good in anything in general.

Do you have any of your Easter candy left over still? Ew, it’s November.

Do you have blue eyes? No, I wish.

Do you have big or small ears? Small.

Do/did you enjoy it when your school would have pep rallies? I did enjoy the pep rallies.

Do you leave everything to the last minute? I’m a PROcrastinator.

Can you hula hoop? Nope.

What color is your keyboard? Black with white lettering.

Do you know someone who has two different colored eyes? No.

Do you like meatloaf? Meh, it’s alright. I like it paired with mashed potatoes and gravy.

Do you pray before every meal? No. I tend to forget. :/

“I’ve been waiting all day, for you to call me baby”

Do you have any goats? No. I don’t live on a farm, so I don’t have chickens or goats or any farm animals.

Can you stand on your tippy toes? No.

Do you live across from a corn field? No, I live across from other houses.

Is your driveway stone? Nope, it’s cement.

Do you like the lemonade Vitamin Water? Yeah. I haven’t had that in a long time, though.

Which is worse: losing your memory or have to be in the hospital for 3 days. Uh, I’d say losing my memory... that’s kinda a huge deal.

Would you ever go to a Lady Gaga concert? Sure. I bet it would be fun.

How many black tank tops do you own? I have a couple black undershirts. 

How many pages do you have bookmarked? I have 8 on the bookmarks bar at the top, but that’s it.

Is your age an odd or even number? Odd.

How often do you use the toilet? Uhhh I don’t know, however many times I need to.

Is your best friend older or younger than you? My mom is 23 years older than me.

What color is the back arrow at the top of the page for you? Black.

How many shirts of yours are red? A few.

Have you heard the song Brokenhearted by Karmin? Yeah.

“Tell me how to get back, back to summer paradise with you”

What's something in you room that starts with the letter P? Pillows.

Are you good at pulling pranks? I’m not a prankster.

Do you play Xbox? No.

Can you do a black flip? Nope.

Were you ever on student council in school? No.

Do you have any pets? I have a doggo.

Do you hate when a teacher calls on you and you don't know the answer? That always used to bother me and make me super self-conscious, yes. <<<

When you're sad, do you only listen to sad music? If I listen to music at all, yes. 

Have you ever touched a fish? No.

Is your mom's birthday in February? Nope.

Are you hungry right now? No, I had ramen not too long ago.

When's the last time you laughed? Yesterday.

What does your dream prom dress look like? My prom dress was white with gold specks.

Do you still have a Facebook? Yeah.

Do you like Twix candy? Yes. I don’t recall the last time I had one, though.

“We are, the same”.

Do you play the game Draw Something on your iPhone etc..? I used to be obsessed with that game. It was pretty popular a few years ago.

Does your house have two kitchens? No.

Are you a slow or fast runner? Slow.

True or false: You have brown eyes. True.

If you had dark hair, would you get blonde highlights? I had blonde highlights for several years.

Do you have a nickname that you don't enjoy? No.

Do you enjoy chicken noodle soup? Nah.

Do you hate missing school? Catching up on what I missed could be annoying, especially if I had to miss more than a day. 

Do you own animal print pants? No.

One of the best feelings in the world is turning in a test, agree? One of the best feelings in the world is not having to even take a test in the first place. <<< Hahah, for real.

Do you use tanning lotion? No.

Have you ever been hurt and then had someone tell you to suck it up? Yes.

Can people read your feelings like an open book? My mom is pretty good at that.

Do you know someone who has lost their entire memory? No.

Do you like turnips? No.

“Sometimes the only person that understands me is my friend that I tell nothing to”

Do you think your life would change if you were on the cover of a magazine? Yikes, I would definitely not want to be on a cover of a magazine. 

Do you really think Monday's are that bad? They’re just another day for me now since I’m not in school or have a job.

Is there a movie coming out that you will be seeing for sure? There’s several I want to see whenever they do come out; dates keep getting pushed back.

Are you tired of the question "Are you single" on surveys? No, the ones about relationships annoy me cause I am single.

Are you sad that this month is almost over? It’s only the 5th.

Do you think you could give up eating desserts for a month? Probably. I’d just miss cheesecake.

Do you think your life would change if you switched places with a nerd? I am a nerd.

Do you think you could jump for an hour straight? No. Or at all.

Do you have a pillow pet? No, but I have a small keychain version. It’s a giraffe, of course.

Have you ever told someone something secret and then they told people? Yes.

Do you like Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal? Yesss. It’s one of my favorites. 

Do you like ice coffee or it hot? Hotttt.

1-10 : how tired are you? 10.

Have you ever thought about being a rock star? No.

“Let’s be the same crazy people we used to be”

Have you ever woken up to a good morning letter beside you? No.

What color is the roof on your house? Brown.

Will you be seeing the movie the Hunger Games? I saw all of them.

Was your first job being a babysitter? That’s the only “job” I’ve had. I only babysat my brother and cousins, but I did get paid, so.

Is your nose stuffy right now? No, not at the moment, thankfully.

Would you ever get your nails done? I only got them done once. It was for my 8th grade promotion, so it’s been quite a long time. I don’t care to get them done and I don’t have any nails to get done anyway, ha.

Don't you hate when you type and get letters mixed around? It’s annoying.

Have you ever not accepted someone's apology? I’m pretty forgiving.

Does your car have a sun roof? I don’t have a car; I don’t drive.

When's the last time you went fishing? I’ve only done it once back in like 2005.

Have you ever thought about being a movie director? No.

When you get older, do you think you'll have short hair or long hair? I like my long hair, but a part of me does want to cut it short because I just don’t have the energy or motivation to manage or do anything with it.

Would you ever spend over $100 at one store? It happens.

Have you ever snuck out of your house late at night? Nope. I never snuck out of my house. I never wanted or felt the need to do so. 

Have you ever danced on the road when it was wet? No...

“Hey, I just met you and this crazy, but here’s my number - so call me maybe”

Do you prefer the sunset or sunrise? Both are pretty.

Have you ever seen a tadpole? I feel like I probably have when I was a kid.

Do you ever miss Myspace? Nah.

Are you currently wearing a sweatshirt? No.

Do you like fudge sundaes? Sure.

Are you one of those people who wear sunglasses inside? I don’t wear sunglasses, ever.

Least favorite month? May-August.

Do you own a yellow umbrella? I don’t have an umbrella.

True or false: There is a 4 in the current time. True, it’s 4:01AM.

Has anyone ever said "Hello?" and then it all fell into place? Huh?

How much money do you usually receive for your birthday if any? My nana sends $20-$25 every birthday and Christmas. I sometimes get money from other family members as well.

How many famous people have you met? Two.

How long is your favorite song? I couldn’t choose just one favorite song.

Was it sunny out today? It’s only 4 in the morning, so it’s currently cold and dark outside. It’s going to be 81F today, though, so it will be sunny later.

Do you like classical music? I enjoy some of it, especially piano pieces. 

[tippitv]

RECAP: Supernatural 15.03 “The Rupture”

Watching episode three and I finally understand the warding logistics better now. Note that just because I understand it better doesn’t mean I think it makes any kind of sense.

So it seems the “mile wide salt circle” encompasses both the town and the cemetery. Like the entire town and entire cemetery and the space in between them is somehow less than a mile wide as seen in the shitty map I made in MS paint last week.  

This is poppycock of course. It’s also bizarre that somehow all these demons and ghosts didn’t manage to spread any further out than that in the hours in took the Winchesters et al to evacuate the town and for Belphegor to perform the spell.

I’m so distracted by this that it’s hard for me to suspend my disbelief.

Rowena tries to reinforce the warding but there are too many ghosts attacking it. More ghosts keep spewing out of the ground. I think it’s weird that Hell is an actual physical place somewhere under the Earth’s crust while Heaven seems to be some kind of otherworldly dimension that looks like an Apple store.

Rowena’s feeling very defeated. Ruth Connell is doing a much better job than the crummy ghosts we've seen so far would seem to warrant. Her acting makes them seem scary and the situation desperate, whereas the writing for the actual ghost characters is...meh. Dean wants to go fight the ghosts but like… there’s really nothing to be done. Shooting them with iron or rock salt only works for a few minutes at most. To make any dent, you'd need all the salt in the Hannibal fandom after NBC canceled it. Shout out to my Fannibals!

I still think somebody needs to be thinking about contacting Billie. Reapers take souls to their great reward or their eternal punishment, I feel like they’d have some useful input. Plus I just want to see Billie again because Lisa Berry is dreamy.

Also Belphegor is such a weaselly jerk about the whole thing. I won't miss that guy. He's the Martin Shkrelli of demons. Shout out to everyone who hates jacked up pharmaceutical prices!

Sam says they're out of ideas. That's because y'all haven't sat around reading books out loud to each other for half an episode! 

Jack mentions something called "Lilith's Crook." Ah, Martin Shkrelli again. He has to explain it's that curved stick thing shepherds use while everyone is being ignorant. "Thing's actually more of a horn," he says. She designed it to control demons on Earth while she was in Hell. You'd think that kind of thing would've come up when Lilith was topside but no! Also there really should've been a call back to that. "You know Lilith... you killed her to let Lucifer out?" That kind of thing.

They work out a plan for Belph to summon the demons and ghosts back to Hell and the Rowena can heal the big spewing fistula in the earth. She wants Sam to assist her, which makes me

Dean coolly volunteers Castiel to accompany Belph. "You've been to Hell before." Cas should've been like, "Yeah to grip your ass tight and raise it from Perdition!" Also how's he supposed to get out again?

Aw jeez here's Ketch in his hospital room. I hope the only reason he's in this episode is to die. The nurse doesn't want to clear him for discharge so a pretty doctor walks in and kills her with a telekinetic neck snap. And that's why we have a nursing shortage in this country! Oh the doctor is Ardat, the demon who hired Ketch to kill Belph.

Fisticuffs ensue even though she could just pin him in place with demonic power. When he refuses to give up the Winchesters, she rips out his heart and shows it to him. He Pikachu faces at her.

I mean, did she really need to ask him? Wouldn't the most likely place be the mile-wide anti-ghost dome? She texts Dean pretending to be Ketch.

Belphegor goads Castiel about his friends sacrificing him, so Cas pushes him down into the ghost fistula. Lol. It doesn't shut him up for long, though. As they wander around Hell, Belph continues to sow the seeds of doubt. Anyway, opening the chest that contains the Doohickey of the Week requires Castiel to sing an Enochian song of praise, but we cut away on the third note. BOO.

Also, having now met Lucifer the whiny petulant manbaby, it's really hard to understand why Lilith or anyone would be so devout for so long. Maybe it's because he was locked in the cage so they didn't actually experience a lot of his pouting. It's all I can think of.

Before Castiel can hand over the Doohickey, Ardat knocks him out of the way. She looks like Joanna Gaines. Maybe she IS Joanna Gaines!

Castiel and Ardat fight. She tries to warn him about Belphegor, but he pops up behind her and kills her with Cas's fallen angel blade. Now we'll never know what she was gonna say! I bet he ends up just blabbing it out himself in the time-honored tradition of villains talking too much.

Indeed, he goes on about how the crook/horn is actually a leash/siphon. This thing is the Swiss Army knife of Doohickeys. He's going to blow the horn and suck all the demons and ghosts into himself to gain their powers. "I'll be a god!"

So while Belph is blowing and sucking, Sam and Rowena and Dean are dirtside working the spell. Ghosts are zooming back down the hole like the Indiana Jones Ark of the Covenant scene in reverse. Castiel tackles Belph and punches him in the face a lot which seems like the equivalent of flicking a dandelion at a law mower to stop it.

Improbably, it hurts jazzed-up Belphegor enough that he pretends to be Jack again to get Cas to stop beating him. Castiel screws up all his angel power and somehow kills him even though there's a buttload of evil spirits in him. Jack's empty body burns like a Thanksgiving turkey left on broil all day.

The ground starts sealing up but something's wrong. Rowena uses a knife to gouge out a "resurrection sachet" she's been keeping buried under her skin. It's why she came back after Lucifer killed her, if you'll recall. It takes Sam a minute to catch on that she intends to sacrifice herself in one final spell. He has to be the one to kill her because prophecy and she can't bring herself to to it for a lot of good reasons.

Now, I don't understand here. She says she's going to absorb all the demons and ghosts, throw herself into Hell, and they'll be trapped. But... didn't Belphegor absorb them? Or a lot of them? I hate that Ruth is doing such a great job and this just feels like forced drama.

Speaking of forced drama. Castiel returns to the surface and tells Dean he killed Belphegor. This could be cleared up with a five second explanation but he makes a lot of pained faces while Dean berates him for ruining their one chance. Forced drama.

Sam reluctantly stabs her in the lower belly... you know, in the uterus area... and she becomes a vessel... with her uterus absorbing all the evil...

"Goodbye boys," she says as she Last of the Mohicans throws herself into the abyss.

Well, it's better than Charlie's death but I still don't like it.

All the surviving team members return to the bunker for the denouement. Sam is taking things pretty hard, which is to be expected, so Dean goes to check on him. "God threw one last apocalypse at us and we beat it," he says to baby bro. Oh honey.

Anyway we're all pretty sure Rowena's going to be running Hell now, right? RIGHT??

Now we come to the part where Dean and Castiel act out a bad soap opera scene. It's just a thin reason to get them to break up for a while. Maybe in the final season they couldn't work Misha into the budget for every episode or maybe the writers couldn't think of more for Castiel to do. So he's gotta go off and it couldn't just be because "you know my surrogate son just died and I need time." 

No it's gotta be all "you always screw up our plans!" and "you don't trust me!" and "are you hearing that romantically sad cello music or is it just me?" and "it's not just you but now I must leave GOOD BYE!"

Onward and upward, readers! Stay tuned for the next recap.

In the meantime, please reblog if you enjoyed this recap and drop by my Ko-Fi tip Jar if you're able. Henry Hound and I are perpetually trying to make ends meet and appreciate your help!

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[stylesgalaxy]

mastermind; chapter 8

The next morning I wake up to unusual noises coming from the kitchen. I'm the only one who ever uses the kitchen so it's strange to hear someone else there before me. I pull myself out of bed and wash up in the bathroom before going to the kitchen.

Harry wears an apron and hums a tune as he's flipping pancakes on a pan. He's turns to throw the cooked ones on a plate when his gaze lands on me.

"Morning," he chirps.

"You're in a really good mood," I say, my voice croaky from disuse.

"Pancakes put me in a good mood. Here, sit," he demands, and places a plate full of pancakes on the small table. I comply and sit in front of the beautiful creation. He even went as far chopping fruits and arranging them neatly on top. He finishes up his plate before sitting with me and we eat together.

"Mmm, these are so fucking good," I moan, shovelling more in my mouth.

"Thank you, the secret ingredient is the chocolate chips," he says.

"Chocolate chips? We didn't have any chocolate chips."

"No you didn't, so I chopped up a few chocolate bars, I hope you don't mind," he replies sheepishly.

"It's okay, they went towards a good cause."

"There's a lot left over, we can melt them and dip strawberries in them," he suggests. I glance over at the bowl of chocolate bits and shake my head.

"No, leave them I have a better idea."

Harry offers to wash our dishes when we finish breakfast while I start prepping my ingredients for a batch of brownies. Harry may look happy but I know he's still upset about what happened last night so I wanted to make him my famous brownies—or Julia's, as he knows them to be.

Most of the things I need are already out because Harry was baking so I quickly whip a batch. While I'm mixing the ingredients, I worry brownies won't be enough and decide to cook another comfort food I know Harry loves: my mom's Beef Barley soup.

"What are you making? Are you making brownies?" burst Harry after he finished cleaning all the dishes.

"Yes," I answer with a smile.

"No way, I love brownies! Are they anything like Julia's? She makes the best brownies!"

"I, uh... yes. She taught me this recipe," I lie.

"Excellent, you'll have to teach me, too!"

"Sure. Do you have any idea what you want for lunch? I was thinking we can make... Julia's Beef Barley soup," I suggest.

"No fucking way. You know how to make that too?! Yes, please, that soup is the best thing that I've ever had!"

"Awesome. We'll just have to get started now because it has to go in the slow cooker and cook for a few hours."

He nods and pulls out an apron for me from somewhere.

"Where are you finding those?" I ask as he ties it behind my back. "I forgot I even got these aprons."

"Your kitchen is small, it's not hard to find things. And besides, I feel like I have to watch over you in the kitchen so you don't burn anything again."

I scoff, "Burn? Please, I've never burned anything."

"That's not what a little birdie once told me," he choruses. "It's okay you can admit it, I already know."

"I've never—" oh, right. I lied to him when I was texting him and said that I almost burned the kitchen down to excuse Julia's absence. "Okay, don't make fun of me."

Harry laughs, and I feel guilty.

For the next hour, we work together. He pulls the brownies out to cool while I gather the beef, carrots, onions, celery, barley, and other things I need for the soup. Harry helps me chop up the veggies and tells me stories of how he used to cook with his mother when he was younger. We joke and laugh more than we do work. I tell him about the ingredients I'm throwing in and why they're used. Despite stating he was going to watch over me so I don't burn the kitchen down, he was very attentive and obedient to everything I said. I was like the head chef and he was my sous chef.

We combine everything together in the slow cooker and I set it to cook for two hours.

"In a few hours, we add the barley," I tell Harry.

"What do we do now?" he questions.

"Now, we go sit because I'm tired."

We leave our aprons on the counter and plop down on the couch.

"Didn't realize how tired I was," Harry states, stretching his arms and legs.

"Feels good, though, doesn't it? I like being productive."

"Oh yeah, it's a good tired."

Harry's phone begins ringing. He pulls it out and I see Julia's name flash across the screen. He looks at me then answers the call, leaving to talk privately in Julia's room. In the meantime, I flick the TV on and flip through the channels.

---

Harry's been in there for a long time. I don't know what he's saying because he's mostly quiet, I only hope it's good. But it's been nearly two hours. So far, I've watched the second half of a Masterchef episode, a few Spongebob episodes, and now I'm watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

While Harry Potter gets his soul sucked out of him, Harry (Styles) opens Julia's door and walks out.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Uh, yea," he answers, running a hand through his hair. "She said she was hurrying to get her last minute shopping in before leaving and it completely slipped her mind to let me know."

The scowl on his face tells me he doesn't deem this a good enough reason (neither would I), but still I try to help ease his mind.

"She did find out when we were getting ready yesterday. And she left right after she told me."

He nods. "It's whatever. What's done is done now, no point in moping, we have a delicious soup to cook."

I grin. "It still has a few hours left before we have to add the potatoes, carrots, and barely," I tell him, bringing the volume of the TV down.

"Then I think I'm going to go home and shower," he says.

"Sure," I keep my eyes focused on the TV as if I'm not sad that he's leaving. "You can stay home, I'll bring the soup over when it's ready and we can share it with the boys."

"That's not a bad idea, But call me to come pick you up, it's too heavy to carry on your own."

"Okay," I answer, letting my eyes flit over to his. He gives a cheeky grin and grabs the plate of brownies.

"I'm taking these now, though."

"All yours," I laugh, warmth spreading through me.

---

Harry and I have gotten too close.

This is a problem because Julia has been gone for four days and every one of those day, Harry hung out with me. Usually we'd see each other almost everyday, but hang out once in a while. I don't know why he wants to see me all the time. My guess is that I'm the closest thing he has to Julia here and he probably misses her. Regardless, it has to stop because when Julia returns and he goes back to her, I'm going to miss his presence. Not to mention, if Julia finds out how much we've been around each other since she left, it might rub her the wrong way.

Which is why I'm at the art shop right now getting trained on how to use the cash register.

Randy, my manager, was a cool guy and Zayn tells me he comes into the shop about once a week. He came this week to hire me and train me. I say "hire" and not "interview" because Zayn referred me to him and the second I stepped into the store and greeted him he said "You're hired."

I told my manager at the movie theatre that I need some time away from work to focus more on school when in reality I was keeping it as my backup job. To Randy, I said that I could work weekends and most weekdays because if he schedules me a lot, then I won't have to see Harry.

I feel guilty because I haven't told Harry I work at the art shop. The main reason I picked it up was because I needed to stop getting so attached to him and I also knew that the art shop was one place he wouldn't come to bother me. He hated it here and he wasn't comfortable leaving his car out.

On my third day at work, Harry calls me.

"Are you avoiding me? Did I do or say something?" he inquires.

"What? No!" I answer. No one is in the store except Zayn and I know he wouldn't snitch on me for using my phone while working.

"Are you sure? It's okay if you are, I won't be mad. I just want to know if I said something that upset you so I could apologize for it."

"Harry," I sigh, my heart melting. "You didn't do anything. I'm not avoiding you, I'm just working."

"You've been saying that but I went to the movie theatre today to see you and they said you don't work there anymore," he says sadly. Oh I can see why he thought I was avoiding him. It looked like I lied about working to not hang out with him.

"Yeah, I actually got a new job."

"No way! Where?"

"At the art shop."

Silence.

Then, "What?! At the art shop?"

"Yes, Harry," I pressed, "at the art shop, now what's your issue?"

I know what his issue is. He doesn't like how far it is, he doesn't think the area is safe, and he most definitely doesn't like Zayn. But I need him to realize he has no control over my life and what I do.

"N-nothing... nothing," he stutters. "I'm happy for you. Good job, Aria."

"Thank you."

I hang up after we say our goodbyes and turn around to Zayn, who was waiting for me.

"Sorry about that," I apologize.

"S'alright. I take it he wasn't happy you're working here?"

I roll my eyes. "He just doesn't understand that some people have to work more for money and that I'm not gonna get murdered on Lancaster and Mill Rd."

Zayn laughs, "I wouldn't be too sure about that." My eyes widen, people get killed here? "I'm joking, I'm joking!"

"You make a lot of killing jokes, should I be concerned?" I retort sarcastically. Zayn had a tough exterior but inside he was a giant softie and couldn't hurt a fly.

Zayn was actually the second main reason I picked up a job here. It would be fun working with him, and I really feel like with time he's someone I could date. I wouldn't mind dating Zayn, it would be fun and exciting. He's very sweet and kind—

So is Harry.

But Zayn is also has a passion for art—

So does Harry, now.

Well, fuck. It's hard to find reasons that make Zayn better than Harry but that was because I've loved Harry for two years and I've only known Zayn for a few months now. Sticking around Zayn should get me to think less of Harry and maybe then I can finally move on from him. It's evident that we could make a great match, I just need to give Harry less attention than I'm giving Zayn.

The rest of my shift is spent helping Zayn clean around the shop and reorganize the merchandise on the floor so everything is neat. We joke and laugh and as much as I want Zayn to take my mind off of Harry like he used to, it's almost impossible. After every story he tells, I think about Harry and what he would have done. After every joke he makes, I think about how Harry would have told it.

I'm fucked.

---

On the 22nd, Harry and Niall throw Louis a massive, surprise early-birthday party. We were all going to be away for Christmas with our families, but since Louis' birthday is on Christmas Eve, that meant we had to celebrate it earlier. He was busy with work and his new girlfriend to plan his birthday this year so it was Niall's idea for all of us to pretend like we forgot about it too.

I sent Eleanor (who I was more acquainted with now) a text letting her know the details and when to bring Louis home. As far as Louis knows, they're just going out for a date and then coming back to his.

5 mins away, she texts me.

"Everyone, stop!" I scream at the top of my lungs in the kitchen. "They're five minutes away!"

Harry scrambles to place all the candles on the cake, Zayn spins in a complete circle to look for something to do or someplace to hide, and Niall hurriedly tries to light the candles as Harry is placing them. The rest of our many guests are quickly looking for good hiding spots. I pull the box of matches from Niall's shaky hand, worried that he'll drop one.

I finish lighting all the candles as Harry picks it up and stands to walk behind the doorway into the living room, where he would be out of Louis' sight unless he comes out. Niall hands me and Zayn a confetti cracker, before we all run to the living room. He crouches down behind a chair closest to the doorway Harry is behind, while I pull Zayn down behind the other sofa.

Everyone is silent the second the front door opens.

"See that's where your wrong, Eleanor," Louis' voice fills the entire house. "The Hulk is obviously the correct answer because he's the strongest Avenger."

"Yeah, but between the two of them, Ironman can fly," Eleanor's sweet voice replies. Not nearly as loudly. They walk into the living room and I smile. "I'm thirsty let's go get a drink from the kitchen?"

"Sure, love. You can go sit if you want," Louis says walking towards the door to the kitchen. "I'll bring you some ice water—"

"SURPRISE!!!"

We all rise and cheer, cracking our confetti. Harry walks out with the lit birthday cake, and the rest of the guests, with a wide smile on his face.

Louis stares at us stunned, then gapes at Eleanor before blinking.

"You guys—" he stammers.

"Happy Birthday!" everyone says, laughing. Someone turns the party lights and the music on.

"It's not even my birthday—" Louis tries to say.

"Oh, just shut up and blow the candles!" Niall yells. Louis shakes his head and blows all twenty-one candles out. We cheer and clap again, throwing more confetti at him.

---

The party is a blast. Any party hosted by Niall and Louis (or this time it was technically Niall and Harry) is amazing. Niall makes sure there's drinks for everyone, while Harry runs around and cleans up after people. Harry loves parties, but not the ones in his house. I started to help clean up a little after the extremely drunk because I felt so bad for him.

I wanted to hang out with Zayn because the farther I am from Harry the better it is for everyone, but Niall was being too clingy tonight. Even though he knew I liked Zayn, he didn't leave us alone until I finally realized what this was about. Zayn got front row seats to my great show of wingwomaning for Niall. I chatted with a bunch of pretty girls who Niall (despite being overly confident all the time) was too shy to go up to. There was one girl in particular I like, her name was Chelsea, so I casually bring her forward to meet Niall and as soon as the two introduce each other, I run to Zayn.

Zayn has his arm around me the whole night. Either around my shoulders, or my waist. It was nice having him by my side to make fun of other people with. We were not as drunk as everyone else around us, just enough that we found the tiniest thing funny.

"I wonder how Harry is doing, I haven't seen him in a while," I wonder once we're sitting on the couch, searching for a mop of curly hair.

"Hold on, I think I know how to summon him," Zayn says. He pulls his arm away from my shoulder and reaches forward to grab a forgotten Dorito chip. He crumbles lightly it in his hand and lets the broken pieces fall on the ground.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" seethes Harry, popping up from nowhere. I slap my hand across my mouth to stop from laughing, while Zayn bites his lip.

"Sorry, mate," he says, with wide eyes. "Just blanked out for a second."

Harry shakes his head in distaste before reaching a gloved hand out to pick up the pieces and throw them in a small plastic bag that he's carrying around with him.

"Harry, why aren't you having fun? Drink something!" I urge.

"I can't, if this gets stepped on it'll be harder to get out of the carpet," he huffs. He picks up the trash left around on the coffee table too just before Louis shakily stands on it. He enthusiastically pulls Niall up too, and the two holler and sing along with the song, both holding red solo cups. Harry lets out a sigh and presses his lips together, but doesn't scold Louis at his own birthday party.

"Harry? HARRY!" the two very drunk boys yell and grab Harry's arm to pull him too. Harry resists, but the two boys won't give up.

"What's that?" he asks looking down at my still full cup.

"Vodka and cranberry juice," I answer, unsure of whether he was keeping up with how much I was drinking and going to limit me. I just made it a few minutes ago and didn't have more than two sips so far, I didn't want this Bossy Harry to confiscate it.

"Great, thanks," he says instead, taking my drink away from my hand. My jaw drops.

"YEAH!" Niall and Louis encourage Harry as he climbs on the table and downs the drink. His face puckers for a few seconds before he joins in the cheering and Louis throws an arm around his two best friends. Niall manifests another drink seemingly out of thin air and urges Harry to have it, but Harry shakes his head and pushes it away.

"No, that's enough," he says. "Happy birthday, mate." He claps Louis on the back and stumbles down.

I put my hand on my hip and look at him unimpressed.

"Hey, that was payback for stealing my coffee that one time," he grins. I shrug and look around, not changing my stance because I wasn't accepting his answer. Internally, I was thrilled. I hadn't bantered with Harry in so long.

Harry sighs deeply and places his arm on my shoulders. "Alright, I'll make you a new one. Would that make you feel better?"

I pretend to consider it for a few seconds.

"I guess," I huff. He smirks and pulls me into the kitchen by my arm without looking back. Startled for a second, I turn to wave Zayn over so he's not alone but Louis had already pulled him along with whatever else he was doing.

Harry clears the island in the kitchen and stands behind it, pulling out a glass and bottles while I take a seat across from him. He shows off by sliding a bottle of vodka from the cooler across the island, then walks over to it, pulls out a tall glass and flips in the air. He almost drops it and has to scramble to not break it. I snort and Harry's face flushes.

"Just pretend like that was smooth," he murmurs, not making eye contact.

I am not able to contain my laughter, so I let it out and Harry rolls his eyes at me.

He makes a big show of pouring vodka and cranberry juice in my glass, with his random twirls and tricks. I watch in mock fascination but I think at the beginning he doesn't get it, because he smirks like he actually impressed me.

"Wait, are you being sarcastic again?" he whines, his shoulder's falling.

"Sarcastic? Oh God, no. I'm truly fascinated, I have never seen the art of mixing vodka and cranberry juice performed so gracefully and elegantly—"

"Okay, okay, I kinda need my ego intact, thanks," Harry states while I snicker. He finally finishes making my drink and slides it across the counter to me a little too hard. I hurry to stop the drink before it spills all over me. "Sorry," he says sheepishly.

I take a sip and nod in satisfaction. "It's good," I compliment. His shoulder slump in relief and a smile spreads across his face.

"Hey, man, can I get a rum and coke?" A tall guy asks Harry, coming up behind me.

Harry's expression hardens.

"The fuck do I look like to you? A bartender? Make your own drink," Harry chastises. "And don't you dare spill a single drop or I will make you—"

"Alright, alright," the guy holds his hands up in surrender and walks away. I look back at Harry apprehensively but he has a shit-eating grin on his cute face. I shake my head and roll my eyes at him affectionately. I've missed Harry these past few days and I can't help but find everything he does endearing.

Harry's gaze is fixed on something behind me and I peek over my shoulder to find that he's staring at Zayn counting Niall's shots.

"So, how's your new job?" Harry asks, bringing my attention back to him.

"Great," I say too quickly. "Uh, amazing. It's really fun."

All I do is clean. And talk to Zayn if he's in. But sometimes we just sit in comfortable silence when we have nothing to talk about and just stay in our own worlds.

"Good, good," Harry murmurs. "Is the discount good?"

"Yeah," I smile, not going into detail on what I buy. "How are things with you?"

He's quiet for a long time. His eyes are distant as if he's deep in thought.

"Great," he repeats my answer back to me. "Um..." he struggles to spill whats bothering him. I sit up straighter while he fiddles with a bottle. "Uh, great, yeah."

"Something bothering you?"

He bites his lip then brings his thumb and index finger up to play with it. I don't think I've ever seen Harry this nervous. It makes me wonder what happened in the time that I stayed away from him.

"It's nothing... just my Christmas plans," he mutters.

"Oh. What are your Christmas plans?" I didn't know exactly what he was doing, I just assumed all of us were leaving to stay with out families for a week.

"My father's girlfriend wants us to go on a lame skiing trip," he complains with a roll of his eyes. My heart jolts. He's never talked to me about his family ever. Well not directly. Except for one time when he offhandedly mentioned his mother's death.

"Oh? That sounds fun," I say slowly. He looks at me likes he's having a debate in his mind. I wonder if he's battling whether or not to talk to me about what bothers him, and I find myself hoping he will. I want to help him but to help him I need him to open up to me.

"Yeah," he huffs eventually. "My sister is coming, it'll be fun to see her."

He begins to move around the kitchen moving random things and not looking at me.

My shoulders deflate, but I still smile. There's too many people in this kitchen anyway, I wouldn't want to talk about something so personal at this time.

***

Hi guys! Sorry if you feel like things are going a bit too slow, but I've just finished writing the next few chapters and some exciting ish things are going to happen! In regards to that, I have a few more questions for you guys:

1. What do you think Harry thinks about Aria?

2. What do you think Zayn thinks about Aria?

3. How do you think Harry will react when he eventually finds out Aria's secret? (I'm not even close to writing this yet, I have it planned but I'm dying to know what you think will happen!)

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading :)

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[phan-of-the-pen]

Undisclosed Desires

My second @phandombigbang fic was unfortunately deleted (along with many of my other posts) so I am reposting this! I’m sorry for the inconvenience. This has been one of my favorite fics to write so far, ask me about it if you want to know more. Enjoy!

Thank you to @just-another-phanfic for making amazing art! You can find it here. Thank you also so so much for stepping in as my beta <3

Tags: major fluff, angst, extremely brief mentions of: self-harm, suicide, and abuse, implied smut, vague descriptions of tattoo needles/machines, tattoo artist!phil, HAPPY ENDING

Word Count: ~11.8k

Summary: Phil Lester is a tattoo artist who makes art come to life on his clients’ skin. One day, a new client walks in. A young man with stars and broken glass in his eyes and curly hair. Dan, the client, doesn’t really say much, Phil’s learned, but he soon becomes a regular at Phil’s tattoo parlor. Phil found the brunet cute, to say the least, but he really has no choice but to confront his feelings when Dan asks for a tattoo splaying across his hips.

(song!) (ao3!) <– you can find the complete list of flower meanings here (check out my other fics!)

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Phil, do I have any other appointments after this?” Travis asked over the buzz of the tattoo machine.

Phil hopped off the stool, where he had been watching Travis work, and opened the store appointment book. He sighed when he saw the state of it. The times were all messed up and half of the writing was nearly illegible, but granted, that’s what Phil got for letting Travis do the books this week.

"Is that Shelly?" he asked, squinting at the page to try and make out the words. It was the last name on the list that hadn't been scribbled out, but the time read for almost three hours from now.

"Yeah, I moved her up after Tony cancelled again."

"Then yeah, you've got nothing else for today. You think he's ever going to come back and get that shading finished?"

"Who knows? Maybe the guy likes walking around with a half-finished tattoo. Maybe he thinks it looks badass like that."

Phil snorted and closed the book just as he heard the woman—Shelly, as it seemed—suck in a deep breath as Travis continued to do the line work for her tattoo. Travis reminded her to breathe before continuing.

"Would you mind if I left a little early then? Jess' parents are coming over later and she wants me to be there when they arrive."

"Sure, I'll handle any walk-ins we have, as long as you bring breakfast tomorrow."

"Deal."

Phil grinned.

"Good luck, mate, we all know how much her parents just adore you."

Travis laughed and gave Phil a glance in between the lines he was inking before turning his attention back to his work.

"I think you're confusing 'adore' and 'hate-with-all-their-might' again, Phil."

~~~~~

Travis slipped his coat over his shoulders and gave his station another once-over.

"You sure you're okay with this? I don't want a shit ton of people to walk in like last time I asked to leave early and you end up staying until ass-crack o'clock because they were willing to pay triple and you can't say no."

"Don't worry, I'm only doing it for the doughnuts you promised me an hour ago, not a potential pay increase."

"Doughnuts? You said breakfast, mate. For all you know I could bring in a half eaten box of cereal and throw it at your head."

Phil put a hand on his chest and feigned the best horrified expression he could manage on the fly.

"Travis, you wound me."

He couldn't keep a straight face though and cracked a smile. Travis grinned back and pulled him into one of those bro hugs that, before meeting Travis, Phil had thought were just a joke.

"I'll see you tomorrow Phil. And do yourself a favor and just tell people to come in the next day alright? You're too nice sometimes."

"Yeah yeah yeah, go on, get out of here and try and survive a night with the in-laws." Phil said, shooing Travis towards the door. He stuck out a tongue when Travis gave him the finger and shut the door behind him, waving before turning around and walking back behind the counter. He sat back up on his stool and took out his phone. He didn't have anything scheduled for the rest of the day, and while walk-ins were always possible, he wasn't betting on there being many on a late Tuesday afternoon. He checked the clock as the game loaded. There were about two hours before closing time, but Phil could probably sneak out in one if there weren't any walk-ins—Travis wouldn't care if he slipped out a bit early.

Flappy Bird loaded and all of his attention flocked straight to the pixel animation on his screen. He grinned. An hour playing games wouldn't be so bad.

~~~~~

Phil checked his pockets, making sure he had his wallet and phone on him. It had been a little over an hour since Travis had left, and Phil was heavily looking forward to returning to his flat and curling up on the couch with some leftover pizza from last night.

He casted a glance over the rest of the store behind him. He had already wiped down the tattoo equipment and lavished his tattoo machine in care and attention because he had actually had the time for once. He had swept and taken out the trash, as well as all of the other little miscellaneous chores that were required to be done on a daily basis. Phil had even sat down and attempted to decode the appointment book, but decided against it almost instantly when he was once again faced with Travis' impossible scrawl.

"Perfect," he muttered to himself, locking the back office before turning back around and walking back to the front, past the handful of tattoo booths. Phil was humming softly to himself and swinging his keys on his finger, a smile on his face. He adored his job with every fiber of his being, but there was just something inherently refreshing in leaving early, even if it was for not much more than an hour.

Phil yelped in surprise when he rounded a corner to find someone waiting in the lobby, his keys flying off of his finger and hitting the floor as his body froze and the keys' momentum kept them going.

The guy jumped and looked up from where he was leafing through one of the flash tattoo binders at the loud entrance Phil made, and Phil hastily tried to explain himself.

"I'm sorry! I didn't hear you come in and I was, uh, just taking care of some stuff in the back." Phil said, gesturing hopelessly behind him as if it would explain everything. The guy didn't follow Phil's hand and continued to not really pay Phil much mind, minus his snap to attention at the sound of Phil's keys hitting the ground.

"Can you tattoo me? Your website said you didn't close for another hour."

His voice was cautious and extremely soft, but also completely and utterly flat and monotone. Phil wanted to frown at it, not used to hearing someone sound so...sad? Defeated? He didn't know.

"Sure. Did you find a flash design that you liked? I'm afraid if you wanted anything custom I could probably only give you a consultation and draw something up for you due to time and all that."

"No," the guy said, closing the binder and putting it back onto the table, "I was just looking. I just want words, if that's okay?" He stood, but he continued to keep their gazes from meeting. His whole frame was hunched over and closed in on itself. Phil wondered why, but didn't dare press the issue—it wasn't his place.  

"Yeah, that's fine." Phil said, walking into the room more and sitting down across from him. Phil didn't miss how the guy took a step back and curled his shoulders into himself even more than they were at the action, but didn't say anything.

"What would you like? And where?"

The guy reached behind him and dug out a wadded up piece of paper and a pen, unwrinkling it as best as he could. He then leaned over and started to write something, his brow crinkled in concentration. He wrote slowly and steadily, like he was trying his hardest to make it neat. When he was done, he sat up and handed it to Phil, once again avoiding looking directly in his eyes. Phil looked over what he had written and nodded, recognizing the lyrics.

"Good song. Is this all?"

"Yeah. I want it in my handwriting though. And right here," he said, reaching up and pulling away his jumper collar, tapping his finger on his collarbone, "please."

Phil frowned. Tattoos in general were painful. How much pain someone experienced with a tattoo varied person to person, but a general rule was that tattoos that are on areas with less skin, muscle, and tissue between the tattoo needle and bone, hurt more. Collarbones and ribs were easy and painful examples.

Phil let his eyes scan over the exposed skin once more. This guy's collarbone was easily visible and therefore would probably hurt like hell.

"Are you sure? Collarbone tattoos hurt, especially when they're on ones as prominent as yours…" Phil said, trailing off and still concerned whether this guy knew what he was getting into. But he just nodded.

"Yes. I'm sure."

"Okay, let me just trace over this to create a stencil and get all set up. I'll be right back." Phil held out his hand. "I'm Phil by the way," he said with a smile, hoping to help the guy relax. He didn't smile back, but his hand was warm and soft in Phil's.

"Dan."

Phil stood.

"Alright, give me a minute, Dan."

He made his quick exit and filed himself away where he and Travis kept the equipment to make a stencil. Phil worked quickly, but let his mind wander.

Dan was tall—though not as tall as Phil—and lanky, full of sharp edges and small curves. He had a nice face framed with a mass of curls coagulated on top of his head and pink lips. He was attractive, yes, but Phil didn't really go for kicked-puppy-looking men, as in his experience, it was only an act to hide their shitty personality.

Phil rolled his eyes at himself when he realized his train of thought and derailed it: he may not know Dan, but he didn't have to make any bad assumptions about the guy.

Minus Dan's inherent prettiness, he was obviously a ball of anxiety, or just extremely nervous. He was jumpy and had yet to look Phil in the eyes, not to mention return one of Phil's smiles. None of those things were necessarily bad per se, there was something just...missing from Dan. A spark, an emotion, Phil didn't know, but he got a distinct, instinctual feeling that something was just off about him. Maybe it was his flat voice or almost scared posture, or something else, but he just was.

Which was fine, Dan was allowed to be however he wanted, Phil was only there to tattoo him.

Phil shoved away the various materials he was working with along with the paper of Dan's handwriting as he stood, the newly made stencil in his hand. He walked back to the waiting room where he had left Dan.

"Hey Dan," Phil asked, mentally kicking himself for forgetting again, and not asking earlier, "do you have some kind of ID on you? I forgot to make sure you're legal." Phil continued, a little sheepish. "I know you're probably older than eighteen, I just have to make sure. Parlor rules and all."

This was not the first time that checking the ID of people had slipped his mind. Phil had had plenty of teens over the years try and weasel their way into getting a tattoo before they were eighteen, which was why he and Travis had ended up implementing the no-exceptions rule in the first place.

Phil breathed an internal sigh of relief as Dan slipped his wallet out of his pocket and wordlessly showed Phil his driver's license.

"Thank god you're legal," Phil said with a bit of a breathless laugh. "I didn't really want to kick another sixteen year old out this week."

Phil's eye caught on the date of Dan's birthday, and his eyes widened in surprise. 

"Hey, wait, you turned twenty-six today? Happy birthday!" Phil cried, his mouth splitting open wide, eyes snapping up to Dan's. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before Dan was tearing them away, Phil's chest left feeling warm.

Phil wasn't one to miss detail. Mostly because it was his job—Phil's specialty in hyper-realistic tattoos making it essential to spot the things that people would normally skim over. So in that half a second, Phil was able to map out the gold flecks starbursting out from Dan's pupil and the incredible range of browns melting together and flowing apart. He saw the sadness like broken glass, but also the shreds of joy bursting up over Phil's words, and it all rushed over Phil like a tidal wave.

Jesus, he has really pretty eyes.

"Thanks," Dan said a little weakly, but with a faint tone of happiness at Phil's birthday well-wishes. The corner of his lip twitched into a half-happy-half-sad smile, and Phil had the impression that Dan hadn't had anyone wish him a good birthday yet today. The thought made Phil's heart clench.

He turned back around and beckoned Dan to follow him, leading Dan to Phil's bench and gesturing for Dan to take a seat as he gathered what he needed. Phil pulled on his gloves and opened the cabinet to his left, flopping back on his rolly chair. He settled on a round liner needle—since he wouldn't be doing any shading on Dan's tattoo—and pulled one out. He assembled it onto his tattoo machine after inspecting the needle for any defects, threading it through and fastening it with three rubber bands. Phil tested it twice to make sure that everything was settled before getting up. He returned with black ink in a disposable container, and a cup of water.

As it turned out, Dan had to remove his jumper due to the collar being too tight to rest off of his shoulder comfortably and safely without the possibility it would slide off and snap back into place in the middle of tattooing him. As it also turned out, Dan had very, very pretty lightly tanned skin that Phil appreciated from a strictly artistic viewpoint.

Dan's cheeks were dusted pink as soon as the jumper was off of him, and he hastily let his left arm cover his stomach, his balled up shirt in his grasp. Phil tried to give him his most reassuring look, but Dan once again wasn't quite looking at him.

Which was fine, Phil understood completely.

Phil applied the stencil after prepping the area and he okayed the placement with Dan. He dipped his gloved finger into the water and ghosted the few droplets onto the back of the stencil. Phil repeated the process as necessary, but he ended up chewing on the inside of his cheek all the same, quietly observing what nice collarbones Dan had and how the water glistened on his skin.

Once Phil peeled back the stencil and nodded—pleased at how the words transferred—he used a little hand mirror he had buried in one of his cabinets to make sure Dan was 100% okay with it. Dan just nodded before settling back against the tattoo bench, staring up at the ceiling as he waited for Phil to start.

Phil clicked on his tattoo machine and leaned over, bringing the needle to Dan's skin.

Most people, when they get tattooed, they react. They squirm, they tense up, they squeeze their eyes shut or bite down on something. They blast music, try and distract themselves by bringing a friend or chatting with their artist, anything.

Dan, however, didn't.

Phil, trying to give Dan a chance and get used to the ordeal of tattooing, had started as far away from his collarbone as the design allowed, even taking it slow at first and cheering Dan on silently, but now Phil was half-way through and Dan had yet to even twitch. His worries over how Dan would take it were seemingly unfounded because Phil was directly over Dan's impossibly exposed collarbone and all Dan was doing was laying back, breathing calmly and staring up at the ceiling like this was the easiest thing he'd ever done.

Phil was in shock.

He had been tattooing professionally for over ten years, had tattooed every place imaginable on a person's body, had seen thousands of customers, and no one had ever reacted so peacefully to a tattoo in such a painful area.

Normally, at this point, he would be leaning back, asking if the person he was working on needed a break, but Phil flicked his eyes over Dan's relaxed body and just kept going, finishing the 's' he was in the midst of and wiping the skin before moving onto the 'e'.

Sooner rather than later, Phil was shutting off his machine and setting it down, unhooking the needle and rubber bands holding it and throwing the needle away. He rifled through his cabinets to find his bandages and pulled them out.

Phil wiped down the skin one last time, looking up at Dan, who had torn his gaze away from the ceiling and was now watching Phil.

"Do you want a picture before I wrap it?"

"No, it's okay."

He bandaged the fresh tattoo, smiling as he surveyed the ink curling around Dan's collarbone.

"Well, I think it's great, and not just because I'm biased. Lyrics are always a good choice, but Radiohead ones? Almost as amazing as Muse-inspired tattoos." Phil rambled, scooting back on his chair when he was finished with the bandage, his fingers warm from the body heat radiating off of Dan.

Dan was smiling a little as he sat up, tossing a half-glance in Phil's direction, nodding to what Phil was saying. He tugged on his jumper, Phil's gaze following the slide of the material. However, Phil's mouth ran dry and his heart caught in his chest when he saw a fist-sized bruise span Dan's side, right where he had rushed to cover with his arm earlier.

Phil frantically looked up at Dan's face, trying to meet his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice strained and his gaze slipping back down to burn a hole in Dan's jumper where it continued to cover the bruise.

Maybe Phil shouldn't have said anything. Maybe he just should have silently acknowledged it, given Dan a bit of a supportive smile and reduced his tattoo price. Maybe that's what anyone else would have done. But Phil just honest to god couldn't.

Because suddenly, maybe the sadness in Dan's eyes made a little bit more sense and Phil wanted to be wrong, he wanted to be so wrong in his jump to conclusions, but there was a sick feeling in his gut that told him that he was right.

Dan froze in the midst of climbing off the tattoo bench. Phil watched as a dozen emotions that he couldn't name flew across Dan's face faster than he could pinpoint, and Dan squeezed his eyes shut.

For a heartbeat, everything was still.

Then Dan slid off the bench and opened his eyes, keeping them trailed on his feet.

"I'm fine."

Bullshit! a voice screamed in Phil's head, but then Dan was looking up at him with a pleading look on his face, and the words of protest at Dan's blatant lie died in his throat.

Phil's stomach churned. If he had glimpsed Dan's back, would he have seen more bruises spanning his skin? If he hadn't been so engrossed in his work, would he have caught another flash of black and blue?

He didn't know, but he wanted to because fuck, that shouldn't happen to anyone.

Yet, it wasn't his place.

But god did Phil wish it was.

"How much do I owe you?" Dan asked when Phil did nothing but stare just as pleadingly back, Dan's voice just as soft and heartbroken as when he had first spoken.

"Nothing," Phil blurted out.

Looking pained, Dan just shook his head.

"Please let me pay for this, Phil. I'm fine, I promise."

Phil kept his gaze on Dan, but Dan didn't relent, and Phil crumbled.

"Okay, let me ring you up then."

"Thank you," Dan breathed out, and followed Phil back to the register. Phil, a lance in his heart, just did as Dan pleaded and rung him up. Dan's tattoo was small and didn't require fine detail, so already the price wasn't that high, but that didn't stop him from taking a few pounds off because he could, damnit.

Dan just pulled his wallet back out and handed Phil the money, slipping in extra, but not without Phil catching him.

"Dan, please, you don't have to-"

"You're supposed to tip your tattoo artist, Phil. This tattoo means a lot to me, and you worked hard on it. Thank you." Dan said, finally, finally pushing his eyes up to meet Phil's, determination and genuine gratitude swirling through them.

"Dan…" he said, trailing off. His eyes caught on the edge of the bandage peeking out from Dan's collar, and he could easily see the ink pressed into his skin in his mind's eye. Before he could guess what they meant, and really, Phil still had no clue as to what those lines were worth to Dan, but he had a much better idea now. He could only hope they were true.

"Thank you," Dan said again, pushing the money into Phil's hand, his fingers soft and gentle where they skimmed Phil's skin. Dan smiled, and it was the realest smile Phil had seen from him.

Dan stepped back and gave a little wave before turning around and pushing past the door, the bell at the top chiming as he left.

Pained, Phil just watched him leave.

He looked down at the cash in his hand, and sighed, slipping it into his pocket even if it felt like blood money. He rubbed his temple and turned back around. He walked back to his station where he had just had Dan with him, heart heavy. Phil cleaned up, wiping down the bench and giving his tattoo machine one last once-over. He pulled his jacket up from where it had fallen off of the back of his chair and slipped it over his shoulders once more. Phil flicked off the lights and cursed himself when the backlight where the stencils were made still shined. He had forgotten to turn it off evidently after he had made Dan's stencil. Not necessarily abnormal, but deeply unwelcome when his soul hurt and he just wanted to curl up in bed and curse humanity for being so fucked up because Phil cared too much.

Phil groaned when he was reminded how his past self had just shoved everything out of the way and not taken the time to legitimately clean it up. But he was a man of habit, and if the parlor was a mess then he couldn't bring himself to leave.

So Phil gathered the trash and threw it away, put the stencil equipment back in its place, and bent down to pick up the pen he had used off of the ground. He scooped up a piece of paper that was also on the ground, and glanced at it before tossing it in the bin.

His heart throbbed again at Dan's handwriting staring back up at him, but Phil tried to push it away. He was well aware that he was nothing but a bystander in this situation, and even outside of that, he didn't even know the situation, he only had a guess. And no matter how he would look at it, he'd never know what was really happening unless Dan decided to tell him, a stranger, which would never happen.

So he had to hope.

He read the lyrics again and breathed out deeply, his heart hurting a little less. Dan would be fine.

Phil tossed the paper into the bin, the words fluttering down until Phil could no longer see the words Tonight I'll set you free scribbled in Dan's penmanship.

As Phil locked up and walked out of the tattoo parlor, he smiled. He hoped Dan was enjoying his first night of freedom.

~~~~~

Phil wiped away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his arm and hunched back over, using the fine needle he was working with to add the finishing touches to the tattoo he was detailing.

A realistic watercolor-style flower was spanning the thigh of the girl on Phil's bench. This was her third and final appointment, and Phil was already fifteen minutes past the time he had originally allotted.

"Almost there," he muttered when her hand started to fidget again, "I'm just blending a bit to make it look a lot more natural."

She nodded and gripped the chair as Phil went back to work.

Twenty minutes later, she was done and thanking Phil over and over as she paid, positively beaming and saying that she absolutely loved it. Phil was just as excited as she was because moments like this were the reason why he picked his profession; he wanted to make people happy with themselves and their bodies. Every eye-crinkling smile at the end result was a rush for Phil.

"Phil! I need to you handle the walk-ins we have. Xander and I are in the middle of appointments, and you were supposed to be done ages ago, mate." Travis called from where he was hunched over his own customer. "The guy with the curly hair was here first, and I already got his stencil done before Stacy here walked in so go get him done before anyone else."

Phil called his agreement—as well as an apology—over his shoulder and quickly threw away the needles and empty cups of ink, and cleaned up everything from the last tattoo he had done. Phil wiped down the bench and picked up the stencil in the back where Travis had left it before he had to work on his scheduled appointment. It was a little constellation, about the width of Phil's palm. Because he had been asked to do the zodiac signs of people for years now, he easily recognized it as the outline of the Leo constellation.

"Sorry for the wait, we're a little backed up today. Can I have whoever is getting a Leo tattoo done?" Phil asked, walking into the waiting room. There were three people in the seats. Two were what looked like a mother and her teenage daughter that were paging through one of the flash tattoo books, and the last person was sitting with his back to Phil, looking at his phone. The guy looked up when Phil spoke, tucking his phone into his back pocket and standing. Phil recognized him immediately.

"Dan?" he asked, jaw dropping. "You're back!" he finished, a smile pulling up the corners on his mouth. Dan didn't really look him in the eyes, but he did return Phil's grin a little.

"Yeah, I'm back."

It had been over three weeks since Dan had first walked into Phil's tattoo parlor, and Phil honestly hadn't thought that he would see him again, but as Phil glanced over Dan's frame—everything about him just the same—Phil knew that he was more than glad that Dan had found his way back.

"So Dan," Phil asked in the middle of assembling his tattoo machine with a round liner needle, "last time you were here it was your birthday, and I know a thing or two about zodiac stuff since they're such a well-asked-for tattoo, so I know you wouldn't be a Leo. I'm still curious as to why you picked it, however. Can I ask why you're getting it done?"

Phil attached the rubber bands onto the machine and tested it, sparing Dan a glance. Dan shrugged a little, seemingly uncomfortable.

"Just...kinda because, I guess?"

Phil nodded, dropping the topic. He set his machine down and picked up the stencil with his gloved hands.

"Fair enough. I've had tattoos done 'just because' as well." Phil said, hoping to make Dan relax. Phil had forgotten how high-strung he was. "Can you take your jumper off? I need it out of the way again to do this where you want."

Dan nodded, and suddenly Phil could feel a tension between them. Or, more like a tension emanating from Phil, right in time with the breath that seemed to get stuck in his throat.

Last time Dan had his shirt off for a tattoo, Phil had seen bruises.

Would there be more?

Phil honest-to-god might cry if there were.

Dan pulled off his jumper and with every inch of skin that was revealed, Phil let his eyes roam, searching for evidence that this man was being mistreated.

There was nothing new, which made Phil almost sigh in relief.

The bruise that he had noticed last time had obviously had time to heal—it wasn't black and blue, but a muted yellow of sorts; it was clearly on the mend.

Phil also noticed the first tattoo he'd given Dan, the black letters standing out against Dan's skin.

"Your tattoo is healing really well. You've obviously been taking care of it." Phil said, carefully avoiding the elephant in the room. They both knew that Phil had looked, and they both knew what Phil was looking for. However, that didn't mean that they had to talk about it.

Last time Dan certainly hadn't wanted to.

"I love it," Dan said simply, and Phil knew his sentiments exactly.

Phil himself had many tattoos—what respectable tattoo artist didn't? The art on Phil's body collectively didn't have much in common. Some he'd given himself in his apprenticeship days, others he'd gotten done by other artists. And all of them, from the garden of plants spanning his side and back to the little Pikachu on his wrist, he'd taken care of religiously because having something that you love etched into your skin? Priceless. There's no other option but to take care of them in Phil's mind.

"Yeah," he said, checking over his equipment and the stencil on Dan's skin yet again in a nervous habit of his, "I know what you mean."

Neither of them said anything after that, but the silence wasn't by any means strained. If anything, as Phil started to etch the lines of ink into Dan's skin, the lack of conversation felt comfortable and normal—more like something that Phil had been doing with Dan for years.

This tattoo was even less complicated than the first one that Dan had had done, so they were done much sooner; a handful of lines and dots representing the stars were crawling over Dan's collarbone by the time Phil ended up pulling away.

"All done." Phil said, leaning back. Dan sat up, looking down at his collarbone even though he wouldn't be able to see the whole thing from his perspective.

"Thank you."

There was the beginning of a smile playing at Dan's lips, making Phil beam.

Ten minutes later Dan was walking right back out of the door of the tattoo parlor, the same little wave Dan gave Phil last time making another appearance. The gentle smile on Dan's lips was still there, the corners pulled up higher than Phil had ever seen them. The sight made Phil's chest grow warm.

~~~~~

Over the next four months, Dan became a common sight in the tattoo parlor. He was in at least once every two weeks, asking for something that generally fit the m.o. of all of his other tattoos: small, typically uncomplicated, and carrying hidden meanings that Phil only wished that he could know. And even though Phil was always the one to tattoo him, all of the other artists knew him at this point and greeted him whenever they saw him as if Dan was a friend. Every time it happened Phil saw the happiness blossom across his pretty face at being acknowledged.

Now, after months of steady tattooing, Dan had a respectable amount of his pale skin covered.

His third tattoo was no larger than the length of Phil's fingers and only a few inches wide. It was of a bear, it's paws dissolving into stars. The bear was near the crease of Dan's right elbow, on the inside of his forearm. Phil remembered the session vividly after seeing the faint, vertical, white scars on Dan's skin. When he had seen them he couldn't stop his fingers from running lightly down them, tracing the lines with the pads of his fingertips, frowning. That tattoo had taken two appointments to finish the shading.

The fourth tattoo Dan got from Phil was a loose line of leaves blowing in an invisible wind, spiraling up the span of Dan's left forearm. There were half a dozen in total, starting at Dan's wrist and stopping a few inches short of his elbow.

Dan's fifth tattoo was a hand-sized, linework-only heart on his upper right arm, cor cordium inscribed in between the veins. (Phil had googled the words after Dan had left before he had forgotten them. They meant "heart of hearts" in latin.)

His sixth tattoo was another phrase, the words have the courage to exist—once again in Dan's handwriting—on the inside of his wrist, partially overlapping a much larger and much deeper white scar that ran horizontal along his right forearm.

The seventh tattoo was of flowers and leaves. They were on Dan's right shoulder, spilling over a little to his collarbone and quite a bit onto his shoulder blade. Phil added in minuscule splashes of color to some of the petals after the standard black shading. (The end product was much better with the color in Phil's opinion.)

He and Dan ended up seeing each other regularly in those months, and Phil found himself looking forward to the next pleasant surprise of having Dan walk through his parlor door.

A few weeks after Dan's latest tattoo he wandered in much earlier in the day than ever before, almost as soon as they had opened.

"I want something different this time."

"Oh yeah? What kind of different?" Phil asked, pulling his sketchbook closer, flipping past drawings to get to a blank page; Dan had warned him when he walked through the door that this tattoo would need proper designing.

"I want claw marks on my ribs, but I don't want them to be bloody or whatever. I want the part of me that's 'clawed away' to reveal a galaxy underneath. Kind of like I have the universe inside of me, as stupid as that sounds."

Phil thought for a moment, his pencil hovering over the page for a count of ten before he started drawing. It took them several re-draws, but they ended up with something that not only looked badass but made Dan smile in approval.

Due to appointment scheduling, Phil didn't have any time to start right away, but Dan left with an appointment for exactly ten days away. Ten days that slugged by so much slower than Phil wanted.

The first appointment passed without trouble. The linework for the claw marks and some of the fundamental shading was done in their few hours together. The next few appointments happened just the same, though they all focused on the shading and building the forms of the claw marks and the beginnings of the galaxy.

With every appointment however, Phil found his feelings...mixing, to say the least. His eyes lingered on the bends and curves of Dan's body, and his own fingers might have  stayed just this side of too long on Dan's skin, their drag causing Dan to shiver just so slightly (something that gave Phil an irrational amount of pleasure, knowing that he could make Dan react like that).

He was also sure that he talked too much during the appointments. Since Dan wasn't that much of a talker, Phil went on and on about pretty much every scrap of thought that passed through his head. Dan surprisingly didn't tell him to shut up or make Phil feel as if he was annoying him; he listened attentively and would sometimes even softly chime in to offer his opinion on the recent rambling of Phil's. Every soft word of Dan's was a victory to Phil, and it only made Phil talk even more.

More appointments passed, and with each one the layers on Dan's tattoo were fitting seamlessly together, and altogether building the illusion of space flowing under Dan's skin. In the beginning Phil had entertained the idea of dragging out the sessions just a little, but he ultimately decided against it and instead poured his soul into the tattoo. Phil played a deathly amount of attention to detail and revisited areas several times after allowing them to heal in between. He used so many shades of ink that he lost track, but it didn't bother him in the slightest.

The moment he finished it was one that he would remember for the rest of his life. The first thing he did was sit back and stare in disbelief at the art in front of him. The art he made.

"It's done," he had muttered.

Dan heard and sat up to have a proper look himself. Phil watched in rapt attention, his mouth open as he watched the universe inked into Dan's skin ripple and move with him as he sat up. It made the whole thing seem alive.

It was by far the most beautiful tattoo Phil had had the pleasure of bringing into existence.

Dan seemed to share Phil's sentiments. Together they stared at it until Dan looked up at Phil, awe in his eyes.

"Phil, it's...it's bloody amazing. I don't even know what to say. Thank you so much, fuck, I love it." There was a smile so wide on Dan's face that it showed two dimples that Phil had never seen before. Quite frankly, between Dan's soft beauty and how well weeks of his work turned out, Phil had needed to catch his breath.

That was weeks ago.

He hadn't seen Dan since, and while he understood that he had zero claim on Dan's time, Phil still found himself glancing every time the door opened in the hope that it would be Dan. In some sense, Phil was remorseful over not letting the sessions drag a little because now Phil didn't get to see him.

Phil was on his phone playing one of his many games; it was an especially slow day. They hadn't had any walk-ins, and there were few appointments scheduled. That all translated into Phil being bored as hell.

He didn't look up when the bell chimed—it had been too long since Dan had last been in for him to properly hope for Dan to walk through—but he did slip his phone away. He got up from where he had been lounging and walked to the waiting room; he rounded the corner and started to greet the customer, but felt his jaw drop to the floor when he came face-to-face with Dan.

There was something different about him. He was stood straighter, and he actually met Phil's eyes without shying away. The bags under his eyes were the smallest Phil had ever seen them and the curls a top his head were messy due to general lack of styling, not looking as if the strands had been pulled by stressed hands. He wasn't as pale and even looked generally healthier.

"Hey, Phil."

"Hi, oh my gosh, I thought you weren't going to come back." Phil rambled, a smile on his face. Dan was grinning as well, his right dimple a shallow depression in his cheek.

"Oh come on, you know I wouldn't be able to stay away from you." Phil's heart dropped at the words. He tried to keep his mind from somersaulting to conclusions, but it might have been too late. Meanwhile, Dan's mouth twisted a little, like he had said something he wasn't supposed to, but he didn't try to change it. "Anyways, I have another tattoo idea in mind. It's not as labor intensive as the last one, don't worry, but it means a lot."

Phil nodded to show that he was listening, but was mentally hung up on Dan's little "it means a lot." All of Dan's tattoos had meant something to him—from what Phil could gather at least—but he had never expressed it so vocally. What was different about this one?

"What are you looking for?"

"Flowers, namely. Here, I have a list of all of the ones I want."

Dan dug a paper out of his jeans pocket and passed it to Phil. The paper was torn at the edges and crumpled, as well as covered in writing. There were eight total flowers, and Phil knew quite a few of them, but hadn't even heard of two. Meanings and half-baked thoughts were spread over the rest of the paper, some crossed out and others were circled. He couldn't read all of them at the moment, but he got the gist.

"I want it to look a lot like my shoulder one, but with more shading, if you wouldn't mind."

"How much more?"

"As much as you want. I want this to look as realistic as you can make it."

Phil nodded, already thinking about ways to arrange the flowers.

"Where do you want it?"

"Here," Dan said, putting his palm in his hip bone, his fingers splayed across his thigh, "right on my hip. I'd like for it to cover a bit of my side and thigh as well."

Phil swallowed to replace the moisture in his mouth. He couldn't deny that he found Dan attractive, nor that tattooing Dan hasn't affected him. Hell, Phil would constantly sneak guilty looks whenever Dan had had to remove his shirt for some of the other tattoos Phil had given him. But collarbones and the bumps of ribs were suddenly so much easier to handle than the prospect of spending extended amounts of time with his hands on Dan's hips.

He's going to be the death of me.

Phil didn't even ponder giving his heart a break from his crush and have one of the other artists work with Dan for this tattoo—Phil knew he would get too jealous.

"Do you have a more specific design?" Phil asked, praying that Dan couldn't hear his voice warble in the beginning. Dan shook his head.

"I want you to design it."

Phil closed his eyes and nodded, breathing deeply. His own design, right on what was an intimate area of Dan's body. Damn, okay, Dan really was going to be the death of him.

I appreciate the cute boy, universe, but this is just unfair, he thought.

~~~~~

Phil tested his tattoo gun. When he was sure it was working properly he dipped it in the cup of ink and brought the needle to Dan's skin, starting on the outline of the peony.

A few days ago Dan had asked for this tattoo. They'd spent two hours drawing it and making the stencil along with setting up a series of appointments for it. This was Dan's first one, and all they had planned was the line art. Simple enough, but Phil's left leg was still shaking.

Dan was laying on his side on the tattoo bench so his right hip was easily accessible for Phil. There was a blanket wrapped around his legs and torso to cover his body, which was naked from the waist down. The blanket was pulled away from his one hip so Phil could tattoo him, and really all of Dan that was exposed was the area he wanted inked and a bit of his ass, but Phil was still out of breath. He blamed Dan's smooth, unblemished skin for making Phil this much of a mess.

Travis walked past them to help a customer when the little bell above the door chimed. He shot Phil a wink and mouthed whipped. Phil suddenly regretted telling him about his crush on Dan a few weeks ago.

In short, Phil was nervous. He was pining. He was trying to stay calm and keep his freak-out internal. All of the pressure made him start to ramble, but he was certain that it was much less coherent than ever before.

The only thing that he didn't have to worry about was his hands, thank god. A combination of steel-like will refusing to make Dan's tattoo anything but perfect and years of practice made the tattooing smooth and unrushed. Phil was so good, he was even able to have time to do a bit of shading with Dan's consent.

The whole appointment was about four hours long, but it passed in about five minutes. When Dan's gone, Phil takes a lunch break longer than any other to gather his wits. He spends most of it with Travis after deciding that company would get his pining heart back under control. It works, even with Travis teasing him the whole time.

"He's got you wrapped around his little finger, mate." Travis unhelpfully supplied, cackling. Phil grumbled in response, pouting.

"Yeah yeah, sure, let's make fun of Phil for falling for a guy a little bit."

"A little? Sorry to break it to you, but you're gone for him, Phil."

~~~~~

Phil glanced at the clock again. He wasn't going to finish it in this appointment like planned.

He leaned back and clicked off his tattoo machine. Dan looked up at him, a happy smile on his face.

"Is it done?" he asked, excitement in his voice. Phil hated to disappoint him, but he shook his head.

"I still have to add in some of the harsher shadows and a few of the highlights. We don't have enough time for that since I have someone else coming in right after you, and starting it to only clean up in about ten minutes doesn't make much sense. I'm sorry it's not done even though I said it probably would be."

Dan was still smiling, which was a relief. "It's fine, Phil, I really don't mind coming back."

Phil wrapped the tattoo and took the materials he had been working with to properly dispose of and clean them while Dan disappeared to the bathroom—still wrapped in the blanket—to redress himself. Dan sat on the tattoo bench and watched Phil clean everything up after he was done, which was absolutely adorable if you asked Phil. Since he had the time he got out what he needed for his next customer and attached a small magnum needle.

"What kind of tattoo are you working on next?"

Phil winced. "Shading on a...well...let me show you." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his pictures until he found what he was looking for; it was of a client after his latest appointment. All of the line art and about half of the shading was done on a dragon that curled around the hairline of the guy's face. It was small, but still easily noticeable. Phil handed the phone to Dan who started giggling.

"God, I can't believe he'd want something like that on his face. What an idiot."

Phil mumbled something in agreement, his head stuck on how happy Dan sounded when he was laughing.

"Good luck with that." The bell chimed, letting the both of them know that Phil's next client had arrived. Dan's smile became a little more wistful. "I guess I should get going then."

Phil shrugged, hoping that his disappointment at Dan leaving wasn't showing too much. "Unfortunately I do have another customer. Should I schedule you for the same time in another month?"

"No, my schedule got changed around at work and I won't have time to come it while you guys are open." Dan pouted, sadness in his eyes. "It won't last forever, but it'll be a little bit until we see each other again, Phil."

Phil felt the frown pull the corners of his lips down.

"When are you off?"

"Sundays I have the whole day. During the week I'm working longer during the day, so we'd really only have fifteen minutes by the time you guys closed. It's okay though, I don't mind waiting a little for the rest of my tattoo."

The thing was, Phil wasn't prepared to go who-knows-how-long without seeing Dan.

"Stay here for a second," Phil mumbled, a crazy idea unfurling in his head. He walked to the back of the parlor where Travis was lounging on the sofa in the break room. He looked up when Phil came in.

"What can I do for you, Phil?"

"Do you think I could open the parlor on a Sunday?"

Travis raised his eyebrow.

"Phil, Sunday is the whole parlor's day off; why the hell are we opening it then?"

"Not everyone, just me. Dan can't make it for another appointment when we're open, and we don't know when he'll be able to come back on his new work schedule, which makes Sunday his only option."

Travis snickered.

"How did I know this was about Dan?"

"Travis, please, be serious. Can I?"

Travis traced the rim of the can in his hands with his finger, thinking. He took a sip before nodding.

"Okay, but I need to know when you guys are going to be here, and it's gotta be in the books for liability reasons. Make sure it's just the two of you, and don't make it more than two hours. If he doesn't show after fifteen minutes you leave, alright?"

Phil beamed.

"Thanks, Travis, I owe you."

"Don't do anything indecent in our tattoo parlor, Phil!" Travis called after him when he turned and left. It made Phil's ears reden, but didn't put a damper on his mood.

Dan was right where Phil had left him.

"How do you feel about coming in after hours on a Sunday?"

"What? Phil, you guys are closed on Sunday."

"I talked it over with Travis, and he's okay with me finishing your tattoo when it works for you. All that's left is just you picking when."

"Philip Lester," Dan laughed, a twinkle in his eye, "you're absolutely insane."

~~~~~

Five weeks later Phil was unlocking the parlor doors in his pajamas, feeling sleepy, but overall excited for the next few hours.

Dan arrived almost as soon as Phil himself did. He was smiling and in the happiest mood Phil had ever seen him in. It was weird to think about the first time Dan had wandered into the tattoo parlor about a year ago, curled in on himself and horribly passive. It was a good weird though, because when he thought about it, he couldn't help but smile at how much progress Dan has made.

"Aw, did I wake you, Phil?"

"Make fun of Phil, sure, go ahead." He mumbled with a fake pout as he started to set up this things. Dan didn't bother with the waiting room, opting on throwing his jacket onto the tattoo bench before hopping up. Phil could feel Dan's eyes on him, and the attention caused the back of his neck to prickle. He hoped he wasn't blushing.

When Phil thought it was safe he snuck a glance. Dan was in a pair of grey joggers that clung loosely to his body and a too-big black t-shirt. His curls weren't tamed in the slightest and the little rosey spot on his jaw that appeared when he got flustered was there, drawing Phil's eyes.

"You don't look too stunning yourself there, Dan." I'm lying. You look amazing.

"Shut up!" Dan laughed. "Unlike you, normal people can't look like a model in their pajamas, Phil. Have some pity for the rest of us plebs."

Phil chuckled, but he was horribly uncertain. Had Dan just...called him attractive? Was he overthinking it? I most likely am, Phil decided. There was something about Dan that made Phil unsure of everything.

Well.

Not quite everything.

Phil pulled himself from his thoughts. How many times has he thought about spending more time with Dan? Too many to count. And now that he had it (just the two of them, at that) he was busy thinking!

"Right," Phil said after the stretch of silence, "I'm gonna get the ink, when I get back you should be ready for me then."

Phil stood to get the tattoo ink, but he didn't miss how Dan's hands went straight to the hem of his joggers, his thumbs tucking under the waistband. Embarrassed that his gaze had followed such a simple movement Phil guilty looked up only to freeze when he saw Dan's eyes on him.

There was no way he didn't see that. Fuck.

He blushed hard, Phil's whole face heating up. Dan's eyes had a question in them, but it was one that Phil decidedly didn't want to look for at this second. He gave Dan a strangled smile and turned around, booking it straight to the back room where they kept the ink.

Phil picked and measured the ink with hands shaking from his mortification. Dan probably thought of him as some kind of creep now no doubt.

When Phil worked up the courage to venture back out Dan was on his side, the parlor blanket draped over his body like always.

He wasn't so sure if it was a relief or not.

Regardless, Dan didn't bring Phil's little awkward exchange up, which he was sure that he was thankful for.

Phil worked through the first half of the flowers completely fine. He took up his normal routine of rambling about what Dan had missed out on in Phil's life since they had last met. Dan was a bit more vocal, his hums louder than normal and more expressive. When Phil moved onto the fifth flower he started talking about how he had been driving home two weeks ago, and some douche had given him the finger because he hadn't been moving fast enough.

"Are you serious?" Dan asked over the buzz of the tattoo machine.

"Yes! I wasn't doing anything!"

"What an asshole. Did you do anything back?"

"No. I wasn't about to stoop to his level, Daniel."

Dan snorted. "We both know that you didn't because you're too nice, Philip. If I were there though, I would have told him where to go for you." 

"If I were there"

The four words hit Phil particularly hard. What if Dan had been there in the car with him? Would they have been going to Phil's to hang out as friends? Something else? A can of worms opened in Phil's head, and suddenly he was thinking a thousand scenarios that he could only wish would happen, and positively none of them were platonic.

For some reason, it made his heart ache.

After that moment, all of the rules they had nonverbally made shattered. Dan was talking more than usual; he was telling his own stories and making Phil laugh and smile, not the other way around. Dan also seemed to have lost his iron grip on his filter because Phil could name a few things he said that could be taken as flirty.

As a result, Phil's heart was flying all around the inside of his ribcage, and his head was hopelessly flipping between whether or not he should pursue it.

Best case he was reading the situation right and Dan actually had feelings for him as well. Worst case was Phil was horribly wrong and Dan (possibly homophobic in this scenario) would hate Phil and their friendship would end as abruptly as it began.

His anxiety told him that it was most likely the latter.

Phil clicked off the tattoo gun much sooner than he had anticipated. He studied the lines curling on Dan's skin for a flaw that he could fix, but there was none.

"Is it done?"

"Yeah. Looks like your latest tattoo is complete, Dan."

Dan took a few awkward pictures of his thigh before letting Phil wrap it. The whole time Dan was smiling wide enough for his dimple to appear on his cheek; Phil's heart ached longingly at seeing it.

After Phil ducked out of the room to let Dan pull on his pants, Dan helped Phil clean up the few empty cups of ink and other bits of trash while Phil cleaned his tattoo gun. They were standing at the register within fifteen minutes of Phil finishing Dan's tattoo even with his attempts at drawing the time out. He gave Dan his total and watched as Dan shuffled around in his wallet for the right amount of cash. (That was another thing about Dan. He always paid in cash.)

Feeling panicked at their time together slipping through Phil's fingers, he let his eyes drink in Dan standing before him, a sudden desperation to remember this moment perfectly taking over him. He traced over the dip of Dan's neck and the fall of his shoulders and over the curls of his hair, and certainly didn't miss how adorably soft Dan looked in his too-large clothing.

God, he wanted to kiss him so badly.

Phil wasn't sure what his expression was, or if his face was betraying what he was thinking about, but when Dan looked up with his money in hand, he immediately flushed scarlet.

Shit.

He opened his mouth to try and explain himself, but no words came out. Dan's eyes flicked from the floor, to Phil's face, and back to the floor.

It was silent for a few moments.

Right as the words "I'm sorry" were about to fall out of Phil's mouth, Dan finally looked back up at Phil, something in his eyes that Phil couldn't quite read.

"You don't want to fall for me, Phil."

Out of everything that Phil expected Dan to say, it certainly wasn't that. Maybe a "I'm flattered but-" or a "I'm not gay." But Dan telling Phil he didn't want to fall for him? He'd never have expected that in a million years.

"Why not?" he found himself saying. Dan shuffled on his feet.

"You just don't."

"Are you like a serial killer? Have you run over a puppy or something? I'm only asking because I don't think you realize I've already fallen for you, so it's a little late for that warning."

Phil hadn't really meant to say all that, but as he thought about it he knew it to be true. He was head over heels for Dan. There was no denying it.

"Do you like me, Dan?" Phil asked softly after Dan didn't respond. Something pained surfaced in those brown eyes of his and he nodded.

"Have you seen yourself?"

Phil let himself the little breathy laugh that escaped his lips—most of it was nerves anyways.

"One date?" Phil's voice sounded small even to his own ears.

"Phil…"

"Just one, if you're willing. If you don't want to or don't want to go on a second I won't be mad. We can just go back to being friends if you want. Just...one date, please? Let me treat you to dinner"

Dan didn't say anything for a long time. He just looked  Phil in the eyes. Phil, for his part, held Dan's gaze and let him search for whatever he needed to.

Eventually, he nodded.

"Okay," he said, his voice quiet. Phil could feel the smile taking over his whole face and saw as Dan slowly started to grin as well. "Okay."

~~~~~

Exactly eleven days later Dan and Phil found themselves on the top of Phil's apartment complex after their dinner date because Dan wanted to see the stars, and Phil didn't have a balcony.

"That's Orion." Dan said, pointing up to a cluster of stars to Phil's left. "You can tell because of those three stars in a line make up his belt. That one a little to the left is Andromeda. You can't quite make out what's supposed to be her legs because we can't see all the stars, but it's still nice to look at."

"How do you know so much about the stars?"

"They were something I've always loved. I had a lonely childhood, so when I was little I made my own constellations and made stories for them—stupid, I know. When I got a little older, I decided to learn their actual stories."

"Is that why you've asked me for so many tattoos with stars in them?"

"Yeah. They all mean something."

Phil nodded even though they were laying on their backs and Dan most likely couldn't see the movement.

"Could you tell me about them? Your tattoos, I mean. You don't have you, you know. I understand more than most people that tattoos can be really personal."

Phil could feel nervousness creep up the back of his neck. Should he have asked that?

Dan rolled onto his side, and, unsure of if he was going to be told off or not, Phil copied the movement so they were facing each other. He watched as Dan touched his ribcage where Phil knew that he had inked the universe into his skin.

"This one pretty pretty much has to do with my love for the stars. I like to remind myself that everything is made of stardust, and because of it we're all our own set of made-up constellations." Dan's hand landed on is upper arm. "Cor cordium-"

"Heart of hearts." Phil blurted. At Dan's playful eyebrow raise, he blushed. "Sorry, I, uh, googled it after you left that one time."

Dan laughed. "Anyways, yes, it means heart of hearts in Latin. My inspiration came from the whole 'wear your heart on your sleeve' thing. I got it because I've spend an unhealthy amount of my life bottling things up and I now want to actually live my truth, not imagine it."

Dan pulled up his sleeve to reveal the little bear and have the courage to exist.

"These are sadder, honestly. Like I said, I had a lonely childhood, but it also wasn't a very good one. My parents...weren't the uh, best of people. They didn't really want me, and didn't really know what to do with me. They hated that I liked guys later on, and in general didn't really bother supporting me. They were abusive, bottom line. The bear covers up the remainder of my self-harm marks, and the quote is where I tried to kill myself when I was a teenager."

Phil's heart felt like it was splitting in two. On some level, he knew what those scars were before Dan told him, since Phil had seen them back when he had first given Dan the tattoos. On another, he had been in denial.

"Dan I'm…" Phil trailed off—he didn't even know what to say. Sorry? Sorry didn't cover the least of it.

"It's okay, it was a long time ago. I'm a lot better now."

Dan's fingers traced his collarbone next, his shirt separating his hand and the tattoo of the Leo constellation. "Like you said when I asked for it, I'm not a Leo. I'm actually a Gemini, but that's besides the point. I always wanted to be a Leo because everyone describes Leo's as so brave and confident, and I was constantly jealous. So, I thought, that if I have it tattooed, I'd always have a bit of that self-assurance that they always seem to have."

Phil nodded.

"What about the leaves?"

"That one I actually got because I thought they would look pretty on me. The flowers on my shoulder as well"

Phil hummed, a smile pulling at his lips. "Well, you were right. They do."

"Are you trying to say that I'm pretty, Phil?"

"Very."

Before Dan could answer, a breeze blew, making goosebumps prickle up on both of their arms. The weather was warming as they grew increasingly closer to summer, but it still might be a little too cold for laying on the roof to star gaze.

"How about we go back down before it cools off too much now that the sun's gone down?" Phil asked, helping Dan up. Dan agreed and subtly linked their fingers together before asking Phil to lead the way.

Phil shut the door to his apartment behind them. When he turned around, Dan was looking down at their hands still clasped together. He swallowed. Was Dan having second thoughts about this whole thing?

"Can I kiss you?"

He should be used to Dan flipping his whole world upside down, but he wasn't.

Phil licked his lips, trying to remember the last time he had put chapstick on—he couldn't. He hoped that his lips weren't horrendously chapped.

"Yes."

Dan stepped further into their shared space first, and with his movement Phil drifted forward as well. They met in the middle, the only their mouths and hands touching.

That didn't last long, however.

The contact soothed something that he didn't even know was aching in him, and it apparently had a similar reaction in Dan because it almost instantly deepened into something much more primal. Their hands broke apart to tangle around each other, Phil's fingers drifting just under the hem of Dan's shirt. At the action Dan nodded wildly, moving the fabric out of the way to let Phil's hand touch more of his soft skin.

"Dan," Phil gasped when Dan tried to pull them towards the couch, "are you sure? I'm okay with it, but I don't want to push you I just-"

"Shhh," Dan interrupted, pecking Phil's lips once more. "I'm more than okay with this as long as you are."

The knowledge took a moment to register in Phil's head with how mush it was from kissing Dan, but he gave Dan a smile when it did.

"Then stop pulling us towards the couch, you idiot, the bedroom is this way."

Dan giggled when his back hit the duvet, reaching up for Phil, who eagerly settled into Dan's arms. Their lips met again, slower and with more of a purpose than before. He wasn't sure how long it took for them to break, but he knew that when they did to pull Dan's shirt over his head, his lips were red and swollen.

As Dan's upper body was revealed Phil pressed kisses up and down the exposed skin where it was tattooed, using his mouth to trace over the very lines he had drawn months ago.

Phil decided that as much as he enjoyed looking at Dan's tattoos, he loved kissing them even more.

"What about this one?" Phil asked, sucking on the jut of Dan's collarbone. Dan moaned as Phil worked the hickey right over the words of his very first tattoo.

"I got it the—ah—day I cut ties with my parents. They weren't happy with it, as I know you noticed—remember that bruise?—but I really don't—Phil!—care."

Phil was frowning at the words, absolutely seeing red over thinking about that bruise he had noticed on Dan's side coming from his parents. He hated it, and he loathed that these people had hurt Dan so badly, emotionally and physically.

As much as he didn't like it, Phil couldn't do anything about the past.

But he could do something about the present.

Later, when they were both naked, moaning together in the throes of passion, Phil couldn't still his hands from finding their way to Dan's last mystery tattoo as he rolled his hips into Dan's. It was the only tattoo that Dan had yet to explain the meaning of, but Phil knew that he didn't have to guess.

Peonies, red carnations, lavender, daisies, and other flowers danced over Dan's hip. Healing, strength, new adventures, and happiness of life respectfully.

It was a tattoo of healing. Of new beginnings.

Phil couldn't wish for anything more than to be a part of it.

~~~~~

"Good morning," Phil whispered, kissing Dan's cheek. They had fallen asleep almost instantly after their activities last night. Now, they were cuddled together, Dan's head tucked under Phil's chin, his body completely enveloped by Phil's protective embrace. Dan sleepily blinked his eyes open.

"I hate to wake you, but I know you have work in a few hours. I thought you may want me to drive you to your place so you could get ready soon," he continued, keeping his voice soft. Dan frowned at the mention of work and buried his head into Phil's chest as if to avoid his responsibilities.

"Alright, sleep a little bit more if you want, but not too much."

"No, it's okay." Dan said, rubbing one of his eyes. He stilled once again in Phil's arms and for a few moments they were silent, Dan letting his fingertips follow the lines of one of Phil's chest tattoos, Phil just enjoying the moment.

"What are we, Phil?" Phil shifted so he could see Dan's face properly. "What do you want us to be?"

Dan didn't answer right away, but Phil was surprised at the certainty in his voice when he spoke.

"Boyfriends."

Phil smiled wide and kissed the top of Dan's head.

"Whatever you say then, boyfriend."

Dan laughed softly and gave Phil a fond smile. It melted after a few moments.

"Are you sure, Phil? Are you sure you want to be that with me?"

Phil understood that Dan had a few problems. He knew that Dan had trouble seeing the best in himself, but it was also evident through the progress Dan made by himself since Phil had known him that he was getting better. He used to resemble a scared kid, but now he was so much more comfortable in his own skin.

Phil knew that it wouldn't always be good. He understood that Dan would have his bad days. He realized that Dan would need a bit more reassurance and love.

Phil also knew that he was more than happy to provide it.

He kissed Dan tenderly on the lips, pouring in just how right this was.

"Completely."

~~~~~

Things, as a matter of fact, were not always good.

They were a bit rough in the beginning, but as they learned to work together as a couple and not just as casual friends things got better. Phil gave Dan everything he could to make him feel more comfortable in their relationship, and Dan put the world at Phil's feet.

They fell in love hard and fast, moving in with each other before the year was out.

Looking back, Phil knew that they both grew so much as people in that first year together.

"Phil, I'm starting the popcorn, hurry up!"

Phil smiled in the mirror of the bathroom at the sound of Dan's voice. This was going to be their ninth year together. Nine years of good and bad and everything between. Nine years of loving Dan.

"Coming!" Phil called, drying his hands.

He turned off the bathroom light and opened the door to join Dan in the lounge.

He didn't miss how the soft yellow of the nightlight caught on the ring on his left hand.

[overthestars-and-offtoneverland]

Adventures in Becoming Esme Gigi Genevieve Squalor

For Halloween this year, I have convinced my beautiful friend J or @jebug29 (who you all may or may not remember from the original “Count Olaf is a power bottom” post) to accompany me as the Count Olaf to my Esme. While finding his costume has been relatively simple (we found a good portion of this costume at the local thrift store because Olaf isn’t incredibly hard to dress and will mainly be a challenge with prosthetic facial hair), mine has displayed some difficulties.

I’ve decided to record them, along with my thoughts and feelings on the matter, and will release this post after all is said and done.

-

Chapter 1

After getting J’s clothes all for under 5 dollars, I also found a GIGANTIC martini glass to use as a prop. I love it. I didn’t buy a second one for J, but he can use my wine glass. 

Olaf’s more a wine guy anyway.

We also did technically find a pinstripe blazer I could use, but unfortunately I had too copious amount of titty for it, so no go.

-

Chapter 2

J has fallen in love with the Gunther disguise.

Hate to let the guy down, but ya girl doesn’t have Gunther disguise money (I’m the only one funding this little venture because to be fair I pestered poor J into this), so he’ll have to settle for regular Count Olaf despite the fact the Gunther is technically more thematically appropriate.

-

Chapter 3

Checking Amazon just in case we continue to have poor luck at the thrift store.

It has come to my attention that J and I may need to contemplate actually stealing a fortune.

Esme is an expensive bitch.

The first pinstripe suit came up at $119!

1-800-fuck-that.

So, we’re gonna compromise and try to just buy a pinstripe blazer and pair it with a plain skirt I already have (plus the accessories and make-up I already had prepared)

I mean, I still gotta buy a blonde wig and J’s cosmetics, after all.

-

Chapter 4

Amazon: Oh! We have a pinstripe blazer in your price range!

Me: Really?!

Amazon: Sure! ...For anyone with a significantly smaller bust size than you :)

Me:...

Me: *singing* There are no happy endings. Not here and not now~ This tale’s full of sorrows and woes~

-

Chapter 5

I FOUND THE PERFECT THING ON AMAZON AT A REASONABLE PRICE! A WHITE PINSTRIPE SUIT WITH BODYCON DRESS THAT LOOKS ALMOST EXACTLY LIKE THE ONE ESME WORE ON THE SHOW!

But then I tried to put in in my cart and those motherfuckers told me it wouldn’t show up until DECEMBER. So, back the square one.

FUCK!

-

Chapter 6

I’m screaming. This shit’s expensive and it may not even get here in time.

At least I found a nice wig?

-

Chapter 7

Did you guys know that when you ask for a costume unibrow every online shopping thing thinks you want a Rick Sanchez costume?

Because I do now

-

Chapter 8

You know, this would be a hell of a lot easier if the original Series of Unfortunate Events movie didn’t suck an entire ass and got the same fame that Harry Potter managed.

Everybody just take a moment to imagine that timeline.

-

Chapter 9

Ok, here’s the haps, peeps.

Still no luck on the blazer. I found one, but it wouldn’t actually arrive until the 30th, so no.

However, I did manage to get myself a blonde wig and stuff to make J’s facial hair Olaf-approved!

I’m gonna make the unibrow out of costume mustaches and spirit gum (you know, that stuff cosplayers use to stick the side pieces of their wigs to their heads so it looks more real) and I bought a goatee set that should work well too.

In this house, we improvise!

-

Chapter 10

I also got myself some new matches to use as a prop and also for personal use.

(I find striking matches calming)

-

Chapter 11

Me: Oh look! I found another blazer!

Me:...

Me: What the fuck do you mean you don’t deliver to P.O. Boxes?

-

Chapter 12

My matches are here

Also the stuff for J’s eyebrow and facial hair

and my absolutely beautiful wig 

Hot damn!

-

Chapter 13

I FINALLY FOUND IT!

NOT ONLY DID I FIND A BEAUTIFUL PINSTRIPE BLAZER, I FOUND AN ENTIRE PINSTRIPE SUIT IN MY SIZE!

We just needed a bigger thrift store!

We also got J some new suit pants so both of our costumes are finally complete! 

Hopefully my next update will be the reveal!

-

Chapter 14

I know I said the next update would be the reveal, but this exchange was too funny:

J: *trying on the jacket for my pinstripe suit for some reason*

J: *struggling* The buttons are on the wrong side.

Me: Yeah, it’s a women’s jacket.

J: Oh.

J: *horrified realization that we bought a women’s blazer for his Count Olaf costume*

-

Chapter 15

J has been growing his hair out so it’ll be easier for me to style his hair into Olaf’s devil horns. 

Ya know, these little things:

(Tbh, I do that to his hair at every chance because I find it hilarious and it makes me happy, along with his Count Olaf voice.)

He didn’t really need to do that, but God I love my friends.

-

Chapter 16

8 hours before the Halloween party:

I have not started getting dressed yet.

J decided to try on his costume and has realized his shirt is also a women’s shirt.

I had to tie his ascot for him.

Then he tried to go eat sushi dressed as Count Olaf. 

I proceeded to tell him to not do that and put his costume on later after we’ve all eaten dinner and won’t be sitting around waiting for hours.

- Chapter 17: The Reveal!

(Please don’t judge too harshly)

After preparing for months (and spending more money than I’d like to admit) I finally had a proper Esme Gigi Genevieve Squalor!

Cute necklace right?

Full-body picture taken by J, who is a hilarious photographer.

Finally a costume where I can incorporate my tattoo! (Though I filled in the iris and pupil)

And, of course I had my Count Olaf: @jebug29

Ya’ll, I’m actually hella proud of the job I did on his fail hair. Hot damn!

A selfie he took with my phone

Why does he look so sad???

His “tattoo”. To be fair, I had less space to work with than what I thought.

And some pictures of the two of us together:

A toast to murder and arson

Idk why J’s back is to the camera, but I look cute.

And finally us posing with the picture J drew of us as Olaf and Esme

And to those of you wondering: Yes, I won that bet with my roommate.

[aerialsquid]

Metashipping?

Title: The Men Upstairs Fandom: The LEGO Movie, The LEGO Batman Movie Pairings: Batman/Joker (…sort of), The Man Upstairs/OC Characters: Finn, The Man Upstairs, Batman, Joker, Original Male Character Tags: Meta Fic, Dating, Legos, Metafiction, Symbolism, Parenting, Fatherhood, Businessman Description: Borrowing from the meta reveal at the end of The LEGO Movie, where we find the plot to be a metaphor for a child playing with his father’s Lego sets, this offers a ship-ish look at the meta subtext behind The LEGO Batman Movie. Closet nerd Jack goes on a lukewarm date with a closet LEGO collector, and finds a Batman in dire need of a Robin…and maybe a Joker too.

"-so the main goal is increasing our audience base by 40%. Which let me tell you, is hard when we've got a 30% churn rate, but our senior initiatives team is expanding the database capabilities to-"

Jack made eye contact with the overexpensive coffee maker on the other side of Hank’s overexpensive kitchen. This was he didn't date people in the business. Why in the heck had he decided he should go on a date with someone in the business? Especially one who was just some stranger he’d met on a dating app?

Oh, right. Because he was an idiot who had a hard time saying no.

“Yeah, audience segmentation’s tricky,” Jack said with as much passion as he could manage, which was the same amount of passion he raised for an extra ketchup packet at McDonalds.

“Exactly!” said his date, raising his glass of wine emphatically. “Especially when the sales demographics are changing so fast.”

Jack’s plan had been to get to the bar, have two drinks, and if the guy wasn’t done being dull by two drinks Jack would find an excuse to go wash his hair. Unfortunately, when they got to the bar a sign in the window indicated it was closed due to “Personal Issues, Don’t Ask, But It’s All Her Fault”. Jack’s date had mentioned that his own house was right up the road, and his kids were at tutoring. They could still enjoy a few glasses of fancy nineteen-whatever French wine, and they wouldn’t have to worry about overpaying for imported cheese and French bread.

And Jack was an idiot who had a hard time saying no.

Jack was considering discretely texting his BFF an SOS for GTFO support when the door opened. A kid with a frizzy, curly mop of hair and a solemn expression usually reserved for priests conducting funerals entered, one hand tugging along a younger girl and the other holding a tiny bag of bulky toys.

Hank snapped around, wine sloshing out onto the cheese platter as Jack leaned out of splatter range. “Finn? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Susan!”

Finn looked up at his father with a dulled expression. “She didn’t show up.” The kid sounded as if this sort of thing was business as usual – being left behind, left out, ignored, forgotten. The younger girl took the bag of toys from his hand and wandered off into the depths of the house with it clutched tightly to her chest.

Hank rose to his feet, nearly snapping the stem of the wineglass in his hand. “And how did you get home?”

“Bus.”

“Bus? You went on the bus alone? The school just let you get on the bus alone?” Hank’s voice was rising in pitch with each sentence, heading towards a shriek. It didn’t seem to make a dent in Finn’s dulled demeanor.

“Yeah.” He gave an idle shrug.

“Oh, I am going to murder them!” Jack’s date stormed upstairs, likely to get his phone, leaving Jack forgotten next to the fancy cheese.

Jack and the kid stared at each other.

“You’re…Finn, right?”

“Mhm. He’s pretty mad,” the kid noted. He grabbed a slice of cheese with cracker and stuffed it into his mouth. “Who are you?”

“Jack. I’m a friend of your dad. We were…talking.”

“About business?”

Jack opened his mouth for a yes. Then he looked the kid in the eye as Finn stuffed grapes into his mouth, and considered the sad way that the word ‘business’ had tumbled out of his mouth. Hank had barely talked about his family life but Jack knew enough about Hank’s job to practically do it himself.

“Honestly, I hate business,” he said instead. Jack leaned over, elbows resting on his knees. “What do you like, Finn?”

Finn shrugged. “Stuff. TV shows." When it was clear Jack wasn’t going to move on to another topic, he mumbled, “Legos.”

“Oh. Cool. I love Legos.”

The sound of a very angry middle class white man tumbled back down the stairs. Hank’s exact words were muffled but the intent and emotion behind them was fairly clear.  Jack winced.

“I think your dad’s gonna be busy for a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I should leave?”

“I dunno.”

Jack sucked his teeth and considered the matter. Something about the kid just made him ache. It was that look in his eyes, like this was inevitable. A kid shouldn’t feel like he was an extra load.

Jack knew that much from experience.

“Hey, Finn? You want to show me your Legos?”

“Wwwwwwow. When you said Legos, I didn’t think you meant you were running an entire Lego store out of your basement.”

“Dad collects them,” Finn said. “And builds them. He’s got all the sets. He likes to build the sets.”

Jack’s jaw hung open as he wandered the basement, staring at models of Isengard and the Sears Tower that were almost as tall as he was. The figures could have been shop models for how perfectly they were built, each Stormtrooper storming the plains of Hoth and pirate swinging across the ratlines of the Black Pearl in perfect position. “Your dad collects enough Legos to build a literal house and he had me talking about demographic segmentation?” That asshole.

Jack followed Finn around as Finn named off the sets in regimented order. The constructs were built box-picture-perfect but each had some endearing little quirk to it. Firefighters were trying to get a kitten down from the Eiffel Tower. Gremlins had invaded Hogwarts and built a crude airplane on the parapets so they could sit on its wings.

“He used to keep them to himself, but now we play together sometimes. When he’s not doing business.” Finn said the word business like it was a slur, which was something Jack could get behind.

“I love it. This is amazing. Oh my god, is that a Batman set? That’s huge!”

“That’s Arkham Asylum. It’s from a set. This is Wayne Manor, I built this one, and the Batcave one.”  Finn pointed to an immense house construct.  It was furnished with at least two dozen rooms, each with small chairs and tables or cute little plastic toilets. On the shelf below it was what was indeed the Batcave, full of at least a dozen Bat-appended vehicles.

���Have I mentioned I’m a huge Batman fan? Huge.” First crush huge, but he wasn’t going to say that in front of the nine-year-old.

“Really?” Finn gave Jack a once-over. Jack realized what an absolute square he must look like, wearing his finest business casual and looking as professionally average as possible. It made him regret everything he was doing with his life.

“You want my cred? I got cred.” Jack whipped his phone out and swiped through Facebook, back through the carefully curated archive of incredibly dull, employer-safe vacation and brunch imagery. He stopped on a specific photo and held it up, gloating.

“This was me last year at Halloween.” he said, pointing to the central figure in a generic ‘badly lit people at table in bar with beers and arms around each other but not in a sexy way’ shot. “Check out what I’m wearing.”

Finn leaned in to look at the picture, then giggled. “You have Batman pajamas?” he squeaked, one hand over his mouth.

“Batman pajamas with cowl.” More of a onesie, really. There’d been a sale at ThinkGeek.

The first real smile Jack had seen on Finn for more than a few moments began to creep to the surface. Upstairs he could still hear the faintest of yelling—if Hank was the kind of guy Jack thought he was, he’d be there a while and ask to speak to at least two managers. Jack’s eyes roamed the table until he found the airport set (with a little TSA and metal detector, wtf).

“So now I’m going to need you to show me your Batman cred. Trivia time. What if, uh….so what if there was a plane coming into Gotham city that was full of bombs, and explosives.” He leaned over to the ‘Old West Gold Mine’ set and grabbed a pile of TNT. Finn looked mildly concerned as Jack distributed the explosives around the plane like salt on pasta.

“Aaaaand it got taken over by ninjas!” Jack ran to the Samurai set and plucked up fistfuls of ninjas. Finn’s expression went from concerned to alarmed.

“You’re mixing up the sets…”

“It’s fine, I’ll put them back later.” Jack was on a roll now. He grinned eagerly, distributing the ninjas on top of the plane and walking a few of them inside. He looked over his shoulder and eyed Arkham Asylum. “They’re toys, right? What’s the point if we’re not playing with them?”

Damnit, he was going to entertain this small child if it killed him.

“—and I always come to work with a smile!!!!”

Jack grinned wide, wiggling the tiny Joker menacingly between his fingers. The little pilot cap balanced on the molded hair fell off and he quickly balanced it back on top of one tiny green spike.

Finn was silent, staring at him from the other side of the table. The little pilot figure that Jack had forced into his hand hung loose between his fingers. Jack could feel his pulse pounding in his throat. “You should be terrified,” he prompted.

Finn offered another of the apathetic shrugs that were starting to be cheese graters on Jack’s soul. “Why?”

Jack pitched his voice high again. “Because! I will be taking over the city!” he made the little Joker dance back and forth.”

“Hmmm.” Finn’s eyes roamed around the model city as he let out a noise of unclear emotion response.

“What? I mean it!” The high pitch in his voice grew higher and just a shred more desperate. He felt like someone trying frantically to start their car by turning the key again and again, each roar of the engine even more subdued and upsetting.

The moment of ‘hmmmmmmmm ‘ stretched out again, until finally Finn looked up, humor dancing in his eyes, “Batman will stop you.”

Yes!!!!

Jack blew a gleeful raspberry. “Pffft!”

“He always stops you.” Finn insisted.

“No, he doesn’t!”

“Yes, he does.”

“No he doesn’t!”

“Like that time with the two boats?

“Your dad let you watch—I mean, this is better than the two boats!” Finn was still looking up in skepticism. Jack wracked his brain, trying to yank in what little shreds of his improv classes hadn’t been violently repressed by his mind. “Tonight is going to be different! Tonight is my greatest plan yet! And trust me, Batman’s never gonna see it coming.”

“Like that time with the parade and the Prince music?”

“Hey, quiet! Your city is under attack by Gotham’s greatest criminal masterminds! Including...”

Jack scrambled for the Arkham Asylum set, ripping tiny plastic figures off their pedestals and out of their cells.

“Riddler! Scarecrow! Bane!” He snapped the characters down to the table one by one, their arms upraised in defiance of the law and common decency. “Two-Face! Catwoman! And let's not forget Clayface! Poison Ivy! Mr. Freeze! Penguin!”

Jack dove into the plastic bin of spare minifigures and started yanking out random bodies, slapping capes and hats onto scowling figures and setting them down on the table one by one.

“Crazy Quilt! Eraser! Mime! Tarantula! King Tut! Orca! Killer Moth! March Hare! Zodiac Master! Gentleman Ghost! Clock King! Calendar Man! Kite Man! Catman! Zebra-man! Annnnnnd the Condiment King!”

He paused, panting as he set the last little caped figure on the platform, tapping a tiny red bottle into its hand. A row of hastily cobbled second-stringers stretched out down the length of the table, all glaring menacingly towards the perfectly constructed cityscape.

Finn raised an eyebrow at him. “… Okay, are you making some of these up?

“Nope, they’re all real!” Jack winked. “Probably worth a Google.”

Hank came down the stairs just as Batman was delivering t-shirts to the orphanage, and stayed silent until the Batmobile slid elegantly into the Wayne Manor and Batcave sets.

“What are you doing?”

Both Finn and Hank froze, their expressions of childish guilt almost identical.

“We’ll put it back, Dad,” Finn mumbled.

“We just saved Gotham City anyway, so I think this episode’s wrapped up.” Jack sat back on his knees, disconnecting the Joker from his little balloon harness. Finn was already collecting up the ninjas and running away to quickly put them back into position.

“Well. I’m glad you have that handled,” said Hank, his expression carefully free of every emotion, including that of apathy, which on reflection was kinda impressive.

Jack rolled the airplane back to its landing pad next to its little government-empowered metal-detecting autocrats.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? Heck, why isn’t this the first thing in your dating profile?”

“Some people think toy collecting’s a little childish.”

“Some people can suck my Loot Box Exclusive Batarang Multi-tool. Seriously. This is great.” He began stripping the plane of tiny bombs.

“Hey, Hank? Why don’t you have a Dick?”

Jack’s date stopped, jaw working as he tried to muster up a reply. Jack’s penny dropped and he rushed in with “A Dick Grayson! A Robin! Red shirt, yellow cape, green tights. Sorry. Finn says you have about fifteen different Batmans but there’s no Robins.”

Hank blinked. “Oh. I think the dog ate it. I haven’t replaced it, I haven’t been into the media tie-in sets for a while.”

“You should get one. Actually, I will buy you one if I have to.”

“Uh. Why?”

“Batman’s got all this crap but he hasn’t got a family. I had to dig the Alfred out of the back of the Wayne Manor set. Batman needs people to back him up, always has. And Robin’s his son. I mean he’s adopted, or at least the Dick Grayson one’s adopted, and they’ve got this really tight bond, and I feel like Finn would really relate to that.”

“You sure you’re not getting a little too into this?”

“It’s not me who’s getting into it. I mean, not just me.” Jack looked over his shoulder at Finn, who was cleaning up the discarded piles of Batvillains and neatly placing them back into Arkham. “It’s him. Kids work out stuff through play, and his idea of a strong person isn’t one that needs to deal with sidekicks. His Batman doesn’t need a family, and he definitely doesn’t do ships.”

“Ships?”

“Relationships. Connections. He’s not even that into the Joker and lemme tell you, every good Batman has some twisted fixation on Joker. This the kind of Batman you get in the Nolan movies where he’s emotionally stunted, not the kind that winds up opening up to people like in some of the better comics. I’m not sure that’s…”

Jack abruptly stopped the word fountain flowing from his mouth, biting down hard on his thin lip to keep the words inside. His gaze fell away as the weight of adulthood abruptly fell down on his shoulders. Here he was, a grown man with a professional job, messing around in some other guy’s basement with his Lego models like he was one of Finn’s colleagues here for pretend play and video games after elementary school, talking his head off about the significance of superheroes having sidekicks.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m a huge dork.”

“No. It’s, um.” Hank peeked over Jack’s shoulder. “Hey, Finn? We’ll clean this up, why don’t you go start your homework?”

“Okay, Dad.”

Hank lowered his voice once Finn had scrambled up the stairs. “It’s hard to get him out of his shell with other people,” he whispered. “He’s up in his head so much of the time, and he’s so shy with other kids. I’ve never seen him just click with someone like that. I’ve been trying to play with him more but I can never seem to get it right.” He reached over and readjusted the angle of the airplane, almost looking guilty for needing to do so. “I don’t think I’m on his level. I spend so much time around people hyperfocused on the profit line that I forget how to be a kid.”

“You’re saying I’m immature?”

Hank smiled. He reached out to take the Joker from Jack’s hand, and his fingers lingered a few moments longer than necessary against Jack’s skin. “I’m saying that’s not the worst thing in the world for me right now.”

[enjwrites]

red

rating: T for swearing and mild emotional distress

word count: 2155

relationships: enjolras/grantaire

Enjolras tries to drive home. He gets about halfway there before tears well up in his eyes and he has to pull into a corner store’s parking lot. He shuts off his car and rests his head on the steering wheel as he tries to control his breathing.

He calls Combeferre.

“Enjolras? Wh- it’s three in the morning,” Combeferre says on the other line, voice raspy from sleep. “Are you okay?”

Enjolras takes in a deep breath before replying. “We fought.”

Courfeyrac chimes in, a little distant from the phone, it seems, but clear enough. “You two always fight.”

“I’m putting you on speaker,” Combeferre says.

“I know we always fight. We… I…” He takes in another breath, trying to focus on what he’s saying. “We didn’t really fight. I don’t think it was a real fight, anyway. He just…” And he chokes back a sob. His abdomen tightens and twists, though he doesn’t really notice; he can’t stop thinking of the uncertainty showing on Grantaire’s face - the hurt, the insecurity.

“I love him, guys.”

“We know.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Sure he does!” Courfeyrac’s voice lifts a few octaves. “Who else are you willing to get naked around?”

Combeferre shushes Courfeyrac. “Why do you think-”

“Because he... He said he loves me. And I fucking -” a choked sob, “I froze, god, I’m so fucking stupid.”

“So you froze, what’s the big deal -”

“He left, Courf. He got up and ran.” With a look of terror on his face.

“But you were at his apartment?”

“I have no fucking idea where he went, I checked the cafe and the bar, but he doesn’t wanna see me, I fucked it up, he thinks I’m -”

Combeferre shushes Enjolras, now. “Do you think you can come home? I’ll make some hot cocoa, and warm up that cake you liked so much.”

Not much of a phone conversation, Enjolras thinks, but agrees, and does his best to hold back tears as he drives back to the apartment he shares with Combeferre.

Combeferre is waiting with a blanket and a glass of cocoa, with a peppermint candy cane in it, and a place of warm cake on the coffee table.

“I froze,” Enjolras repeats. Combeferre lays a hand on his back comfortingly. Courfeyrac anxiously paces the living room.

“You froze. He ran.”

Enjolras hums. We’ve already been through this.

“He must have thought you were mad,” Combeferre says. His voice is soothingly even, that’s a talent of his - he can always manage to comfort Enjolras. “He jumps to conclusions, you know that. He must think you don’t feel the same -”

“God, I fucked it all up.”

“Try texting him?”

“I’d call him,” Courfeyrac interjects.

Combeferre nods. “Yeah, that, actually. What were you doing when he said it?”

“Cuddling, sort of? On the couch. We watched a movie.”

Enjolras, in all his anxiety, has already finished the cocoa and cake. Combeferre lets Enjolras rest his head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I could call him.”

Courfeyrac decidedly sits next to Enjolras on the couch, rubbing his shoulder sweetly - it’s been a while since Enj has needed this sort of comfort, but they fall into the rhythm quickly. “Enj, love, if I were you,” he sighs, “I’d give him his space. You know how stubborn he is.” Enjolras nods - once, Grantaire said, laughing, “I’m a Taurus, being stubborn is my job.” It was funny at the time. Enjolras can’t laugh, now. “You can text him. Let him know you’re not upset with him, tell him you were just shocked. He probably won’t read them, now, but he’ll read them later.”

Enjolras’s phone buzzes on the coffee table and Combeferre picks it up. “It’s from Bahorel,” He says, relieved, and shows Enjolras the screen.

Bahorel (3:47 AM): grantaire’s being an idiot rn

Another text comes in seconds later.

Bahorel (3:48 AM): listen dude i know he’s overreacting but… (Enjolras then opens his messages to see the full text.) you gotta let him know how you feel. i don’t know what happened but he’s freaking the fuck out

Bahorel (3:48 AM): he keeps saying you don’t love him and i know for damn sure that isn’t true

Bahorel (3:48 AM): just text him or something okay. he’s not mad i think he’s just sad

Bahorel (3:49 AM): luv you xx hope it works out

Enjolras huffs a little, wanting to smile at Bahorel’s instantly-nurturing nature.

You (3:50 AM): I’m going to give him some space, get some sleep. I’ll text him in the morning. Tell him that. I know he probably doesn’t want a text from me right now.

Bahorel (3:50 AM): he may not think he does but he does. he’s starting to pass out so yeah text him in the morning x

Enjolras falls asleep on his couch, and wakes up late. His eyes hurt; they’re swollen, from crying last night. He has a text from almost every one of his friends - he expected this, because Bahorel doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, neither does Courfeyrac, so between the two of them, everyone had to find out.

Jehan (6:23 AM): I heard what happened. You should text him. I can help you with that.

Marius (7:31 AM): hey i hope ur feeling ok

Cosette (7:46 AM): Call me later we need to talk

Eponine (8:09 AM): i’ll fucking kill you if you don’t patch things up with him i swear to god

Feuilly (9:45 AM): I’m here if you need to talk buddy :(

Bossuet (10:32 AM): Hey r is here he says you hate him? Did you fight? :( Talk to him soon he looks like he’s been crying.

Joly (10:34 AM): Come get your mans we all have work

Musichetta (10:40 AM): I’m taking the boys to work, if R isn’t out of here by the time I get off tonight, you’re getting the death penalty. I love him, but you need to work shit out.

Musichetta (10:41 AM): I love you, too, jsyk. Stop being stupid. Talk to him.

Courf (11:04 AM): hehy i had to leave for work but i will interrogate you on my break you need to talk to r he loves you n  so do i you looked so sad. i hope ur feeling better. Gotta go in now love u xx

Combeferre (12:21 PM): You awake? I’m bringing burgers.

1-555-XXX-XXXX (12:42 PM): its gavroche i stole ur number off ponine i heard what happened im on the way to lunch rn so i cant talk but you better fucking talk to him

Gavroche (12:43 PM): u dont wanna get ur ass kicked by a teenager

Enjolras’s eyes water as he reads the next message.

R♥ (12:57 PM): hey sorry about last night. its cool if you wanna like . break up.  i thought we were there and i was wrong. im sorry.

He locks his phone and tosses it onto the couch next to him, resting his head in his hands, willing away tears. He feels a warmth and a depression in the couch on the other side; Combeferre comes bearing a cheeseburger and hand-cut fries. “From that gelato place on 6th you like so much. I got gelato, too, but you were still asleep when I got home.”

Enjolras takes the place graciously, and notices that there’s already a cool glass of water on the coffee table for him. Can you be alive and still be made a saint? Enjolras thinks, idly, as he chews. His phone buzzes, and on instinct, he looks down at it.

R♥ (1:17 PM): you there?

R♥ (1:18 PM): i know i fucked up but the silent treatment still kinda sucks

Enjolras sighs deeply and sets his plate on the table, picking up his phone.

You (1:18 PM): Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. I slept late. Give me a minute, to type up what I want to say, okay?

You (1:19 PM): And I’m not mad. You didn’t fuck up.

R♥ (1:20 PM): you can say that but it’s not gonna change my mind.

Another deep sigh, and at that point, Combeferre squeezes Enjolras’s shoulder gently, then stands and goes to his bedroom.

It takes a minute to type it all up. He’s sure his food is getting cold. He doesn’t care.

You (1:31 PM): I’m sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry. I froze. I didn’t know what to do, because I’m an idiot, and I’ve never felt anything like this before, it’s new, and I’m not used to not knowing what to do. You know that. So I froze. I fucked up, so badly. You deserve so much more than that. Grantaire, I don’t hate you. I don’t dislike you. I can’t get mad at you, or at least I can’t stay mad, because every time I see your face, I lose my ability to form words, you’re so fucking beautiful in a way I can’t begin to describe. And then you open your stupid mouth and even though you piss me off a lot I can’t be mad that you said anything because your voice is like fucking velvet and you drive me nuts every second you speak because I want to kiss you but that’ll make you stop talking. Please don’t ever stop talking to me. Listening to you talk is like reading the most interesting book in the world; the Library of Alexandria pales in comparison. You always say I’m an angel, but I think you’re confused, you’re so gentle and kind, behind all that sarcasm and bitterness is a sweetheart who just wants to see people smile; I’ve seen the way you are around kids and sometimes that makes me think maybe I want kids, I want kids with you, because you’re so fucking sweet to them it hurts. You’re so fucking talented, I’ve never cared for art or music but yours makes me feel in a way that makes Monet and Bach look like pussies. Just as a note: I can’t tell you what to do, but if you ever cut your hair, I think I’ll die, because you have the most beautiful hair in the world and I want to spend the rest of my life playing with it. Your eyes are so incredible and I know you see me staring sometimes, but you never comment on it, because you’re amazing like that, and I fucking love you, Grantaire.

You (1:32 PM): I love you so fucking much, and I froze, and I hurt you, but I want you to know that I love you.

You (1:32 PM): I don’t want you to ever think I don’t love you.

You (1:32 PM): I love you.

You (1:33 PM): And I’m well aware I’ve just written you a full-length novel. Sorry haha

Enjolras sees Grantaire typing for a second, then the dots disappear. They reappear again, then disappear - this repeats a few times before Enjolras actually gets a message.

R♥ (1:35 PM): holy shit

R♥ (1:35 PM): just

R♥ (1:36 PM): you made me cry you shithead

R♥ (1:36 PM): can you like. come over? Combeferre’s home on his lunch break right

You (1:36 PM): Yeah, let me get dressed, first. Give me, like, half an hour and I’ll be there.

R♥ (1:37 PM): ok

R♥ (1:37 PM): i love you

R♥ (1:37 PM): aaAAA i’m still nervous about saying that!!!!!!!!!!

You (1:38 PM): :’) Cute. I love you too.

R♥ (1:38 PM): !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Enjolras gets dressed in a rush, throwing on a band tee and those black jeans that Grantaire loves.

He gets to Grantaire’s place in 15 minutes flat.

He doesn’t even really need to knock on the door - Grantaire swings it open and pulls him into the apartment, kissing him fiercely, pushing him against the wall.

Enjolras lays his hands on R’s hips, while R lands one hand on Enjolras’s chest, the other cupping his cheek, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

When Grantaire pulls away, he’s panting, his cheeks are rosy and his eyes are watering. He stares up at Enjolras; there’s a heartbreaking uncertainty behind those eyes - he waits for Enjolras to speak. Enjolras rests his forehead against Grantaire’s, taking his hands in his own. Blue eyes meet deep brown, and for a moment, Enjolras is enchanted. Back to business, he thinks.

“Grantaire.” Grantaire hums in response, and holds up on of Enjolras’s hands to kiss his fingers. “I love you.”

There’s a shaky exhale. Then R is pulling Enjolras impossibly tight, burying his head in Enj’s shoulder, quivering as he whispers, “I love you so fucking much.” Enjolras can’t help but smile as he presses a kiss to Grantaire’s neck.

Well, that’s the shortest fight we’ve ever had, Enjolras thinks.

//

[davidcarner]

Pump Up the Jam Ch 3, Don’t You Forget About Me

A/N: I've always loved music, and there have been some great fics centered around music. Let me tell you about a couple. The first is A Matter of Trust by MySongStory. It's a series of one-shots, and it's really good. (Full disclosure I've been helping the author a tiny bit with the newest chapter) The second, and one of my all time favorites is Permutations by uplink2. Chuck is a DJ at Stanford and Sarah is a student. It is so good. Okay, on to my fic, and I mean you guys are just seem to be enjoying this one… Dillwg, this Bryce is for you. I give you Pump Up the Jam Ch 3, Don't You Forget About Me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, and we all know deep down Sarah will never forget about Chuck. (yes, persnickety mood today)

Chuck stood there looking at his old friend, nay, nemesis. His mind began to process what he was seeing, and it wasn't good. Bryce wasn't the physical specimen he used to be. Oh, sure, he still had his good looks, but something terrible had happened to him. He still had his good hair, and the eye patch did something in a Nick Fury kinda way. But something awful happened to the right side of his body.

"Actually scratch that drink, why don't we go to my place and I get you one, because you may need it."

Chuck studied Bryce. "How do I know you won't get me on some deserted highway and kick me out of the car?"

"Good one, Chuck." Bryce took a look down at himself and then back at Chuck. There was a self-depreciating smile on his face. "If you haven't noticed, I'm pretty sure you can kick my ass right now."

"What happened to you?"

"Long story, and part of why I'm here, hat in hand, needing your help. Chuck, you're my only hope."

Chuck stared at Bryce. "Dude, you are no Leia."

"Really, even if I did the buns in my hair?" Bryce glanced at his right hand, there was scaring there as well. "Yeah, I'd look like shit in a bikini."

Chuck couldn't help but laugh. "You promise this is legit?"

"Chuck, it's so legit. And, not only that, I made a mistake back then, back at Stanford. It was a terrible mistake, one that will haunt me until the day I die, but let me tell you why I did it before you kick my ass." Chuck nodded and started toward the door. "Wait." Chuck turned toward him. "Dude, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I screwed up your life then, and I'm so glad you overcame it."

"Apology accepted." Bryce stared at Chuck. Chuck shrugged. "You're right, I overcame it, you seem sincere and you say you're going to tell me everything, what else can I do?" Bryce opened his arms for a hug. "You're pushing it." Bryce laughed.

"I know you, Chuck, your saying you forgive me because you feel bad." Chuck started to say something but Bryce held up his hand. "Dude, I know you. Now, let me show you the rest of what's going on, you may want to retract the apology by the time I'm done." Chuck was confused but followed Bryce. The two walked out to his SUV. They climbed in and took off. Chuck noticed it was modified. Bryce didn't use the gas or break on the floor, everything was by hand. There were special modified leavers for it. He did see that the pedals were still in the vehicle. "It's so anyone can drive it." Chuck looked up at him. "Come on, the first time anyone sees it they have questions, and we both know you have all sorts of questions about everything."

"Are you in pain?"

Bryce looked over at him. "You're the second person who's ever asked me that." He shook his head. "No, I'm not. Thank you."

"Who was the first?"

Bryce grinned. "My ex-girlfriend."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I ended it." Bryce shook his head. "She wasn't the one for me, and she was only with me at the end because…I need to explain a lot." Chuck nodded. Bryce pressed some buttons. "We can't be over heard now." Chuck gave him a look and Bryce grinned. "So, after 9/11 all the government clandestine agencies came together to try and stop anything like that from ever happening again. It was called, Project OMAHA. To save a lot of time, all the data was to "Intersect" into one place, and a program would be there, the Intersect, to combine it and look for possibilities."

Chuck gave a low whistle. "That's got to be some impressive computing power."

"It doesn't exist in the man made world," Bryce replied, smirking.

Chuck thought for a minute and then turned toward Bryce, his mouth opened. "That's straight out of science fiction." Bryce shrugged. "You can't be serious. Bryce, you can't use a brain as an operating system." Bryce shrugged again, and Chuck thought for a minute. "What does that have to do with you?"

"Chuck, I'm a Special Agent for the CIA and I have my own team." Chuck's mouth dropped again. "You were to be a possible recipient for that computer program."

Chuck studied Bryce and then his mind leapt to a conclusion. "Wait…Professor Flemming's class?"

"That's why they wanted you," Bryce replied, with a sad grin. "Your mind plus your ability to see subliminal images…they were gonna try and make you CIA." Bryce took a deep breath. "Dude, I was scared it would change who you were, change who you are, and I couldn't let them do that to you, but I did it wrong, and I know I did. I've hated myself ever since."

Chuck started to move his hand but stopped. "I was gonna pat your right shoulder or something but I didn't want to hurt you, you know if…you know what, I'm gonna shut up now." Chuck studied him for a minute. "Figures, you always were the James Bond type."

Bryce laughed. They pulled in front of the shut down Weinerlicious in the Buy More Plaza. "Miss it?"

"Like a wart," Chuck quipped. "So, what are we doing here?"

Bryce pointed toward the Orange Orange. "That's a store front for our base. Come on. I've got stuff to show you, and more to explain." They got out of the SUV and headed into the store. Bryce walked to the back, typed something into the keypad and then put his palm down to have it scanned. "You help us, you can have your palm print in here too."

Chuck was grinning hard. "Really?"

Bryce laughed. "God, I've missed you, Chuck. This job sucks the life out of me some days, but having you here just for a minute reminds me of why I do it." They went downstairs and lights started coming on. Chuck was staring at everything. "Hey, tour later, we only have so much time." Chuck nodded. Bryce took a deep breath. "I wouldn't come to you now, but there are two ways this is going to happen, with or without you. I can't do to you what happened at Stanford again, so I'm gonna tell you everything, but this is happening, and I know you, you can help us."

"What can I do, Bryce, you already pretty much said I'd be a lousy spy."

"No, Chuck, you'd be a great spy. It wouldn't be by the book, but you'd get it done. What I was worried about is it would take something away from you, but I'm here to protect you, and I have friends." Bryce hit a button and some pictures went on the screen. "Now, let me know when your lost, because this is a lot." Chuck nodded.

Bryce clicked the button. "This is Langston Graham, director of the CIA. He's the one that wanted you in the CIA. I didn't trust him and the more I found on him the more I began to question what he was doing." Bryce hit another slide. "Answer, he was about to sell the Intersect to Alexi Volkoff, International Arms Dealer. I followed the money, and all the clues, and it led me to find out some very suspicious stuff about the Director. He recruited people into the CIA illegally, a fact I found out from my….one of my friends."

"Your ex?" Chuck asked softly. Bryce shook his head, grinning. "I'm sorry, I did it again."

"Nope," Bryce said looking up and smiling at his friend. "You are Chuck, and you sense these kinds of things. Yeah, she's my ex. She wasn't in love with me. We were…convenient, and she deserved better, you know. Anyway, she is a part of my team, known as the CAT Squad. The Clandestine Attack Team."

"Wait, what, that's stupid!"

Bryce grinned at him. "Someone in DC thought the CAT name would be cute. Anyway, I went after the Intersect to make sure Graham couldn't get it, but he was already there. We were betrayed by one of the team members. A fight began, and I destroyed it. Graham died in the process, the Intersect is gone, and I'm…" he gestured to his body with his left hand. "I was pretty messed up for a while, but while I was laying in that hospital bed, it became evident that Alexi Volkoff thought I had the Intersect. I still had use to the CIA and the new Director promoted me to Special Agent. I can't go in the field but I lead the remaining CAT Squad."

"What about your ex?"

Bryce grinned. "She's a great person Chuck, but it isn't there. There's no love. We're attracted to each other, we understand this life, but she wants so much more, and I'm not the one to help her get there. After the accident, there was no way she'd break up with me. So, I did with her. It's funny, her teammates keep saying its a bad breakup because she's talking more and more about a life after the CIA. They think it's because of the breakup and she wants off the team, it's because she wants a real life. She's great at this, but…."

Chuck gently laid his hand on his buddy's left shoulder. "So, are you open to a bro hug?" Bryce caught him in the best bear hug he could give him, but it was obvious strength was lacking on one side. Bryce clapped him on the back when they released. "Okay, so what's all this have to do with me?"

Bryce turned and flicked the monitor. Chuck stared at it. "Bryce, why do you have a picture of Hartley Winterbottom on the screen." Bryce didn't say anything. "Bryce, why is the owner of the club I manage on your screen?" Bryce didn't say anything. "Bryce," Chuck said softly. "That is Hartley, right?"

"Chuck, meet Alexi Volkoff."

Chuck stared at the screen and then back to Bryce and then back to the screen.

"Shit."

Bryce had grabbed Chuck a water and they were sitting at the conference table. Chuck was positive by this point it was an elaborate hoax Bryce had pulled off.

"Don't believe me, do you?" Bryce asked. Chuck shook his head.

"I've known Hartley for years, he's no weapons dealer." Bryce gave a shrug. "So what did you mean we're doing this one way or another earlier?"

Bryce nodded. "You aren't going to like this."

"As compared to the rest of this?"

"Point." Bryce pushed a file towards Chuck. Chuck opened the file.

"These women were in the club last night."

"That's right, Chuck, meet Carina Miller, DEA, Zondra Rizzo, CIA, and Sarah Walker, CIA." Bryce quit talking because Chuck was staring at Sarah's picture. "She's amazing," he said softly.

Chuck jerked his head up. "Uh, yeah…I mean, I met them last night and uh…"

"Zondra and Carina both said you were smitten with Sarah."

"Bryce…"

Bryce held up his hand. "That's my ex." Chuck paled. "Dude, trust me, it's fine. I get it, she's amazing."

"I wouldn't.."

"Chuck, I have no say in it, but she's a CIA agent."

Chuck thought for a second. "I thought you said she wanted out."

Bryce picked up his bottle to take a drink, smirking. "She does, but she wants to take down Volkoff first. Besides, why do you care…aren't you seeing someone?"

Chuck's eyebrows went up. "Who?"

"Kayla."

Chuck had taken a drink of water just as Bryce answered and nearly spit it out. "Oh, that's funny. She's the biggest screw up I've ever met, and that's saying something considering I worked at the Buy More."

Bryce sat up, interested. "Okay, I'm confused, because Agent Walker overheard you saying, 'My ass is yours."

Chuck grinned. "Kayla gets a finders fee off of me. She gets 5% of the net profits off of the club."

Bryce grinned. "Huh, how interesting. You do know she's trouble, right?"

Chuck nodded and leaned forward. "Why was Agent Walker overhearing what I was saying?" Bryce grinned, leaned back and took a drink of his water.

"She was supposed to approach you, but this is better. I need the CAT Squad in the club, as employees."

Chuck thought. "I can find jobs for two, but the third…I really don't know."

"I have an idea," Bryce said with a grin Chuck recognized. This was gonna be bad. "So to be clear you're not seeing anyone?" Chuck shook his head no. "I think Agent Walker should be your cover girlfriend."

Chuck was positive he was being punked.

A/N: So a totally different take on Bryce but one I really like. I hope you do. More insanity to come. Please, reviews are like food, they are so good…take care, see you next time.

DC

[wayhaughterthanyou]

1-120, dare you

3 Fears- That my computer will crash at question 119, spiders, and planes

3 things I love- Wynonna Earp, writing, and video games

2 turns on- Hmm when someone runs their hands through my hair or shows me any kind of affection at all

2 turns off- Flat-earthers and people who refuse to interact with anything other than my genitals during sex

My best friend- My brother

Sexual orientation- Queer trans man

How tall am I- 5′7″

What do I miss right now- Sleep

Favourite color- PURPLE

Do I have a crush- I do..kind of

Favourite place- My bedroom

What am I listening to right now- My brother play fortnite- but the last song I was listening to was I wanna get better by Bleachers

Shoe size- 9

Eye color- Brown

Hair color- Brown

Meaning behind my URL- I think it’s pretty obvious

Favourite song- Morning in America- Jon Bellion

Favourite band- I really really don’t have one, I listen to such a wide range of music that it’s obnoxious and really hard to pick one

How I feel right now- Tired as fuck

Someone I love- MY CAT

My current relationship status- Single as can be my dude

My relationship with my parents- Stressful

Favourite season- Winter

Tattoos and piercing i have- I have a quill pen tattoo down my left forearm and a septum peircing

Tattoos and piercing i want- So so many tattoos, too many to list on this already long ask. As for piercings idk. I’m good for now but I might drill more holes into my body someday

The reasons I joined Tumblr- I was really into the disney memes

Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? Lucky to say that I do

Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?- It was my dad so…technically yes, yes I have

How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?- It takes 3 seconds to get dressed and an hour and a half to be prepared to see another human being

Have you shaved your legs in the past three days? Nope

Where am I right now? I’m at home

Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? I’m surprised I can still hear

Do I live with my Mom and Dad? I do

Am I excited for anything? NYC PRIDE 2018!!!

Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? Yup

How often do I wear a fake smile? Honey I worked in food service for 5 years, fake is the only smile I know

If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? Melanie Scrofano

What do I think about most? Wearp

Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? Behind for sure, but I’m working on it!

What was the last lie I told? I told my dad I ate lunch

Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online? Video chat. Phone calls frighten me

Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Yes and yes.

Do I believe in magic? IN A YOUNG GIRLS HEART HOW THE MUSIC CAN FREE HER WHENEVER IT STARTS

Do I believe in luck? Yes I have tons of bad luck so there has to be some good luck making someone else happy out there somewhere

What’s the weather like right now? It was pouring and freezing earlier and now it’s super hot I hate spring

What was the last book I’ve read? I recently reread To Kill A Mockingbird

Do I have any nicknames? Seattle

Do I spend money or save it? I try to save it and then I pay rent and then I pay bills and then I don’t have moneys and then I’m sad

Can I touch my nose with a tounge? I literally can’t even reach my septum ring lmao

Favourite animal? Orcas

What was I doing last night at 12 AM? I knocked the fuck out at like 10

What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? Wildwood by Fleurie

What is my favorite word? Sacapuntas

My top 5 blogs on tumblr? @a-maelstrom @weirdofreakish @wayhaughtship @oliviajoytaylor @earpdearp

If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? Have you tried taking Bikini Bottom and pushing it over there?

Do I have any relatives in jail? I had a cousin in for check fraud a couple years ago but I didn’t know her so all I used it for was threatening my bullies

What is my current desktop picture?- It’s a wearp season 2 cast photo

Had sex? I’ve done the sex

Bought condoms? Hell no you can get those for free I’m a baller on a budget 

Gotten pregnant? Nope

Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? Yeah I don’t mean to brag but she was hella wet

Had job? Several

Smoked weed? I’m high rn so

Smoked cigarettes? I used to when I was in middle school and then I had a crush on this girl who didn’t like them so I stopped and I should really thank her

Drank alcohol? Yup, illegally though because i live in a country where you can go to war before you can drink

Am I a vegetarian/vegan? I’ve tried but I have bad enough eating habits already and it made me eat oatmeal all day cause I’m too lazy to do anything right

Been overweight? I was overweight by a lot about 6 months ago

Been underweight? I’m currently underweight

Gotten my heart broken? Yes

Been to prom? Hell yeah! I took my manager from work and we slow danced to Beautiful by James Blunt

Been in airplane? UNfortunately

Learned another language? I took AP spanish for 7 years

Wore make up? Yup

Dyed my hair? So many times

Had a surgery? Tonsils only

Met someone famous? I’ve met a bunch of bands over the years at Warped Tour

Stalked someone on a social network? Of course

Been fishing? Yup! It’s a right of passage when you grow up on an island

Been rejected by a crush? Of course

What do I want for birthday? I want to give myself this present and I want to have at least posted my first video to my youtube channel

Do I like my handwriting? I love it

Where do I want to live when older? Canada

Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad? No my parents are dumb

What I’m really bad at? Playing instruments

What my greatest achievments are- I finally looked at my tumblr theme after like 4 years of not knowing what it looks like and its actually not that bad

The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me- Lmao I can’t think of anything that could be on that level right now but the other day my mother looked me in the eyes and goes “You know your life sucks right?”

What I’d do if I won in a lottery: Damn I’d but a new computer immediately and then move across the world

What do I like about myself- My jawline

My closest Tumblr friend- @a-maelstrom

Any question you’d like? My favorite school house rock song is the Preamble song

Are you outgoing or shy? I’m not shy I just generally don’t like talking to other humans

What kind of people are you attracted to? Kind ones

Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? Maybe? If I’ve learned anything from life it’s that you really never know but I DAMN HOPE

Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? It depends on who it’s with but most of the time no

Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? My friend Shaf

What does the most recent text that you sent say? “No, we’re good.”

What are your 5 favorite songs right now? Icon- Jaden Smith, Bottom of the deep blue sea- Missio, Let you go- Machine gun kelly, little sister- trixie mattel, and In the middle- dodie

Do you like it when people play with your hair? 10/10 would die for that shit

Do you think there is life on other planets? Definitely

Do you like bubble baths? I do but I’m too large for my tub and it’s very sad

Do you like your neighbors? I don’t think I have ever said a single word to a single one of them

Where would you like to travel? San Fransisco

Favorite part of your daily routine? Playing video games

What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? Every single one of my bits

What do you do when you wake up? Wish I was back asleep

Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Darker, I’m pale as fuck

Do you ever want to get married? If I find the right person

If your hair long enough for a pony tail? A tiny one on top of my head

Would you rather live without TV or music? I’d rather die thanks

Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Of course

What are your favorite stores to shop in? Amazon

Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? I guess it depends but mostly yeah

Do you smile at strangers? HA HAHA HAHAHAHAHAHA

Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? I mispelled my name on twitter and was too lazy to change it but today a guy called me out so I changed it and acted like I didn’t because I’ll do what I want sir

Ever wished you were someone else? I used to a lot

Favourite makeup brand? I know nothing about make up

Last thing you ate? Mac and cheese

Ever won a competition? For what? Soccer

Ever been in love? Yes

Facebook or Twitter? Twitter and if you’d like to follow me my name is AmongSeattle

Okay that took a lot longer than I had anticipated but I had a lot of fun. Thank you so much for taking the time to test how much my computer can take before it gives in. Join me next time when I’ll probably be answering 500 questions and encoding my social security into the text :*

[haeroniel-doliet]

gah another 5 am post eh fellas

fuck i really wanna do ballet. i really rarely become obsessed (if ever) with anything, but for once i’m so so so so soso wanting to do ballet. so bad. i know i might hate it bc im fucing not musical at all, so not in shape, so not comfortable or etc. but at least im 18,(wait fuck 19 now)  and not 45 trying to get in it all stiff and stuck and i think based on all the sweet positivity to adult ballet starters beginners and sure i wont perform professionally but fuck man i dont think i need that. i just want that grace and flexibility and elegance and gah itd be fabulous. i mean even now im pretending to look for turn out and walk around the house like they do in point shoes and i try fix my posture tothe advice by a ballet dancer youtuber who ive been watching so much of. i just i really wanna do it. 

saddest fucking thing is guys, that i could’ve had the chance to go to the fucking royal ballets adult absolute beginner classes. in london. i could have. fuck. u wanna know what happened? i found out about it like a month or two ago and was fucking psyched bc its one of those things that just is too good to be true. the best company in uk?? w adult classes? while im in london?? yeah id have to miss a few weeks bc. whoops i gotta go back up to do my exams,but i couldve at least done a few weeks, come back and done a few last so i’d have had the best opportunity to give this a go in the best environment and then have a kindling to go off with to other available ballets. and not start with some barely managing person in a shitty studio thing. idk. sure so i tell my parents so fuckin excited bc look! its possible! but yeah its expensive, wouldve been abt 90 pound w me being a student and id have to miss 3/10 classes. but still! thin of it gah its making me so sad happy. sad bc guess its now sold out. of fuckin course it is. i told my mom and she just was uhmm ohh i dunno i dunno, oh its adults i could do it, and thinking that maybe getting her involved would mean i have a better chance of going, dont care much for her company but if shed take it as a bonding thing hell, i’ll probably do better than her in class and minor confidence boost as well as if they all others are old old i wont be alone. and she could pass over what they learned when im up in scotland. Guess that was a fuckin mistake. she got all nervous and self concious and put it off with a we’ll see we’ll see about it im thinking. and making it a whole thing like instead of me wanting to go so bad and offering for fun that shed join me, as if im trying to pressure her into doing it and would only go along to make her feel better. uh.... fucking wrong! im so mad actually. bc of course, no matter how often i mentioned it she wouldnt take it seriously to even consider booking me in! no no of course not we’ll see. and then i check before im coming back, dreading and being right that yep. theyre fucing sold out. of course they are its such a fanstastic opportunity! my only fucking opportunity! when ever again am i going to live in london with weeks free to go participate in that? when ever again? never. theyre moving out of london this summer and fuck. just doing some research and the scottish ballet is in fucking glasgow. yes i was supposed to get there if i hadnt been so shit with studying for my exams. (sure i wouldnt be doing archery and wouldnt have all the other wonderful things i now enjoy in aberdeen but fuck its frustrating) and ofc. aberdeen seems to have: one shady dance company that offers ballet fusion. not adult ballet classes. another shady school that practices at robert gordons that have no website nothing. no info how to sign up or if they have adult classes or when its so stupid and weird. maybe ill have to contact them directly idk. sure my uni has a what seems to be a thriving dance society that i have a glitched out membership for. (its 50 pound a year and i have cerrainly not paid that) and i guess they do ballet on the side. but again from a glance around, looks its only intermediate. not beginners. dont think theres that many uni age girls who just wanna start ballet now. 

so it looks bleary. even in finland, i cant understand body parts in finnish so that might just be frustrating if i could even find a place that offers it. not that i’ll have long at all in finland. ill be there barely a month before heading back to uni and i come back holidays. if i wanted to take one of these eleven week courses, i think id have to geta fuckin liscence and a car and drive to glasgow 3 hrs both ways for a class once a week and that sjust stupid. im so fucking mad about this missed opportunity. like my muscles are itching and aching to do it. my legs want to work out in ballet positions. they just rly do. yeah maybe ill have to start doing barre at home from videos to try ease that, but its not gonna be the same and ill do it all wrong bc i have no teacher to direct me or anything. correct either. sure if i had done it and loved it i might still be mad that i have no opportunities to continue like i want to, but at least id have that expereince and could keep practicing at home based off of it.  i am genuinely upset okay. upset betrayed disappointed sad twitchy and ugh. sure tickets go on sale today to swan lake after exams. and by fuck will i go see it. and ill get all the background before it and know it inside and out before i see it (already kinda do) and i will love it. ill bemaybe more upset and more twitchy that i cant do it, that i cant be lie them and that rly sucks. i really really wish by some miracle the school would offer summer courses so that i could just, get myself after exams into one. also another frustrating thing not quite so pressing on my mind is how my dad wants me to get summer jobs, maybe even two. one here and one in finland. sure it should theoretically be easier getting it here, esp. since im 19 now and yeah. i could work in a cafe or store just to get money and have smth to put on a cv thats not 2 weeks. but i dunno i dont particularly want to, i was hoping in london i could get the most of it culturaly (considering ive been a pouting and sad whailer whos not done anything for the last two years) then again i have p much no friends here so if i did go work somewhere theres a slight chance thered be someone i get along with and could hang out w. or visit if i needa back in london. i dunno. things are weird. sure i could try get an admin job w nhs like some lady suggested but its one of those too much responsibilty things, consdiering im shit with work i kinda would prefer to do some physical job like stacking shelves in a shop bc im good at that. but thats not gonna help me in the future. money yes, but cv building or careers wise? nah. i should owrk in hospitality or smth i dunno even i can barely get thru my work to pass rn so  i dunno about job searching. im jsut a mess am i not. regardless maybe i should look if theres other ballet schoolsin london. be desperate, get a job and a ballet class going over summer and do art on the free time i guess. 

okay so fer now ive found a course for like fucking 156 pound thats a 2 day full days course that looks mad cool for having different classes to learn vocab and etc and then a bit of fucking swanlake like yooo.. best thing its in like july but thats also possibly bad bc its july 28-29 and july 30 we move out. man it could be cool tho. then they offer there as well a taster session p much every other week and then a full 8 weeks of class p near by to me. sure this is specifically taught by a man and id prefer a woman but, i guess. since its ideal timing and place. and i got wondering why thats 150 and the national ballet wouldve been abt 90 and i guess there i get concession and it wouldve been only 6 classes considering the dates they had off. i should rly ask if they do do concession bc 150 is a bit steep still. for 8 classes thats almost 20 pound for 75 mins. its kinda insane. theres probably more companies i havent looked at but there is one other thats like a drop in thing 10 pound cash each class and thats a 90 mins so it might be better. ofc. obv. fault being that its drop in so being an absolute beginner w likely a lot older adults idk how id fit in or keep up or get hte most of it. i think ill go try it once regardless. then when back in abdn ask around for taster sessions and beginner ballet. worst comes to worst i wait another 4 years till i get to a big enough city that they have a nice ballet company and somewhere i can live like an adult but also get in on adult ballet and enjoy myself. maybe my industrial placement city will have  a ballet company idk. 

all i know is that im a bit obsessed and everyone says to go for your dreams etc. and as much as i enjoy archery (slowly gonna dedicate to it) and aikido (though training can be frustrating and training with old men isnt that fun) and ice skating is another less of a dream but in the same realm as ballet. that im gonan get new skates for and give it a better try. i just think ballet could  be so fucking rad and im sad that its not so easy rn. and that my mom fucked me over. for that one course that couldve been cheap and amazing and mindchanging. to go to the ballet knowing what some of it feels like would be great. sure id love  a chance to do some after as well u know. ofc it sucks it might cost a couple hundred over summer to these hobbies and i feel iffy spending 180 on a quality waterproof jacket. sure. they spend it but, im v concientious and dont wanna spend much of their money esp cus im not making my own. i guess logically, i should put a bunch of effort to getting thru this term rly well without lies and get a sumemr job. that way, i could theoretically take loan from my parents  and pay back with summer job money w some left over to do as i like with (yeah i should save it for sensible shit but idk) also considering how nice i am my dad might not even want me to pay back. look i dunno. thats an idea. be good, be rewarded w ballet classes and an unstrained relationship w my parents, joyously move back to finland and start next term w a clean slate, hopefully more help and new determination into hobbies. maybe i wanna do 4 sports since i never did much as i was younger. tho sure, i did aikidos cousin taekwondo. ive shot a bow and arrow whenever i had a chance. ive skated since literally like 3 yrs old. and i used to take a form of dance a alot younger. sure no musicality but i think the exercises would be great for my knees and legs and butt and torso and posture. htese are fun sports since i dont like to work out. and since im not comfortable enough in myself to go swim.