#choices fanfic stay

[txemrn]

Stay

Chapter 1: "A Brave New World"

Good news! We just started on this adventure! Catch up here!

Word Count: ~4200

Series Summary: With her family facing deportation back to Auvernal, fun-spirited Reid Ambrose quits college to support her family. But as fate would have it, she accepts a temporary job as a caregiver for the royal family, an experience that will challenge her, break her, and devastate her world in the most exciting of ways.

Chapter Summary: Three years after the tragedy at Leo's birthday party, King Constantine addresses the citizens of Cordonia; but his speech will not be well-received by all.

Series Warning: ⛔ Please Be Advised: 18+ Only ⛔This series will contain mature material, including foul language, NSFW 🍋, discussion/depictions of war, violence, gun violence, assassination attempts; medical situations, including major character injuries; ethical dilemmas including euthanasia & bodily autonomy; mental health, including depression, PTSD, suicide

Series Music Inspo: “Awake” by Secondhand Serenade

Chapter Music Inspo: "This is War" by 30 Seconds to Mars

AN: Majority of these characters and some plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Special thanks to my sweet friend @kat-tia801 for prereading. Also, you will recognize some items from canon; other items may be completely contradictory to canon. Just got with it, and enjoy the story. 😊

~🖤~

Three Years Later…

3:13 PM. The doors to Saul’s Cafe and Bistro were supposed to be locked several minutes ago. But thanks to their regular pain-in-the-neck customer Lucille Fontenot, no one could start their closing duties until her old, annoying ass was out the door. With it being the day before the weekend–an insanely hectic day at that, with crowded lines, large orders and several deliveries around the city–the modest staff is beyond exhausted. They are tired of providing their usual exceptional services. They're simply done being nice to patrons, especially to women like Lucille Fontenot, who are long-winded and never pleased, who always find something to complain about, and somehow always find a way to speak with the manager.

When the old woman shuffled in ten minutes before closing, the servers and bakers alike rolled their eyes, grumbling under their breath. No one had the patience for this lady and her antics–not this late in the day. Not on a Friday. Not at any point of any day.

Except for her.

“Alright then, Mrs. Fontenot, your roasted apple custards are underneath the apple-pear tartlets." The slender brunette carefully grabs the beautifully packaged treats, placing them in a sturdy handled paper bag with a rustic embossing of the restaurant’s name. "And, I hope you don't mind, but I threw an extra tartlet in there for Mr. Fontenot to enjoy while you ladies enjoy your bridge game in the morning–”

“Oh, Reid, you spoil me,” Lucille giggles with a soft, feminine frailty in her voice. "I can't thank you enough for all of your help today with these pastries. Clarence won’t let me near the oven anymore. Say, did I ever tell you about the time I tried baking my own pie crust? Well, I was using my great-great-grandmother’s recipe…”

Offering her signature prismatic cherry-painted smile, Reid Ambrose completely zones out from the conversation. God, this woman could talk. The young waitress has already endured the retelling of Mrs. Fontenot’s Maltese’s psoriasis flare-up last year, not to mention she also listened to the painful discussion of the old woman’s bunion removal last month. Again. But another story? After closing?

Reid swallows thickly as she hears the second-hand on the clock tick thunderously next to her ear. She feels the glares from her coworkers, begging for her to get rid of the inconvenient headache of a customer.

Think, Reid, think. 

She continues to endure Mrs. Fontenot’s stories, nodding her head as if she is following along. But secretly, Reid feels stuck, glancing around anywhere, everywhere, looking for an excuse to end this conversation. Letting out a silent exhale, she casually pushes back a dark espresso wisp of hair that had fallen out of her thick, high ponytail. Tucking it behind her ear, she glances to her right–and spots the answer to her problem.

A hot water spigot. Perfect. 

“... and I completely forgot to turn the oven on! How preposterous is that?”

"Oh! That is!" Reid forces out a laugh, humoring her customer before she abruptly steals her opportunity. "Oh my God! Where are my manners?" Reid dramatically exclaims, scurrying over to their drink-making station. She quickly pours two cups of tea to steep before walking around the counter to face the old lady. "It’s almost time for tea with Mr. Fontenot, and I am just taking up all of your time.” 

"But–"

"Now, now," Reid happily interjects, grabbing the paper bag of sweets, "we can't keep that lovely man waiting for you."  With both drinks in tow, she gracefully heads towards the glass door to exit the bistro, propping it open with her kelly green Chuck Taylors. Reid’s eyes glisten with hope as she bats her long, raven lashes endearingly towards Lucille. She eagerly nods her head, coaxing her out the door. “Let me help you out to your car so we can get you home!"

The hush of silence in the restaurant startles the small staff waiting in the kitchen. Hector, the head cook, looks through a window in the swinging door, scanning the dining area for any more patrons. "Is that old biddy gone?"

"Bompoúnas! I can't see with your big head in the way!" A larger, older waitress, lovingly referred to as 'Mama', shoves Hector out of the way as she looks for her coworker. "Is Reid still out there? Oh God, did Fontenot talk to that precious child about her bunions again?"

Another waitress and the dishwasher, Sophie and Geo, sadly shake their heads 'yes'.

"Theé mou!" Mama religiously crosses herself, pointing to her head, then her chest, followed by touching both shoulders as she rolls her eyes towards the ceiling in irritation. "That sweet baby…"

Suddenly, they all freeze. A loud chime of the doorbell rings out over the entire cafe, signifying a new person has entered the building. It catches them off-guard as they all painfully look through the tiny kitchen window again, hoping it's not another customer to be served.

“Alright, you chickens!" The familiar cheery voice, coupled with the hypnotic chuckle makes them all breathe a sigh of relief. "You can all come out from hiding now!”

With resounding shouts of joy and rolling laughter, the bistro workers bound from the backroom. As they surround a blushing Reid with cheerful applause and pats on the back for a job well done, she playfully grabs the sides of her floral skater dress and begins to curtsy before stumbling into her own snickers.

"Girl, I don't know how you did it," Sophie jokes. "I'm pretty sure I would've strangled her–"

"We all were going to strangle her," Hector adds, causing everyone to join in with more cutting up and laughter.

"Oh, you guys," Reid pleasantly interrupts their tirade, dismissing their comments by waving her hand in the air. "She really isn't that bad–"

"That bad?” Mama scoffs.

“Seriously, Mama,” Reid lovingly places her hands on the older woman’s shoulder, massaging them gingerly. “I think she’s just… lonely. She just needs someone to talk to.  All anybody really wants is to be seen and heard–”  

“Ha,” Mama laughs sardonically. "I once greeted her with a good morning at 9 AM. She lectured me about how three-fourths of the morning was already gone, and if I really cared for people, I should be wishing them a ‘good day’.”

“That’s nothing,” Sophie sasses, hopping up onto the counter to sit. "She fired me from serving her because I brought her too many napkins. She said that I was being ageist, assuming an old woman would make a mess and would need that many napkins. That woman is a–"

“Hey!” A haunting stillness descends amongst the bistro workers as Saul, the restaurant's owner and namesake, steps out from his office. “Enough about Fontenot. Let’s get back to work!” 

Without a single word being spoken, everyone instantly hops back into the groove of closing up the shop. Reid grabs a broom handle and dustpan, but before she can start sweeping, she feels a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey, Mr. Saul," she nervously grins, nearly dropping her supplies. 

The tall, dignified man kindly nods. "Miss Ambrose, I am proud of the way you handled yourself today… and everyday.”

“Sir,” a humbled expression crawls across her face. “I–”

He holds up his hands to kindly silence her. “You have a real gift with people, not to mention your work ethic… it's impeccable." A tenderness infiltrates his voice as he continues. "You've made a real difference in this place over the past few years."

"Mr. Saul," Reid's eyes begin to well with tears of joy. "Thank you so much," she titters, wiping away a tear. "And don't you worry, sir. As long as you'll have me, I have no plans on leaving." With a wink, she twirls on the ball of her foot and starts with her cleaning.

Reid and Sophie quickly sweep and mop the dining area while collecting bags of trash. Because of her bad knees, Mama takes her time, wiping down each table, reloading the napkins and condiments. A flash of light on the muted television hanging in the corner of the restaurant catches her eye along with the words 'special newsbreak'.

“Reid?" She grabs the young waitress's attention. "Turn the TV up, would you, paidi mou?”

With a sweet nod to Mama, the spirited brunette balances carefully on a chair to reach the mounted television hanging from the ceiling. 

As she tinkers with the knobs on the old set, Reid is captivated by the moving graphics of a breaking news report from the Cordonian Capital. The picture finally changes to a live feed, focusing on a pristine dais with multiple microphones set up outside the palace doors. Hushed whispers and the incessant flickering of cameras plague the otherwise silent moment of anticipation.

"Hey," Reid hollers out to her other coworkers. "Hey, you guys? I think the king is about to speak–" 

Before she can even finish her statement, Reid is met with sarcastic giggles and groans, coming from the kitchen.  Hector and Geo slowly mosey out into the dining area, gathering around to hear the special news brief. 

"Moraki mou," Hector lovingly addresses Reid, offering his hand as she climbs down from the chair. "You're probably the only one that cares when that malaka humbles himself from the glory of his throne to grace the working-class–"

“Shhh, aye, Papí,” Mama jovially slaps Hector up the back of his balding head, “you talk too much." The older woman takes Reid's hand, squeezing it endearingly. "I think it's wonderful you stay so vigilant, but then again–” Mama’s expression changes to sympathy as her voice lowers, “--you don’t have much of a choice now, do you, paidi mou?” She gently pinches Reid’s cheek.

Reid’s toothy grin never falters as she sweetly strokes Mama’s face with her thumb. "Now you don’t need to worry about any of that, Mama,” she casually turns her attention back to the TV, but a subtle rigidness deepens her voice. “We’re fine,” she nods to herself, almost as if she is trying to convince herself. “We are going to be just fine.”

Three years ago, nineteen-year-old Reid received the tragic phone call that would change her life forever. The Auvernal native was away from her family's farm for school at the Capital when the Sons of Earth executed a surprise assassination attack on the monarchy of the northern-border country of Cordonia. War-hungry Bradshaw Achilles, the King of Auvernal, who openly craved an alliance with the neighboring country, took advantage of their temporary moment of weakness and declared war on the rogue military coup.

Like many other Auvernese, the Ambrose family disagreed with Bradshaw. They felt like he was more of a threat to his own people rather than their protector. So, they prepared to seek refuge across the border in Cordonia, who was kindly offering shelter and amnesty grants. These grants included temporary working visas and healthcare.

But before they could escape, the Sons of Earth retreated through the northern border of Auvernal, setting fire to the farmlands. Crops were destroyed, the land completely scorched. Many animals perished.

In his attempts to save his land, the land that had been in the Ambrose family for four generations, Nik Ambrose, Reid's father, was badly injured when the barn collapsed on him.

When Reid's younger sister Tana called her from their father's hospital room to tell her the news, Reid immediately withdrew from school. Without one complaint, she packed up what little was salvageable from their farm, and moved herself, her injured father, and younger siblings to Cordonia in hopes of fresh new opportunities.

The experience has been terrifying–not that anyone could tell from Reid's positive attitude. Though in fear, she knew deep in her heart that this life, this barely scraping by to make ends meet: it wouldn't last forever. Someday, they wouldn't know the pain of hunger or the brutal chill of the cold. This life was going to get better. It had to.

"So he calls a press conference, and he doesn't even show up?" Hector blows a raspberry. "Where you at, Connie?"

"Wait–wait … I see movement!" Sophie exclaims.

With a special guardsman opening the large opulent doors, a handsome, fit man in full royal regala with brilliant sapphire eyes confidently struts out to the marked platform. Offering a perfectly white, perfectly charming smile, he waves to the cameras, nodding affectionately to the people. 

“Now that’s… Prince Louis?” Reid quietly questions, instantly causing snickers from the others.

“Oh, our little Auvernese axolotl,” Hector shakes his head while clicking his tongue. He throws a friendly arm around Reid, pointing to the screen, “Aye, no, that’s the crown prince himself. That’s Liam–” 

“Are you blind?” Mama jests. “That’s Leo; he’s the crown prince.” She lowers her voice respectfully, looking conspiratorially around the empty restaurant. “Liam was the son that…well, y’know–”

“Ohhhhh,” Hector’s voice grows grim, taking off his hat in mournful respect. “Right.”

“But mmmm, that Leo…” Mama’s voice grows dreamily silent, her eyes fixed on the television as she licks her lips.

“Mama!” Hector shudders, “he’s old enough to be your grandson–”

“Bompoúnas!” She playfully swats Hector over the head with a paper menu as they begin to argue in their Cordonian dialect of Greek.

“Hey–hey, you two! It’s on!”  Reid motions towards the TV as the royal band announces the arrival of his majesty with the Cordonian traditional hymn, ‘Hail to the King’.  King Constantine strides out to the podium, acknowledging the flashes and shout-outs from nearby reporters from newspapers and television stations.

“Good afternoon, my fellow Cordonians.  It is a true honor to stand before you this afternoon, not just as your king, but as the commander of a country that has proven to the rest of the world that though we are small in size, we are mighty in power, mighty in spirit, and above all, mighty in heart…” 

As the news report continues, Reid feels a towering presence step up behind her.  Giving a slight tilt of her head, she is relieved to see Saul with his arms crossed, a yellow envelope under his arm. She gives him a sweet smile, turning back to the program, yet Reid notices something is amiss.

“... Three years ago, the Sons of Earth successfully planned an ambush assassination on the Crown with the plans to overtake our nation…” The king pauses, his knuckles blanching to white as he grips the dais; his face burns red with wrath at the remembrance of that fateful night, the night his family would change forever. He respectfully clears his throat, offering a hopeful curl to his lips.  “They planned to create fear, but they weren’t planning on our hope.” Several whoops and hollers resound amongst the crowd along with handclaps. “But, thanks to our brothers and sisters from the south, Auvernal did not waste time in offering their brute strength.  The Sons of Earth may have won that battle years ago, but I am here to proudly announce that Cordonia has won the war.”

As the crowd roars with praises, the workers in the bistro happily give each other hugs, shouting cheers of joy.  For Reid, she is beyond relieved to hear those beautiful words, her eyes watering with pride, knowing exactly what the price is for freedom and glory.

Constantine continues. “Today marks the 100th day since our victory, which means today, we can safely celebrate 100 days of peace!” At the sound of his voice, a giant banner rolled open behind his majesty, with a giant ‘100’ painted along with dozens of handprints, created by the primary school. “We will always remember the war; but let us not forget the peace that came in its wake.”

The small staff in the bistro started giving each other nods as they started making their way back to their jobs to finish up for the day when Sophie grabs everyone’s attention.

“Wait, guys,” an eerie concern falls over her voice as she instantly looks at Reid.

“What is it?” Reid raises an eyebrow before looking back to the television screen, suddenly seeing that the news headline had changed.

King Constantine: 100 Days of Peace; Dissolution of Amnesty Grants

Reid grabs onto a chair to hold herself steady as the sudden thunderous plodding of her own heartbeat roars in her ears. She can feel her face pale as her palms begin to sweat. This can’t be happening. They can’t be kicking us out. We–we just got on our feet. Reid’s eyes flutter away the tears threatening to come forward as she zones in on the king’s voice.

“The Amnesty grant program was created to protect the innocent in search of shelter from the war. It has served it’s purpose, and the war is now over. We must all work together now to get life back to normal …”

“Wait,” Hector crosses his arms, his eyebrows furrowing at the screen. “So what the hell does that mean? Pack up and get the hell out?”

“They’ve rebuilt their lives here,” hisses Geo.

“Shhh,” Mama hushes, her eyes watering as she watches the television screen.

“Please know our heart: the royal council welcomes you to our great country.  But effectively at midnight tonight, the new immigration law will be enforced which includes the following: a homestead tax as well as a welfare tax will be due by the fifteenth of each month–”

“See! I knew it was going to be about taxes.” Hector grumbles, throwing his hands in the air. “Malaka.”

“...check with your immigration headquarters. Also, Cordonians need to take back the jobs that are rightfully theirs.  This means effectively immediately, immigrants may only hold a job that has been approved ahead of time by the Crown….”

“Ha!” Geo cackles, “and what jobs would you have aliens do, your majesty?”

“And if their job isn’t approved?” Sophie scoffs. “What? They’re going to be terminated?”

“Can they do that?” Hector looks to Saul who is staring at the ground, rocking on his heels. “Saul? Can they dictate jobs like that?”

“Thee mou,” Mama gasps, turning to Saul. “What does that mean, boss?” 

A deafening silence falls on the staff as they all look to their leader.  His jaw twitches in anger, but he holds his tongue. His lips quake, trying to form words, but nothing sounds right. He pulls out the yellow envelope from under his arm, an envelope with an embossed seal from the Crown.  He stares painfully at it before his bloodshot eyes focus on his best employee.

And her breath hitches.  “That’s for me, isn’t it?  You’re letting me go?”

“I… I’m sorry, Reid.”

_____

Reid decides to bike the long way home that afternoon. She crosses through the back alley behind the busy shopping district, quickly making her way to the old main highway until she reaches the quiet dirt road that courses to the scenic route to her villa. She needs a moment to herself, a moment to react–not to mention, she wants to avoid the angry crowds with picketing signs in the square.

As she comes to the quiet old stone bridge, she steps off of her bicycle, leaning it against the moss-covered structure.  Grabbing her worn satchel, she carefully climbs up onto the thick barrier walls, walking until she reaches the middle of the crossover. Maintaining her balance she sits down, crossing her legs underneath her body, allowing herself to simply be still.

What are we going to do? 

Letting her head fall into her hands, she can feel the storm, brewing deep within her chest. She wants to scream; she wants to run until her lungs bleed. 

It's not fair. It's just not…

She lets out a deep exhale as the symphony of nature suddenly takes over her senses. A simple breeze dances across her olive complexion, drying her heated tears.The brook below her babbles gleefully, splashing playfully the purest of clean water as it hosts and feeds the local wildlife. The hypnotic scent of ivy and fresh dew lulls Reid into a brief moment of comfort. 

'Anger is the punishment we give ourselves… for someone else's mistake." Hearing her father's words of wisdom echo in her mind, Reid pulls out a worn, leather-bound sketching journal and a broken piece of charcoal. As she opens the old portfolio, her fingertips catch on a once-gold embossing: the initials HRA. Her mother's.

A sudden titter of carefree laughter from a young child steals Reid from her quiet moment alone. She curiously glances down the banks of the waterfront, but no one is there.

Flipping her long ponytail back over her shoulder, she secures a new sheet of paper for sketching. She gently presses the small fragment of coal against her notebook, creating large geometric shapes of potential.

And she hears the giggle again. But this time, as Reid looks up, she notices a single reed sprouting from the delicate current. And she smiles. 

"Mamá! Mamá! Look!" Six-year-old Reid crawls onto her hands and knees, drawing closer to the edges of the rushing brook. Missing her top two middle teeth, Reid sticks out the tip of her tongue as she reaches for a tall, green plant that appears to be wading in the water.

"Reid?" A tall woman with vibrant chocolate eyes holds the hem of her long floral skirt as she rushes through the overgrowth of grass. "Where are you, agapoula mou?"

"Boo!" Reid squeals, jumping out from behind the greenery.

Her mom playfully shrieks, quickly snagging her daughter in a tight embrace. "What've you got there?"

Reid proudly holds up the long, willowing stalk with a curious brown, cigar-shaped flower. "I picked it for baby Nicholas!" She gently places her chubby fingers on her mother's blossoming abdomen, her belly immediately coming to life with movement.

"I think he likes it," Reid's mother smiles brightly. "Don't you think we should get something for Tana, too?"

Reid wrinkles up her nose at the mention of her almost-three-year-old sister.

"C'mon, agapoula mou," her mom holds out her hand for Reid to take. "Let's pick some wildflowers for her and YiaYia."

Suddenly a strong gust of wind blew through the riverbend, making the mother and daughter stop in their tracks to shield themselves from flying debris. But, when Reid finally opened her eyes, she screamed.

"It's gone!" She sniffles, "the flower is gone!"  Caught in the wind, the fluffy, cotton-like spores from the special plant dance down the brook until they lay to rest in the water. Reid throws down the green plant as large tears drip down her cherub cheeks. "It's broken, Mamá."

Reid's mother carefully sits down along the bank before pulling her oldest into her lap. She sweetly kisses her temple, pressing her head to her chest. "Oh, agapoula mou," she smiles, "it's not broken. Not in the least bit."

Reid sits up, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "It… it's not?"

"No," her mom chuckles, tightening her arms around her daughter. "I'm gonna let you in on a little secret." Reid's eyes grow wide as she listens more intently. "That plant you picked is called a reed."

"What?" The corners of Reid's mouth curl, the gaps in her teeth showing proudly. "But I'm Reid! I… I've never met another Reid before!"

Her mom lovingly massages circles on her back. "Well, this reed is spelled a little different, but you're right: it's another Reid. And those little things that flew from that brown, sausage-looking flower?" 

"Yeah?" Reid nods her head eagerly.

"Those are called 'spores'. They are carried by the wind, and wherever they land, they grow into more reeds."

"More reeds?" Reid repeats excitedly.

"That's right, agapoula mou," her mother tenderly cups the velveteen skin of her face. "As you get older, life will present itself with hard times, challenges that seem like they want to break your spirit. But remember the flower and how you thought it was broken?"

"It wasn't broken at all!"

"Not in the least bit," Reid's mom grins, "that's when we grow. Never be afraid to grow where the wind takes you."

Reid stands up, throwing her arms around her mom’s neck. "Efcharistó, Mamá," she thanks her, "I won't."

An abrupt breeze surprises Reid, startling her from the memory as her art tools threaten to blow away. Clutching onto her mildly wrinkled paper canvas, she looks down and recognizes her simple sketch: a water reed.

With her coal-stained fingers, she effortlessly smudges the rough, dark edges, bringing the two-dimensional creation to life with the use of shadows and light.

But the wind erupts again, teasing to steal Reid's artwork. Hugging it close to her chest, the air whips around her wildly. With her ponytail dancing in the breeze, she glances back to the water reeds. She notices how the flowers sway and tumble, flip and twirl. But as the wind dies back down into a whisper, the flower remain, staying in place to grow.

Grow where the wind takes you...

Her mother's smile etches across her lips as her words of wisdom resound purposefully in Reid's head. A swirl of butterflies tickle in her belly as she looks at their reflection in the stream below the stone bridge. Is this is? Is this what's best for her family?

You know the answer, agapoula mou...

Instantly, the world doesn't seem so impossible anymore.

~🖤~

Tags (please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed):

PERMA

@alexabeta @ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @differenttyphoonwerewolf @foreverethereal123 @issabees @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @schnitzelbutterfingers @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL TRR/TRH

@21-wishes @angelasscribbles @burnsoslow @gkittylove99 @iaminlovewithtrr @lovingchoices14 @motorcitymademadame @princessleac1 @rubiwalker @twinkleallnight

ANYTHING LIAM

@amandablink @bbrandy2002

STAY

@belencha @busywoman @walkerdrakewalker

[hazbinbossbrainrot]

How I would imagine after Angel Dust is redeemed:

*Someone knocks on the door*

Husk: “Angel Dust? Can you get that?”

* The spider gives no response, continues reading his book*

Husk: Angel!

. . .

Husk: Ugh! For fuck sake…” He gets ready to call out to him again. “ANTHONY!”

Anthony: “Jesus fuckin' Christ! WHAT?!”

Husk: “The door?”

Anthony: “Oh, why didn’t ya just say so in the first place?”

Husk: “I did! Why didn’t you answer—“ He begins to realise where he went wrong.

Anthony: “I gotta say who is this Angel Dust character? I’m jealous.”

[supernatant]

Rolling up to AO3 and browsing the Supernatural ending fix-it fics like I’m at the supermarket

[aces-and-angels]

hello friends! it's been awhile since i've felt so invigorated by writing and i'm so happy that this is the piece that brought the spark back. this is my gift to @oh-so-youre-a-nerd for the choices gift exchange they so generously hosted.

title: memento mori

summary: based on a true story- follow wind velez, attorney at law, as they come across one of their most unique cases of their career to date.

content warning(s): this story deviates from canon as it largely ignores most events from book 2 and references specific hc's made by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

characters: beau mcgraw, gigi sinclair, martin vanderweil- ft a surprise cameo from a certain fanmade project 😉

click here for context on wind's latest court case (i recommend doing so after completing the fic)

i'd love to hear your thoughts so please share in whatever way is most comfortable for you! and lastly, enjoy 🖤

[youchangedmedestiel]

I just saw this post talking about Metatron saying Cas is in love with humanity (Dean) and explaining how this is true because Cas loved being human, despite what he has been through he enjoyed having human feelings and I must say that I agree.

Cas wanted to stay human. And I will die on this hill. Maybe I'll die alone there, but this is what I believe.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

I'm sure people have said this a million times, but...

We really should have gotten some Angel and Anya interactions.

Angel just being completely baffled that Anya can talk about some of her former vengeance days so gleefully, when he, of course, feels so guilty about all of the things he's done.

And him also not understanding how a part of Anya longs to go back to being a vengeance demon/immortal, when he would give anything to turn human again.

They'd have some interesting conversations.

Boom has the two of them as friends--and, I mean, I do think if these two got to interact, they'd become friends, of course, because they do have a lot in common--but Boom did it wrong. Like Boom so often handles the Buffyverse wrong, imo.

Like, the one panel I saw was Anya being excited to see Angel again after so long, and saying how they'd reminisce on some of the people they killed together, and she'd give him this tea he liked.

And like I said above: Angel felt guilty about the stuff he did as Angelus! There would be no happy reminiscing on his part And if Anya knew Angel well--like this comic was trying to imply, I think--she wouldn't be saying this to him. And Angel didn't like human food (save for coffee). And they could have changed this about him for this comic AU, I suppose. Or had this be one of the few human foods he liked, or something. But it just seems like an example of how Boom can't write him right. At all.

[kisskissbanggang]

Jumpspace Renegade - ep. 12 ✨🚀

[2.9k words, 10min. read - Stray Kids Multi Fic, Scifi!au, Choose Your Own Adventure Jisung x Fem. Reader - SFW/Smut in Other Chapters - Navigating Feelings, Platonic(?) Intimacy, Surprisingly Sweet, Time to be Mad at Jisung, First Experiences, Emotional Vulnerability is Hard, Gutting Betrayal, Ominous Plot Hints, Testing Alliances, Crumbs of Backstory, Loyalty Crisis, We’re Still on the Ocean Planet, Always Check the Tags]

[Episodes on Fridays 7pm pst, Polling closes Saturdays 7pm pst]

[Series Masterlist | Come Say Hi!]

Your finger twitched where it rested at the pocket of your shorts, where the plastic keycard you’d never returned to Chan was really tempting you. After the captain had left you in the workshop, you’d dropped into your cabin to finally take off your waist pack. You propped your new sunglasses that Felix bought you on your windowsill, as well as the little boat you’d purchased. 

So now you were left with the question of what to do. If you couldn’t leave the ship but you had free time before launch, you wanted something to distract you from how you couldn’t visit the beach. It absolutely made sense to try out the keycard on Minho’s new cabin and ask him what went down with Jisung.

Or, you realized, there was nothing stopping you from going straight to the source.

Besides, if you riled up Minho right now, who knew what sordid, impassioned garbage that would start. If you weren’t supposed to fool around now that you were partners, you decidedly did not feel like teasing him.

So now that left Jisung. You grabbed a couple magnet clips to hold your souvenirs down before they got flung during takeoff. Below, the waves lapped at the slipdock, making you more than a little sore that you wouldn’t be able to even touch the water. Instead of lingering on it, though, you instead slipped back out of your cabin and into the maintenance access between the workshop and the galley where Jisung’s cabin was located. You were thrilled to find it was locked. There was an opportunity to try the keycard after all. You beeped it against the knob’s keypad, just as you had with the brig to retrieve Minho earlier, and held your breath.

The door unlocked. You practically jumped, giddy to learn this when you poked your head in the door, fully expecting to find Jisung brooding at his desk. Instead, it was empty. The cabin was empty, devoid of the pilot entirely. You did a double take, now fully stepping inside and locking the door behind you. Jisung’s cabin was even more quaint during a proper day cycle, with his little knick-knacks and photos illuminated in the warm light of the setting sun. His parents, apparently, were working as private tour guides, at least according to their pictures.

A shiver ran up your spine and you realized there was a faint breeze in the empty cabin. You searched for the source of it, noting that the exhaust vent was closed, when you caught sight of the culprit.

Of course.

The access hatch was barely open, so much so that you nearly missed it.

You opened the small door and hopped down onto the metal walkway, searching up and down the passage to figure out where Jisung may have snuck off to. A faint light tinted the end of the passage, and you walked down to the hatch that led to the cargo hold. You peeked through first, looking to see if you were walking in on anything you shouldn’t be before you climbed down. The cargo hold was undisturbed, but it was oddly loud in here, considering the doors should be sealed.

You surveyed the cargo hold, looking for what could be causing the outside noise of the port to be streaming in, when the obvious answer revealed itself.

No shit, the sub-hatch door Jeongin had snuck through earlier was propped open, one measly pry bar guarding the door. Curiosity bit at you. You gently pushed the door open and set it ajar on the pry bar again before you looked around the Ambler, when you spied a pair of legs swinging over the edge of the slipdock under the nose of the ship. These clearly belonged to Jisung, you noticed, when you quietly crept closer. The pilot was sitting on the lip of the slipdock, a fishing pole in his hands and a charge clip smoking on his lip.

You were tempted to surprise him, but you were a little distracted. This looked very relaxing after a long day. Rather, you decided to plainly walk up behind him, letting him feel your presence. He raised an eyebrow when he heard your footfalls before he turned to confirm it was you sitting down next to him. You were both silent while Jisung fished and smoked, but it was clear there was a conversation that needed to happen. Minho was furious when he arrived with Jisung back at the ship. You needed to know why.

“So,” you sighed, “I hear I’m supposed to be mad at you.” The waves sounded calming against the concrete of the dock.

Jisung gave a miniscule nod. Reaching the end of his clip, he pocketed it. “You’re gonna be,” he confirmed. “You ready?”

“Not really,” you admitted. “How was jail?”

The pilot shrugged. “It was jail. Pleasant, all things considered. I got you something.”

You looked on curiously when Jisung dug something out of the pocket of his linen shirt, now unbuttoned and relaxed open. He held out a closed hand to you and you extended your upturned palm to him, where he dropped a Phaborian mating pendant, the touristy kind that Hyunjin had mentioned. The paint didn’t feel as delicately ridged as the one you’d spent all day resolving. Looking at this one more closely, it depicted the port city of the Hatchery, with the market in plain view. 

But, of course, this caught you off guard. This was a mating pendant. 

It took a solid moment or two for Jisung to notice you ogling the pendant, as well as him. He took a beat to decipher your expression before it dawned on him. His eyes widened with a laugh.

“It’s not romantic or anything!” he immediately reassured you. “I mean, I like you, but it’s only been, like, a few days? A week? I just didn’t know if you had a chance to grab a souvenir.”

Your tense shoulders relaxed. “That’s so sweet, Jisung,” you acknowledged, fully genuine. “It was cool that this was my first port of call. I only wish I could’ve stopped by the beach.”

Jisung gawked at you. “This whole day and you didn’t go to the beach?!”

“Well, yeah!” you defended. “I was busy!”

“Fuck busy,” Jisung shook his head. “Come on, we still have plenty of time.” He scrambled up to his feet while he wound up his reel and pulled you up alongside him, already dragging you in the direction of one of the little patches of shore between each slipdock. You maybe had a second to tuck the pendant into the pocket of your shorts. The pilot paused to pop open the sub-hatch cargo door and toss in his fishing rod before resuming his mission, grinning while he rushed you.

“Jisung!” you laughed, “it’s really fine!”

It wasn’t, but it was a little ridiculous to consider he’d go to this much effort. Any effort, really, felt like a bit much. 

And Jisung ignored this, obviously, pulling you along and leading you down to the sand. It was approaching golden hour, and Jisung easily yanked you down beside him on the sand where he began to pull at your boot laces. You screamed out another laugh and tried to shove him off. 

“Jisung!” you repeated. “What’s the hurry?!”

“If you’re gonna take a moment, you gotta have time,” explained Jisung, as if it were clear already. 

Fair enough, you figured. You bowled over Jisung and got his shoes off as well, before you noticed he already got your socks off. The top layer of sand was hot between your toes, but underneath that was cool. You observed the sensation of the fine granules, glittering in the sun, how they felt under your fingertips and how it was just a little different from under your legs or feet. Needless to say, you’d never been to a beach. You’d never felt “real” sand. But now you needed to feel ocean water.

Jisung watched you jump up to your feet and sprint to the shore, barely taking the time to register how freezing it was now that the day was ending. And you didn’t stop at just submerging your ankles. You ran in until you started meeting the traction of the water on top of the sand. This felt amazing. 

From the sand, Jisung was caught between being supportive and worrying. “You’ll catch a cold if you’re not careful!” he whined.

“That’s too bad!” you teased back, yelling over the surf. You waded further in, eager to see if you could get straight to paddling. This was exciting to a point that you didn’t even catch Jisung running out to where you were already up to your waist, until you were already being hauled back to shallower waters. You flailed in Jisung’s grip around your midsection, despite his struggling laughs.

“You’re gonna drown, you lunatic,” Jisung wheezed, before tossing you into the ankle-deep waves. 

You landed on your ass with a splash, only somewhat buoyed by the sparse inches of water below you.

“Let me!” you gleefully challenged him, “then the guys will have even more reason to be pissed at you!”

Jisung didn’t have time to be offended before you grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him down, too.

The pilot smirked and shook his head. “You’re insane,” he affectionately remarked.

“You like that about me,” you refuted, shrugging and catching your breath.

“What if I do?” he chuckled.

That familiar silence slid in between you again, watching the water pool up to your hips as the waves lazily rolled in. Your knee was brushing against his where you sat together.

“The guys like you, too,” Jisung added.

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, “even Chan?”

“Especially Chan,” Jisung doubled down. “He’s just a dick, that’s all.”

“Uh huh,” you deadpanned, clearly doubtful. “He better wise up, then. I’m not a huge fan of dicks.”

You caught Jisung’s eye and flashed him a knowing look. He’d been a little bit of a dick, too, lately, but it’s not like he nearly got you killed like Chan did. Jisung quickly averted his gaze, maybe a bit guilty. Maybe he knew. Maybe he was just as bad at expressing himself as Chan, just without the personal risk that apparently involved.

Minho came to mind in that moment. Did he actually like you? Or were you just a plaything that he turned into a sidekick? 

“Seungmin likes you, too,” Jisung added. He almost sounded annoyed about it. 

You attempted a cool scoff. “What if he does?” you asked. “What about it?”

“It’s just that he’s an all or nothing type of guy,” he explained. “That’s all.”

“What about you?” you teased. “Are you an all or nothing type of guy?”

“Uh,” Jisung awkwardly laughed, eyes downcast. “I’m more of an or nothing guy these days.”

“But you like me,” you determined, saying it less like the question it should’ve been and more like a fact.

Jisung looked at you again, but this time like he was really looking at you. “I mean,” he began, “obviously? You’re the coolest person I’ve met in a long time. I like how you dropped everything and came along with our band of traveling idiots.”

It was your turn to look away, attempting to stave off any fluttering butterflies in your stomach. “I dunno,” you humbly replied, “I think I’m just lucky I chose your ship.”

“I think we’re lucky,” Jisung gently refuted. Cheesy. Acceptable. He swooped in, chastely kissing your cheek.

When you returned the gesture, you found that his ears had turned bright red.

This felt different from fooling around. 

Jisung turned to face you more then, lingering until you did the same before he tentatively kissed you. 

This felt very different from fooling around.

You and Jisung were just friends, but it was surprising to feel this close with someone, let alone in the span of a handful of days. Maybe you’d just never let anyone in before. Jisung’s eyes peeked open in surprise when he felt you lean in, meeting his push. He was delicate with you for a second, savoring this kiss on the beach with you for a couple breaths.

He almost looked as though you’d awoken a sleepwalker when you backed up an inch, easing your lips off his.

“Aren’t I supposed to be mad at you?” you asked, more than a little lightheaded. You were dizzy by now.

“I’m not ready yet,” Jisung shook his head. “I have one more thing to tell you; it’s what got me locked up for a minute today. I have a lead on a gig.”

You backed up even more now. “You do?”

Jisung nodded. “Yeah. You’re the first person I wanted to pitch it to.”

“What is it?” you warily asked. Just knowing what it was meant that you were at risk of telling Minho, honestly.

The way the pilot sighed made you think that he might have known that, too. “Sunrise Casino at Sentury Station,” he began to explain, “it’s under new management, and they apparently stowed some goods somewhere inside. I’ve been hearing word about it but I wanted to find my guy and get the details direct. His sources say it’s a security deposit box full of royal heirlooms from Victory Meridian, including an entire tiara from Clessoria.”

A giant pit formed in your stomach, and even more with the last detail, but you didn't have a chance to act on it right away. Jisung looked at the timer he apparently had on his communicator. 

“We gotta get heading back,” he lamented. “Was this still a good time?”

“Yeah,” you mustered, and regretfully earnest. The bittersweetness of leaving this behind, the beach and the moment, ached in your chest. You had a feeling he and Minho were right. It was sounding like you were going to be very mad at Jisung. 

Your friend got up to his feet and grabbed his shoes before you followed and did the same with your boots and jogged after him. It was a wordless, short journey. 

Only once you reached the pry bar in the sub-hatch door back at the ship did you stop Jisung. He wasn’t looking at you again. 

“Jisung,” you gently, nervously implored, “what exactly did you trade for that lead?”

His initial response was a defeated scoff. “I didn't trade anything. But I made it look like I would and pissed off my contact in the process, ergo my ass ending up in jail. Are you ready to be mad at me?”

An exhausted sigh fell out of you. Feelings were the worst. “Yes,” you meagerly nodded.

He winced reluctantly. “We’re friends, right?”

“Jisung!” you all but shouted, trying to get it over with. 

Finally, predictably, Jisung pulled your ring out of the pocket of his shorts. 

You gasped.

He sighed.

Yeah, that would definitely get him a good lead on Clessorian Ore. 

You didn't yell, you didn't cuss, but Jisung flinched regardless when you silently snatched the ring out of his palm and threw open the sub-hatch door. 

Thankfully, Jisung didn't run after you. He didn't call after you. He simply let you storm off, just like you needed. 

And it would've been great, walking off that instant detonation of anger and emotions, except Chan was at the top of the stairs. 

“Where the fuck have you been?!” he shouted, crazed and concerned. Both of you were still dripping wet.

Especially Chan, Jisung had said. 

And you had to give Jisung some credit, because Chan let you storm past him and up the stairs, giving you a clear shot all the way to your cabin where you yanked the door shut behind you. You made peace with not watching the launch, instead opting to sort yourself out for a little bit. There was far too much on your mind. You were agitated, grabbing another magnetic clip for your windowsill and stubbornly determined to be pissed off while you displayed the pendant Jisung got you. The ring, however, was thrown into your bedside drawer and slammed shut with gusto.

This was fucking garbage. Jisung stole from you and very well could’ve lost your loot. This was reprehensible on multiple fronts. No honor among thieves was a well known myth, and besides, Jisung was more than a thief. 

He was your friend.

Asshole.

That nagging, penetrating urge to tell someone was eating at you, maybe have a sounding board or a crumb of comfort, but you weren’t sure who to lean on. You could always vent to Felix, you figured. He was an easy option, and he was obviously close with Jisung, based on how the pilot had been the one able to calm him down the other day when everything went down with Changbin. Of course, there was always a chance he was too busy recuperating after his misadventures. 

Or, you realized, there was Hyunjin. Hyunjin knew everything, you’d already been told. He could tell you if Jisung was more shady than he let on, or even if there was any credence to Jisung’s tip he’d won back at the market.

And then there was Minho. He was obvious, too. He'd want to know about the lead at Sentury. And he was the one to shake Jisung down in the first place. He’d be a great option, honestly. You even knew your keycard would work already. You just had to pick.

[yourqueenb]

The people who were arguing that Trystan was an asshole for assuming MC would stay in Drakovia forever 🤡🤡🤡

[starsailores]

having a normal one in the writing channel tonight

[words-are-my-medium]

I totally get all those who are wanting Robin or Steve and Nancy together (because Robin is suddenly her gal pal SUPER fast and the show seems set on having EVERYONE try to force Steve back to her, which wth?! but yeah it's there, even if I hate it) but I just can't, like, I NEED Joncy. I waited until the S4 binge to watch S3 and coming off of my first time of S3 which really deepened their relationship so soon like... nah, y'all can't take them away from me.

Shared trauma. Matching scars on their palms and matching scars in their hearts because they both had to kill their former bosses to survive, yes they were possessed by a monster and it was self defense but they still murdered people. They didn't know if it was possible to save them. And then after, when the blob went towards Nancy, Jonathan screaming desperately to get its attention to him instead. That S3 episode gave me chills, more trauma that only they can understand with each other.

Jonathan always wanting the best for her even if it kills him. Telling her that Steve asked him to take her home after the party in S2, trying to cheer her up even if it meant making Steve look better when others might have seized that opportunity to gain her favor. Him making an honest attempt to connect with Samantha at the party like Nancy suggested and maybe there could have been something there but then Nancy needed him. Not wanting to tell her he was going to a different school because he didn't want to pressure her to give up on her dreams for him. Jonathan has had to grow up long before he should have and has spent years putting his loved ones first over himself working and taking care of Will. He doesn't want even a fraction of that disappointment and deep-seated resentment for her. But his and Nancy's interests still align even if their paths are not the same so that they could still have a life together.

Nancy says in S2 she waited for him after S1, and he scoffs it was only "like a month". A month he was trying to put his family back together after they had a FUNERAL for Will. He wasn't ready for the relationship even though he had feelings for her. She learns that over time. They fight about Jonathan's needing a job and her not understanding her privilege, and they come together again stronger, the end of S3 with that hug and that talk before he left. They are two people who have been through so much together and continue to learn to understand each other and come together again better after every hurdle.

So let's do it again this time too. I need Joncy, please I like Steve no hate to him but let's leave that where it is please, I want Byler and Steddie and Robin with a girlfriend too but not Nancy, I need Joncy to survive 🥺

[txemrn]

Stay

Chapter 2: "Ten Feet Under and Upside-Down"

Catch up here!

Word Count: ~6835 (I apologize; it's a long one)

Series Summary: With her family facing deportation back to Auvernal, fun-spirited Reid Ambrose quits college to support her family. But as fate would have it, she accepts a temporary job as a caregiver for the royal family, an experience that will challenge her, break her, and devastate her world in the most exciting of ways.

Chapter Summary: An old face returns to Cordonia to work for the royal family. But even after almost a decade away, not much has changed, and he's more miserable than ever.

Series Warning: ⛔ Please Be Advised: 18+ Only ⛔This series will contain mature material, including foul language, NSFW 🍋, discussion/depictions of war, violence, gun violence, assassination attempts; medical situations, including major character injuries; ethical dilemmas including euthanasia & bodily autonomy; mental health, including depression, PTSD, suicide

Series Music Inspo: “Awake” by Secondhand Serenade

Chapter Music Inspo: "Storm" by Lifehouse

AN: Majority of these characters and some plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Special thanks to my amazing friend @kat-tia801 for prereading, and my sweet friend @ao719 for helping me dial-up a scene as well as pre-reading it. Also, you will recognize some items from canon; other items may be completely contradictory to canon. Just got with it, and enjoy the story. 😊

~🖤~

Present (as a reminder: 3 years after Leo's tragic birthday party)

Coasting into the assigned parking spot at his apartment complex, Drake Walker haphazardly downshifts his truck before ripping the keys out of the ignition. All the lights seem to be out in his place, which will work in his favor for a possibly quiet night at home. No talking, especially no arguing. Hopefully with his quick maneuvering, the rumble of his old pick-up won’t disturb his wife and son from their sleep.

Fuck. It did. A lamp in the master bedroom flickers on, a glow illuminating through the window. 

Drake lays his exhausted head on the steering wheel, unsure if he should turn back around and go back to his job and stay the night there. At least then he wouldn't have to hide himself, hide his emotions from his bride, pretend to be the man he promised her he would be.

Jodi doesn't deserve this. Any of this. The silent treatment. The avoidance. The denial of connection. She's too faithful, too fucking loving for her own good. Truth be told, her gentle answers, loving support, and abundant encouragement are the reasons Drake has been so successful both in college and starting his career as a physical therapist.

Why was he shutting down on her now?  

It all started about six months ago, when Drake found the crown prince of Cordonia wandering on their front porch of their newly-built Texas home. 

“Leo?” Drake cocked his head, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief.  He hadn’t seen the tall blond since the aftermath of his birthday party almost three years ago. 

“Walker!” he extended his hand, striding widely to greet the commoner. “Long time no see, brother!”

Brother? Drake eyes the prince’s outstretched arm before hesitantly gripping it. Taking in Leo’s appearance, he notices a thick file folder under his arm, filled with what looked like a stack of disjointed documents with tabs and post-it notes.

“Jesus Christ, Texas is fucking hot,” Leo chuckled, dabbing his forehead, but his perfect pearly white smile remained on Drake. “Beautiful place you got here.”

Always the charmer. “Yeah,” Drake shifted his gaze to the screen door, seeing a curious Jodi with their son Finn on her hip. He gave her a nod with the notion that everything was okay before turning back to his visitor. “Listen, Leo…” he clapped his hands, “um, what are you doing here?”

Leo snickered. “Straight to the point as always, Walker. Is there some place we can talk?”

“Right here is just fine,” Drake fired back quickly, not trusting the future king’s intentions. He folded his arms, leaning a shoulder against a wooden post.

“On behalf of the Cordonian royal family, we’d like to hire you.”  

Leo had offered Drake a full-time job to be the prince’s personal physical therapist. This, of course, made the commoner scoff, making it clear that he would never cross onto Cordonian soil again. Not for anyone, not even him.  But when he stormed inside, he was stopped by Jodi who had been listening.

“He traveled halfway around the world, Drake Walker,” she quietly scolded, “at least talk to him. We’re talking about your old stomping grounds, your family… I know they treated you like shit, but… at least hear him out. Maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet, you know? Let go of your bitterness.”

“Jo… I don’t know.”

“Think of the good example you’ll be setting for Finn,” she smiled, batting her puppy-dog eyes.

Fuck, she was good.

Luckily Leo hadn’t retreated too far away from their land.  Drake waved down his driver, and then invited Leo back to the house for a drink and for the opportunity to discuss his proposal. Once the crown prince was introduced to Jodi, the three of them sat down at the kitchen table while Finn took a nap on the couch.

Looking like an episode of Criminal Minds, the documents in the folder were carefully explained and spread out before the young couple’s eyes. It was a medical file, complete with lab test results, written diagnoses and prognoses by doctors, some of which were second and third opinions. Lists of medications, photographs of scarred skin, MRIs of nerve damage, degeneration and muscle atrophy: it was clear that there was a serious need.

But why him? Why Drake?

“We’ve already been through three therapists, and all of them have left us,” Leo answered somberly. “I’m not going to lie; it’s… difficult, and not just because your job is already difficult. But… he’s difficult.” Leo folded his hands on the table, mindlessly fidgeting with his thumbs. Suddenly something came over him, something more honest, something more human. “Please, Walker,” his voice shook before clearing his throat. “We… We need you.”

Drake quietly sits in the driver's seat in the stillness of the night, fidgeting with his wedding band as Leo’s words echo in his head. 

We need you…

He reminisces about his childhood in Cordonia, about games of tag in the hedge maze, fishing trips out on Lake Malus, and sleepovers on the back lawn of the palace with only his sleeping bag, a flashlight and comic books. 

But, along with the fond memories of his childhood came the bittersweet remembrance of his friendship with Liam. He was always there. Always–well, for the most part, at least up until the end. The prince was Drake’s confidant, his greatest support. He gave sound advice, but also knew when to sit, whether it was to listen or because Drake needed silence.

He didn’t turn his back on Drake even after he felt abandoned by his own family.

Maybe that’s why Drake finally agreed to this arrangement; maybe he felt indebted somehow to the royal family, to the memory of Liam being patiently supportive when tragedy struck. The sacrifice probably didn’t seem great to the leaders of a country, but to Drake, it was everything.

Never in a million years would Drake have guessed this would be his life, a selfless life of servitude to the royals, a miserable life putting them first before his own family. Just like his father. When he left Cordonia almost a decade ago, his decision seemed so certain, so clear, and he swore that he would never see any of these horrid people again.

He glances towards the orange glow, pouring from his bedroom window, and he worries about his marriage. The pent-up regret and festering anger has been building since the moment he stepped back onto Cordonia soil. The job was difficult, and it was near impossible to work with his ornery client. Drake returns home late every night with battle wounds on his heart.

But, tonight he suddenly feels an overwhelming sense of guilt as he watches the shadows shift against the ambient lighting.  Has he been silently taking out his frustrations on his wife? He’s trying to spare her his heartache by keeping it to himself; but in doing so, is he neglecting her needs?

Damnit, my family needs me, too.

He reaches into a secret pocket of his duffle bag, and pulls out two cigarettes. Tucking one behind his ear to chainsmoke later, he lights the other one, pulling in the deep burn. He combs his fringe out of his eyes before leaning back on his head rest, exhaling his smoky breath. But still, the haunting anxiety remains.

How the fuck did we even get here?

------

9 Years ago

A sudden loud clatter jolts nineteen-year-old Drake awake from his impromptu nap. Unsure of the time or how long he has been asleep, he intently rubs his eyes with his fists before succumbing to a large, vocal yawn, stretching his sculpted arms over his head. Quickly noticing the darkness outside, he reaches for his phone and notices the time.

1:24 AM

The fuck, Liam?

Last year, the young prince started his rigorous royal training in preparation for his older brother Leo’s ascension to the Cordonian throne. Being separated from his best friend, Drake quickly made himself busy around the palace, mainly serving as a stablehand, until Liam would retire from the evening.  But, with constant travels, the wearisome studies and the long diplomatic meetings, the two men discovered less and less free time to spend together. Liam was forming new bonds and new relationships with fellow dignitaries and politicians while his friendship with Drake was starving for a connection.  After a few short months, they were barely texting one another.

Today is Liam’s birthday, and the two men had agreed to finally catch up with drinks at the beer garden to celebrate. Drake came home early to make himself presentable before heading over to Liam’s quarters early.   He was nervous, not because he was finally going to come face-to-face with Liam, but he was anxious about talking with him.  Drake had come to an important conclusion, and having Liam’s support meant the world.

When he arrived to the room, no one answered the door.  The commoner let himself in with his spare key only to discover a dark room with the young prince nowhere to be found. 

After leaving multiple voice messages and sending off several unopened texts, Drake contacted Lars, Liam’s personal guard.

“Walker, you know it’s against protocol for me to tell you where he is at–”

“Lars, just… c’mon,” Drake sighed, “we had plans. Tonight. I mean, maybe he forgot? Or–or maybe he thought I stood him up?” The silence on the phone spoke loud and clear, giving Drake the answer he didn’t want. “When you find a heart, tell him I was looking for him.” Ending the call, Drake slumped into a leather loveseat in Liam’s bedroom.

Sitting alone in the dimly lit room, Drake was left to his own thoughts.  He remembers his mom lecturing Savannah all the time about the importance of the quality of friendships rather than the quantity of friends she claimed she had.  She would say kitschy phrases, like, “Some people come into your life for a lifetime while others come into your life for a season.” 

But the latter was for other people and their failed relationships; this didn’t apply to Drake and his childhood friend Liam. Right? They grew up together; they became men together. They’ve seen each other at their best and at their absolute worst.  They’ve rejoiced together; they've grieved together. Liam was his ride or die. 

Then why was it all of a sudden so goddamn hard to even be around each other, let alone talk to each other?

Drake rakes his fingers through his hair, finally resting his forehead in his hands as the racket continues.  First, he hears keys pawing at the door, like a cat to a scratch post, followed by poorly stifled giggles and even more obnoxious hushes. Finally busts open with an unkempt, very drunk Liam with lips glued to a shapely brunette, her dress already unzipped.

Drake clears his throat, causing the couple to jump apart.

“Drake!” Liam slurs, “Just the man I was looking for!” He glides towards his best friend, patting him on the shoulder before turning his attention to the woman in the room. “I want you to meet Lady… Lady… Latvia–”

“Actually, it’s Leilani,” she kindly interrupts, “Lady Leilani of Latvia.” She offers a crooked smile to Drake while Liam plays cool, snapping his fingers and pointing to her in acknowledgement that she was correct. She stumbles forward towards the commoner with an extended hand to shake while her other arm keeps her bodice covering her chest.

Raising an eyebrow at the trainwreck in front of him before glaring at the inebriated prince, Drake raises his voice. “We need to talk, Li.”

With Leilani giving Liam a concerned look, he walks up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he nuzzles his nose into her neck. “Can this wait until tomorrow?” Liam calls out, his words nasally and muffled against her skin.

Drake stands quickly with a heavy foot. “No.” 

With his friend’s words shooting through him like an arrow, Liam quickly gives a sober nod.  He whispers something into the young coed’s ear, causing her to giggle as he helps her back into her dress. She makes her exit, swaying her hips through the door, but not before she blows a kiss to Liam.

Liam catches the airborne kiss, touching his palm to his face as she finally exits the room.  “Isn’t she something?”As he turns to face Drake, the prince is met with a cold stare, a lump suddenly forming in his throat.  “Well,” Liam clears his throat as he makes himself comfortable on the side of his bed. “So, what’s up–hey! We missed you tonight, bruh” he jokes, finger-gunning towards Drake.

“‘Bruh’?” Drake scoffs. “I was here, Li… waiting for you… like we had planned.”

Liam gives him a funny look. “We did?” He shrugs off his sports coat, letting it crumple on the ground as he untucks his pale pink oxford. “Well,” the blond lays back on his bed, letting out a hefty exhale. “You should’ve joined us–”

 “Are you fucking for real right now?”

“Drake, relax,” he waves his hand flippantly in the air, closing his eyes. But, when he hears a loud sigh, he sits up on his elbows with one eye open.  "Wait… are you seriously mad at me? For not drinking with you? Last I checked–” Liam extends his arms above his head, allowing his head to hit the plush comforter. “It’s my birthday!”

“Fuck it,” Drake mutters, standing up to head for the door. “I’m leaving–”

“Whoa, whoa,” Liam jumps up to stop his best friend from leaving, tripping over his jacket on the way. “Seriously, dude,” Liam puts his hand to his chest as he begins to sing, “talk to me. Tell me your name–”

Drake pushes Liam out of the way, causing him to stumble to the ground.

“Whoa there, old friend,” Liam pulls himself back up. “That was kinda hard.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” Drake opens the door.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” Liam shouts, a twinge of humor in his voice.

“You’re drunk–”

“And for once,” Liam draws closer to the shaggy brunette, jabbing his finger into his chest, “you’re not!”

Drake sees red as he glares at the shell of the man that he used to consider his brother. When did he become so rude? So flippant? So careless? So… Leo? “You know what, Li?” He raises his hands in surrender, slowly stepping backwards through the door. “We’re done.” He turns on his heel and storms towards his private quarters.

“Drake? Drake, c’mon,” Liam calls out, jogging towards the commoner. He grabs him by the shoulder, turning him around. “Listen, I’m sorry. I–I'm dunk–drunk. Let’s just talk about this tomorrow–”

“No, Li. There is no more time to talk.” Drake shrugs off Liam’s hand as he returns to his pursuit. “Besides, I have a plane to catch in the morning.”

“A plane?” Liam catches up to Drake again, this time cutting in front of him. “Where–where are you going?”

"Away," he grumbles, finally reaching his room.

"Okay," Liam curiously stops, raising an eyebrow, his voice becoming softer. "When are you coming back?"

On cue, Drake unlocks his door to reveal a few packed boxes and luggage. Liam flips on an overhead light, his eyes registering the scene. He furrows his brows, as he tracks his pacing friend. Drake finally turns around, shoving his hands in his pocket before daring to look up at the prince.

"You're moving," Liam states matter-of-factly.

"To Texas," Drake finishes, eyes trained to the floor.

"But… but what about your life here–"

"What life, Liam?" Drake angrily interrupts. "I see the same three guys every day down in the stables. I eat breakfast and dinner by myself," he suddenly chokes on his words, his breath hitching as he turns away to collect himself. He looks back to Liam, his eyes reddening with the threat of tears. "I spend my free-time wondering if my fucking best friend will actually talk to me today."

"So this is my fault?" Liam shifts his weight, putting his hands on his hips. "Drake," he scoffs, "we knew this day was coming, my noble training, my duties. And this is harder, harder than I ever imagined. I’m sorry that we don’t hang out as much. But, cut me some slack."

"I have… For a long time now." 

Liam looks away, his lips twisting.  Every emotion flashes across his youthful, chiseled face. Confusion. Anger. Worry. Betrayal. Running a hand over his stubbled chin, he looks back at his friend.

"How do I fix this?"

Hearing the genuine desperation in Liam's voice, Drake drops his head. He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes still trained on the floor. "Li, I–"

"Just tell me. And I'll make it happen. Anything."

Drake sardonically snickers, shaking his head. "Don't you want better for me?  For me to make something of myself?"

"Is it a job? Because I can get you a better job. Or we can get you into Cordonia U in the Fall–"

"Wow," Drake blows a raspberry with his lips. "Do you seriously think I need your help? That I'm incapable of creating my own life? My own future?" Fuming, Drake catches his breath. “Jesus fucking Christ, you nobles are all the same. You think you can just throw your wealth, your fucking title and get your way–”

“It never stopped you from accepting my help before.”

A dark stillness engulfs the room as the two friends stare daggers into each other. Liam crosses his arms, his physique growing rigid as he towers his extra three inches of height over denim-clad commoner. Breathing madly, Drake’s broad chest rises and falls as his hands grip into fists. They stood there for a few minutes, hurling silent insults at each other, tearing each other apart with their quiet thoughts. 

Finally, Drake shakes his head in disgust, throwing up his hands before heading for the door.  “I’ll send for my stuff,” he mutters under his breath as he intentionally bumps his shoulder into the prince’s arm, pushing him off balance.

Liam scoffs. He brushes off his arm as if Drake had left something dirty on him from impact. He follows him out the door to watch him walk down the main corridor. 

“Like mother, like son.”

Drake spins around, his jaw tightening. He closes the space between him and Liam before launching a wrathful swing of his arm, his fist abruptly meeting a hearty crack against the prince’s chiseled face. 

Liam stumbles backwards, falling to a knee as he holds his cheek. But before he can retaliate, Liam’s guard Lars quickly apprehends Drake, knocking him to the ground as he calls for reinforcements over his earpiece.  With six more guards swarming the floor, Drake is picked up by his pinned arms.

“Stop!” Liam bellows, struggling to stand up. With the help of another guard, Liam steadies his gate before drawing closer to Drake, He wipes at his lip, noting the dark red crimson trickling from his mouth. He locks his eyes on his childhood friend before slowly shaking his head. 

“You ungrateful bastard,” Liam growls before turning to Lars. “Show Mr. Walker out.” Liam turns on his heel, walking back to his quarters before slamming the door.

------

Present

An abrupt knocking on the glass breaks Drake’s reverie. He anxiously sits up, but his troubled heart instantly takes comfort at the sight of her, his bride, his person. It was his Jodi. Even in a ratty old SFA t-shirt and an old pair of his boxers, she was still stunning. Her hair reflects the moonlight, turning her usual golden strands into ethereal white. Her warm caramel-chocolate eyes hold the universe, Drake’s whole universe, as they sparkle and dance just for him.  She delicately presses her fingertips against the pane, her heart-shaped lips offering a pleading smile.  Baby, please. I’m here.

Drake furrows his brow at the sight of her. His lips can’t help but frown as the pricking of tears sting his eyes.  He finally drops his head into hands, shielding his face from her view.  He knew the dam that was holding back his emotions would eventually break, and his heart would bleed out as the unbearable weight on his shoulders came crashing down around him. But, he didn’t want to do this in front of Jodi, not in front of the woman that trusts him to be her rock and strength.

“Drake?” She softly calls to him. “Drake baby?” She gently taps her fingertips against the window again to get his attention, but he doesn’t answer her.

Jodi quickly rounds the truck, climbing in on the other side while shoving his duffle bag into the back of the cab.  “Baby? Baby?” She slides her arms around Drake’s broad shoulders, pulling him snuggly into her embrace, resting her chin in his tousled hair.  Her face etches with worry, but she’s not a fool; she knows her husband, and she knows that this–whatever this is– has been building like a cancer inside of him for a while now. 

At least since they moved to Cordonia.

“I’m sorry,” Drake whispers, but Jodi quickly hushes him endearingly, combing her fingers through his hair and behind his ear. “I promised you a better life than this. I promised you a better husband than–”

“Don’t you dare talk about my husband that way, Drake Walker.” She playfully scorns, planting kisses on the crown of his head. 

Drake sits up, giving his wife a half-crooked smile as he quickly dries his eyes with the heel of his hand. He then wraps a strong arm around her, pulling her to his side, their lips tenderly meeting.

Jodi reaches over, lacing her petite hand with his large fingers. Her eyes find his glassy stare, but he quickly looks away from her, clearing his throat.

She squeezes his grip before casually looking out the window. “Your mom used to say, 'He's just like Jack.'  

Drake's eyes widen, turning back to his wife. "What?"

The corners of Jodi's mouth turn up as she continues. "Apparently your dad was incredibly strong. Tough. Hard-headed–"

Drake guiltily chuckles under his breath. "Sounds slightly familiar." 

"And yet… very emotional. Haunted even." She looks up at her husband, their eyes locking on one another. As silence fills the truck, Jodi's attention falls to their laced fingers. Gently letting go of his hand, she begins twirling his platinum wedding ring.

"Listen, Jo–"

She holds a finger to his mouth and sweetly grins. "I love you, Drake Walker," her eyes twinkle, "just the way you are, even when you feel like being quiet and I know,” she chuckles, “I know. You have to mull things over before you can talk about them." She cups his face, gently stroking the coarse hairs of his bearded jaw. “But you married me. You don't have to shoulder the pain alone anymore. You don't have to worry about tomorrow or about decisions or about life alone anymore." Watching a tear swell and threaten to drop from his long lashes, Jodi gently rubs her thumb across his lower eyelid. "You can be quiet, that's fine. But you eventually need to talk to me, Drake. Please–" she sniffles, "don't shut me out. Don't–don't shut us out–"

"Oh, baby," Drake exhales, his arms enveloping his wife. He leans in, resting his forehead against hers as he closes his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry… I–" he sighs, "I never meant to do this to you. All I want to do… is protect you, be a man that you are proud of–”

“Drake–”

“Jodi Walker… you are the most precious thing this life has ever given me… damnit–” his breath hitches as he presses his face intimately into her hair, "I need you. God, everyday. I need you every fucking day. More and more." 

"I need you, too, baby," Jodi sweetly whispers in his ear, her voice hoarse from tears. She presses a firm kiss into his hairline, her fingers tangled tightly in his hair. “And I am proud of you.”

For the first time in almost six months, Drake suddenly understands what it means to be supported, to be heard and to be loved. It's not that his wife failed to do these things for him. But he realizes it's easy to feel comforted when he feels positive about himself and rewarded by life. He promised Jodi happiness, and he is bound and determined to ensure she always has that.

Even if that means hiding himself and his own demons.

But he had forgotten one very important detail: Jodi made the exact same promise of a happy life, to love him, and to comfort him through every curve ball thrown at them. He’s not that little boy anymore, suffering through his father’s death and mother’s abandonment alone. He has someone now, his person, his better half, his forever.

After spending some much needed time in each other's arms, whispering sentiments of love and sharing sweet kisses, the couple is interrupted by a tiny voice on the baby monitor.  They both stare at the device intently, finally raising an eyebrow to one another, holding their breath as they try to decipher the message. 

"Damnit! Okay! Fine. I have no idea,” Jodi confesses, throwing up her hands as a guilty expression paints across her face. “I have no fucking idea what the hell he is saying half the time."

"Shit, I thought it was just me," Drake snickers, rubbing his forehead.

Jodi slowly furrows her eyebrows. “You think he’s normal?”

“Meh,” Drake shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t think we’ve fucked him up too badly just yet–”

“Drake!” Jodi swats at her husband’s arm as he pretends to shield himself.  They tumble into a fit of snickers as Drake puts his arm around her shoulders, hugging her tightly.

"Well, I better go check on him," she gives a sorrowful smile before pressing her lips to Drake one last time. "Take your time… but don't dare keep me waiting alone for too long, Mr. Walker," she winks as she begins to slide out of the truck.

Drake grabs her elbow, pulling her back to his side as their mouths meet again. A soft moan tumbles from her chest as he strokes her hair back. 

"We're in this together… right, Mrs. Walker?" he kisses her nose, making her scrunch it up.

"Always."

------

By the time Drake makes it upstairs, a lone kitchen light illuminates his path in the open-concept layout of his apartment. He quietly sets his bag down next to the front door before kicking off his tennis shoes. He strips down into his white undershirt and boxer briefs, gathering his dirty scrubs to throw into the wash. 

Softly padding to the kitchen to warm up some dinner, he notices a certain little 3-year-old’s upside-down handprint on a piece of construction paper.  As he draws close to the craft, Drake’s smile begins to grow as the gray blob of paint begins to take the shape of an elephant, complete with a googly-eye glued near the base of the tiny thumb and his ear, toes and tail drawn on with a permanent marker, no doubt drawn on by Jodi.

To: Daddy

Drake traces the hand print, a sense of pride billowing in his chest. My boy. Feeling the tight ache in his cheeks from smiling, he glances towards Finn’s room and notices the door is ajar, his night light pouring through the crack out into the hallway. He quietly moseys to his son’s room, peering in to see his son, sleeping soundly with his chestnut strands sprawled out carelessly on his pillow. With a secure grip on a toy firetruck, the young child’s arm is relaxed over his head while the thumb of his other hand is tucked barely into the waistband of his dinosaur underwear.

Drake chuckles to himself, admiring the adorable vision when he suddenly looks down, noticing that he had his own thumb tucked into the waistband of his boxers.

And it hits him: what else am I unknowingly teaching him? 

Drake has fond memories of his father: camping, fishing, learning how to tie a tie, grilling the perfect steak, tuning up a car. But one thing he doesn’t like to think about are the times his father wasn’t there–especially since those times outnumber the moments he was present. 

And it was all for the sake of the job. Drake remembers phone calls in the middle of the night, impromptu international trips, interrupted holidays. And then when his dad was home, he wasn’t always present with them. Often times, his mother would shoo Drake and his younger sister away to allow for Jackson to rest by the fire with a bottle of scotch in his hands.

But Drake has nothing, but admiration and gratefulness for his dad, for all of the good times, the life lessons and pep talks. Because of the early, pleasant experiences, Drake always imagined raising his children the exact same way.

Only now that he’s in Cordonia, he’s not.

But that stops tonight.

Drake tenderly picks up his son, Finn’s head instantly nuzzling back to sleep on his dad’s shoulder, gripping tightly to his shirt. He knew that Jodi was probably going to kill him for getting the little one out of his bed, but at this moment, holding their boy, reminding him that Daddy is always there seems more important.  

Drake strolls into his bedroom with a snoozing Finn in his arms, wrapped up with his patch-work blankie.  With her eyes growing heavy, Jodi is mindlessly scrolling through TikTok in the dark when she hears her husband’s heavy steps. She sits up on her elbow, and then notices her son.

“Drake?” She turns on a lamp, slowly sitting up in bed.  “What are you doing? Is he okay—?”

“Yeah,” Drake looks down at his son, nestled in his arms, “everything is perfect now.”

------

The next morning, Drake feels renewed, like shackles have been broken off of his hands and feet, setting him free. There’s no sense of dread or anxiety. He doesn't feel agonizing guilt or slithering voices of self-loathing. Rather, he's at peace; he's comforted. He has a swelling of confidence in his chest and a new lease of determination in his soul. And when he wakes up next to his wife and son, his heart almost aches from the overflow of love for them. 

He contacts his work, notifying them that he would be present for his client at the regular scheduled start time in accordance with his contract. He took a very excited Finn to the kitchen for breakfast, knowing that his early-bird of a wife would be in shortly.

Only she wasn’t.

After bribing his son to take five ‘big boy bites’, Drake cleans Finn up before securing him inside a baby gate with his blankie and a new episode of Dino Ranch.  Returning to the kitchen, he pours a mug of piping hot coffee for Jodi while preparing a short stack of pancakes with spiced apple butter, his wife’s new favorite topping since moving to Cordonia.  Arranging the meal on a rustic, wooden tray, he carries it, tiptoeing carefully into the bedroom.  He finds her already up, rinsing out her mouth before returning to bed.

“Morning, Mrs. Walker,” he smiles, presenting her breakfast like a trophy.. 

“Mmmm, morning, Mr. Walker,” her voice is raspy. “I see you’ve been cooking–”

“Jo–” he interrupts, putting the tray down and cradling her face. “You okay?”  He gently strokes his thumbs across the dark, purple circles under her swollen eyes.

“Yeah,” she reassures, putting her hands on his wrists. “I–I’m just tired. Someone invited a certain little boy into our bed that I swear is going to be the kicker for the Cowboys someday."

“A kicker instead of a… walker?” he mischievously raises his eyebrows, ensuring his wife got the punchline. 

Oh, she did. Jodi playfully glares at her husband. "You know? Just because you're a dad now doesn't mean you have to tell dad jokes."

"You love my jokes," he badgers, his voice growing heated as his mouth grazes gently across her lips. 

"Mmmm… I love you," she croons. 

Their mouths meet again, but the intimate touch is gone too quickly. Jodi playfully pouts, the adorable sight coaxing Drake to kiss her again. And then again. And then once more. “Greedy girl this morning,” he growls, handing her the coffee before pinching her ass.

“Baby," she yelps. "Hey, wait… shouldn’t you be at work?” Jodi furrows her eyebrows before sniffing her mug and stealthily setting it down.

“Technically my contract says I have to be in by 8:30 AM. The only one that wants me there at 6 is my fucking client–”

“Drake,” she warns.

“What?” He shrugs his shoulders, feigning ignorance.

“Are you going to always refer to him as your ‘fucking client’?”

“That’s all he is, Jo,” he spits back. He watches his wife calmly push her loose tendrils behind her ear before she dips her finger into the apple butter. Drake sighs, “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just… it’s different. He’s different.”

“I guess I don’t understand. What about all the phone calls and facetimes?” She licks her finger. “I mean I know that all stopped when… uh, well… after everything happened, and–and–and you and I had Finn, then the wedding. But I thought surely you two would go back to–”

“It’s not like that anymore, Jo,” he sighs.  “I know you were hoping that somehow moving back here would be like some magical family reunion. It’s not. We’re not family anymore.”

“Have… you… talked to–?”

“No. And we don’t talk about her either.” He bites back, a silence falling between them as he stares at his twiddling thumbs. He finally sighs. “Look, Jo, I’m sorry. I know I’m being short with you, but this?  This is my nightmare. Every-fucking-day. I spend my entire day trying to save him, and he’s a stranger, as if we have absolutely no history. He’s… just a fucking asshole.”

Jodi places an endearing hand on his upper back. “I know, baby. But, you’re doing the right thing–”

“Right thing?” Drake blows a raspberry with his mouth.  “The only reason why I’m even here in Cordonia is I was a last ditch effort. He wants to move on, and they thought I’d be the cure,” he sarcastically snickers, “he doesn’t want a fucking cure.” He looks away from his wife, taking a moment to think.  “You know? They are actually considering hiring another ‘caretaker’,” he air-quotes, “but she has to be a young female–”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Who knows? Maybe that will interest him in wanting to stay.”

“Will she have big tits and dollar bills hanging out of her g-string?” Jodi jokes. 

“They can’t hire you,” Drake winks, earning him a swat from his wife. He gets up and retrieves her plate and mug. “Which… how is the training going at your new job?”

“It’s good,” she brightens, as she follows Drake into the kitchen where they can see Finn playing with his toy cars in the living area. “I start at the embassy on Monday, and then I’ll go to the satellite campuses for interviews after that—”

“Jodi?” He interjects, his voice becoming worrisome as he observes her untouched plate. “Aren’t you hungry? That’s fresh apple butter.” 

“I can tell it is,” she grins. “I’m just not hungry yet.”

Drake nods in understanding, but suddenly notices her untouched coffee, an early morning staple for a fully functioning Jodi Walker.

“So,” she continues, “I found out some good news.”

Drake sits down to put on his shoes, turning his ear to her. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“A spot opened up at the employee daycare, so I don’t think we need Sav afterall.” 

“Jo,” Drake runs his hands down his face, “we talked about this. Sav is family–”

“And this is the start of our son's education. Did you know that they use the same programs that the nobles use for private lessons–”

Drake grumbles. “Weren’t you just asking me if I thought he was normal?”

“Drake.”  

“--about how if we’ve fucked him up yet?”

“Drake Walker.”  Jodi crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Please don’t start with that noble shit right now. I’m only wanting the best for him. I love Sav, but I want him doing more than just playing with cars and watching television. Not to mention that drive? Everyday? Especially in Valtoria traffic?” 

“You also don’t have to go back to work,” Drake mutters. When he notices the room is silent, he turns around to see a glaring Jodi with her hands on her hips.  He nervously clears his throat. “Sorry. Continue, sweetheart.”

“He needs structure–”

“Have you met Bertrand?”

“Drake,” she rubs her head as if she is developing a headache.  She quietly saunters towards her husband, slowly snaking her hands around his abdomen. “Please. This will be really good for Finn. I promise.” She tightens her embrace, pressing her forehead into his broad chest. “They have an open house in a few weeks that we can go to. Would that make you feel better?”

Drake gently runs his hands up and down his wife’s back, milling around the information he just learned. He takes a deep breath, finally looking down and meeting her pleading gaze. “Fine. Open house, but Savannah until then.”

“Deal.”  Their lips meet briefly, eliciting a soft moan from Jodi.

“Any other benefits I should know about?” Drake sasses.

“Actually…” Jodi bites her bottom lip, “remember how I only got eight weeks off after I had Finn, and only six of them were paid for?”

Drake huffs under his breath as he pulls out his lunchbox to pack. “Don’t remind me… fucking school district is a bunch of crooks.”

Jodi widens her eyes, placing her pointer finger on her mouth as she shifts her eyes to Finn. Drake retracts his head like a turtle before mouthing the word sorry. 

“Anyway,” Jodi jovially rolls her eyes, “so get this: even as a part-time employee, I still get six months of paid maternity leave. Guaranteed.”

“O…kay.” Drake titters, opening up the refrigerator, “is this your subtle-not-so-subtle way of bringing up the baby conversation again?”

“No–I mean… sortof?” She cocks her head, her tongue pressed to the back of her teeth.  

The moment Drake hears the inflection in her voice, he freezes. Then whirls around to face his wife, noticing how extremely tired she looks. Then he turns to face the sink, glancing at her untouched plate and mug of coffee.

“Jo?” His eyes shift suspiciously towards his wife.

“Drake?” She smiles sheepishly.

“You’re… not…” he tries hard to stifle his smile, but the joy in his gaze betrays him.

Jodi shrugs her shoulders before nodding her head enthusiastically, biting her bottom lip. Within seconds, her husband scoops her up in his arms, lifting her off the ground as their lips melt in a tender kiss.

“Are you serious?  Wait… are you sure?”  He whispers. “You’re not fucking with me? We–we’re really having another baby?” Watching her husband fumble with his words, Jodi is consumed with giggles, her cheeks pinking with joy. Before she can even answer a single question, Drake pushes his mouth back into hers, tracing a trail of heated kisses to the back of her neck before finally embracing her tightly, burying his face into her gold locks. Wrapped in each other's arms, they fall into a pleasurable silence as they gently rock each other back and forth, basking in the blessing of turning into a family of four. “I love you, Jo.”

“Love you, Walker," she echoes hoarsely, sharing one last peck on his lips. Suddenly, she bounds to the baby gate where Finn is watching intently, reaching for his parents.  Jodi picks him up, saddling him on her hip as she spins him around. “And… I love you!” She squeals, grabbing his belly, tickling him lightly as he throws his head back with giggles.

“Oh, damnit.”

Jodi abruptly stops, growing concerned as her husband’s face drops. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized… I’m not gonna have any extra dollar bills for that new stripper–”

Jodi scrunches up her face. “Let’s get Daddy,” she whispers to Finn. They begin to tickle Drake as he shields himself, all the while laughing hysterically. “No strippers, ya hear me? Y’all are going to hire a sweet girl with manners…  that can keep her clothes on during working hours.”

“That’s what strippers do during working hours,” he snorts, enveloping his small family, planting a kiss on Finn's chubby cheek. As Drake tries to smooth down his son's inherited cowlick, he grows quiet, his expression pensive.  “You’re right, you know.”  Drake exhales, becoming more serious. “I do still care… And if I can’t make him feel better, then I hope this crazy plan of hiring a nice girl works.”

“I hope so too, baby.”

“I just hope she can break through to him,” he sighs, “and that it’s not too late.”

~🖤~

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[having-a-moritz-stiefel-moment]

girl help I’ve been possessed and forced to write glee fanfiction in the year of our lord 2022

[boxingcleverrr]

Popular Hades & Persephone "retellings" are, rightly, getting dunked on all over the socials right now and, as a Pagan who has an altar to the Queen, I could not be happier. But also, I feel like a lot of people miss WHY they're bad - aside from just plain bad writing and lazy tropes. Which are, yeah, also REALLY bad.

Pretty much all retellings try to wave away, or excuse, or twist the whole kidnapping bit. And I actually do have sympathy and understanding for why, when speaking from a modern perspective.

But honestly...you gotta get over it. There are other stories to play fix-it with, not this one.

The Abduction is The Thing.

Were I a little more sober I could bring up chapter and verse of the Hymn to Demeter but frankly, if you know even the middle school mythology curriculum version of the story, you SHOULD know the themes. The story of Persephone was one mothers and daughters in the ancient world held dear, because it was a reality: you will, one day, be swept away from your home to go cleave to a man you most likely know nothing about. You will miss your mother, but chances are very good that he will be a good husband, once you get to know him, certainly better than Zeus or Ares, and he will make you a queen of his home.

Leaving home to marry was often scary, and violent (look up the history of the tradition of Bridesmaids, if you don't already know it - they were originally decoys on the marriage road). Centuries later we'd have tales like Beauty & The Beast serving the same function: comfort, hope, you are leaving your safe loving home to figure life out with a (often older, powerful) stranger. Your trauma over this sudden ending of your childhood made manifest in a Beast, or a God of The Underworld.

It's wonderful that we don't NEED stories like this anymore to comfort us (here, at least, in this culture). But if you try to force them into modern vernacular it just will not work, not really, because you're gutting out the whole point just to have a more tidy romantic male hero.

I have read MANY very good ...novelizations? fanfic(? however you would frame them, but they're certainly not "retellings"), etc. that simply take advantage of the blank spaces in the myth, and there are many!

It's not explicit that sexual assault happens - "The Rape of Persephone" as a title was coined in much earlier eras, when the word was just as often used to simply refer to abduction.

"She was starving!" the gods didn't need to eat. So it's easy to read her eating the Pom seeds as a deliberate choice on her part. Like, shit, people, scholars have written whole papers on the symbolism of this moment, between marriage rites and even yeah, Seph choosing both worlds with her husband's knowing consent.

And that, I think, is the real heart of the thing. People want an utterly mundane, spelled-out story here, as opposed to what it really is, has always been, just like any other myth or religious parable: IT'S A METAPHOOOOOOR.

They don't need to be destined, or meet at a goddamned BALL and then CONSPIRE to fake her kidnapping, or shit, I once saw one where Hades got MIND CONTROLLED by Zeus?! Jesus.

Persephone was yoinked into the Underworld against her will.

That's how it went.

I don't mean this in a "stay out of my belief system!" way, shit I'm a white American chick with delusions of witchery. I mean this in a "stop stressing yourself out trying to make things palatable" way:

This is a very real, very precious myth to many people, BECAUSE for at least that one event, Persephone had no autonomy, BECAUSE for thousands of years most women had no autonomy. Erasing that, sanitizing the fact that a girl is ripped out of the spring, from her mother's arms, is erasing the thing that gave comfort to women for centuries. And people can and should still find power and healing in it now!

Fill in the blanks the story leaves in whatever manner seems fit to you, there's plenty of room, but. Come the fuck on.

[emperorundying]

TLT Dash Simulator Pt 2

⚔️ cav4cav

Crazy take but people with natural thanergy can swing a sword too if they want to. It literally doesn't hurt you at all.

💜 necromxntic Follow

"people with natural thanergy" you mean necromancers. if you mean necromancers, say necromancers.

🦇 gaiuspilled-necrocel Follow

It could hurt me if they hit me with a sword :(

⚔️ cav4cav

I shouldn't have to say this but I guess I do!!! If you believe natural thanergy = inherent necro, STAY OFF OF MY BLOG!!

#howww do these people even keep finding my blog #i am literally a thanergetic cavalier you do not believe i exist stay the fuck away

( 37 notes )

🩸 bloodnblingee Follow

Seventh gifset for anon!! I loveeee the seventh house aesthetic so much, sorry about the disease :( hope u like this!!

#seventh house #anon #request #gif edit #7th

( 413 notes )

🎩 taintofpatience Follow

The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To (Alone With You)

Fandom: Religious RPF

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Emperor Undying (Necrolord Prime) / The Saint of Patience (Augustine The First)

Characters: Emperor Undying (Necrolord Prime), The Saint of Patience (Augustine The First), The Saint of Joy (Mercymorn The First)

Tags: Smut, Angst, Apostles to Lovers, Kissing, Friends With Benefits, Pining, Blasphemy, Religion Kink, PWP

Summary: Our Lord and Resurrector brings something else to life-- his first saint's libido. Beginning starts a little slow but after that it's mostly just Jaugustine fucking and sucking LOL

Keep reading

#rpf #religious fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #augustine the first #emperor undying #necrolord prime #jaugustine #emperor john gaius #nsft

( 3,004 notes )

💀 drearybruh Follow

when yr a fucking meal but she only ever wanted a snack

💀 drearybruh Follow

it's fine. im fine. im doing great fuck you

💎 saintofawe ☑️ Follow

L + Ratio + Found your vent blog Gibbon (:

#and when our lord and emperor confronts me about cruelty towards his second-choice daughter figure I will remind him ever so gracefully that you do it to yourself #like the Radiohead song

( 1,384 notes )

💉 se7en Follow

weekly poll!! <3

( 14,685 notes )

🪩 3flesh5end Follow

THE TOWER PRINCES ARE 19 AND 23????

🪩 3flesh5end Follow

GET THEM OFF THE BATTLEFIELD THEY SHOULD BE AT THE CLUB!!!!

#not to defend a war criminal but kiriona is literally just a girl in the universe.... #let her dance! #come to the third girl i could treat you better

( 269 notes )

☠️ is-the-emperor-undying-dead-yet Follow

nope.

[certainlynotasimp]

Walking on Sunshine

A/N: Hello✨ I realize that my post about Miguel’s height kinda blew up and I kinda wanna try writing a quick little blurb to see if you guys will like it. I been wanting to dove into fanfics, but I’ve been too scared to do so. Please leave some critics for me as I literally just typed this little thing on my phone last night.

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, established relationship? (It’s kinda up to interpretation how deep you want it to be), no use of Y/n (‘Sunny’ is there nickname’).

I haven’t seen the movie so this maybe inaccurate.

TDLR: Miles is meeting all sorts of new Spider-Men as he adventures the Lobby, but who is ‘Sunny’?

—————————————-

As Gwen led Miles around the Lobby with Hobie and Jessica, they reached the main area where they were set to meet the leader.

In the distance, the group can hear arguing, which causes the others to sigh as Miles looks to them in confusion.

“Um, what’s all that about?” Miles questions as he listens more closely as they head towards the noise. As they draw closer, he realizes that the argument sounded more like a deep masculine voice fuming while a softer voice attempts to calm them down.

Jessica chuckles and rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing, most likely Sunny trying to calm down our fearless leader.”

“Sunny?” Miles quirks an eyebrow as Hobie groans.

“I swear, if Sunny wasn’t here, I would have thrashed that prick by now.”

“Now, Hobie, you know Sunny wouldn’t let that happen.” Jessica chuckles as she rubs her aching back. “Besides, you know he can’t stay mad at her for long.”

“Um Excuse me,” Miles interjects, clearly annoyed that they ignored him. “Who is this Sunny? Is she another Spider-Woman or?”

Gwen giggles at Miles’ frustration and nudges him. “Sunny is one of us and Miguel’s favorite, so if you plan to piss off Miguel, make sure Sunny is there to calm him down.”

“Why would I plan to-“

His sentence gets interrupted as the door opens and someone peeks their head out. The woman was about the same height as Gwen and had on a black spider suit. The suit had sections of white on her chest and inner sides of her arms and thighs. The lines of her costume appear to be black with a faint green iridescent in the light. Her eyes shined with a silent apology as her cheeks glowed red. Despite her obvious embarrassment, she smiles at the group brightly.

“Hey, guys.” She greets them in a sweet tone before her eyes lock on Miles. “I see you brought in the legendary Miles Morales, Gwen.”

“You know who I am?” Miles questioned the woman as she opened the door for the group. His eyes glare at Gwen as she responds with a giggle.

“Of course, Gwen told me all about your inter dimensional adventure. You certainly handled yourself well. Even Miggy was impressed.”

Hobie and Jessica laugh at the mention of the nickname while Gwen at least attempts to try not to snort. Sunny tilts her head as she looks quizzically at the laughing trio while Miles looks dumbfounded.

“Whose Miggy?” He ask before a tall man appears on the platform above them.

His burgundy eyes glared down at the group with annoyance as he sighs. “Cariño…”

Sunny looks up at Miguel with an innocent smile as she looks at Miguel with eager anticipation. Miles’ watches as the intimating Spider-Man’s eyes soften as he places his hands on his hips.

“Why don’t you go meet Peter and babysit Mayday for him? I’m sure this meeting won’t take too long.” Miguel’s voice sounded stoic as Sunny’s energy bounced at the thought of playing with a baby.

“Okay!” She agrees as she quickly gives everyone either a hug or a pat. “And Miggy?” She calls as she shoots a web out of the open door, ready for her quick escape.

“Yes?” He answers with a lifted brow as he chooses to ignore Gwen, finally snorting out a laugh.

“Don’t.” She warns with pleading eyes with an unspoken request.

A silent argument playing between them as they both know what’s about to happen. An unfair choice about to be given to a kid. A choice that everyone else had to make in order to become the protectors of their worlds. A judgement that they both wish didn’t have to happen as they weren’t even given the option for their own loved ones.

She looks at Miles briefly as she knows he can’t help to make this life changing decision. She knows how this is probably gonna go and she doesn’t blame him. She would probably fight her hardest if she had known what would have happened to her-.

“I won’t.” Miguel answers, drawing her attention back on him. His eyes stern with a glimmer of guilt, knowing he can’t exactly promise that he will stay in control of his rage if Miles decides to run.

“Alrighty.” Sunny replied before smiling. “You guys have fun.”

With that she left, Miguel softly returning her smile as he watch her leave before becoming stern again as Miles asks,

“So how do I join this team?”

——————-

A/N: That’s all I got for now.😅. I would appreciate some critique and if you wanna see more of ‘Sunny’ and Miggy, let me know.