#i actually think monica would listen to her

[sunflowerpastels]

monica would absolutely be a swiftie i will take no notes

[pyroclastic727]

The Marvels is being scathed by critics, and that's a good thing.

I finally saw The Marvels today. I'm a bit late to the party, so all I saw about the movie was the teaser at the end of Ms Marvel, and way too many critical reviews of it.

Now, obviously on Tumblr you find the good reviews, like, the cats outnumbering the white men and how Kamala Khan is, like, basically all of us. But in person, I've had someone tell me that it's bad because Rotten Tomatoes rates it 43%, which-- besides wondering why anyone would listen to Rotten Tomatoes, I'd have to wonder why the website would give it such a low rating. The easy answer is that the Tomatoes review committee is populated by white men, who, upon having no one to relate to, react badly to the movie. But I think there's more to it.

The Marvels is a revolution. Through its character-driven writing and brazen exploration of morality, it rewrites the superhero formula completely, by questioning what exactly it means to be a superhero.

The Marvels was directed by Nia DaCosta, an award-winning Harlem native and creative visionary whose approach to this film was to define these characters as humans, not as superheroes. Her approach to heroism directly addresses that the idea that a hero is not always right. A hero, DaCosta claims, is "someone who's trying their best with the information and tools they have at the time. They'll always get it wrong." Carol Danvers's arc directly addresses this, as the resolution of her subplot involves her re-igniting the sun that she snuffed out. Her heroic act is to undo the damage that she wrought.

When compared to old Marvel, this message just doesn't come through. In WandaVision, Wanda's grief is for a family that was killed by the Avengers. Yet, she is painted as a villain, even as she searches for a happy home, even as she at one point joins the Avengers. The Avengers cannot undo what they did, and don't really try. They defeat the big bad, sacrifice their lives, but nothing brings back Wanda's family. Nothing undoes that war. No one searches for Wanda after the event, to try to help her with her grief, except for Monica, and she's working against orders. Their heroics are militant, but while they excel at destruction, they leave the people they hurt in the dust.

This antiheroic plot of old Marvel is precisely what appealed to so many American audiences. Their protagonists are: a rich corporation, a super-soldier, a privileged teenager, a scientist who makes weapons, an ex-convict, a man born into godlike power, and I'm sure there are others but I don't actually care that much... (these would be iron man, captain america, peter parker spiderman, hulk, antman, thor, and etc). All these archetypes appeal to American ideals that the wealthy would sympathize with. They claim that there are people who are inherently bad and seek the power that they have, in the way that a poor person might want a job that a wealthy person wants their child to secure. They claim that it is their business to save those which cannot save themselves, and use this to get involved in wars that are not theirs, and beat up badguys whose backstory they have no way of knowing-- and they punch before they stop and listen.

They are cops in every sense of the word. The responsibility of the vigilante is to defend against evil, but part of that responsibility is to figure out who exactly is evil and who is in need of help.

The Marvels creates a team that tries to distinguish evil from good, and delves into the grey area between them. The final battle between Carol Danvers and Dar-benn has the superhero pinning the grey-haired antagonist to the ground as she begs for, then demands, that Carol fix what she damaged. Monica urges her to listen. Through this, The Marvels argues that a hero does not always beat up the bad guy and fight against unrelenting evil, but that a hero can be wrong, and that a hero can reconsider. It's kindness in the way that is revolutionary, where it's much easier to choose cruelty.

The fact that the movie is getting torn apart by critics, then, is not just because it is a "girls movie" or it doesn't have a strong white man for the white male viewer to sympathize with. The Marvels cannot appeal to Marvel fans because it rewrites the genre itself. It takes a film series whose purpose was to depict the struggles of cops, of the wealthy, of people with too much power who are trying to learn how to responsibly wield it, but don't. And it gives that power to people who have watched superheroes try and fail, who are slowly learning to be better heroes than the ones before them.

The next generation is a critique of the last, a group trying not to make the mistakes of the chosen ones that came before them, and as such, the movie exists to critique the movies that came before it. Therefore, a viewer of Marvel who would positively review it, due to sympathizing with the previous heroes and enjoying the power fantasy, would dislike it out of its existence being critical and contradictory to the films they like themselves.

The Marvels is not for Marvel fans-- at least, not those who saw the Avengers as purely heroes. Instead, the film reaches out to people who would have been against the old Avengers, who want a story that dismantles the unquestioned idealism of superheroes and writes about people trying to protect their communities and the people they care about.

So, let the critics complain. The MCU is shedding its roots as a pro-cop and pro-colonialism power fantasy, and evolving into an exploration of what it means to be a true hero.

[drewharrisonwriter]

Life Well Loved

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Dieter Bravo’s life proves that plans are overrated—and he’s never been more right about not having one.

Word Count: 12.9k words -- I KNOW! (In Monica Geller's voice)

A/N: Am I having a Dieter brain rot? Why yes, yes, I am. I know I should be writing the next chapter of Lifeline, but here we are. This story contains themes of pregnancy and navigating unexpected life changes, with emotionally intense scenes that touch on topics like potential pregnancy termination, personal doubts, and fears. Though it's mostly fluff, the narrative leans toward a hopeful and supportive direction but explores the complexities of relationships and personal growth. Because hey, it's Dieter!

Warnings: Allusion to abortion, brief mentions of substance use (past), discussions of anxiety and self-doubt, public scrutiny/social media negativity, mentions of past parental loss, minor family tensions, and emotional conversations around pregnancy. Please read with care if these subjects are sensitive for you.

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, it would mean the world to me. Just send me a message 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

Dieter Bravo never thought he’d end up married, let alone to his best friend. It wasn’t the kind of love story he had planned for himself, but then again, Dieter’s plans were usually an afterthought to his impulsive nature. He met her—his wife, the love of his life—years ago at a book signing. He’d been dragged there by a friend who swore her mystery novels were like something straight out of an Agatha Christie thriller, but with a modern, edgier twist.

“Come on, man. Just try something new,” his friend had nudged, practically shoving Dieter into the crowded bookstore. “She’s hot and her books are actually good. Not that you’d know.”

Dieter rolled his eyes but followed, pretending not to care. He didn’t read much beyond scripts, but when he saw her—standing there all wide-eyed and charming behind the signing table, chatting easily with fans—he was hooked. She had this warmth about her, a smile that reached her eyes, and a way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room.

When it was his turn in line, Dieter cleared his throat, a little unsure of what to say. “So, uh, is it true you based your killer on your ex?” he asked, flashing her his signature smirk.

She looked up, amused. “Only the charming parts. The murderous tendencies are purely fictional.”

Dieter chuckled, genuinely entertained. “Good to know. I’ll keep my charming side in check.”

She laughed, and Dieter swore he could listen to that sound all day. But the moment passed quickly, and they parted ways, the brief exchange lingering in Dieter’s mind longer than he’d like to admit.

They didn’t reconnect until months later when Dieter landed the role of a lifetime in the film adaptation of one of her books. He played the brooding lead, a role he was born to play, and she was on set every day, consulting on the story she knew better than anyone.

“Bravo!” she called out one afternoon, waving the script in the air as he finished a scene. “I think you missed a line, but you definitely nailed the smirk.”

“Missed the line? Nah, I made it better,” Dieter shot back, strutting over with that effortless confidence of his. “Besides, isn’t the lead supposed to be mysterious and broody? I’m just adding layers.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Layers of bullshit, maybe.”

Their banter was easy, and soon, late nights spent in hotel bars became their thing. They’d laugh over terrible room service and even worse dialogue changes, often rewriting entire scenes together between drinks.

“Do you think the audience is gonna buy this twist?” Dieter asked one night, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on a napkin. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It’s a mystery, Bravo. It’s supposed to be dramatic,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Besides, you’re the one bringing it to life. If anyone can sell it, it’s you.”

Over the years, their friendship grew deeper. Dieter adored her—not just for her talent, but for the way she saw right through him. She didn’t care about the Hollywood persona; she cared about the guy who struggled with his lines, laughed too loudly, and occasionally got lost in his own head. And it was clear to anyone who knew him that she was the only one who truly got him.

“Why do you even stick around?” Dieter asked one night, half-drunk and more vulnerable than he intended. They were sitting on the balcony of some hotel in Vancouver, the city lights flickering below them, empty glasses scattered between them.

She looked over at him, surprised at the question but not at the insecurity behind it. “You’re kidding, right? Who else is gonna put up with my obsessive rewriting of everything?”

Dieter smirked, but the self-deprecation was still there, hovering. “I’m serious, baby. You’ve seen me at my worst. Hell, you’ve probably seen me at my best, and let’s be real, there’s not a whole lot of difference.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture. “Come on, Dee. You think I don’t know who you are? I’ve watched you screw up a million times and still pull it off somehow. You’re not as hopeless as you think.”

“Yeah, but it’s all smoke and mirrors,” he muttered, leaning back and staring at the city. “I’m just this mess pretending to be a movie star. And people buy it, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act.”

She leaned closer, her smile gentle but knowing. “You’re not acting, Dee. This is you—chaotic, brilliant, all over the place. And somehow it works. That’s why people love you. It’s why I love you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, but it’s not exactly the stuff that makes for a stable life. I can’t even commit to a weekly gym routine, let alone… you know, anything permanent.”

“Well, it’s good you know that about yourself,” she said, her tone more serious now. “But just because you’re not ready for all that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. You’ve built this crazy, messy, amazing life, and you’ve done it on your terms.”

Dieter glanced at her, the sincerity in her eyes almost too much to bear. “But it’s still just a mess, right? Like, I don’t know how to be the guy who settles down, who has the white picket fence and the kids. It’s not in me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make you any less,” she pointed out, nudging his knee with hers. “You’re the guy who shows up when it counts, who makes people laugh when they need it, who cares more than he lets on. And that’s enough, Dee. It really is.”

Dieter stared at her, his expression softening. “You make it sound like I’m not totally screwing everything up.”

“Because you’re not,” she said simply, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing what works for you, and that’s more than most people can say. So don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

They sat in a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from knowing each other inside and out. Dieter wasn’t sure if he could ever really change, but with her by his side, he felt like maybe he didn’t need to.

The media loved to ask when Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s lovable mess, was going to settle down. He always laughed it off, brushing it aside with jokes and his trademark self-deprecation. “Settle down?” he’d scoff to reporters, flashing that crooked grin. “Have kids? I can barely take care of myself. I mean, who’s gonna look after the baby when I’m off in Cabo or Amsterdam on a bender?”

He was always open about not wanting to be tied down, convinced that marriage and fatherhood were responsibilities he’d inevitably screw up just like everything else. Deep down, he didn’t think he was cut out for it. Not the commitment, not the kids—none of it. And yet, every time he thought about those nights spent talking with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his fears.

The truth was, Dieter loved being around kids, especially when visiting his favorite charities—arts programs, hospitals, anywhere that needed his presence to brighten the day. He had a soft spot for the kids who showed up at his movie premieres with homemade signs and for the shy ones who peeked out from behind their parents at hospital visits, their eyes lighting up at the sight of a real-life movie star. He’d spend hours signing autographs, posing for pictures, and handing out gifts. But wanting that momentary joy and having it every day were two entirely different things, and he didn’t think he was built for the kind of life that meant forever.

Then there was Vegas. It was one of those wild weekends that only Dieter and his friends could pull off, the kind that started with a simple plan and spiraled into chaos before anyone could catch their breath. They were there to celebrate a friend’s birthday—a milestone that felt more like a warning than a celebration to Dieter, who had spent the better part of the year dodging questions about settling down and growing up.

The night was a blur of neon lights, overpriced drinks, and the kind of reckless energy that only Vegas could inspire. Dieter and his best friend were deep into their third round of shots at some tacky but charming casino bar, laughing so hard their sides hurt. The conversation was easy, like it always was, jumping from half-remembered movie quotes to bad relationship stories that only got funnier with every shot.

“Remember when you two were drunk off margaritas and swore you’d get married if you were still single at 35?” one of their friends blurted out, pointing at Dieter and her with a tipsy grin. “Well, look at that—clock’s ticking, you two.”

“Oh please, they’d kill each other in a week,” another friend chimed in, rolling their eyes dramatically. “But hey, at least the headlines would be great.”

Dieter leaned back, smirking. “You think she’d kill me? I’m charming as hell.”

She snorted, leaning in closer to Dieter. “Charming? Sure, Dee, if charming means spilling three drinks and forgetting your lines.”

“Oh, you love it, don’t lie,” Dieter shot back, nudging her shoulder playfully.

Their friends egged them on, throwing out half-baked marriage advice between sips of whatever was in their glasses. “Just make sure you don’t pull a Ross and say the wrong name at the altar,” one joked, and they all burst into laughter, doubling over as the drinks kept flowing.

“Hey, I can pronounce her name just fine,” Dieter retorted, raising his glass to her. “What do you say, baby? You and me, Vegas style.”

“Wel…we’re way past 35 now…” she said, still smiling but now with a hint of mischief, “technically, we missed our window… so might as well make good on that old pact, right?”

Dieter stared at her, the room spinning slightly as he tried to read between the lines. They were supposed to be just friends, right? But it didn’t feel like a joke anymore, not when she looked at him like that. And for once, he didn’t want to think it through. He didn’t want to second-guess it or talk himself out of it like he usually did.

“Fuck it,” Dieter said, grinning wider than he had in months. “Let’s do it. You and me, baby. Let’s get hitched.”

Their friends erupted in cheers, half-shocked, half-encouraging, but it didn’t matter. They were drunk on cheap tequila and the reckless abandon of the Vegas Strip, where anything seemed possible. Before Dieter knew it, they were stumbling into a tacky little chapel off the main drag, the kind with neon hearts and an Elvis impersonator in the back who’d seen one too many late-night weddings.

The ceremony was a blur. Dieter remembered laughing so hard that he nearly dropped the ring—some gaudy, oversized thing they’d bought from a souvenir shop on the way over—and the way she squeezed his hand so tightly he could feel her nerves mixing with his own. There were no big speeches or dramatic declarations of love, just a lot of giggling, whispered jokes, and the kind of easy joy that felt like it belonged to them and them alone.

“Do you, Dieter Bravo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the Elvis officiant drawled, barely keeping it together.

Dieter glanced at her, still half-expecting her to back out at the last second. But she was looking at him, eyes full of that familiar mix of sarcasm and something deeper that he’d never quite put a name to. “I do,” he said, and for once, it didn’t feel like a lie.

“And do you, sweetheart, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Elvis asked, already cracking a grin.

She squeezed Dieter’s hand, barely containing her laughter. “Hell yeah, I do.”

Elvis squinted, pausing dramatically. “Are you sure? Divorces are expensive. Trust me, I’ve had three.”

Their friends howled from the pews, tossing out quips. “Yeah, blink twice if you need an escape plan!” one of them shouted, while another chimed in, “You’re stuck with him now, good luck!”

Dieter threw his arm around her, laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m the best terrible decision you’ll ever make.”

She leaned in, grinning. “Guess we’re both screwed then.”

They kissed, and it was messy and off-center, but it felt right. It was the kind of kiss that was more about the laughter and less about the perfection of the moment, which was exactly how Dieter liked it. When they pulled apart, he was breathless, and she was glowing in a way that made the whole crazy, impulsive thing feel like the best decision he’d ever made.

They walked out of that chapel with matching rings and a new reality that neither of them fully understood but were more than willing to figure out together. And in true Dieter fashion, they celebrated the only way they knew how—by grabbing greasy burgers at an all-night diner and gambling away the rest of the night like newlyweds who couldn’t care less about what tomorrow would bring.

For once in his life, Dieter didn’t feel like he was running from anything. He was running toward something—toward her—and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

–

The first few months of marriage were an unpredictable whirlwind, much like the wedding itself. There were no grand changes, no dramatic shifts—just more of the same easy companionship they’d always had, now with the added humor of “Mrs. Bravo” peppered into their banter. They spent mornings in Dieter’s cluttered kitchen, arguing over the best way to make coffee while stumbling over each other in pajamas that never quite matched. Evenings were spent curled up on the couch, watching bad movies and stealing kisses during the credits like lovesick teenagers.

Their friends couldn’t get enough of it, either. The tabloids had gone wild over the news—Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s most notorious bachelor, suddenly married to his long-time friend in a drunken Vegas escapade. Headlines like “Bravo’s Big Gamble” and “Hollywood’s Wildest Newlyweds” splashed across every gossip rag in the country. But Dieter and his wife took it in stride, shrugging off the noise and focusing on what actually mattered: them.

His family had been just as surprised but in the best way. They had welcomed her with open arms from the very first time she and Dieter had visited together. His mom had pulled her into a tight hug at the door, immediately peppering her with questions about her books and telling her how she had a shelf dedicated to them in the living room. Dieter’s siblings loved her, too—his sister often roping her into baking sessions in the kitchen, laughing over old stories about Dieter’s childhood antics that usually ended with him covered in mud or glitter or some combination of both.

It wasn’t long before she became a staple in their family gatherings, fitting in as if she’d always been there. Sunday dinners at the Bravo house turned into her favorite ritual. She’d help Dieter’s mom in the kitchen, rolling out dough for pies while swapping recipes and stories. Dieter’s nieces and nephews adored her, crowding around to hear tales of mystery and adventure, eyes wide as she brought her characters to life with every word.

“Can you tell us the one about the detective who finds the secret tunnel again?” one of his nephews had asked during Thanksgiving, tugging at her sleeve.

She smiled, glancing at Dieter, who was sitting at the head of the table, grinning like an idiot. “Only if you promise to help me figure out what’s at the end of it,” she teased, ruffling his hair.

His father, a retired fertility expert who had always been the more reserved member of the family, quickly warmed up to her, too. They’d sit on the porch during long afternoons, sipping coffee and talking about life, books, and the occasional scientific trivia that she found endlessly fascinating. He appreciated her wit, her genuine interest in everyone around her, and the way she always seemed to make his son smile.

As the year rolled by, the Bravo family embraced her more and more, and she felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t expected. She was no longer just Dieter’s wife; she was a daughter-in-law, a sister, and an aunt. She was family.

So when Christmas rolled around again, she was eager to be back at the Bravo household, despite feeling under the weather. She’d been sick for nearly two weeks, and Dieter had been worried. She barely ate, surviving mostly on pesto chicken paninis and iced coffee—the only things she could keep down. Still, she was excited to see his family, to bask in the warmth of his mother’s home-cooked meals and his sister-in-law’s desserts. She was looking forward to being surrounded by people who loved her as much as she loved them.

The moment they stepped through the front door, Dieter’s mom engulfed her in a hug, commenting on how thin she looked, and his sister immediately dragged her into the kitchen, insisting on making her favorite cookies. Dieter watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smile. She fit here—so naturally, so effortlessly—that it almost made him forget how odd it all still felt to be someone’s husband. But then she’d look at him across the room, with that same smile she’d had since the bar in Vegas, and it felt right.

But as they settled into the cozy familiarity of his childhood home, Dieter’s father began to notice something. It wasn’t just that she looked tired—there was something else. A subtle glow to her skin, the way her eyes would soften when she looked at Dieter, the quiet but unmistakable aversions to certain foods she normally loved. When she grimaced at the sight of his wife’s famous lasagna and instead picked at a simple salad, he raised an eyebrow. He had seen it before, four times with his own wife, and the theory formed in his mind almost instantly.

It was the little things: how she leaned into Dieter when she thought no one was looking, resting her head on his shoulder like she couldn’t quite keep herself upright; the way her laughter was softer, tinged with something almost nervous. She hadn’t touched a drop of wine the entire evening, claiming she wasn’t in the mood, which was unlike her—especially when Dieter’s mom brought out her favorite bottle from the cellar.

Dieter’s dad observed quietly, piecing together the signs with a mix of curiosity and growing certainty. He knew better than to jump to conclusions, but every instinct told him that there was more to her recent sickness than a simple bug.

–

Later that evening, after dinner, Dieter and his father found themselves outside on the patio. The chill in the air was biting, and Dieter’s breath formed little puffs of smoke as he lit a cigarette, the faint glow of the ember flickering in the dark. He offered one to his dad, who simply shook his head, declining as usual. They settled into an easy silence, the kind that came from years of shared moments like these, watching the yard stretch out before them, dotted with twinkling Christmas lights that cast a warm, festive glow over the familiar landscape.

Dieter took a long drag, savoring the brief buzz of nicotine, and leaned back in his chair. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that always made him think too much, but tonight he welcomed it. He glanced sideways at his dad, whose face was half-lit by the soft glow of the porch light, lost in thought as he nursed his coffee.

“You know, son,” his father said finally, breaking the silence, “I couldn’t help but notice something about her tonight.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? Like what?”

His father hesitated, his expression thoughtful as he swirled the coffee in his mug. “She’s been feeling under the weather, hasn’t she? Seems a bit off.”

Dieter nodded, taking another drag and blowing out the smoke in a slow stream. “Yeah, she’s been sick for a couple of weeks. Picky about food, which isn’t like her. She’s basically living on those pesto chicken paninis. She can’t keep much else down.”

His father chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing, like he was recalling something long ago. “Huh. That’s interesting. Reminds me of your mom back in the day.”

Dieter frowned, glancing over at him. “What do you mean?”

There was a pause, and his father’s eyes stayed fixed on the yard, lost in a memory that Dieter couldn’t quite place. Finally, he spoke, his tone careful, almost gentle. “Have you considered she might be pregnant?”

Dieter’s reaction was instant—he snorted, nearly choking on his cigarette smoke as he laughed it off, but the sound was more nervous than amused. “Pregnant? Nah, no way. She’s got an IUD. Besides, we’ve been careful.”

His father smiled, but it wasn’t condescending. It was the kind of smile that spoke of experience, of having lived through more than one surprise in his lifetime. “IUDs aren’t foolproof, son. Nothing is. And I’ve seen those signs before. Aversions, fatigue, the way she looked at food tonight… I saw it with your mother every time she was pregnant.”

Dieter’s laugh faded, replaced by an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends as his mind raced. “You’re serious?”

“Look, I’m not saying she is,” his father said, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “But I’ve been around this long enough to know the signs when I see them. I’m just saying, it’s possible.”

Dieter stared out at the yard, the once comforting sight now blurred by the thoughts colliding in his mind. He tried to dismiss it, to chalk it up to his dad’s habit of overanalyzing things. But suddenly, every little moment from the past few weeks replayed in his head like a reel he couldn’t pause: the way she’d cried over soup earlier that evening, overwhelmed by finally finding something she could eat; the quiet, tired smiles; the sudden need to rest her head on his shoulder whenever she got the chance. Dieter had brushed it off as just a rough patch—nothing serious, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with rest and time.

But now, hearing his father say it out loud, it all started to click. The missed meals, the strange cravings, her emotional reactions to things that normally wouldn’t faze her. It was like putting together a puzzle he didn’t even know he was working on.

“What do I do if you’re right?” Dieter finally asked, his voice low, tinged with a mix of fear and something else he couldn’t quite name.

His father took another sip of his coffee, considering his son carefully. “You talk to her. Find out for sure. And whatever the outcome, you handle it together. That’s what this is, Dieter. Marriage, family—it's not about knowing every answer. It’s about facing it together, no matter how unexpected it is.”

Dieter nodded, though his mind was still reeling. He didn’t know if he was ready for what his father was suggesting, but one thing was clear: he needed to talk to her. His dad’s words hung heavy in the cold night air, and suddenly, the easygoing world Dieter had grown comfortable in felt a little less certain. 

–

That night, back in their room at Dieter’s parents’ house, the tension lingered like a thick fog. They were staying for the weekend, and though the familiarity of the guest room usually felt comforting, tonight it felt like the walls were closing in. Dieter sprawled out on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV without really watching. His mind was a mess of half-formed thoughts, circling back to the conversation with his father, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

She was curled up next to him, absorbed in her Kindle, but every so often, Dieter noticed her shifting slightly, like she couldn’t quite get comfortable. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out how to bring up what was weighing on him without sounding like he’d lost his mind.

“So, funny story,” Dieter started, forcing a lightness into his tone that he didn’t feel. “My dad has this theory. He thinks you might be pregnant.”

She looked up from her Kindle, her brow furrowing as she processed his words. “What? Where’d that come from?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dieter laughed, though it sounded more nervous than amused. He fidgeted with the remote, clicking through channels too fast to see what was on. “He’s been watching you tonight, noticing stuff. You know, the food aversions and all that. He said something about it reminding him of when my mom was pregnant.”

She blinked, staring at him like she wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious. “That’s… random. I mean, it’s just paninis and iced coffee. And I’ve been stressed, that’s all. I mean, I have an IUD.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told him,” Dieter said, shrugging. “I told him it’s not possible, right? But he kept going on about how those things aren’t foolproof and—”

She cut him off, her laugh sharp and a little shaky. “No, yeah, of course. It’s just… I mean, we’ve been careful. I thought…”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk crossing his lips. “Careful? Are we really?” He gave her a knowing look, recalling their many reckless moments. “I mean, I lost count of the times we said, ‘eh, what’s the worst that could happen?’”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands, but she couldn’t hide the grin peeking through. “Oh God, don’t remind me. You said it’d be fine because ‘science, baby!’”

“Yeah, classic me,” Dieter laughed, feeling the tension break just a little. “Maybe our ‘science’ needs some workshopping.”

They chuckled, genuinely amused by their own recklessness. For a moment, it felt like any other night, just the two of them joking around like they always did. But then the laughter faded, and the unspoken possibility lingered, nudging at the back of their minds.

Dieter hesitated, then set the remote down, his voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “IUDs aren’t a hundred percent, you know.”

She didn’t say anything right away, her eyes locked on him as if searching for some reassurance he couldn’t quite give. Finally, she set her Kindle aside, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Do you think… do you think he’s right?”

The question hung in the air, too big to ignore, and neither of them moved. Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing. “I don’t know, baby. But we could… find out.”

She nodded, her breath hitching slightly, and they didn’t wait to talk themselves out of it. The drive to the pharmacy was tense and quiet, but the nervous energy turned into something almost comical when they got inside. Dieter, trying to look inconspicuous in his cap and mask, accidentally grabbed a COVID test from the shelf and tossed it in the basket without looking.

She glanced at it, biting back a laugh. “Dee, unless you’re worried I’ve got a pandemic brewing, I think you grabbed the wrong kind of test.”

“What?” He squinted at the box, his eyes widening. “Oh, shit. I just saw ‘test’ and panicked. Could you imagine? ‘Congratulations, you’re… COVID positive!’”

They both snorted, trying to suppress their laughter as they swapped it out for a pile of pregnancy tests. “At least we’re wearing masks,” she quipped, trying to hide her nerves behind the humor.

Dieter nodded, their masks pulling at their grins as they paid quickly and slipped back out into the night. Back in their room, she took the tests into Dieter’s private bathroom, thankful she didn’t have to make the awkward walk down the hallway past his nephews, who were still glued to the PlayStation. Dieter paced the room, his anxiety growing with every passing second. He could hear the faint sounds of her moving in the bathroom—running water, the crinkle of plastic, the sound of her soft sighs—and each noise sent a jolt of unease through him.

He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. What if his dad was right? What if they were really about to become parents? He didn’t know how to do this—any of it. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad. Hell, he could barely take care of himself most days. But then he thought about her, about the way she used to talk about wanting a family, back in the early days of their friendship, years before they got married. She’d share those dreams in the quiet moments when they were lying in bed, late at night, her voice soft and wistful as she painted a picture of a life she wanted someday—one with kids, a messy house full of love, and mornings that started with chaos and ended with bedtime stories.

He hadn’t heard her talk about it in a long time, not since they’d crossed the line from best friends to whatever it was they’d become now. They hadn’t really discussed it after they got married, like the possibility had just been a footnote in their drunken Vegas vows, not something real. But Dieter knew she probably still wanted it, that deep down, those dreams hadn’t gone away, just tucked themselves into a quieter part of her heart.

And now, for the first time, Dieter let himself admit what he’d been denying all along—he wanted it, too. He tried to fight it, tried to tell himself he was still the same guy who didn’t want to be tied down, but the truth was, he’d settled down the moment he said “I do.” And now… he’s sure he’s ready to dream of that life, too. The one where they weren’t just figuring things out as they went but actually working towards something together, as husband and wife, as mom and dad.

Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and she stepped out, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly. She didn’t have to say anything; Dieter could see the truth in her eyes. Without a word, he followed her into the bathroom, and there they were, lined up on the counter: five pregnancy tests, each one showing two clear lines.

Positive. All of them.

Dieter stared at the tests, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find something, anything, to say. He could hear her breathing beside him, shallow and uneven, and he knew her heart was pounding just as hard as his. She swallowed, her eyes fixed on the tests as if they might change if she stared long enough.

She finally broke the silence, her voice small but steady. “It’s okay, Dieter. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll… I’ll take care of it.”

–

Her words snapped Dieter back to reality, his brows furrowing as he tried to grasp what she meant. He watched her walk past him out of the bathroom, her movements brisk and determined, but there was a tremble in her step that made his stomach drop. She went straight to the dresser, grabbing her phone with a familiar sense of purpose. Dieter followed, his confusion mounting as she dialed a number with shaky hands.

“What are you doing?” Dieter asked, his voice edged with growing alarm. “Who are you calling in the middle of the night?”

She glanced at him but didn’t answer directly. “It’s fine, Dee. I’m going to take care of it.”

The line clicked, and a familiar voice filled the silence—one of her friends, an OB-GYN Dieter had met several times at dinner parties and gatherings. “Hey, I’m sorry to call so late,” she said into the phone, her voice tight but controlled. “I need another favor.”

Dieter’s heart sank as he heard the gasp on the other end. The doctor’s voice wavered, filled with concern. “Are you sure? I mean… are you really sure about this?”

Dieter watched her, still trying to catch up, but he could hear the tension in the doctor’s voice and the weight of what was being asked. She glanced at him, her eyes meeting his, and in that moment, Dieter felt like the ground was slipping out from under him. “I’m sure,” she said quietly. “I’ll wait for the prescription in the morning.”

She ended the call and set the phone down, her hand trembling. Dieter felt his shock morphing into a hot, simmering anger, his chest tightening as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. “What?” he asked, his voice rising, desperate to believe he’d misheard. “What prescription? Prenatal vitamins?” He was trying to hold onto some hope, clinging to the possibility that this wasn’t what it seemed, that she wasn’t about to make a decision without him. But deep down, he knew.

She sighed, biting her lower lip, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Dieter could see her knees wobble, and before he could process it, she was leaning against the side table, her legs barely holding her up. He rushed to her, guiding her gently to the bed and kneeling before her, his anger wavering as he saw the look in her eyes.

Tears streamed down her face, silent and relentless, and Dieter realized it was the first time he’d seen her cry in years. Not since her father had passed, not even when she’d broken up with someone he knew she had loved deeply. She was always so strong, so composed, but now she was trembling, and all she could manage were soft, broken apologies. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she repeated it over and over. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Dieter’s anger melted away, replaced by a sharp pain that pierced his chest. He reached up, cupping her face gently, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “Hey, hey, calm down, okay? Just… baby, please… can you tell me what that was all about?”

She nodded, her breath hitching as she tried to collect herself. The silence between them was tense, heavy with unspoken fears and the weight of what was happening. Finally, she spoke, her voice small and wavering. “I know you don’t want kids, Dieter. I’ve known that from the start, and I respect that. I love you so much, and I know I don’t say it often, but I do. I love the life we have together. And I didn’t… I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Dieter listened, the words sinking in, but every syllable felt like a sting. “You’re not ruining anything, baby,” he said, his voice softer now but still edged with confusion and hurt. “But you didn’t even… I mean, we didn’t even talk about it.”

She looked down, her tears falling faster now. “I was afraid to. You’ve always been so clear, and I didn’t want to make you feel trapped. I know kids were never part of the plan. I didn’t want to put that on you.”

Dieter took a deep breath, his mind still reeling, but he tried to keep his voice steady. “You’re not–Jesus…I understand why you feel this way baby…” he said gently, squeezing her hands. “And I’m sorry we never talked about it before, not even once. I know I said I didn’t want kids, and I thought that was it. But… then…” He sighed deeply… “W-we should at least talk about it before you go and get that prescription in the morning.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with tears, clearly caught between fear and guilt. “Dieter, I—”

“No, listen,” he interrupted softly, his tone calm but firm. “I want you to know that whatever you decide, I’ll support you. I’ll stand by you no matter what. But I need to know that if you go through with this, it’s because you want to, not because you think it’s what I want. I respect you, and I love you. And yeah, maybe I’ve always been afraid of having kids, but I also know you’ve wanted this. I’ve known for years, and I’m sorry we’ve never talked about it since getting married. But maybe… maybe now’s the time we should.”

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t want to pop our bubble, Dieter. I’ve spent so long thinking that if I brought this up, it would be too much for you. You’ve said it before—kids are overwhelming, right? And I get it. Hell, the thought of it overwhelms me, too. But it’s different for you. I didn’t want to lose you. I love you so much, Dee. I love what we have. And I was scared that… that if I bring it up, it would drive you away.”

Dieter’s heart ached as he watched her, the weight of her words sinking in. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “But you can’t just… handle this alone. Not for me.”

She took a shaky breath, the truth finally spilling out in the soft, halting words she’d kept buried. “That’s why I got the IUD. A few months after we got married… after I found out I was pregnant. You were away in London for that shoot, and I was alone. And I—” She paused, choking back a sob as she struggled to get the words out. “I panicked. I was terrified of what it would mean for us, for you, for everything. So, I… I took care of it. I didn’t want to burden you with it, and I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Dieter’s face went pale, his expression shifting from shock to something more profound—hurt, confusion, and an aching sadness that he didn’t quite know how to process. His hold on her hands went slack. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t known. While he was away, filming scenes and living the life he thought he wanted, she had been here, facing a reality that should have been theirs to share.

“You—” Dieter started, standing up, trying to say something but the words caught in his throat. “You did that… without telling me?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Dee. You were gone, and I was scared. I didn’t want you to feel trapped or forced into something you never wanted. I thought it was better that way.”

Dieter’s mind raced as he tried to grasp what she was saying. He ran a hand down his face, cupping his mouth as he took in a long drag of air. The anger he’d felt earlier had melted into something more painful, something that cut deeper than he expected. He’d never wanted this, but now, faced with the reality that they’d lost something before it had even begun, Dieter felt a profound sense of grief for what could have been—and for what he still had a chance to fight for.

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I wish you’d told me. I wish you hadn’t gone through all that alone. I know I’m not perfect, and I know I’ve said a lot of shit about not wanting kids, but… I want you. And if you want this—if you want us to have this—then I want it, too. But you have to be sure. This isn’t just about me. It’s us, and we can’t keep pretending it’s not.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all she saw was the man who had always been there, even when they hadn’t known what the hell they were doing. Dieter knelt before her, his hands steady on her knees, offering her the quiet reassurance she’d been afraid to ask for. They were scared, both of them, but for the first time, it felt like they were scared together.

A heavy silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. She stared down at her trembling hands, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Finally, she broke the quiet, her voice small and cracking under the strain. “I understand if you want a divorce, Dieter.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks again, and she looked up at him, and he could feel and see the pain and resignation in them. “I’d give it to you, you know. If that’s what it takes for you to live your truth. If it means you get to live the life you always wanted—not something complicated by a kid and a wife.”

Dieter’s breath caught in his throat, and he shook his head, trying to grasp the gravity of what she was saying. “What? No… what are you talking about? Divorce? That’s not—”

“I don’t want to trap you, Dee,” she interrupted, her voice quivering. “I never wanted you to feel stuck. At least if we divorce, I get to keep my baby, and you get to live your life. We both get what we want.” She said it with a heartbreaking kind of finality, her gaze dropping as though she couldn’t bear to look at him.

Hearing her say “her baby” like that shattered something inside Dieter. He could feel his chest tighten as his emotions boiled over, hot tears streaming down his face. “You think that’s what I want?” he whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to keep it down. They were still in his parents’ house, and he didn’t want anyone hearing this, but he couldn’t keep the hurt out of his words. “You think I want to live some half-assed life without you? Without… our baby?”

She flinched at his words, torn between the guilt and the love she still felt for him. “Dieter, you’ve always said—”

“I know what I’ve said!” Dieter snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break free. “God, I’ve been so fucked up. So caught up in what I thought I wanted, what I told everyone I didn’t want. I never… I never told you how much I love you. How much I need you. And now you’re willing to sacrifice everything because of me? Because I’m too much of a mess to communicate? That’s not fair, baby. That’s on me.”

She looked away, blinking back tears as she tried to keep her voice steady. “It’s not about blame, Dieter. I can’t live with the guilt of not giving you the chance to have the life you deserve. I’d rather… I’d rather set you free than see you stuck in something you don’t want. I love you too much for that.”

Dieter shook his head, his shoulders slumping as the enormity of her words hit him. He didn’t know how to make her understand. “But I don’t want to be free,” he said, almost pleading. “I don’t want any of this without you. I’ve spent my whole life running from everything—commitment, responsibility, you name it. But not you. Not us. You… you made me realize I could be more than that.”

She listened, her heart breaking with every word. “I don’t want to be unfair, Dee. I’ve spent so long dreaming about this—about being a mom. And I know kids were never part of your dream, and I just… I don’t want to take that from you.”

Dieter wiped his eyes, his voice hoarse and desperate. “You’re not taking anything from me. Please, don’t do this. Don’t make decisions for me. You’ve always been my partner, my equal… baby, you make me want to be a better person… whatever the hell that looks like…”

She let out a shaky laugh through her tears, reaching up to cup his face. “I just… I didn’t want to pop our bubble. It’s been so perfect, even with all the chaos. And the thought of losing that, of losing you in such a way… it scares me more than anything.”

Dieter’s sobs turned to quiet laughter, a broken sound that mirrored the bittersweetness of the moment. “You think I’m not scared? I’ve been scared of fucking everything my whole life, and you were the one person who made me think I didn’t have to be. You’re my team, baby. We’re a damn good one. And I know that if we have this kid… our kid… we’d be amazing parents, too.”

She looked at him, her tears finally slowing, replaced by a fragile smile that made Dieter’s heartache. “I just don’t want to be unfair,” she whispered, her voice soft but sincere.

“You’re not being unfair,” Dieter said, his tone tender but firm. “Please, just… reconsider. Our relationship, our marriage… our baby. Let’s figure it out together. No more guessing what the other person wants.”

She nodded, her eyes locking with his, and for the first time since the night had started, she felt a glimmer of hope. They were both terrified, still reeling from everything that had come to light, but at least now, they were facing it together, no more secrets, no more hiding. Just the two of them and the uncertain but hopeful future with a baby they were ready to build.

–

The next morning was Christmas, and despite the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded the night before, Dieter and his wife had decided to keep their news to themselves for now. It was too early—too new, too precious, and far too complicated to try to explain just yet. They put on their best smiles, exchanged gifts with his family, and managed to get through the morning without giving anything away.

As soon as they left his parents’ house, they headed straight to her OB-GYN’s office. Dieter squeezed her hand in the waiting room, both of them tense but trying to stay calm. When the doctor finally confirmed the news—they were eight weeks along—it felt both real and surreal at the same time. They were both relieved and overwhelmed, knowing it was still too early to tell anyone, too early for announcements, but their hearts were already full of the possibility.

Back at their house, Dieter immediately started making little changes, moving things around and insisting on turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery. “This room gets the best light,” he said, gesturing animatedly as they stood in the empty space, still filled with random furniture and boxes they hadn’t sorted through. “We can do a crib over here, maybe a rocking chair by the window… Oh, and I saw this thing on Pinterest—don’t laugh—about these little wall decals, like stars and moons. We could do a whole sky theme.”

She watched him, leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t even know you had a Pinterest account.”

Dieter turned, shrugging sheepishly. “What? I like my aesthetics.”

She laughed, her heart swelling at the sight of him so invested. It was like watching a kid with a new project, and she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. “You’re really into this, huh?”

He looked at her, eyes sparkling with an excitement that was infectious. “Yeah, I am. What’s so funny?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just… I never thought I’d see the day when Dieter Bravo is this excited about becoming a dad.”

Dieter’s expression softened, and he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around her. “Well, get used to it, baby. I’m all in.”

As the days passed, they began to settle into this new phase of their life together, their once spontaneous and free-spirited existence slowly evolving without them even realizing it. They had always been people of the moment, living day to day with little thought of what came next. Before, their conversations rarely drifted beyond the present—they were about last-minute weekend trips, late-night takeout, or whatever wild idea Dieter would come up with next. The future was never really on the table, not in a serious way. They thrived on spontaneity, on the freedom of not being tied down by plans or expectations.

But now, there was a subtle but undeniable shift in the air between them. It wasn’t something they talked about directly, but rather something that quietly settled in, like a warm, comforting blanket. Their conversations began to naturally drift into what was coming, not just what was happening now. They found themselves talking about baby names over breakfast, Dieter suggesting offbeat, quirky names that made her laugh while she countered with more classic choices that she’d always dreamed of, being the writer that she is and her love for literature.

Dieter would randomly pull out his phone to show her baby gear he’d found online, everything from the practical to the absurdly adorable. “Look at this stroller, baby. It’s got all-terrain wheels! Imagine us taking the kid hiking. Okay, maybe not hiking, but, you know… walking down a slightly uneven sidewalk.”

She’d laugh, watching him with a kind of fondness that was new, soft, and overwhelming. She’d catch him in the nursery sometimes, hunched over with a tape measure, making notes and sketches of where things should go. He was planning—actually planning—and it warmed her in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

One afternoon, she found him kneeling on the floor, surrounded by paint samples and wallpaper swatches, muttering to himself about whether to go with the pale blue or the pastel purple. “I don’t know, do you think clouds are too cliché? What if we did something more abstract? Like a sky, but, like, artsy. You know, like, dreamland stuff.”

She leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing at her lips. “Dieter Bravo, debating interior design for a nursery. Who would’ve thought?”

He looked up, his grin boyish and bright. “I know, right? Next, I’ll be on HGTV. ‘Bravo’s Baby Rooms.’ It’ll be a hit.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled with something deeper. They were still them, still the same pair who’d decided to get married on a whim in Vegas, who’d spent years living in the moment and rarely looking ahead. But now, the future wasn’t something scary or overwhelming. It was something they were building together, brick by brick, conversation by conversation.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, she would find herself lying awake at night, her hand resting on the small swell of her belly, feeling the gentle flutters of life within her. Dieter would be next to her, snoring softly, and she’d just listen, soaking in the warmth of their home. She realized then how much had changed between them—how they’d gone from two people floating through life, clinging to the present, to a couple that was starting to dream together. 

It wasn’t just about the baby, though that was the catalyst. It was the way their whole world had shifted, gently guiding them toward a future that felt bright and full of possibility.

Their once spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants relationship was evolving into something richer, something that made space for plans and hopes. She’d catch Dieter browsing parenting books or obsessively researching the best baby monitors, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of love she hadn’t quite known before.

It wasn’t forced or awkward; it was the most natural thing in the world, like breathing. They were still the same Dieter and his wife, the quirky mystery novel writer—impulsive, playful, unorthodox in every way—but now, their lives together carried an undercurrent of something… warmer, softer, and a little more planned than usual. 

One evening, she was curled up on the couch, cozy under a thick, soft blanket, her Kindle in one hand and the other resting gently on the small but noticeable bump of her belly. She’d grown accustomed to the comforting weight of her growing child. Dieter strolled in from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of popcorn, and dropped onto the couch beside her with a contented sigh.

“You look way too comfortable,” she teased, nudging him playfully with her foot, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him sink into the cushions like he belonged there.

“I am,” Dieter said, settling in beside her and resting his head against her shoulder. He let out a contented sigh, his eyes drifting down to her bump, and his hand found hers, resting warmly over the swell of her belly. “I love this. I love everything about this.”

She chuckled, her fingers absentmindedly tracing soft circles on her belly, feeling the little flutters of movement beneath her skin. “You always loved kids, Dee. I know that. I just… I never thought I’d live to see the day when you’d actually be a dad.”

Dieter’s smile softened, and tears welled in his eyes as he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her chest. She could feel the quiet, vulnerable sobs shaking his shoulders, and it melted her heart. “You’re making my deepest, darkest dreams come true, baby,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her warmth, words spilling out with raw sincerity.

She laughed, tilting her head back as she ruffled his hair affectionately. “I thought your deepest, darkest dreams that I made come true involved a strap-on, Bravo.”

Dieter snorted, lifting his head just enough to flash her a cheeky grin. Without missing a beat, he buried his face into her chest, playfully motorboating her. She squealed, swatting at his head as they both dissolved into laughter, tangled together on the couch.

“God, you’re such a perv,” she giggled, half-heartedly pushing him away even though she was laughing too hard to mean it.

He finally pulled back, grinning unapologetically as he reached up and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing playfully. “Honk honk,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but unable to keep a straight face. “Dieter, you’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, still chuckling as he leaned in to kiss her softly. 

“I love you, mama.” He whispered against her mouth. 

–

As days turned into weeks, they found themselves back at the doctor’s office for the 20-week scan. The drive there was tense, filled with nervous silence and half-hearted attempts at small talk that did little to mask their growing anxiety. Dieter’s usually easygoing demeanor was replaced with restless energy, and she could feel it radiating off him as they sat in the waiting room, both of them on edge.

She sat nervously beside him, her leg bouncing up and down as she stared at the outdated magazines scattered on the table in front of them. Dieter glanced over, noticing the jittery movement. He nudged her lightly with his elbow, offering a crooked smile. “Babe, you’re bouncing your leg like you’re tweaking. Seriously, I’ve been around a lot of meth heads, and you’re giving me flashbacks.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as a burst of laughter escaped, her nerves momentarily easing. “I can’t help it, okay? This is… I’m freaking out.”

Dieter reached over, his fingers lacing through hers as he squeezed gently. “I get it, but you gotta chill. You’re acting like you’re on something, and trust me, I know that vibe.” He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. “You’ve gotta stop reading all those Reddit posts. They’re nothing but horror stories.”

She nodded, though she still looked pale, her eyes flicking around the room as if searching for something to distract herself. “I know, I just… I can’t help it. I’ve read too many stories about 20-week scans going wrong. What if something’s wrong, Dieter? I don’t think I can handle it.”

Dieter leaned in closer, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Hey, nothing’s wrong. Our kid’s strong. Just like you. Baby’s gonna be fine, okay? Let’s just breathe.”

They were finally called into the scan room, and the doctor greeted them with a warm smile, chatting casually as she prepared the machine. “How are we feeling today? Ready to see this little one?” she asked, her voice calm and reassuring as she applied the cool gel to her belly. Dieter stood by her side, holding her hand tightly, both of them staring at the monitor with bated breath.

The doctor moved the wand over her stomach, her brows knitting slightly as she searched the screen, waiting for a heartbeat. At first, there was nothing—just static silence, the absence of that familiar, rhythmic thump that they both so desperately wanted to hear. The doctor adjusted the wand, repositioning and angling it slightly, her expression remaining neutral but focused.

Dieter could feel his wife’s grip tighten, her fingers digging into his, and he squeezed back, his own heart pounding. “Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with fear.

The doctor glanced at them, her smile reassuring but a little strained. “Sometimes the baby’s in a tricky position so it’s hard to get the heartbeat. Let’s just give it a moment.” She moved the wand again, her eyes flicking between the screen and her belly as she pressed a bit harder, trying to get a better view.

But the silence lingered, and the tension in the room grew thicker. Dieter could feel his pulse racing, his mind going a mile a minute. He tried to keep calm, tried to joke, but his voice came out strained. 

“Kid’s already messing with us, huh? Definitely takes after me.”

It falls flat, and he frowns deeper. 

The doctor’s brows furrowed as she moved the wand slowly, deliberately, the silence stretching on until it was almost unbearable. “Come on, little one,” she murmured under her breath, adjusting the machine again.

She glanced at Dieter and his wife, reading the fear on their faces. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but try not to panic. This happens sometimes.” The words were meant to soothe, but each passing second felt like an eternity, and Dieter felt like the walls were closing in.

Suddenly, the doctor paused, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh—hold on. I think I forgot to turn on the sound.” She reached over and pressed a button on the machine, and instantly, the room filled with the steady, reassuring thump of their baby’s heartbeat, clear and strong.

Dieter and his wife both let out a collective sigh of relief, laughing shakily as the tension broke. “Oh my god,” she breathed, her head falling back against the table as she squeezed Dieter’s hand. “You just shaved ten years off my life.”

The doctor chuckled, her face apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that. It happens more often than you’d think.” She moved the wand slightly, showing them their baby on the screen. “There we go. Heartbeat is strong, and baby looks perfect.”

Dieter let out a shaky laugh, wiping at his eyes as he glanced at his wife. “Kid’s already got us on edge. I guess that’s just payback for all the years I’ve been a handful.”

They all shared a brief, much-needed laugh, the tension slowly melting away. But the doctor’s expression turned a bit more serious as she continued to move the wand, examining the screen with careful precision. She began marking key areas on the screen, capturing images and making notes as she went. “Now, remember, this is your 20-week scan,” she said, her tone gentle but factual. “This is an important one because it’s when we check for congenital anomalies. We’ll be looking closely at your baby’s organs and development to make sure everything is on track.”

Dieter and his wife nodded, their earlier relief tempered by the weight of what the doctor was saying. This wasn’t just about hearing the heartbeat; it was about seeing if their baby was healthy, if everything was developing the way it should. The room fell quiet again, the soft whir of the machine the only sound as the doctor carefully scanned each part of their baby’s tiny body, capturing and saving images to review.

“We’re looking at the brain and skull,” the doctor explained, pointing to the image on the screen as she took a snapshot. “The structures look well-formed, and everything is measuring normally.” She moved the wand again, pausing over the baby’s chest and marking the image. “And here’s the heart. We’re checking for proper function, looking at the chambers and blood flow. So far, everything looks great.”

Dieter squeezed his wife’s hand, the feeling of both awe and anxiety filling the cavity of his chest. Every tiny movement on the screen felt monumental, every word from the doctor a lifeline. The doctor continued, showing them the spine, the kidneys, the limbs—every detail scrutinized with care and captured for documentation.

“And here’s the stomach and the diaphragm. We’re looking for normal positioning and function,” she said, moving methodically, her voice steady and calm. “All good signs here.” She took another image, marking it on the screen with a series of measurements.

Dieter’s wife squeezed his hand, her eyes locked on the screen, watching their baby’s tiny fingers flex and curl. “Is that… is that the baby’s hand?” she asked, her voice soft, filled with wonder.

“Yes, it is,” the doctor smiled, zooming in on the tiny hand and capturing the image. “Five fingers, all accounted for.”

They watched in silence, their emotions swinging from relief to fear and back again with every scan of the baby’s developing organs. The doctor’s voice was steady, reassuring them as she checked for any signs of congenital anomalies. Each confirmation that everything was normal felt like a small victory, a breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

“Everything looks normal and healthy,” the doctor finally said, pulling back and saving the last image. “Your baby is developing beautifully.”

Dieter and his wife both let out breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding, their hands still clasped tightly together. It wasn’t just relief—it was gratitude, to the doctor and the universe, for keeping their little bun healthy. 

They thanked the doctor, their voices filled with a concoction of relief, exhaustion, and overwhelming joy. As they left the office, they felt lighter, buoyed by the knowledge that their baby was safe and thriving. There’s only one thing for them to do now: start telling their family and friends. 

–

“You okay?” Dieter asked, his voice gentle as they pulled into his parents’ driveway. The house looked warm and welcoming, draped in fairy lights that twinkled against the evening sky, but she couldn’t quite shake the tightness in her chest.

She nodded, but it was automatic, her mind racing with thoughts she hadn’t fully processed, and her tears just started spilling like clockwork. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a lot, you know? Your parents are going to be so happy, and I—I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have anyone to tell.” She tried to laugh it off, her voice catching slightly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “God, listen to me. I’m such a mess. It’s probably just hormones.”

Dieter squeezed her hand, his expression softening. He knew how much she missed her dad, how his absence lingered in moments like these. “It’s not just hormones, baby,” he said gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to feel this. I wish your dad was here, too. I think about it all the time—how proud he’d be, how he’d probably be spoiling you right now.”

She let out a shaky breath, “It’s stupid, but it just hit me today, you know? Like, he was the only family I had, and now… I guess I thought I was past all this. But it’s different now. This is so big, and I feel like I’m missing that piece.”

Dieter pulled her hand up, kissing her knuckles softly. “It’s not stupid. And you’re not without parents completely. My parents love you—hell, they might love you more than they love me. They text you more than they text me, anyway.”

She let out a laugh, and it felt good, a brief moment of lightness breaking through the weight in her chest. “They do, don’t they? They’re always sending me recipes, cute cat and dog vides, and asking for book recommendations. Meanwhile, you get the ‘how’s your liver?’ texts.”

Dieter grinned, happy to see her smile even through tears. “Exactly. Trust me, they’re going to be over the moon about this. You’re their family, too. And yeah, it’s big—it’s bigger than anything we’ve done—but you don’t have to carry that alone. My parents, they’re gonna be here, every annoying, loving step of the way.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling a little more grounded. “Thanks, babe. I needed that.”

Dieter nodded, his own emotions bubbling under the surface. He knew how hard this was for her, and he wanted to make sure she never felt like she was alone in this. “Hey, we’re in this together. And we’re about to make their year, so let’s go in there and give them something to celebrate.”

They stepped out of the car, hand in hand, and walked up to the front door. She adjusted her coat, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest, but Dieter squeezed her hand reassuringly. They’d been parked for a while, gathering themselves, and now it was time. Dieter knocked, and within seconds, the door swung open.

Dieter’s mother stood there, her expression a mix of concern and relief. “Oh, there you are! We were starting to get worried—you’ve been sitting out there for ages. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Everything’s fine,” Dieter assured her, giving her a quick hug. “We were just… talking.”

His mom nodded, though she kept glancing between them, still a little uncertain. “It’s so good to see you two! Come in, come in.”

Dieter’s father was in the living room, setting out coffee and cookies on the table. He looked up, grinning in his usual dry way. “Hey, you two. What’s this? I thought you’d be busy writing another bestseller or maybe dragging Dieter around to get some culture.”

Dieter laughed, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not that, but it’s something just as good.”

His wife exchanged a quick look with him, her nerves sparking up again. Dieter, sensing her hesitation, gave her an encouraging smile and gently reached up to help her with her coat. As he slipped it off her shoulders, he draped it neatly over the back of the couch, revealing the gentle curve of her growing bump.

His parents’ eyes widened, and for a second, they both just stared, taking it in. Dieter’s mom’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh my gosh… are you…?”

Dieter’s wife nodded, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and joy. “We’re having a baby. I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was only stunned silence, and then his mom let out a joyous cry, rushing forward to hug her. “Oh, sweetheart! This is the most wonderful news! Look at you—how far along are you? I can’t believe it!”

Dieter’s dad, who usually kept his emotions under wraps, pulled Dieter into a hug, his voice thick with pride. “Son, this is incredible. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. I’m not sure if you remember this, but there was a time when I wasn’t sure you’d ever get your life together, let alone settle down.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by his dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.” He hesitated, swallowing hard before speaking again. “I know I’ve been a mess, but… I’m really excited about this. I want to do it right.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder, his expression warm. “You’ve already done right by me. You’ve grown up, Dieter, more than I ever thought possible. And now you’re going to be a dad. I couldn’t be prouder.”

They all settled into the living room, Dieter’s mom already buzzing with plans. “Okay, so tell me everything! When’s the due date? How are you feeling? Have you thought about names yet? We have to start planning—oh, and the nursery! We’ll need to paint, get a crib—”

Dieter held up his hands, laughing. “Mom, slow down. You’re going to choke yourself on your own saliva with how fast you’re going. One thing at a time.”

She laughed, waving him off but nodding. “Okay, okay. But this is just… it’s all so exciting. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now it’s finally happening.”

Dieter’s wife smiled, feeling the warmth of Dieter’s mom’s excitement wash over her. “Thank you. Really, I’m so glad we get to share this with you. It’s been a lot to take in, but having you both here means the world.”

Dieter’s mom squeezed her hand, her eyes filled with emotion. “You’re not without parents completely, you know that, right? You’ve got us now. We’re going to be right here with you, every crazy, wonderful moment.”

She nodded, fighting back tears. “I’m so grateful for that. You have no idea.”

Dieter’s dad leaned in, his voice quieter but no less heartfelt. “And I mean it, Dieter. I see the way you are with her, how much you’ve grown. You’ve got this, both of you. And I know you’re going to be amazing parents.”

As they continued to talk, laugh, and make plans, one thing stood out among them– they knew there was so much ahead—so many unknowns, so many firsts—but for now, it was enough to just be together and celebrate this beautiful news.

–

After spending a few hours basking in the joy and warmth of Dieter’s parents, they knew the next step was sharing the news with the rest of the world. It felt like another hurdle, one they were both eager and anxious to jump. They drove back home, feeling the weight of their secret beginning to lift. 

Once they were settled on their couch, they knew it was time to tell Dieter’s manager. Dieter pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, glancing over at his wife. “Ready?”

She nodded, though a nervous flutter still twisted in her stomach. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Dieter hit the call button, putting it on speaker. His manager picked up on the second ring, his voice chipper and businesslike. “Dieter, my man! What’s up? You ready to talk about the next big project? We’ve got offers coming in like crazy.”

Dieter laughed, exchanging a look with his wife. “Hey, uh, about that… we’ve got something to tell you. It’s kind of a big deal.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then his manager’s voice dropped, curious and cautious. “Oh God, are you in trouble again? Do I need to get a lawyer on the line?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Dieter said quickly, his grin wide. “Actually, it’s the opposite of trouble.”

His wife jumped in, smiling as she spoke. “We’re having a baby.”

The line went quiet for a beat, and then his manager erupted in a cheer. “What? Oh my God! Are you serious? This is amazing! Bravo’s having a baby! You two, this is incredible.”

They laughed, feeling the enthusiasm radiating through the phone. “Yeah, we’re serious,” Dieter said. “We’re excited, and we wanted to let you know before it goes public.”

His manager was still buzzing, the excitement palpable. “You’re going to break the internet with this. But listen, you’ve got to be prepared. This is going to be huge news—your fans, the media, everyone’s going to go nuts. Some good, some bad, you know how it is. But honestly, this is the best news I’ve heard all year.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, exchanging congratulations and discussing the logistics of managing the media frenzy that would inevitably follow. Once they hung up, Dieter turned to her, his eyes bright. “You ready to tell the world?”

She nodded, and together, they crafted a simple but heartfelt post for social media. They chose a candid photo taken that morning, with Dieter’s hand resting protectively over her small bump, both of them smiling with unfiltered joy. The caption read: Our greatest adventure yet. Baby Bravo coming soon.

They hit ‘share,’ and within moments, the post began to explode. Likes, comments, and shares flooded in at a speed that was almost overwhelming. Messages of congratulations poured in from friends, fans, and fellow celebrities. The overwhelming support was heartwarming, and they found themselves caught up in the happiness of it all.

But as the notifications kept coming, there were, of course, some that stung. Dieter scrolled through, his brow furrowing at the inevitable wave of negativity from the corners of his fanbase that couldn’t handle change.

“She’s probably just using him for fame. Classic.”

“Guess Dieter’s fun days are officially over.”

“He doesn’t deserve this. What about all the times he said he didn’t want kids?”

Dieter sighed, shaking his head as he turned off the screen. “I knew there’d be some backlash, but damn. People can be ruthless.”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I mean, I expected some of it, but it still hurts. I just thought… I don’t know, that people would be happy for us.”

Dieter pulled her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. They don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through to get here. This is our moment, not theirs.”

She nodded, leaning into his comfort. “I know, it’s just… I guess I didn’t expect people to be so… mean. I thought this would be different.”

Dieter kissed her temple, his touch gentle. “Some people will never be happy, babe. But look at all the love we’ve got here.” He pulled up the comments from their closest friends, the ones who knew them beyond the headlines. Messages of support, love, and shared joy filled the screen, reminding them of the people who truly mattered.

“Look at this one,” Dieter said, reading aloud. “‘I always knew you’d be the best parents. Baby Bravo is lucky to have you both.’” He smiled, scrolling down. “And this one—‘I’m so proud of you guys. Can’t wait to meet the little one.’”

She smiled, letting the warmth of those messages push away the sting of the negativity. “I guess we have to focus on that, huh?”

“Exactly,” Dieter said, squeezing her close. “This is our family. Our life. And no one gets to take that away from us.”

They spent the rest of the evening curled up together, ignoring the noise of the outside world and focusing on the love that poured in from those who truly understood. Their phones continued to buzz, and the news spread quickly, but for now, it was just the two of them, dreaming about their future with the baby they were already so deeply in love with.

A few weeks had passed since their announcement, and life had begun to settle into a new kind of normal. 

They were still receiving messages of congratulations, along with the occasional snarky comment, but the love outweighed the negativity by miles. 

Dieter and his wife had embraced this next phase with open hearts, pouring over baby books, setting up the nursery, and spending quiet moments together, dreaming about the future.

One night, as they sat in the nursery—still half-finished, with paint samples and swatches scattered everywhere—Dieter was busy assembling a crib, grumbling softly as he fumbled with the instructions. His wife sat cross-legged on the floor, watching him with a soft smile, one hand resting on her belly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for your dad to help with that?” she teased, noting his intense focus and the stray bolts lying around.

Dieter looked up, smirking. “Nah, I’ve got it. Besides, I’ve got to prove I can put something together that’s not going to collapse on us. I mean, it’s literally a crib. If I can do this, I can do anything.”

She laughed, watching as he finally managed to fit the pieces together, looking far too proud of himself. He stood back, admiring his handiwork before turning to her, his smile broad and genuine. “See? Told you I’d figure it out.”

She patted the spot beside her on the floor, and he sat down, pulling her into his side. They sat there quietly for a moment, both gazing at the crib—the first tangible piece of their new life together.

“Can you believe this is happening?” she murmured, her voice soft with wonder. “Sometimes it still feels like a dream.”

Dieter nodded, his hand drifting to rest over her bump. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been in a lot of weird dreams, but this… this is the best one. And it’s real.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat against her cheek. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

He turned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “We already are, baby. And it’s only going to get better.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the promise of what was to come—messy, beautiful, and entirely theirs.

[wandagcre]

Just watched The Marvels. Would you be willing to write Carol x Reader? After the line “death follows you everywhere” and Monica’s disappearance, Carol flees to Reader bc they are the only one who can lift the burdens Carol Carrie’s. Laughter and fluff when they reunite.

carol comes back to your shared home unannounced. she had the chance to see you candidly cleaning with the vacuum, singing on top of your lungs over the songs that carol once mentioned and she clearly can recall how you have called her cheesy for her choice of songs. yet, here you are.

the sight alone moves her heart.

"carol? oh my god!" you're put into a mild hysterics, jumping onto her figure in disbelief to see her safe and sound.

and carol couldn't be any more happier to be surrounded by your warmth again. the contrast between her home in space cannot come any closer to the actual home she has on earth. carol's home was there to remind her of the trinkets of life she has built after the brainwash in kree, each of your touch and voice is lilted with nothing but comfort, a loving one.

the new life she has grown better into. you are carol's source of sunshine – reminding her that she wasn't a bad omen.

"this is what i come back home to? i knew it was good of me to come by bearing fruits." carol pointedly looks at the chips by the table. "and i definitely know that you liked my songs!"

you gave her a sheepish smile. "yeah, yeah. the junk foods are kept on a minimal don't you worry. and don't get your pretty head get all big now, i may have grown fond of them."

"mhmm. i don't think i'll let go of it now."

carol chuckled at your silly choice of words. you were definitely in denial of loving them, which put her mouth in a smirk. you kept rambling how it was you getting sick of your repeated playlist, so you had to listen to a new genre – carol's genre – all while having your arms wrapped around her neck and her own arms are tight around your waist.

the least carol wanted was to forget. but with your presence to remind her of the better parts of her, one that you have built together – all are something that she never knew she'll get again – only reminded the superhero that things will get better, eventually.

it's only a matter of time to grow around it and heal.

[watsittoyah]

Mix tape (NATE JACOBS X BLK FEM READER)

In which Nate Jacob makes you mix tapes because his toxic ass can’t tell you how he feels…

(Track 01) In my city I'm a young god. That pussy kill be so vicious. My god white, he in my pocket. He get me redder than the devil 'til I go nauseous… -Often, The Weeknd

Warnings- oral sex (female Receiving)

(Next)

You were a straight A student. You didn’t step out of line, hell you didn’t even sneak out to meet boys. But that’s all about to change…

~~~

“What? Little Jade about to step on the field with the big girls?!” Your best friend and infamous influence, Stacey squeals as you two stretch out on the field.

“Shh! Don’t be so dang loud. I’m only trying it out because Tess said it would be fun.” You tell her. “First of all the word is Damn, and second since when you listen to Tess’ stuck up ass?”

Your eyes widen as you look back to make sure Tess, your step sister, didn’t hear her. “Shh! Why are you so loud?” You both laugh and Stacey lean in so no one else can hear.

“Since you’re all big poppin’ how about you come out tonight? I heard McKay’s fine ass is throwing a Halloween party and his parents aren’t even home. You gotta come with me, I want him to see me in my maid costume but I need my best friend there with me to hype me up. So you coming?”

Here you we go.

On the angelic side, you’d decline the offer. Grab a pizza with your family and pass out candy to a few trick or treaters while you watch some boring show on Netflix. And you’d hear about the Halloween party of the century the next day.

On the hot girl side you’d say fuck it, let’s go. And you’d have a ball, smoke some weed, shit you might actually get a guy to touch you, and not act like a priss miss.

So what’s it gonna be, Jade?

You snap out of your inner monologue and raise a brow. “What time is the party?” Stacey bursts out laughing. “Girl I know you’re not serious. I was just playing with you. I’m sure I can ask Monica to go with me.”

You frown at her and pull your braids up into a ponytail. “I’m not playing. What time is the party?” The smile on your best friends face melts away. “Jade, if you’re serious, then it’s happening tonight around ten. Please tell me you have a costume to wear? And don’t you come to this party wearing your first Sunday clothes.” You roll your eyes. “Girl shut up, I have a cute costume.” Stacey rolls her eyes at you. “Yeah I’ll be the judge of that, I’m coming over to your place an hour before then. And don’t even try to cop out last minute.”

“I am not going to cop out last minute. Damn.”

~~~

There is no way in hell you can go to this party? What were you thinking?

You were pacing your bedroom, on the verge of hyperventilating.

“I can’t do this. I just can’t.” You hear knocking and without even thinking you open your door and Stacey was standing there wearing a form fitted maid costume that cut down low to show her tits. “What’s wrong?” She asks while walking into your bedroom.

“I must be out of my mind, that’s what’s wrong. I can’t go. I don’t have anything to wear, plus what if the police are called? What if they find out I was at that party and that goes on my permanent record? What if they tell me I can’t get into a good college? I’ll be some bum on the street scraping up pennies off of the sidewalk!”

Stacey shakes you by your shoulders. “Jade! Chill! We’re going to a party not some drug run. Now let me see your costume. And before you say anything you’re going to this party.”

You pout and grab the little box you had stashed in the back of your closet. You pass it over to her and she opens the box.

“Where have you been hiding this? And can I borrow it?” You snatch the box back, putting it on your bed.

“It’s been in my closet since last summer. I bought it just in case for times like these but now I don’t think I can pull it off.”

“Go put it on.” Stacey tells you. You open your mouth to argue but she points to your bathroom and you take the box then march your crack to the bathroom.

Once the dress is on your peek out of the bathroom. “Jade, we got ten minutes before the party starts. And I’m all for being fashionably late but my future baby daddy is hosting this thing. Come on now.”

You step out of the bathroom and you’re tugging at the hem of the dress. It was a tight red dress that came mid thigh. It might have been longer if you didn’t have hips and ass on you.

“You look good! Now I know you still have those red thigh highs, because I haven’t took them for my closet yet.” Stacey goes into your closet and you take a deep breathe. Dressing up as a she-devil wasn’t your first pick but the costume was a laugh at the moment and it was on sale last year.

You tug at the dress and Stacey tsks. “Don’t you have a thong? I can see your granny panties.” Your eyes widen. “No, I don’t own a pair.” Stacey circles you and grins.

~~~

You feel uncomfortable not wearing underwear under the dress but Stacey tells you that it’s fine. But you’re nervous. This isn’t something you’d do. When Stacey is about to open the door you grab her arm. “What if I can’t do this?”

“And what if you can? Look, you look fucking amazing. Let loose for a change. If you could be anyone right now who would you be? Don’t tell me just take a deep breathe and be them. Alright?”

You nod and you take a deep breathe and you think about all those girls you’ve seen in those teen movies you’ve watched with Tess. You roll your shoulders back and Stacey opens the door. You’re hit with the smell of weed, bodies, and alcohol. Stacey takes your hand and you two enter together.

“McKay is over by the corner, and I see Cassie trying to get her hands on him. But watch this.” Stacey says in your ear as she guides you two over to them.

Remember me by Wiz Khalifa was playing and you see McKay glancing at Stacey. He then looks your way and your stomach was doing summersaults.

You won’t admit it to Stacey but Christopher McKay was fine as hell to you. But since she was your best friend you took the step back.

He gives Cassie a nod and he leans off of the wall and heads towards the two of you. “Hello ladies.” He greets as he yells a bit over the music. “Hey McKay.” Stacey says in her best sex voice. You turn your face a bit to keep from laughing and you see the punch bowl. “Is there water?” You turn back to ask and see Stacey pulling McKay towards the crowd.

“So much for sticking together.” You mumble as you move towards the kitchen. You see a few freshman dressed as gorillas doing body shots off of two junior girls dressed as bananas. You gently chuckle at that as you grab a small bottle of water, inspecting it.

Once you’ve seen it hasn’t been tampered with you crack it open and take a few gulps. Someone passes you a blunt but you pass and find some cheese puffs. You go to reach for some and your hand brushes against someone.

And that someone happened to be Nate Jacobs.

You knew Nate because he was your friend, at least until he found the gym and became a jock. After that, you both drifted apart and you moved to the upper east side of town.

Nate still had a special place in your heart seeing that the both of you looked out for each other when bad times had hit both of your families. Especially when that shit went down with his br-

“Jade Springfield?” He asks as he squints at you. “Nate Jacobs?” You mimic him and he gives a big smile which makes your heart leap. “How have you been?” He pulls you into a hug and you hold him close. For just that split second it felt like old times again.

“I’ve been good. Damn Jacobs you got tall.” You say to him with a smile. “And you stayed short.” He teases. You punch him playfully in the stomach and he laughs.

“Anyways, how have you been?” You ask him as he keeps his hands wrapped around you. “I’ve been good. Better now that I know you’re here.” The last part of his answer made your spine tingle a bit.

You clear your throat and step back from his touch. “Hey you wanna go outside? It’s kind of-”

“Loud? Yeah let’s go.” He takes your hand and you two head out to the back. As soon as you two step outside the music just stops and you allow yourself to relax. You two were on the back deck, you sit down on the steps and Nate sits down besides you.

“You still don’t like loud places huh?” Nate asks you. “You remember that?” You ask as you empty the water bottle. “Of course, I mean it’s been what almost four and a half years? But yeah, I remember.” He smirks at a thought and he takes a swig of beer. “That better be root beer, Nate.” You tease, bumping your leg against his. He rolls his eyes but smiles when he’s done drinking.

“Of course its root beer, Jade. Because that’s what teens drink of parties like this.” It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Smart ass. So I heard through the grapevine that you’re playing football.”

“I am, and I heard through the same grapevine that you’re cheerleading. When are you gonna come cheer for me?” He says in a flirtatious tone. “Alright that ‘root beer’ getting you talking reckless Jacobs.”

You notice he’s leaning in a bit closer. And you cross your legs. “You remember that one time in the fourth grade when Jason Bateman dared you to kiss me?”

“Oh god, yes and you punched me in the jaw. Your little first hurt.” You two laugh at the memory and you lean your head on his shoulder. “I missed this, Nate-Nate.” He scoffs. “Shit I haven’t heard that nickname in a long time, Jay-Jay.” You smile at your childhood nickname.

“Why did you have to become some jerk who forgot about me?” You ask him as he hands you the rest of his beer. You accept it and down the rest, wincing from the bad taste.

“I could never forget about you, Jade. Actually if I’m being honest when we were kids I had the hugest crush on you.” You lean away from him and turn so you’re facing him. “You’re lying.”

He raises his hands and laughs. “I’m not lying. I took that dare from Jason because I didn’t want anyone else kissing you. As far as I knew you were going to be my girlfriend in the fourth grade.”

The way Nate was eyeing your legs made your inner thighs throb. “I heard…you’re dating Maddie Perez.” You say instantly regretting that.

He sighs and you notice his jaw clenching. “She dumped me last week, so…yeah.” Way to go Jade, you tell yourself.

“Sorry, I didn’t know.” He nods. “No one knows that she dumped me. I just told everyone that we’re taking a break.”

“Why would you tell me then?” Nate shrugs and scoots in close to you. “Because I can trust you, not to tell anyone. And because out of everyone in this fucked up town, I actually like you. And I’m sorry I just stopped being friends with you. I was going through a lot and your parents were going through that divorce. Which isn’t an excuse, but-”

You lean in and hug him. “I know when you ramble you like that, underneath it means you need a hug. You know my number hasn’t changed. If you need someone to talk to I’m here.” He hugs you back and he inhales deep. “How has it been a few years and you still understand me better than anyone?” He asks. You lean back and shrug.

“We just have that connection, Nate-Nate.” You smile at him and he brings his hands to your hips.

The warmth from his hands made your chilly body feel good. And his cologne was making a small puddle between your legs.

Calm down Jade. This is Nate you’re thinking about. The same Nate that you would play with on the playground. The same Nate that you knew before the muscles.

The same muscles that you were sure you wouldn’t mind looking at under his criminal costume.

“A she-devil, hm? Seems like the perfect costume for you, Jade. I especially like these thigh high boots on you.” His hand seems to trail from your knee all the way up to your inner thigh. You bite your bottom lip and look pass his shoulder but he shakes his head.

“No, baby focus. I want those pretty eyes on me.” His hand reaches under your dress and he sucks in a sharp breathe. “You’re not even wearing panties?” You jerk your legs closed and move back.

“I’m sorry! I’ll go.” You were about to get up but Nate stops you. “You don’t need to apologize. I was just surprised is all, I didn’t except a snack ready for me to eat.” Nate eyes between your thighs this time and when he looks back up you find yourself leaning in.

He leans in close as well. Both of your lips meet and you feel yourself move, straddling him. He places his hands on your hips and he presses his erection against your cunt. You let out a moan and he bites your bottom lip. “Do you feel that?” You nod as he presses it harder against you. “I want this inside of you, right now. But only if that’s okay with you, Jay-Jay.” His hand travels up your neck and he brings your mouth close to his. “Use those words, pretty girl.”

“I want you inside of me, Nate.” You mouth as you kiss him again. He grunts as his tongue slides past your lips. He tastes like cheap beer, and some strong mint he probably ate before he got to the party.

He stands up with your legs wrapped around him. And he walks off of the deck. “Mm, where. Are, we going?” You ask moaning against his lips. “Just to my truck.” He answers as he kisses your neck.

When he gets to his truck his presses the key and the door unlocks. He places you inside and climbs in after you. “Get in the back, Jay-Jay.” Nate says to you as he takes off the top half of his costume.

You do as you’re told and he follows after you. He gets on top of you and he looks down at you. “Never thought I would have Jade Springfield in my truck.” He says with a smirk.

“Oh shut up, Nate.” You laugh but Nate wasn’t. Instead he gets down on his knees, spreading your legs apart and placing them on his shoulders.

“Don’t look away, I want your eyes on me.” He says as he leans down and flicks his tongue across your clit. Your legs jerk a bit which makes Nate smirk.

“Does my tongue scare you, Jay-Jay?”

“No.” You lie as he spreads your lips apart. “I think you’re lying. I think my tongue scares you and you like that.” He flicks his tongue across your clit slowly and your breathes hitches.

You move your hips to the rhythm of his tongue and you moan out while your nails scratch at his seat. You watch as his eyes flutter closed and the grabs you and pulls you closer.

“Oh shit, Nate don’t stop.” Your hands find their way to his hair and you grip his hair as you work your hips harder. He sucks your clit and your legs clench.

He continues to flick his tongue against your clit but he slides in two fingers, doing the here motion which causes you to moan out in tongues as he massages that sweet spot.

“N…Nate you’re gonna make me cum.” You whimper. He just keeps eating you out like your his last meal on earth. You feel your eyes rolling to the back of your skull with your back arching. Without warning you squirt in his mouth and on his seats.

You try to close your legs because it’s sensitive but he keeps going. “N-Nate it’s se-sensitive please.” He looks up at you and he twirls his tongue which makes you stutter out gibberish.

“Sure you’re not scared of my tongue, Jade?” He rolls his tongue and you feel your orgasm hit again. “Y, yes I’m scared. I can’t h..handle i- I’m coming.” You moan out as your hips move to your orgasm.

He gives one more good suck to your pussy lips and he leans up, kissing you so you can taste yourself on his tongue. “I could eat your pussy for hours, Jay-Jay. But I’ll do that next time. Right now I know you want this.”

He places your hand on his crotch and your eyes go wide. There no way that is fitting inside of you. Nate sees the fear in your eyes and he leans down kissing your neck. “I know it’s big, but I’ll be gentle. I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.” He sucks the side of your neck and you moan his name out softly.

You feel him move you back against his seat. And you hear his zipper unzip. You can’t see what his dick looks like in the dark but from the feel of it you know it’s bigger than the toys you use.

You hear something rip and in the street light you see it’s a condom wrapper. He moves himself closer to you and you know it’s going to hurt since he is your first but you both freeze when you hear a cop siren in the distance.

Nate moves back and you sit up to see the lights of a few cop cars.

Suddenly everyone runs out of McKay’s house and you two scramble to get decent. “I can take you home.” Nate tells you, but you shake your head.

“I’m not leaving, Stacey behind. Let me out real quick.” He opens the door and you climb out of his truck, looking through the crowd for Stacey.

You feel your phone vibrate and you answer it. “Where are you?” You hear Stacey ask in a panic. “I’m outside, where are you? I’ll find you.” You hear Nate say something but you take off running where you see Stacey’s car.

When you get in she was panicking. “Girl, apparently someone’s ex girlfriend called a noise complaint and got the party shut down…” As Stacey gives you the details you get a text from an unknown number.

Unknown-

Hey, it’s Nate. Maybe we can pick up where we left off. Not just tonight but from back then? 🙂

You feel a small smile on your lips and you go to answer but Stacey says something that makes you reconsider.

“..McKay says he thinks it was Maddie who called, since she heard that Nate was here..”

You feel the guilt in your heart and you give a wow that’s crazy for your comment and lean your head against the window.

Maybe meeting up with Nate tonight was a bad thing.

Boy was it ever…

[twisted-turtels]

Crossed Paths (Pt.1)

Farleigh Start x black!fem!oc

Author’s note: this is so random of me. Welcome to my new fixation, Farleigh Start from Saltburn. I wonder how long this story will last lol.

969 words is crazy i dont even write this much for my classes lol. it takes me days to get to 1000 words.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Crossed Paths

“Mama, there is no need to worry about me. You don’t trust me?” Jordan says. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I don't trust the rest of the world. You're my baby, and you’re leaving me. Going all the way across the world!” Monica, Jordan’s mom, exclaims.

“Ma, you know this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I have never left this country, and I get the chance to study at one of the oldest and most prestigious universities for free! There’s nothing to worry about,” Jordan explains, “Listen, I’m about to pull up to my apartment, or shall I say ‘flat’ as the Englishmen describe it. I’ll talk to you later. Goodnighhhht.”

“Goodnight, baby, I love you. Don’t go crazy over there now!” Monica hangs up.

Jordan gets out of her taxi and takes in her surroundings. University of Oxford, I can’t believe I made it. Jordan clumsily gathers her luggage from the taxi (It’s a lot of stuff) and walks towards the entrance to her accommodation. As she struggles to make sure none of her luggage falls, she accidentally bumps into a tall figure. 

“Fuck.”

“Oh shit, I am so sorry!” Jordan looks up and exclaims. She sees a tall, pretty, light-skinned man staring down at his now-stained shirt. He’s black, she thinks. “Yes, and so is my shirt,” the man says sarcastically. “Oh, I did not realize I said that out loud. I’m sorry again. I’m kind of struggling, and I guess I wasn't paying-” she tries to explain, “You’re American?” the man interrupts. “Um, yeah, I just got in today, if you can’t tell. I’m here for an exchange program,” she continued. “Not many of us here. Listen, don’t worry about the shirt. I hope to see you around, but I gotta be somewhere soon,” the man quickly says and walks off. 

“For sure,” Jordan trails off, saying before she looks at her bags, I guess I will take this up myself. “Ugh!” she groans.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jordan sits in her flat and looks at the now unpacked space. I did a great job. I think I'm gonna put a Texas flag on my wall, too. She slumps down on the couch and looks at the flyer on her coffee table. ‘Undergraduate Social! 5 PM,’ it reads. “I guess I can attempt to socialize,” Jordan looks down at her watch, “One hour to get ready, but I don’t have to be there at exactly 5 pm though,” Jordan thinks aloud. I wonder if I’ll see the man from earlier? 

After freshening up, Jordan gathered her keys and wallet and went to the social. She entered the student union and noticed it bustling with students and professors. While looking around, she subconsciously looks for the man she met earlier.  Not many black students, she notes. She takes the time to go up to different organization tables and gather information. As she moves from table to table, she feels a delicate hand tap her shoulder. Jordan turns around and notices a blonde girl standing in front of her. 

“Hello!” the blonde girl exclaims.

“Hello?” Jordan questions.

“Sorry for the abruptness, but I just wanted to introduce myself. You seemed lost. My name is Venetia, and I wanted to ask, are you American?”

“Uh yeah, I am. I’m from Texas, actually.” Jordan explains.

“That’s really cool. There aren't many Americans here. I do know another one, though, who just happens to be my cousin. Would you like to meet him?”

I do need friends, so it wouldn't hurt.

“I don’t mind that at all. Lead the way. Also, my name is Jordan, by the way.”

“What a lovely name. Follow me!” Venetia instructs. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Boys, I would like you to meet Jordan! She’s American just like you, Farleigh!” Venetia exclaims

Jordan stares at the tall man. “Oh, we’ve met Vee. She’s the one who spilled tea on my shirt.” Farleigh explains with a stoic look on his face.

Jordan stares at her feet sheepishly, “Yeah, really sorry about that.”

Farleigh stared the girl down until he smirked, “I’m just playing; it wasn’t a big deal. It's nice to put a pretty name to a pretty face, though.”

He just called me pretty.

“Ignore Farleigh, he’s a little jokester. Aren’t you cousin?” Venetia teasingly asks as Farleigh rolls his eyes. “Anyway, this is my brother, Felix,” Venetia gestures to another tall, handsome man. Are all British men above 6 feet and handsome?

“Hello. Sorry for my sister practically dragging you over here,” Felix jokes.

“I did not drag her over here!” Venetia exclaims

“Haha, it’s okay. I need to put myself out there more honestly, don’t want to be alone during my time here.” Jordan reassures.

“How about I get your phone number?” Farleigh blurts out, he then corrects himself, “ How about we all get your number so we can continue hanging out more? Obviously, I don’t want to be the only American in the group.”

“I thought you would never ask,” Jordan pulls out her phone to notice it’s dead, “Oops, phone is dead. Let me just write it down.” There is no paper. “Can I see your hand?” Jordan asks Farleigh while taking out a pen. Jordan softly holds Farleigh’s hand and writes down her number, “You can pass this on to the rest of them,” Jordan smiles at Farleigh. 

“It was really nice meeting y'all, but I have to get ready for the first day, so I’ll see y'all later,” Jordan waves and walks off.

Oh my god, when did I get so bold?

The group looks at each other in astonishment as Jordan walks away. “Ooh, Farleigh, she gave you her number,” Venetia teases. “She gave it to all of us,” Farleigh defends himself. 

“She says y’all,” Felix points out. “That’s so Texas of her.” He jokes. 

[deadpresidents]

If I recall correctly, weren’t you a pretty big fan of Bill Clinton for some time? I recall a lot of posts from you about him that were fairly favorable. When did you finally accept that he was a creep? Do you think there’s finally a chance of accountability? I am truly asking from a place of empathy as I know what it’s like to have someone you looked up turn out to be not so great.

No, you're 100% correct. I was a fan of Bill Clinton for a long time. He was President from the time I was 13 until I was 21, and for a kid who was into Presidential history and Democratic politics, he was a major presence in my life. I still think that he is probably the most naturally-gifted politician of my lifetime. Nobody that I've watched has been able to explain public policy or instantly breeze through complicated press conference questions like Bill Clinton. For years after he left office, I said that he should just be the guy who explains how things work to America; he's remarkably smart.

One of the craziest examples of Clinton's intelligence is that he had to figure out ways to make it look like he doesn't have the answer to everything immediately. Clinton's political advisers thought he came across at times like a know-it-all and that it wasn't a good look on the campaign trail. You know how one of the famous mannerisms of Clinton is how he'll pause while he's speaking and bite his lip, like this?

Well, that was done on purpose. Clinton's advisers thought that his quick, completely formed answers to complicated questions was unnatural and that he needed to make himself seem more thoughtful, so he'd pause and bite his lip almost as an intellectual speed bump. Paul Begala, one of the most important architects of Clinton's 1992 campaign explained:

"He was so smart about so many things but also could connect. The whole thing about his biting his lip -- that was coached. Because he would answer so fast. We'd say, 'Take a beat. Pretend you're thinking about it. Pretend you haven't already got an answer.' It was a studied thing to give himself a second to force himself to slow down."

So, things like that were why I was always so impressed and appreciative of Clinton's skills and political gifts.

But, obviously, as I've gotten older and come to understand his personal actions a lot better, it's really hard not to consider him a creep. I mean, the Epstein thing is obviously impossible to reconcile. Even if it there hasn't been any suggestion of Clinton actually abusing any of the girls in the way that Epstein did, he spent a lot of time around Epstein and it's gross. I think one of Epstein's victims said that Clinton was a "total gentleman" and didn't do anything wrong to her, but that photo of a very young girl giving him a neck message in what looks like an airport terminal is a really bad look. That was clearly after he left office, so that was post-Monica Lewinsky and Clinton should have had the awareness to not even put himself near that type of situation with a girl that young (or any woman who was not his wife) -- even if it was just a neck massage that lasted a short amount of time. Even if the girl offered to do it willingly and had no issues with it, that's not a situation that Clinton -- who was impeached and could have been removed from office because he had an affair with a young woman -- should have have felt comfortable with.

But beyond that, as I've gotten older and as we've all gotten better about recognizing these things, his relationship with Monica Lewinsky is what bothers me because of the position that he put Monica in. She was in her early 20s -- barely older than Clinton's own daughter at the time -- and he was President of the United States. Listen, I don't have any room to criticize someone for dating younger women (seriously), but it's the power dynamic and the manner in which he treated Monica when things started to get difficult for him. That poor girl was in such an unimaginably nightmarish place because of what Clinton did and how he -- the incumbent President of the United States -- spoke about her publicly and treated her privately. When you think about it in terms of a relationship, it's just a crazy situation. And the poise that Monica Lewinsky had then and now speaks volumes about the person she is and has become, so it just makes Clinton look that much more terrible in comparison.

It is disappointing because I was a fan of President Clinton for most of my life. And, like Richard Nixon, he was so gifted when it came to his intellectual powers and, in Clinton's case, his political skills, that his flaws and his actions were overlooked for too long. I don't know what kind of accountability there might be for Clinton now that he's been out of office for nearly 25 years and is a few years away from his 80th birthday. But I can say that I feel like I know who he is now and "creep" seems like a pretty fitting description.

[inkblot-inc]

Rough Cut Diamonds

Summary: Wanda Maximoff; one of the biggest names in designer and fashion jewelry, has to stoop down to a level she probably would never have gone herself as she stops by a metal shop to hopefully get a gift done for a friend. While there, she meets R, a metalworker with exceptional skill that might just earn Wanda's respect…and something else.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

[Everything else in the RCD Universe]

Warning(s): There’s smut so 18+ ONLY aka MINORS DNI, oral sex (Wanda recieving), strap-on use (r giving), other than that what else?... I mean there’s most likely language in there, but coming from me you shouldn’t be surprised if there is-

Note(s): So like, Jeweler!Wanda only makes sense to me when thinking of occupations, that paired with a Metalworker!Reader could make for an interesting dynamic. That’s really all it took for me to write this thing, so here's a Pilot. There’s actually a few other characters mentioned here. Maybe I’ll write more for this AU of sorts, but anyways, hope you enjoy :3

Word Count: A good bit past 4.2k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit

Wanda Maximoff, CEO of Maximoff Jewelers. One of the biggest names in designer and fashion jewelry.

Maximoff would be one of the first names said by the everyday person, mentioned among Gumuchian and David Yurman. Your Cartier’s and Bulgari’s, if you will. A staggering feat for what started as a home company based in New York.

While Wanda Maximoff herself is known for her solid presence and upper echelon beauty, her trademark look is her hands: always adorned with her own rings. A mix of her “rookie creations” and her favorite pieces from her line releases.

In our interview with Wanda Maximoff for the March Editor's Choice Article, Maximoff readily said that she has worked to master her craft and artistry for just over a decade, and that her work thrives off of her ambition. Her own distinct engravings and designs are handcrafted with custom soldering tools and specially imported metals from all over.

Maximoff jewelry designs are a rather alluring mix of gothic academia with usage of stones reminiscent of the Renaissance era. There's no need to wonder why Maximoff Jewelers is one of the most lucrative brands in our time-

"And why every person from fashion forward sons to best friends with shockingly good taste want a sneak peak at the Redeemer line set to release before the end of the year!"

Wanda snatched the magazine from her friend's hands. "Enough already, I've got enough of that from Monica." She took a sip from her freshly brewed coffee while she looked through her work notes. There was an upcoming sponsor deal to hash out and get meetings settled in for the following week. And today was simply a maintenance day squeezed into her usual work week.

Kate looked up in the middle of getting her own bag together for work. “Are we still on for lunch this afternoon?” 

Wanda grabbed her thermos of coffee as she thought over her schedule. “Mm, I should be free around two o’clock-ish. It really depends on how the timing shakes out.”

Wanda only heard the brunette give a small hum at her answer as she followed her out of the apartment. “You kept the first week of April free though, right?”

The two women left Kate’s apartment to make their way to the elevator, Wanda reaching said elevator first. “I didn’t forget about your birthday, Kate. You’ve made it impossible for me to, anyway.”

Kate got in after Wanda held the elevator door open for her. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen nary a suspicious anonymous online purchase or shifty bag movement. There was nothing I liked in your trunk either.”

Wanda merely raised a brow as she listened to the brunette ramble on. “Well, aside from breaking into my vehicle, I guess you’re not as good at being nosy as you think you are,”

Kate let out a fake gasp, both of them stepping out after reaching the ground floor. “How dare! I’m going to find out one way or another, Wands. You will not be immune!”

Wanda stopped once they reached the lobby to root through her bag for her car keys. “Mhm, gotcha. Are you done?”

“Eh, enough. Have a good day at work!” Kate burst out of the front doors to the apartment building as she walked the opposite way to her job.

Wanda briefly chuckled to herself as she reached her car. Getting in, she started it up and set her bag in the passenger seat.

She took a moment before she reached for the glove box. Behind important envelopes and documents inside was a nondescript tote bag. More documents and such were inside, but laying at the bottom (presumably due to its weight) was the broken hilt of a sword.

“Thankfully you weren't nosy enough, Bishop.”

—---------

You run a workshop just off the strip not too far from Wanda’s penthouse apartment.

You do a bit of everything, all it takes is an idea or commission really. You’ve made ornaments, sculptures, some abstract work, zippo lighters, and even a few weapons…for display of course.

You’ve been doing metalwork for as long as you can remember, even started working in highschool. Your mentor Logan is a bit of a hard ass, but his biggest rule is to make quality shit because “Your work is an extension of you”. He also said to keep protection on you in and out of the workshop.

A wise man indeed…

It was late in the afternoon with only about an hour and a half till closing. You spent most of the day doing independent projects that you would wind up selling online later on. With Cable out of the shop, you currently took to manning the Maker’s Damned aux cord when you heard the bell above the entrance door jingle…

Wanda remembered there was a metal shop around her place somewhere before coming across “The Maker’s Damned”. Walking into the shop she almost felt itchy. She was hit with the immediate temperature difference, accompanied with the telltale citrus scent of cleaning fluid. Wanda hadn’t been in a shop like this probably since she was just a teenager back home in Sokovia. Danko’s shop wasn’t much smaller in comparison to this though.

While Wanda could see the wear and tear of the place, it still managed to feel homey in a way that she couldn’t really turn her nose up at it.

“Something I can help you with, miss?”

Turning toward the sudden voice Wanda met eyes with you. She was then reminded why she was here in the first place with the weight of a broken sword in the bag she brought.

Clearing her throat, Wanda opened the bag for you to see. “I wanted to see if I could get this piece fixed for a friend.”

You quirked an eyebrow at the item in the bag. “A sword?”

Wanda opened the bag wider for you to see. “Yes, it’s supposed to be a replica of the Ronin sword,”

“I love those movies!” Your eyes lit up in recognition of the design, except the blade was broken inside the sheath.

Wanda’s eyes held a bit of mirth as she looked at you, “Of course you do.” 

You almost reach your hands out to take a closer look, “May I?”

Wanda nodded, holding the bag open as you grabbed the pieces. You noticed all the rings on her hands as a few of them caught the light.

You listened as Wanda told you about her good friend Kate’s birthday that was coming up and the girl had been complaining about how her dog Lucky knocked over her “baby” and needed to get it fixed.

Now, why exactly Kate insisted on having a sword as a centerpiece in her apartment is something Wanda didn’t even want to begin questioning, but here she was…

Assessing the damage, you look up at the well-dressed woman. “I can work with this if you feel like, miss…”

“Wanda. Just Wanda is fine…Skitch?”

You chuckle as you see her squint trying to read your name patch. “Yeah, it’s Y/n. It’s Skitch in the shop. If you’ll follow me, I can start looking at the sword at my station."

It wasn’t that you didn’t know who Wanda was, it’s just a matter of being professional.

Both of you made your way toward the back of the workshop, passing other metalworkers busy with their own projects.

“It is an active environment and most of these guys are messy, so just make sure you watch where you step.”

The Maker’s Damned is definitely different from her own workspace. The idle chatter mixed with classics playing on the stereo made the atmosphere casual, light. There were more divots and uneven grooves in the epoxy floors than Wanda was used to, but it wasn’t cumbersome.

Both of you reach your labeled workstation. It’s relatively tidy and you shuffle away some scattered blueprints to make room for the sword on the table before sitting down in your desk chair.

“Normally I’d have you see Nathan to get a price estimate for the job, but he’s gone out for parts, so you get my eval,” You look back and meet Wanda’s eyes for a good second.

‘God she’s pretty. Shut up, you gotta focus.’

As you get to examining the replica, Wanda looks you up and down. The sleeves of your welding shacket rolled up to the elbows, fitting snug around your biceps as you manage to free the broken blade from the sheath in one piece and set it next to the hilt.

Her eyes dart back up when you turn to face her. “How much did your friend pay for this initially?”

Wanda shrugged, “Something like six thousand dollars or so. It’s an authentic replica,”

You purse your lips as you eyed the hilt. “They got skimmed on that authentic bit,” You gave a firm shake to the hilt and showed her the thin piece of metal that fell out. “That’s a push tang.”

You watched her brows furrow. “Is there something wrong with it or? -”

“There shouldn’t be one at all. Ronin's sword was made to be retractable. There’s not a single rotation mechanism or spring mechanic in this thing.”

Though Wanda was amused, she scoffed, “Well I’m sure she knew that when she bought it. Retractable swords don’t actually exist.”

You tossed your head back and forth a bit before settling on a smirk. “Challenge accepted.”

Wanda gave a smile of her own as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You realize that you’re making more work for yourself. You could just repair it as it was.”

It was a test of some sort you realize, but you respond honestly, “I’ve got no problem with that. If I succeed, I guess I’ll just be the first. Plus, I’m a Ronin fan.”

You shrug as you spin your chair to fully face Wanda, the view tilting your head up at her as Wanda comes a bit closer. “And what about the price?”

You give yourself a second to try and think as you feel the cool metal of the jewelry on her hands meeting your shoulder and resting there. “Well, the original price was fifteen hundred. Considering that the material’s all here and with the quality of the piece I'm working with, I'm simply not gonna reforge this... It’s supposed to be a gift you said? I’m sure we can work a discount out with that.” You eye the hand on your shoulder as she gave it a brief squeeze before it returned to her side.

You’d both talked it over from there as you told Wanda that you should have the sword ready to go by the end of the week, it only being Tuesday, the idea for improvements already whirring around.

There was a noticeable tension by the time she left your workshop, a subtle sway in her hips and your personal number between her fingers on the card you gave her. You’d be seeing her in three days, so it was time to get to work.

-----

It was a busy week for Wanda at the manufacturing building, but production is still moving smoothly in preparation for the upcoming release of her Redeemer Collection in a few weeks' time.

As Wanda drove down the busy streets, she couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy. Today she’d come in to pick up and pay for the Ronin replica and see you again. She hadn’t used the number you gave her, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t think about it…Or you. Quite the opposite actually.

Kate noticed the difference in her mood when they met up again after she left her building for the day. As the next head of a security company, Kate picked up on just about everything that wasn’t related to herself. After a good bit of pestering, Wanda eventually admitted that she’d run into someone that she’d taken a liking to a few days ago. The jeweler left out a lot of the details of how the two of you met, only that she’d chatted with someone while at work. Any more and Kate would get too curious for her own good.

Wanda parked curbside and took her heels off to change into a pair of flats that she kept inside before getting out. It was clear and sunny, great weather for the weekend. She put on her sunglasses as she made her way down the strip, looking upward to catch the workshop sign.

Making her way inside, Wanda was more relaxed than last time as she was greeted with the sound of Foo Fighters and the continuous clang of metal. She found you easily.

You’d foregone the longsleeve for a gray wife beater, inked arms on display with a visible sheen. Wanda observed you for a bit as you were in a conversation with an older man dressed similarly. Practically feeling eyes on you, your head turned to meet Wanda’s stare, a quick smile forming at seeing her.

You excused yourself as you made your way over to Wanda, taking her in as well.

“Miss Maximoff, ‘afternoon.”

Wanda gave a quick laugh through her nose, “Please I just spent the last few hours being called ‘miss Maximoff’, no more for the day.”

“Alright I’ll drop it. Just wanted to be courteous.” There’s a playful smirk on your face as you watch her move her sunglasses up onto her head.

You catch your tongue between your teeth for a second before nodding toward the back. “Come on, I’ll show you the blade then.”

The two of you took the familiar path to the back before going past all the workstations. Idle chatter in between, a few stolen glances here and there. You used your key to unlock the door to your back office, holding the door open to let her pass through first.

You just went through yourself when you hear a voice boom from not too far away. “Remember what I said Skitch! I don’t need Hank on my ass ‘bout noise, you hear?!”

You could feel a bit of heat bloom on your cheeks, “Yuh huh Boss! I better not hear shit when Jean comes to drop off your lunch either!”

You only heard his gruff laugh in response before closing the door in place. “And for what, man?” mumbling to yourself, you made your way over to the closet with all your finished projects, checking the different labels for the sword. Peeking out, you saw Wanda looking around your office. There were custom designs and blueprints hung up, A few pictures of you with some of the other faces Wanda can recall seeing around the shop. Now that she was paying attention, it was also cleaner than she expected for a metal junky, the smell of cutting fluid and cleanser was noticeably lighter.

“Here it is,” You pulled what was the handle of the ronin sword out to display.

Wanda came a bit closer with her arms crossed. “And this blade is supposed to…pop out, and pop back in?”

She’s seen Ronin before, how could she not? One of her closest friends is the star of the franchise. But it was made with fictional tech in a world of fiction. By all accounts, a real retractable sword is impossible…

Or it was anyway.

Wanda watched as you took a step back before pressing a button you must have installed on the handle’ side. Next thing Wanda knew, there was a blade in the place of the empty space occupying the hilt.

You playfully bounced your eyebrows as you looked at the blade, it held up extremely well. You grabbed a blank piece of scrap paper and held it out and upward before running the edge of the blade across it, easily slicing through it with no effort. A testament to how well the sword was sharpened.

With another press of the button, the blade hid itself away back in the Habaki with no fuss. The last few sleep-deficient nights had been worth it.

You had a wide grin as you looked to Wanda, who looked every bit as impressed as you felt with yourself. “Now that’s what I like to see huh!”

Wanda conceded a mini round of applause as she went to lean on the edge of your desk. She watched you test it a few more times with some practice swings. “I stand corrected. I have to say I’m vastly impressed Y/n,” She kept a small smile on her face as you continued to admire your handiwork before carefully setting the hidden blade in a custom case. You explained how the sheath was virtually useless now that the blade could retract itself and how you repurposed the material to make a case for the blade instead.

You walked over and presented the sturdy sword case to her on your office desk. “Making the impossible possible baby,”

Your eyes met once again, and you catch Wanda’s eyes dart down without care for getting caught.

“So how much do I owe you?”

You both could feel that same growing tension in spite of the honest avenue of conversation.

“I’d say a thousand even.”

Wanda was taken aback, “That’s more than generous of you Y/n. I don’t mind paying full price; you basically remade the entire sword. It’s probably even worth more than the original six thousand now,”

While moving to gather up the bag the sword came in, you looked over to Wanda flashing a quick smile. “Nah it’s fine, really. This is still classified as a simple repair job after all, plus it was a good challenge. I may wanna get paid but that’s what paychecks are for right? Consider it…Special commission. Respects for another Ronin fan, a favor for a beautiful woman even.”

Placing the sword off to the side, Wanda ran her hands down your arm and over your bicep.

Looking up at you, Wanda’s eyes were a much darker, almost velvet green. “I’m sure we can make that work.”

She brought you closer and your lips crashed together in a kiss that was pent up and hungry, first being a clashing of tongue and teeth before your making out boiled down to something more sensual, like a low rumbling fire and tossing coals. You rested your hands on either side of Wanda on the desk, enclosing her between your arms. Separating briefly to look at you, her pupils were blown out and you wouldn’t doubt that yours were as well.

As you both continued to make out with the addition of wandering hands, you felt Wanda grip the top of your waistband before running her hand over the bulge in your work pants.

“Mm, I want to say this is pretty presumptuous of you,” there was a small upturn to Wanda’s lips as she raised a brow at you.

You merely cocked your head to the side as you appeared to give it thought. “Presumptuous? Maybe. I like the word ‘Prepared’ better. And I always am,”

Leaning forward, you captured Wanda’s lips again before moving to kiss across her jaw to her neck right by her pulse point. "I'd say you're presumptuous though," You bring your hand up and push a hand under the fabric of her top, simply caressing the skin.

"Lookin' this good at the end of the day, what're you doin'? Feels like you're teasin' me almost,"

With your other hand fiddling with the buttons of Wanda’s blouse, you laid light kisses on her newly exposed shoulder and collar bone. You continue, sliding the fabric off to pool around her waist.

"Do you think so?"

Wanda’s breath hitched as her hand kept a hold of the back of your neck as you continued your ministrations and moved lower, becoming preoccupied with her breasts as you licked and sucked. The seemingly constant contrast of her warm skin and cool rings sent you into a bit of a stir as she urged you lower.

Pulling you away from her chest, you looked up to meet her eyes.

“You know that’s not where I need you.”

The blunt statement had you welcoming the pressure pushing you down to your knees, becoming eye level with Wanda’s thighs.

Because you did know where she needed you.

Where she wanted you.

Pulling down her jeans, you left a few kisses along her hip bone as you pulled down her underwear.

You almost feel your mouth begin to water at the sight of Wanda’s exposed pussy. Quickly running your tongue over your bottom lip, you lower your head to lick a stripe over her entrance before lightly sucking her clit into your mouth.

"Right there, baby. Mhm,"

Wanda’s hips buck and spasm into your face as she takes as much pleasure you’re willing to give. Her moans and whimpers are a welcome compliment as one of her hands keeps hold of the back of your head.

You bring a finger up to slide into Wanda, keeping a quick rhythm as you double your efforts on her clit. You feel Wanda's fingers clench in your hair.

"Oh- fuck,"

When Wanda reaches her orgasm, you take all of her as her juices flow into your mouth. Your movements are less feverish as you clean her up. Wanda helps pull you back up to meet her, her hand resting on your chin.

There’s a light smile on your lips as you watch her chest heave slightly.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Wanda gives a quick laugh through her nose in response as she meets your eyes. “Certainly, but we’re far from done here.”

She makes quick work of undoing your belt as you push your pants down revealing your strap on. You take it in your hand as you run the toy along her entrance, getting it wet with her slick. You press kisses to the underside of Wanda’s jaw, nipping by her ear as you push into her, and your hands rest flat on desk as you set a steady pace.

You watch, almost breathless as your cock moves in and out of Wanda, already coated in her juices. "God, you're taking me so well, Wands."

Wanda’s arms rest over your shoulders as her hands grasp the back of your shirt. "Fuck, yes! Right there, Y/n!"

Speeding up, you cover Wanda’s body with your own as you fuck her into the desk. Chasing your own release, you go harder while bringing a hand to Wanda’s hip and pulling her to meet your thrusts with your own grunts following your orgasm.

Wanda cries out as she releases on your strap on and you slow down to help ride out both or your highs, savoring the sweet resistance you meet with Wanda’s pussy as you continue to slide out and in. Your forehead rests on wanda’s as you continue the languid pace, breathing in each other.

-----

Buckling your jeans back up you looked over at Wanda, who was fixing her blouse in the small mirror on your desk. “Y’know I was kinda upset you didn’t call me earlier this week. Could’ve figured details out over say, dinner…”

Wanda looked over her shoulder before turning to you and tucking your wife beater back in your jeans for you. “Well I knew I’d be able to pay for it no matter the cost…And I knew that I was going to see you again, so there was no need to worry about it.”

Fighting a smile, you took one of Wanda’s hands in your own, running your thumb over her knuckles lightly. “What if I still wanted to do that dinner thing tho? Go all in for reservations or just head down to Bravo’s and pick up a pie, eat in at my place,”

After finishing up fixing yourselves, you both made your way back to the front of the shop, you could see the sun starting to set through the window. You decided to walk with Wanda down the street to her car as well.

Opening her car door Wanda turned and gave you a quick peck on the cheek before getting in, rolling her window down afterward. “I’d say that you’ve got a date on your hands there Y/n. Pick me up at, say, five o’clock tomorrow?”

You leaned down to be eye level with her as she started her car up, your arms lightly resting on the window ledge. “And where would I pick you up?”

Her head turned to face you, “We can figure out the details over the phone.”

With a smirk, you stood up straight keeping eye contact with Wanda. “I look forward to your call then.” You watched as Wanda gave you a wave before pulling out onto the street and driving away.

Going back into the workshop, Logan was still in his office, but everyone else went home for the day. You were helping close up, so you got to putting away the power tools and sweeping up debris.

The small smile refusing to leave your face all the while.

You were just about done when your phone buzzed in your pocket. Checking the notification to see an unknown number, you read the text that popped up on your lock screen.

-@ Attica Suites on xxx street, top floor. This is Wanda btw-

You finished putting away the cleaning supplies before you went to respond.

-Y: Alright, got it-

Not even a full minute passed before your phone buzzed again

-W: So when will you be over?-

-Y: For tmr? Probably closer to 4:50-

-W: I meant for tonight, I wanna know if I should leave the door unlocked or not-

Your eyes widened at the text before looking up at the clock hanging on the wall, it was quarter past six. You were closing up early for the weekend anyhow…

You quickly knocked and popped your head into Logan’s office before telling him the shop was ready for lock up. He gave you a gruff response while looking over his papers as you ducked back out.

Getting your jacket from your office and checking your pockets for your key ring you all but sprinted to your truck out back, typing back a response to Wanda while dodging a bin.

-Y: Omw, be there in 20-

[pizzaboat]

Phoebe is accidentally a complex character?? Friends? Hit and miss show. Not the most tightly written, Ross and Rachel got together somehow in the end. But Phoebe's transition from a somewhat ditzy, altruistic and empathetic person, to a manipulative, selfish and callous person (at times) makes sense.

She's got the most complex trauma of the group, but the least support and acknowledgement. She's on the outside, both metaphorically and physically, Rachel mentioning that Phoebe lifts right out of the group and it wouldn't change anything

All the characters have their issues, family trauma or romantic drama, but it's palatable and you can show it on a sit-com without branching too closely into dark humor. Exploring all of Phoebe's issues would change the tone of the show and the tone of the lives of the characters in the group

So the characters and the show treat all the Phoebe weirdness and dark references as "Okay Phoebe." Moments. There's a tone of awareness for all the odd shit from Phoebe's family where the show let's you know it views Phoebe's family as a bunch of freaks and the joke is that Phoebe doesn't see that or doesn't care about that

But imagine you're in a friend group where all your biggest problems and traumas are too much for your friends, but yet you're hearing about your friend Rachel and your friend Ross for the millionth time

And how hard their relatively easy lives are, to yours. Even your more emotionally messed up friends like Monica and Chandler don't get it, and their lives look like dreams compared to your own.

They had parents and homes, no matter how dysfunctional, they never had to weigh up the pros and cons of sleeping with a homeless man for food

Because you will make references to torture, suicide and family members in jail, and they can all only ignore it or look at you like it's so sad, or too much to listen to

You're gonna resent those friends and say... become bitter, like later seasons Phoebe is. It makes sense that during Phoebe's pregnancy she starts tearing people new ones, and tells Rachel that no one gives a shit about her and Ross because there ARE bigger problems

Those are Phoebe's thoughts, she's just on a shorter fuse and that fuse gets shorter as the show goes on. I think Phoebe becomes more aware of how on the outside she really is, and feels less remorse about engaging in manipulative habits like Ursela to get what she wants, or to lead her oblivious and stubborn friends to the realisations they need

Like showing Rachel she actually did want the baby by lying about the second pregnancy test being negative, or when she manipulated Monica into agreeing to host thanks giving in season 10 by identifying what makes Monica tick and weaponising it

By the time Phoebe and Mike are getting married, Phoebe is at her highest point of wanting something good for herself. I think she leans so heavily into doing the right thing and depriving herself for cosmic karma, because she wants to believe she's okay, and she surrounds herself with weirdness and odd friends outside of the cast because she wants to believe she isn't as messed up as she feels

That what happened was bad, but she isn't too affected by it, and she can prove that by depriving herself of normalcy continously until she reaches her limit. Because Phoebe is not an accepting person by season 10. The show itself had taken a more conservative and judgmental tone a long time ago, but Phoebe had actually grown very close minded in a lot of ways

So I don't believe she's just open minded for the sake of open mindedness. She was just leaning back on familiar habits and situations on the side

And so when Mike and her have the choice for a normal wedding, she jumps on it with little prodding from Monica, and Phoebe demands the money back from a charity her and Mike donated to a children's charity

And Phoebe gets angry and defends her actions against the charity worker when he tries to guilt them afterwards. Her main argument being that she deserves a normal wedding after a shit life. She then reveals a traumatic experience that Mike attempts to comfort her for after in the cafe

(Note I think this is the first time anyone has acknowledged what Phoebe has said about her past and said she didn't deserve it)

Mike is up for whatever Phoebe wants, and supports her, if she wants to do the "moral thing" and not have the big wedding she secretly wants, or if she wants to march back to the charity and do a "selfish deed", he doesn't make Phoebe feel bad either which way about it.

I think that's why she's the closest to her season 1 self with him. She's acted in a softer manner, especially around the wedding. But that's a whole tangent.

Phoebe likely became friends with the other friends because there was something inside of her that recognised she wanted normal, even if she was telling herself she was fine. They were not the kind of people she would've befriended when she was younger, she's said that herself, and eventually she grows to resent them a little as she gets older and a little colder

Because their normalcy both frustrates and fascinates her, because she can't breech it with the experiences she has, she can't relate an anecdote to one of their pasts, the same way one of them could do to another person

And she even makes jokes about that too. Where she'll be like "this reminds me of the time when-" and she'll say something crazy messed up, and one of the friends will be like "that's nothing like what happened to me." And she'll shrug and nod, and the laugh track will play, or she'll say "exactly, its nothing like that, because that was a real problem."

The only person Phoebe seems to sit at a middle ground with is Joey, and I think that's because Joey never really makes her feel weird, and he's just strange himself and his life direction is quite pathetic. He's kind and has a good heart. He's just sorta there in season 10 as well

But for the rest of the characters, Phoebe's fascination probably turned to mild bitterness and frustration in later seasons, which would explain her change in behaviour through the seasons

An example of this is in season 1s thanks giving vs season 10s thanks giving. In season 1

Phoebe has the empathy to look guilty and sad when Monica starts crying and hyperventilating over the ruined dinner as she explains how used and underappreciated she feels

And after more yelling starts with the group, you can see Phoebe yelling at Ross in the background, looking like she's getting between him joining the rest of the group who are arguing with eachother and Monica.

I think she looked guilty and then had the sense to back Monica up (because that was also Phoebe's first thanks giving with friends and Monica saying that stuff about how it was her first likely soarked empathy and guilt)

(and for contrast to change and cruelty Chandler makes fun of Monica and tells her only dogs can hear her noise)

But by season 10, Phoebe has no remorse or guilt about manipulating Monica into making the dinner. She identifies what would make Monica want to make the dinner and then doesn't feel any guilt (along with the rest of the friends) for standing Monica and Chandler up at the dinner

She's got that disconnect from the group and she's past empathising. She's getting what she wants, and what she wants is dinner and to have Rachel take Emma to that pagent. Winning matters more than the ethics of insisting your friend who didn't want to cook, cook dinner, and then stand them up after

The show isn't perfect, or even well written all of the time, but Phoebe's mess makes a weird amount of sense when you analyse her behaviour and ethics shift

She's a woman who's seen and been through too much, and she changes her coping mechanisms from denial and altruism to selfishness and indignation over time. Phoebe isn't a bad person like Ursela, but she's not this ideal person she once tried to be either

[ejzah]

In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 35

***

The call went better than expected. Monica’s lawyer was surprisingly civil and matter-of-fact, which Deeks appreciated. They agreed to meeting on Tuesday, his lawyer would be in attendance as well, to update the custody agreement. Hopefully they could resolve everything in one sitting, but he was prepared for it to be a prolonged process.

In the meantime, they were rolling into the final week of school, which meant Caleb had a few more assessments to complete. Mostly though, it meant he came home with an increasing number of projects from throughout the year and instructions for celebratory activities.

On Monday night, Deeks stayed up late with Caleb making a costume for the end-of-year party. Caleb had alternated between an artist and pirate for a couple weeks, and only decided last minute that he actually wanted to be Captain America. Thankfully, it was a simple enough design, since Deeks’ sewing and crafting skills were admittedly limited.

“Can you hand me a pin?” Deeks requested, holding out his hand in Caleb’s direction. Caleb carefully placed one in his palm. He balanced on his knees, he watched Deeks work, a pair of scissors held at the ready.

“Daddy, can I ask you a question?”

Deeks tucked the non-pointy end of a needle between his lips, readjusting the pile of fabric in front of him before resuming sewing. “If it’s why the shield is a little asymmetrical, it’s all part of the plan.” Caleb didn’t respond to that, so Deeks nudged him with his foot. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Is Mommy not coming to visit anymore?” he asked finally.

“I’m not sure, kiddo.“

Caleb dipped his head then, peeking up out of his banks sheepishly. “I heard you talking on the phone the other day with somebody about Mom. You said she couldn’t just show up here anymore whenever she wants,” he admitted reluctantly.

Deeks sighed internally. This was why he tried to conduct most of his personal business while Caleb was at school or asleep. He didn’t fault Caleb for being curious, but sometimes it certainly made life more complicated.

“Come here.” Deeks opened his arms, waiting until Caleb clambered onto his lap. His legs had grown so much in the last couple of years they extended over Deeks’ lap, nearly touching the ground. Once he was settled, Deeks wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight.

“You’re right, I was talking about your mom. Tomorrow we have a meeting to figure out if there’s a way for her to visit more regularly without it being such a big surprise. Now I don’t know if it’s going to work out that way,” Deeks explained. Caleb didn’t say anything, but Deeks could tell he was listening intently. “What do you think about that?”

“Will it always have to be a long visit?”

“It probably won’t be as many days in a row as this last time.”

Caleb nodded, his face contemplative. “I guess that sounds ok,” he decided. Taking one of Deeks’ hands, he started forming his fingers into various configurations. He gave a little sigh that was too heavy for a five year old. “I love Mommy, but sometimes it’s hard to be with her. Does that make sense.”

“It makes a lot of sense.“ Deeks kissed the top of his head. “I wish is was easier.”

“Me too.”

Deeks patted his thigh, scooching him back on the floor. “C’mon, let’s get this costume finished up before it’s time to wake up for school.”

***

Deeks took a half day on Tuesday for the meeting with Monica. When he reached the office where they were meeting, Monica had already arrived. For once, she didn’t attempt to flirt or intimidate him, outside of a pointed look before she turned back to talk with her lawyer.

Three hours later, Deeks walked out, exhausted, but cautiously optimistic. Assuming Monica didn’t come back with any changes, they’d successfully modified the custody agreement.

Kensi was supposed to come over for dinner, so Deeks rushed to pick up Caleb, and grabbed pizza on the way home. While Caleb finished up the tiny bit of homework assigned, Deeks tossed the pizzas in a couple of skillets to reheat. It was hardly a gourmet meal, but he figured Kensi would forgive him.

The doorbell rang while he was in the middle of throwing together a very simple salad of lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and avocado.

“Caleb, can you get that? Check to make sure it’s Kensi before you unlock the door, ok?” he requested in between dicing a small cucumber.

“Kay!” He ran off, his bare feet slapping against the floor. Deeks heard the indistinct sound of his and Kensi’s voices.

“Hey.” Kensi wrapped her arms around him from behind, and kissed his neck. He grinned, twisting his neck so he could reach her mouth.

“Hey. I think I could get used to this.”

“Mm. Thanks for feeding me again. It smells delicious,” she said, snatching a piece of cucumber from the cutting board.

“I’ll pass it on to Peter, my pizza guy. How was your day?” he asked. He offered Kensi a handful of clean lettuce leaves, which she accepted with a smile.

“Chaotic, but that’s to be expected at this point. Even the kids who love school are ready to break out. The ten thousand and one activities paired with candy and ice cream parties doesn’t exactly help,” she answered.

“Yeah, I noticed. Caleb spent the entire drive home singing and bouncing in his seat.”

“I’m sorry about that. It’s only three more days though.”

“I know it’s, crazy. I don’t think I’m ready for first grade,” he said, shaking his head. Kensi made a sympathetic face.

“Aw, you’ll be ok. And so will Caleb.” Moving around the kitchen with familiarity, Kensi got out three place settings, and started placing them in the usual spots around the table.

Deeks checked the bottoms of the pizzas, which had browned up nicely, and he turned off the heat, sliding each pizza onto a large cutting board.

“Hey, earlier you mentioned something about a surprise,” he said as he worked. “Do I get to hear all the juicy details?”

“Yes, but tell me about the meeting today. I kept thinking about you all afternoon.” Retrieving two cold beers from the fridge, Kensi sat down, patting the chair beside her.

Deeks groaned, feeling everyone of his 30-some years. “It went as well as can be expected. We drafted a new custody agreement. Monica will get two days of visitation per month, at a secondary location we both agree on. We initially suggested more, but she said that she couldn’t agree to that commitment at the current time,” Deeks explained. He rubbed his eyes and groaned again. “I really wish it hadn’t come to this.”

“Do you think she’ll follow through?” Kensi asked, distractedly nibbling on another piece of cucumber.

“I honestly have no idea,” Deeks admitted. He sighed heavily, shaking his head, and Kensi rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “She could either come because she actually wants to see Caleb consistently now, to prove a point, or just skip out again.”

“I’m sorry. For Caleb’s sake, I hope she does.”

“Yeah. At least now we should have fewer unexpected visits, which is all I wanted.”

“You made the right choice,” Kensi assured him. He appreciated it; he’d probably always question his decision to a degree, but it helped that Kensi didn’t think he was a complete monster. “Alright, now you tell me about your secret. Are you moving to Aruba, joining a traveling circus, buying me a puppy?”

Kensi snorted. “Not quite. A few weeks ago, I applied for a teaching position at University of California, Los Angeles, and today I got a call saying they’d like to hire me. So, I’ll be teaching a couple of Spanish classes this summer,” Kensi shared, unable to hold back a grin.

“Kensi, that’s fantastic!” Deeks exclaimed, getting up and picking her up to swing around the room. She tilted her head back, laughing in obvious delight. He set her back down again, keeping one hand on her waist. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“You were dealing with all the Monica stuff and I didn’t want to add anything else to your plate.” She folded her hand over his. “Besides, I wasn’t really sure that they’d even offer me an interview. If it didn’t go anywhere, I wanted to wallow all on my own.”

“Hey, I will always wallow with you. I’m great at it. We’ll get some wine, cookies, make a whole night of it,” Deeks said.

“You’re ridiculous.” She kissed him softly, her lips lingering long enough that he felt a tingle of warmth building in his chest. When Kensi pulled back, she brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I love it. And you.”

“Love you too.” They kissed again, this time for just a few seconds

“You know, this kind of news deserves a celebration. We’ve got wine and mint Oreos. Only the best for you.”

“Now how could I say no to an offer like that,” Kensi teased, untangling her arms from around him. “I’m going to go wrangle Caleb while you dig out those Oreos.”

Wiggling her eyebrow ridiculously, Kensi walked out to the sound of Deeks’ laughter.

[gamergirl-06]

Ryan x FTM! Reader

Plot: Ryan and the reader are at the Serling and jimmy makes a comment on readers appearance. Ryan gets pissed, also I’m making Reuben Reed good here.

Requested by (and I’m tagging): @hyunjinbiased-blog

You were relaxing with Rosa and Evie, drink in hand as you listened to their conversation.

Ryan, your crush and best friend, was trying to sort out how his immunity and how it needs to get you and him out of LA and to safety.

You understood the stress he was under, it was a big task to become the hero and try and save the world with your Blood.

“Hello, are you ok (Y/N)?”

It was Evie, she had a concerned look on her face, Rosa mirroring her.

You clear your throat, “yeah I’m fine, just thinking about if the world will ever go back to the way it was before.”

They nodded, they understood how you felt, they thought about it everyday, that was the only thing in their minds constantly.

You look up and see Reuben and Ryan walking into the room and you got up saying goodbye to the girls before trotting beside Ryan.

He turns and looks at you and smiles “well hello there.”

“Hello to you too,” you say back and give him a side hug

Reuben chuckled “you two are really cute together”

You and Ryan look at him, eyes widened as Ryan spoke “oh we’re not together”

You enter another room with all of the Dr’s files and Ryan held your hand as Reed began to explained where to find the equipment to test his blood.

You went still, your crushes hand was touching yours, this has to be a dream..nope it wasn’t it was actually happening.

“We gonna need to test your blood, only problem is It’s in The CDC by the Santa Monica Pier.” He told Ryan “It’s going to be a bit of a travel but you should make it, if you don’t..get attacked by those things that is”

Ryan looked at him with an unamused look on his face “Geez thanks”.

You look at Ryan “I know this must be stressful for you,” you hug him and he hugs back.

He looks down at you and smiles “yeah, but I have this voice in my head that tells me to keep going, I really just want to get us both and everyone else to safety.”

You blush at the fact you’re even hugging him right now.

Reuben smiles at you both, you two reminded of him and his wife when they were younger. The love that they had for each other but you two just didn’t know it yet.

Ever since you two got here, he was your biggest shipper (Reuben shipping two people is a funny thought 😂)

Jimmy then enters the room “hey doc you know we ran out of food.”

“Yeah I know” He said rolling his eyes at Jimmy, god Jimmy was annoying sometimes “and I told you when I had more off my plate then I would go for a supply run, I have told you this 10 hundred times.”

Just then Tisha ran in “Dad we need to go and sweep those apartments before someone else cleans them out”.

Reed shook his head “There’s no way you’re going, I can’t Let you go outside with those things lumbering around.”

“But Daaad, I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m going with the others, we will be back soon” she goes to walk away but Reuben grabs her arm and pulls her back.

“Now you must be out of your mind, you DON’T go outside WITHOUT me”.

Jimmy then piped in “yeah doc just let her go, she wants to be part of the team”

“Jimmy’s right I have to do something” Tisha argues back.

“I can’t let those things take you away from me like they did your mother” Reuben stops, he can’t believe he just said that.

You and Ryan stood in shock like everyone else, you both knew nothing about what happened to Reuben’s wife, he only told you she passed awhile ago.

Now that he said that you know that it must be a sensitive subject, especially with Tisha.

“I’m sorry..I-i didn’t mean to…” Reuben regretted saying the words that came out of his mouth a minute ago.

“Your right, dad” Tisha started “I shouldn’t put this on you, I’m sorry”

You piped in “I mean I could take her and watch her back while we scavenge for supplies, you know me Reuben, I have gone with Ryan in missions for you before, it won’t be any different.”

Tisha have you a look of gratitude and appreciation and smiled at you.

Reuben let out a breath, “ok, since it’s you and I trust you, Tisha..you can go, just be careful”

She smiled and hugged him and looked at you once again “Thank you so much, I am grateful.”

You smile as she leaves and you gather your things from the table next to you Jimmy looks you up and down “looks more girly then an actual man”.

You freeze up as you heard him talk about your appearance. You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes as you felt belittled.

Ryan’s face went red “what the fuck did you just say asshat?”

Jimmy tensed up, he knew if he repeated what he said he would be on the floor in seconds.

“Ummmm…” he replied

Ryan trudged towards the man but you stopped him and Reuben threw Jimmy out of the room.

“If I EVER hear you say shit like that again Jimmy you will have to answer to me about why that behaviour is acceptable, you understand me?” You heard Reuben say outside the door.

You couldn’t really hear what Jimmy said but you were to busy trying to calm Ryan down from rage.

“Ryan, please his not worth it” you say.

“He is if it’s about you, he shouldn’t talk to you like that it’s so wrong, plus it doesn’t make you feel equal to everyone else.” (I’m sorry to anyone who has experienced the negative behaviour towards them in this area, you don’t deserve that)

You smile “I do appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Of course, i…care about you so much” he said.

You eyes widened and blush..he told you he cared about you..holy hell.

Ryan took a deep breath out “fuck it I can’t do it anymore..(Y/N)… I love you..I have had feelings for you since I met you..I want you to be mine.”

You couldn’t believe what you just heard..the person you liked..confessing that he feels the same way. You eventually look into his eyes and without stuttering say:

“Ryan, I love you too, I too have felt this way about you for awhile as well.”

You connect your lips together in a gentle kiss as Ryan placed his hand on the back of your neck and the other on your back while yours found his muscly chest.

“Ahem” came from behind you both as you both break away and see that Reuben was staring at the both of you.

“About time, I was just starting to plan to take matters into my own hands if you didn’t confess” Reuben smirked.

Both you and Ryan had red on your faces, flushed from embarrassment.

“Sorry..uh you might wanna go to Tisha..she’s waiting for you” Reuben said to you.

“Oh..yes” you grab your stuff and give Ryan a kiss before walking out.

“Be careful out there, love you” Ryan said

“Love you too” you replied as you walked to Tisha to start your run.

[that-one-scared-gay]

friendly reminder that if they hadn't changed the crusty scene in the show they likely would've had to cut him out completely. like this is the second-to-last episode. they did NOT have time for the trio to fall into a monster trap before going to the underworld.

and the scene would've taken up a lot of time if they'd fully followed it, because in the book the sequence goes: trio gets to LA, get chased by some mortal assholes -> go into crusty's shop to hide -> crusty tries to sell them waterbeds, then traps Annabeth and Grover -> Percy tries to talk crusty out of stretching his friends, eventually tricks him into lying on a bed and activates the trap -> beheads the monster, sets his friends free -> they go to look for the entrance to the underworld

that would take TIME. even just the sequence of getting trapped would take time. this is unfortunately what happens when you try to put a 22 chapter book into an 8 episode season. and we all know that's not the writers' fault, it's disney's

they could have cut crusty out completely and just had them go straight to charon, but they probably wanted to tell the fans 'no we haven't forgotten this guy'

as for percy knowing who crusty is, 1. Hermes gave them instructions to get to the underworld. he could have easily told them who's guarding the entrance. and 2. the nereid Percy talked to in Santa Monica could have warned him as well, which would make sense since crusty is also a son of poseidon, so his servants probably know what he's up to

i also wish the show had more of them falling into traps, but i know it's because of time, and honestly i'd rather they cut on the action than the character beats, which i think they're doing a really good with and even adding more than what we see in the books

the vibe of the show, compared to the book, has been less "kids try to make it across the country while monsters try to kill them so the world doesn't end in an epic godly war" and more "kids try to navigate their fucked up family (which involves travelling across the country where monsters are trying to kill them, so their fucked up family doesn't go to war). the gods in the show seem a lot more approachable, and so a lot more accountable for being shitty parents. i'm having a good time watching it, i think most of the changes make sense (i LOVED the whole bit of grover being left with ares, it really showed that he's not actually 12), they're building a fun narrative where the gods are assholes but some of them are at least trying to be better (see hepheastus, hades offering percy sanctuary, poseidon coming when sally called and even giving percy 4 pearls instead of 3, which shows he actually thinks about her)

i understand being frustrated by the tension being repeatedly undercut by them knowing all the myths, but it's not enough to stop my enjoyment of the show for all else it has to offer. i do hope next season we get more time/episodes so this doesn't happen again, and even that the team in charge of the show sees the complaints being made and listens to them, but i'm still having a blast

[sweetsmollthings]

Ok so with my post about external shrinking triggers I did keep thinking on it more and wrote something……

Contains: shrinking in spurts, triggered by keywords; shrinking to about 5’3”; shrinking to about 3’6”; shrinking to 3”; an almost-kidnapping; a rescue; fear and angst; probably inaccurate grocery store things (because the author has never worked in customer service jobs)

“Ah—!”

Paige jolted, then looked towards the neighboring cashier. “Val? Are you—?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Val snapped, yanking out her earbuds much too fast (which she clearly regretted, judging from how she winced) and fumbling with her phone. Paige faintly heard a snippet of whatever she was listening to (something about miniatures?) before she finally managed to turn it off.

Paige frowned. The brusque attitude wasn’t unexpected—in all the time they had worked together, Val had always avoided talking to coworkers and customers alike, pointedly keeping her earbuds on to drown out everybody else. She probably took the late night shift to interact with as few people as possible (which, fair); even so, Paige would have liked some appreciation. She considered leaving her alone as requested.

…But the way that Val curled up, clutching her phone tight, breathing much too fast, was too concerning to ignore.

“Hey,” Paige said softly, moving closer. “Deep breaths, alright? Let’s calm down—wait, why are you so short??”

Maybe that was a strange thing to focus on for what was clearly a panic attack, but when someone was a whole head shorter than they should be, how could you not comment on it?

And, when someone got even shorter right before your eyes, could you blame a person for getting derailed? “Wha— huh??? What??? You—“

“Shut up,” Val hissed, shooting out a hand to presumably cover Paige’s mouth, but clearly misjudging the distance because she ended up bopping Paige on the chin instead. Her short sleeves billowed with the movement. Her other hand held a now too-big shirt to her chest. “Just—go away! I’m taking a break—“ Val suddenly grabbed her pants in the middle of turning around, stopping them from falling. Paige saw her ears go red.

“I, um,” Paige stuttered, then wordlessly retreated to her cash register and tried to be normal about this. Don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t stare…

It was impossible. Paige snuck a glance and startled, at first thinking that Val had gotten even smaller, but no. She was just crouching down. Hiding, probably.

Paige hesitated, then reached over to turn off Val’s checkstand light.

After a very quiet half hour, Val stood up again. Full height, this time. She glared at Paige. “Don’t say a word. To anyone.”

Paige nodded. (Not like anybody would believe her.) “So…about all that…”

But Val was already plugging in her earbuds, back to tuning out the world.

…Well. Probably best not to pry.

-

After that incident, Val seemed to put extra effort into avoiding Paige at all costs. Which wasn’t difficult, especially since Paige decided to not pursue the many questions she had. Whatever happened, it wasn’t any of her business. Maybe it never happened in the first place. Maybe she had been dreaming or delirious—never mind that she had felt totally awake—after all, shrinking was obviously impossible.

The unspoken arrangement worked out well. At least until one day, passing by the bathroom door, someone grabbed Paige’s arm.

Screeching, she swung a fist towards the offender and only hit the door (ow). As she nursed her hand, she actually looked at the door and saw Val peeking from behind it. At a much lower angle than she should be. Like, way lower. “Change the song,” she begged, which was…sorta creepy, actually.

“Huh?” Paige said, still trying to reconcile Val’s current impossible height and shift in demeanor.

“On the PA, stupid!” she hissed. (Ah, there we go.) But it turned into a whimper as, all of a sudden, she shot down a few inches. Above them, the speakers cheerfully sang, “a little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side…”

“R-right! Hang on,” Paige said, running to the office. Somehow, she managed to make it before the chorus ended.

When she ran back, the bathroom door was closed again. She knocked. “It’s me. Are you…okay?”

The only answer was a clumsy click as the door opened again. Val peeked out, definitely much shorter. Child-sized, even. She clearly had to reach up for the door handle and looked miserable about that fact. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Then, “I need you to help me home.”

Glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, Paige crouched down. “Can’t you just grow back? You did last time.”

“It’s past midnight,” Val explained bitterly. “I’m stuck like this for now. Just get me home. You have a car, don’t you? It’s just a…quick drive.”

“But my shift isn’t over,” Paige said, then realized how ridiculous that was in this context. “Um. Okay. Just…follow me, I guess.”

Val opened the door a little wider and waddled out, hefting a bundle of what seemed to be almost all her clothes—thankfully, she still had a dress on. That is, her shirt, which was long enough to be a dress. Or rather, she was small enough for it to be a dress. The bundle looked like it would explode out of her arms and Paige briefly considered offering to hold it for her, but then decided that would be too weird.

“I’m gonna just quickly check the carts,” Paige told the manager, who just waved her off, not even looking up from his phone. Val padded behind her on bare feet, ducking her head even though she really didn’t need to. She couldn’t be seen over the register even if she stood up straight.

It was as quick a drive as Val said, just across the street and around the corner. Completely walkable, under normal circumstances. But under abnormal circumstances, Val needed to be helped in and out of the car and escorted to the steps. She couldn’t even unlock the door on her own. Val didn’t say a word the whole time, not even a thank you before shutting the door in Paige’s face.

-

So clearly, for whatever reason, Val shrunk any time she heard any word that meant “small” and grew back at midnight, like some sort of bizarre Cinderella. Her general demeanor made a lot more sense now. Why be friendly with people if conversations were a landmine for triggering a…curse? Probably a curse. This seemed pretty curse-like.

Being privy to this secret didn’t afford Paige any exemption to Val’s antipathy, though. It did afford her a lot more requests for help, and while she did understand that she was probably the only one who could help (since the cat was out of the bag anyways), it was sort of getting stressful, considering that most of the requests involved sneaking her out of work. Sometimes when she wasn’t even that small.

“Can’t you get noise-cancelling headphones or something?” Paige asked tersely on one of their secret drives.

Val looked at her, surprised. Even after their arrangement began, they never really exchanged words during the drives. It was just a given that they should be done in silence. After a long pause, she tugged at her shirt (which wasn’t even that baggy this time) and replied, “They hurt after a while. And it’s not like they work perfectly.”

“It’s better than nothing. I can’t keep doing this for you, I’ll lose my job.”

Val glared hard at the glovebox. “Okay. Got it,” she said coldly, sending a twinge of guilt through Paige. But really, it was unreasonable to ask her to do this. She wasn’t in the wrong here. Val should be figuring out how to handle this herself.

-

“Who’s that?”

Paige blinked, coming out of her automatic check-out mode, and looked at where the shopper pointed. “Huh? Val?”

The shopper nodded. “Thanks. I don’t need a receipt.”

“Alright,” Paige said slowly. That…was a little weird, right? Should she tell Val? But it’s been pretty awkward ever since their last conversation. And she could handle herself. She should handle herself, really. Paige wasn’t her keeper.

When their shift ended, Paige got into her car and headed home—her home, not Val’s. Which, of course, was how it should be. It was late. She needed some sleep before class. They weren’t friends.

…

Sighing heavily, Paige turned around and drove back to the road she had grown so familiar with, peering ahead for any sign of a person on the empty sidewalks. As she approached Val’s house, her headlights caught a lone figure, crouching close to the ground, over a pile of clothes—

Paige quickly parked, launched herself out of her car, and punched the shopper from before in the solar plexus. In one fluid motion, she scooped up the clothes and retreated, jumping back in (and knocking her head on the top of her car, ow), and slamming the door behind her—wait, was Val even in the clothes? She couldn’t feel her weight, did she drop her? Paige tore at the bundle of clothes in her lap and yes, she could see a small form squirming around, thank god—

The shopper suddenly slammed a hand on her window and she screamed, dropping Val in the cupholder and slamming on the gas. She didn’t stop until fifteen minutes later, when it was pretty clear there was no car following her. She pulled to the side of the road. “Okay, pretty sure we’re good,” she announced. “Let’s get you out of—“

The tiny hand that slapped at her fingers when she reached into the cupholder barely registered, but Paige flinched back anyways. As the adrenaline wore off, she became aware of soft crying.

And with that came the extra awareness of how…small Val was at the moment, the smallest she’d ever seen her. So small that she fit in a cupholder. So small, she could easily be whisked away.

“I-I’ve never—it’s never been th-this bad before,” Val managed between sobs, tripping over her self-censorship. “Wh-what if I don’t grow back this time?”

“I mean, you always grow back, right? No reason that’ll change. You’ll be normal again in…” …twenty-two hours.

Paige flinched as the wailing just grew louder. Not by much. Being just a few inches tall affected your volume, as it turns out.

“…Want to go to my place?” Paige offered meekly. Neither of them brought up the obvious fact that Val couldn’t stay at her own place. Possibly couldn’t ever go back, considering that her would-be kidnapper knew where she lived.

The cupholder gave no answer other than more weeping. So Paige just quietly drove home.

[agent-troi]

Thank you for your answer and analysis to Diana. You brought up some great points. Your analysis led to some discourse that I hadn't thought about of the forced intimacy aspect that Diana and Phoebe force upon Mulder. It's interesting because I sense that he wants intimacy with Scully, yet the closest he gets is with a touch here and there or look into her soul intense "eye F*" as I have heard other bloggers call it.

I am glad to hear that I am not the only one who has an absolutely not to a Mulder Diana fling.

Is she so manipulative that she might have had a fling with CSM? Didn't he say that she was the only one who hadn't betrayed him?

The finale in season 11 would have been the perfect time to bring back to Diana to give her a final send off and tie up loose ends.

see this is the thing anon. historically mulder has been drawn to emotionally abusive women because that's what he's used to. that's what he thinks he deserves. he was told samantha was his responsibility, and he lost her. he had to parent his own mother after samantha disappeared, denying his own needs in the process. no one ever bothered to sit down and explain to him it wasn't your fault, you were just a child. quite the opposite, in fact. a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort, etc.

scully is different. scully never forces mulder to do anything he doesn't want to do. she never makes him feel worthless; on the contrary, she becomes his biggest cheerleader and defender despite their different viewpoints. even before meeting him, she looks at him with an open mind, determined not to judge him the way everyone else does. she never laughs at him or mocks him or dismisses him. and he has no idea what the fuck to do with this. unconditional respect is a foreign concept to him. no one ever appears to listen to or believe him unless they can get something they want from him, and he thinks this is normal. scully doesn't ask of mulder anything that she's not also willing to give, and this simply Does Not Compute in mulder's brain.

on top of that, every time scully suffers a new trauma, mulder's self-imposed burden of responsibility only increases. he didn't succeed in scaring her off when they first met, and now everything that happens to her is his fault. you're bad for her, the voices in his head tell him. you don't deserve her. she deserves better. however, they're also telling him you need her. she's good for you. you'd be nothing without her.

so he pushes her away, but not too far. he pulls her in, but not too close. and so they dance.

a big part of their journey towards finally getting together is mulder learning that yes, he does deserve love. he does deserve happiness. he didn't somehow trick scully into staying with him or fail to give her adequate reason to leave. she chose him, willingly, because he's a person who's worthy of being chosen.

anyway, back to diana lol. the thought of her and csm makes me want to🤮 and i don't even wanna think about it long enough to decide whether it's plausible. i think i may have read it in a fic once? i don't remember anything else about it though.

YES bringing her back for season 11 would've been perfect, actually they should've brought her back instead of besmirching monica reyes the way they did. it would've made so much more sense. i want to find whoever made that writing decision and shake him.

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 7: Lucky Seven

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

* Warnings: brief mention of murder, language, I think this chapter is pretty tame?

* Word count: 5,496ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being a sounding board for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. Seriously couldn't have gotten this far.

Author's note: I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! Also oof this one is longer than normal 😂. If you stick around until the end, kudos to you and thank you!

Stella frowned when she heard her phone ring from across the room. She just finished getting ready in her bathroom to head to the ranch for the day. It was 5:30 in the morning. ‘Someone better be dying, or in jail.’ Running to grab it before the last ring, she saw it was Monica.

“Hey Monica, what’s wrong?” Stella quickly questioned. It wasn’t usual for her to call her this early. She normally didn’t call her to begin with. Typically it was a text that came through.

The tinny, muffled sound came through the speaker. “Stella? Kayce was arrested.”

“What, why?!”

“I don’t know, but I need your help to get him out.”

“Okay I’m on my way. Are you home?”

“Yes. And thank you.”

Stella hung up the phone and shot a text to her brother. I’m gonna be late this mornin. Monica needs my help with something. Hurrying, she grabbed her keys and back pack, and ran out the door.

Monica stood with Tate outside of their house when Stella arrived. Once she got her son in the backseat of Stella’s SUV, she jumped in the car herself. Stella looked at her questioningly.

Monica explained. “We’ve gotta go to Chief Rainwater.”

“Monica, I’m gonna be real with you here for a second.” She side eyed Tate in the backseat and nodded to Monica to meet her outside of the car.

Monica faced her son. “Hey Tate? Me and Aunt Stell are gonna go talk outside really quick. Stay here.” Both of the women hopped out and stood at the front of the car and faced away from the little boy so he couldn’t figure out what was going on.

“So you were gonna be real with me?”

“Yeah.” Stella sighed the word. “The easiest solution to get him out of there as quickly as possible, is to go to his dad. Not me. ”

“Yeah I know, but I would rather not. Unless absolutely necessary.”

“Which I get, but they have a lawyer on their roster. I’m not that lawyer, Monica. I don’t have that kind of firepower. Chief Rainwater only knows me as the off Rez girl that hangs out with you and Kayce. My argument isn’t gonna change his mind. Especially since we have no idea what they picked him up for in the first place.” Stella shrugged. “Kayce is probably already thinking of getting Jamie involved anyhow.”

“We have to try, Stella. Rainwater has respect for you. He’ll at least listen.”

Stella made a face. That was news to her that he had respect for her. She wasn’t exactly sure how much the Chief would actually listen. “I’ll give it my best shot.” She looked directly at Monica. “You take your car. If I’m not having any luck, one of us is gonna have to go to his dad. Jamie will be able to get him out of there for sure if I can’t.”

“How will I know?”

“I’ll come outside. I’ll stay just in case they try anything funny before Jamie would get there.” Monica went to work and switched Tate into her car. She gave Stella a thumbs up signaling she was ready to pull out.

They arrived at the Chief’s office about 15 minutes later. Stella breathed deeply, trying to boost her confidence. She was good with people for the most part, but not everyone loved her. Monica said Rainwater respected her, but Stella wasn’t sure how true that was. Being the troublemaker’s best friend didn’t exactly keep her high on the list.

Stella jumped when Monica tapped on her window. She opened the door and registered Monica’s serious face.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Monica questioned her.

Stella stepped out of the car, locking it behind her, and shook her head. “I have a little faith in myself, but I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep.” Monica patted her on the back as she walked away, heading into the Chief’s office.

When Stella stepped through the threshold, the few people milling about stopped to look at her. She smiled at the folks still looking at her puzzled. She took in all the regalia displayed around the office for a minute. She noticed the secretary, Rebecca, and made a beeline for her desk.

Rebecca noticed the movement and greeted Stella with a smile. “Hi Stella, what can I help you with today?”

“Yeah, hi. I heard Kayce Dutton had gotten picked up and I was wondering if I could place bail for him or something.”

“Yeah, all of us know who you are Stella.” The woman behind the desk chuckled. “Why are you acting like you’ve never met me before?”

Stella sighed. “I guess I’m just trying to keep it professional. I dunno, Rebecca.” She shrugged.

Rebecca continued. “As for Kayce, I don’t have much information about that. At least information that I’m permitted to give you, anyhow.”

“Yeah that’s completely fine. I was just wondering if I could talk to Chief Rainwater for a moment?”

“He’s actually in a meeting.”

Stella frowned at the rejection. She heard the door open to her left and saw the Chief’s head of security, Mo, stick his head out. He was looking for the secretary to tell her something, but he never got the chance.

“Oh hey Mo! Just the person I was looking for.”

He whispered to himself, “oh no,” and he stuck his head back inside the room. “Stella Daniels is here, sir.”

“Wait, Stella’s here?” She heard Kayce’s surprise. She excused herself from Rebecca and made her way to Mo.

He snapped his arm across the door frame to stop her. “Stella you can’t come in here.”

“Well it just so happens that I’m actually here to talk to you about the resident guest you have in there.” She pointed to the room. “Well, you and Mr. Rainwater.”

The muffled voices of the men in the room drifted out from behind the door. Thomas’s voice gave direction to his head security officer. “Mo, let her in.”

Mo swung the door open with a sigh and stepped aside to let Stella by. These two always found a way to give them all a headache. Kayce smiled cutely at her from the chair and she gave him a stern look. She quickly switched to a saccharine smile when she directed her gaze at Rainwater. Her smile faltered when she saw Officer Waters posted beside Thomas, but she regained her composure and continued with the facade of confidence.

“Ms. Daniels.” Thomas waved to the empty chair in front of his desk. “Please have a seat.” Stella seated herself and crossed her legs at the knee. She waited for Thomas to continue. “So Kayce is what brings you here today, is that correct?”

“Well, not just him.” She heard Kayce scoff because he didn’t catch her meaning. “Primarily though, yes. I was actually wondering if I could talk to him really quick.” She side eyed Kayce.

Thomas accepted the request. “By all means.” No one made a motion to leave.

Stella chuckled and scratched her temple. “What I meant was, may I speak to him alone for like two minutes?” She did her best to put on an innocent doe eyed face.

Sheriff Waters began to object. “I don’t think that’s a good idea sir.”

Her attention whipped in his direction. When their eyes locked he looked like he wanted to escape. “What am I gonna do, Ben? Climb out the window with him and run?” Stella had a mischievous glint in her eye and a small grin in a challenge to his objection. Ben’s mouth opened and closed for a moment. The look on her face made him sweat. “I just want to talk to him really quick. I promise. No funny business.” She made direct eye contact with Thomas.

Thomas looked at Mo and then back to Stella as he contemplated. These two were known for being troublemakers. Tricksters. By everyone. There was a time when Thomas wouldn’t have put climbing out the window and running, past them. He still wouldn’t, but he didn’t think they were that stupid. Their energy now versus when they were younger, was very different. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Fine. Two minutes.” Ben and Mo headed to the door with Thomas following not far behind. He stopped and pinned the pair with a stern gaze. “The door stays cracked.” Both of them nodded and smiled.

Stella remained seated for an extra second after everyone left and intently watched the door. Once she felt that they were in the clear, she snapped to her feet and stalked over to Kayce. He braced himself against the chair as far as he could without tipping it. He thought she was going to land a solid crack to his jaw. She placed her hands on the arms of his chair effectively boxing him into his seat and huffed.

She whispered aggressively through her teeth. “Okay, now's not the time to be cute. What the fuck did you do and how much bullshit do your wife and I have to dig through to get you out?”

Kayce felt his eyes cross at Stella’s close proximity. He blinked to refocus. “People were trying to hurt Danny Trudeau’s daughter. I helped her, and stopped them. Then Danny and I took care of the fall out.” He whispered back.

Stella’s eyes widened as she whispered angrily at him again. “Stopped them?! Like permanently?” He nodded back at her.

Stella stood straight, put her glasses on top of her head, and rubbed her forehead. She drug her hand down her face. “Shit. We need Jamie.” The three men loudly re-entered the room. Stella placed her glasses back on her face.

“So did you two have your talk?” Thomas asked.

“Yessir.” They both answered in stereo.

Thomas looked between them. “So what is it that you wanted to speak to me about?” He walked back around his desk and seated himself.

Stella sucked in her bottom lip and held it with her teeth. She wasn’t exactly sure where to go from here. Especially when she knew the reason for him being held.

Thomas interrupted her train of thought. “I know what you’re going to ask, Stella, and the answer is no. We cannot release him into civilian custody.”

Kayce tried to defend Stella. “I mean, you know I’m not going to run anywhere. Monica or Stella wouldn’t let me do that. I don’t even think I would.”

Thomas put his foot down. “That’s a chance I’m not willing to take. It happened here.” His gaze moved from Kayce and back to Stella as he put his finger on his desk. “He can’t leave tribal land.”

Stella sighed. “Is there any way I can convince you to give him over to me, at all?”

“No Stella. We appreciate the effort, and I’m sure he does as well, but unfortunately this isn’t something you can fix.” Thomas let her down easy.

The best friends made direct eye contact. There was a subtle nod between them and Kayce looked at Thomas. “I’d like a lawyer.”

“Gentlemen, that would be my cue.” Stella nodded as she left.

Making her way out to the front steps, she searched around to see where Monica was. The women saw each other and made their way to meet in the middle.

“We need Jamie.”

Monica groaned. “Damn it!”

“I know, but it’s something I can’t undo. I don’t have the legal power. Whatever it was, it happened on tribal land. They don’t want him to set foot off the Rez. I can take the hit for you, if you really want to avoid talking to John?”

“No, I should be the one to go. Maybe call him so I don’t have to explain as much?” Monica requested.

“Yeah. I’ll do that. I’ll let them know you’re on your way. I’ll stay here out of sight, just in case.” Stella watched her walk off and hop in her car.

Stella cringed. This was definitely not the situation she thought she would be in this morning.

The phone rang four times before John answered with confusion. “Stella? What’s wrong?” She only called him if it was an emergency. After the fiasco of the last few days, he didn’t think she would try to contact him on purpose for a while. Unless they ran into each other on the ranch.

“It’s Kayce, sir. He was picked up by Rez police. They’re holding him down at the station. We need Jamie.”

“What do they have him for?”

“Something that happened on the reservation. They wouldn’t tell me. I just know this is something neither Monica nor myself have the power to fix. She’s on her way to you now with Tate.”

“I’m gonna make some calls.” John ended the call abruptly.

Both John and Jamie talked hurriedly on the phone with people to figure out Kayce’s situation.

“Well, they gotta transfer him somewhere, and if they haven't… If they haven't called you for the transfer, then it's gotta be federal, right?” John questioned. He remained silent while the person on the other end explained something to him. “Okay, well can you reach out to the BIA and FBI, see if they've had any transfer requests? Be vague, all right? Don't use Kayce's name. I don't want to… I don't want to open a door we can't close. Hold on a second.”

Jamie interrupted. “I checked with the federal court in Billings. No warrant was issued there, and nothing from the Park County Court either.”

“Walter, get back to me on this.” John ended the call and turned to Jamie fully. “What do you think they got him for?”

Jamie replied hopefully. “Fingers crossed it's the Rez thing.”

“Yeah. Take the chopper. Don't waste time in a car. Jamie…,” John paused. “Don't leave there without him, son.”

“I won't.” Jamie pulled out his cell phone again and called their pilot. “Viggo, I'm gonna need the chopper.” Monica walked up just as Jamie was leaving.

John focused all his attention on her and his grandson. “Had breakfast?”

“Not hungry.”

“How 'bout you, Tate?” He gave the boy a second to answer. He shrugged noncommittedly. “Or maybe just skip straight to dessert?”

Tate’s eyes lit up. “Like, what kind of desert?”

“Well, there's some cookies in there the size of pie plates.”

“Big cookie!”

“Well, they ain't small. Go ahead.” John ruffled Tate’s hair affectionately and gently guided him in the direction of the house as he ran by.

John waited until his grandson was completely out of ear shot. “Wouldn't say what they picked him up for.”

“They wouldn't tell me or Stella at the station either.” Monica shrugged.

“No arraignment date?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Sounds to me like they're—,” John interrupted himself. “—They're looking, that's all.”

Monica let out a humorless scoff. “Don't have to look far with Kayce.”

“We'll get him out of this, don't you worry. You have my word.” He took a moment. “And after I do, you two need to think about what's best for your family.”

“I'm not sure what you mean.” She tilted her head.

“Living day to day isn't living, Monica, it's surviving, with no regard for tomorrow.”

Tate came out and interrupted. “Boy, you weren't kidding.”

John thought quick on his feet to get Tate back inside. “Yeah, well, you should've brought two. Let me see that one.” He grabbed for the cookie in the boy’s hands. “Yeah, you're gonna have to go get another one, 'cause this one's mine.”

“Hey!” Tate giggled and wandered back into the house.

John looked after his grandson and then focused back on his daughter-in-law. “Tomorrow's the only thing a parent is supposed to live for.”

Stella heard the chopper coming before she saw it. She had parked a little ways off to the side. Once she saw it safely landed, Stella climbed out of her car. Racing around to the other side of the chopper caught Jamie’s attention.

Jamie stopped walking and waited for her. “Kayce dragged you into this too, huh?”

Stella raised her eyebrows at the accusation. “I was actually the first person that called your dad. So if anybody drug anyone into anything, it was me.” She pointed to herself.

“They wouldn’t let you take him?” There was an air of self-importance in his voice and he smirked.

She shot back quickly. “Of course not, Jamie. I’m not a lawyer.” She focused her gaze on him. “I was able to talk to him privately long enough for him to tell me what they’re holding him for.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Well, he saved a girl from being abducted and may or may not have stopped the people from doing it again. Ever.”

“What?! Why didn’t you tell my dad that?”

Stella quickly changed the subject. “So do you want me to stay in case things get weird, or meet y’all back at the ranch?”

“What would you be able to do if you stayed?” He asked her incredulously. Something in her eyes changed. Jamie would have called them crazy eyes out loud, but he hadn’t planned on being uppercut today.

Her voice came out soft, deceptively innocent. “Do you mean in the aspect of Kayce?”

“Yes. What could you possibly do that would help me?” He was frustrated with not only her antics, but his brothers as well. His whole family.

“Oh Jamie.” She pushed the front side of her glasses. “That is a heavy hypothetical question with an even heavier hypothetical answer.” Stella gave him a look that asked if she was picking up what he was putting down.

Jamie shook his head. “Nevermind. I shouldn’t have even asked.” He knew that when it came to his little brother, Stella would burn the whole state of Montana down if it meant Kayce would be safe.

Stella smiled and her eyes became normal again. “I’m glad you see it my way, bud.” She patted his shoulder. “I plead the fifth.” She cleared her throat. “So, do you want me to stay and wait, or not?”

He shook his head again. “No you go home. I’ll have him out in less than 30 minutes.”

“Okay sounds good.” She watched Jamie walk away. When he was out of earshot she whispered to herself, “good talk.”

She sent a text to Monica quickly before she hopped in her car. Jamie’s here. He said he’ll have him out in 30 or less. I’m on my way. You still at the ranch?

When Stella buckled her seatbelt her phone vibrated in the cup holder. Monica replied. Yep we’re still here. Thank you Stell. Smiling to herself, she put her car in drive to get a head start.

••

Stella made it back to the ranch in record time. At the very least, she beat Kayce and Jamie home. She pulled up to the big house. John was out with Tate and Monica sat off to the side. Not wanting to interrupt the duo, she made her way to Monica. She seated herself across from her best friend’s wife and sighed.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t get him out.”

Monica shook her head gently. “You showed up and tried. That’s what matters.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Stella shrugged. “I think Jamie will have him home soon.”

John watched the women talk amongst themselves while he excused himself from his grandson. He got some type of comfort knowing these two had Kayce’s back.

Monica gave John a look. “You know you don’t act like the man from the stories.”

“That's the thing about being a grandfather.” John groaned as he sat down. “I get to do all the things I wished I'd done with my children.” He watched his grandson for a second and looked back to the women sitting with him. “The things I regret, I get... I get to do different.”

“It doesn't change the things you did, though.”

“No, it doesn't.” John agreed. He looked at Stella sitting there silently. She looked everywhere but them. “Thank you for trying to help her get him out.”

“Of course, sir.” Stella picked at the corner of her thumb nail.

Everyone heard the helicopter approach and started to stand. John yelled for Tate. “Come here grandson!” John walked forward to meet Jamie.

Stella rolled her eyes at the sight of Kayce’s older brother. There was just something about him that really irked her soul. She didn’t hate him, she just wanted to punch him in the throat a few times. ‘Yeah I’d probably feel better after that.’ Kayce always used to give her a hard time when they were younger, saying she had a crush on him. That honestly couldn’t be further from the truth. The only thing she could do was deny it and keep moving. Kayce caught her attention as he walked to his wife and son, and best friend.

She smiled and waved at him. Monica and Stella gave at each other a look. Stella decided it was time for her to sneak off. This was a reunion she wasn’t involved in.

Stella could see from the top of the hill that the wranglers were out in the pen working with some of the herd that needed doctoring. Ryan caught her eye as she made her way down the hill and nodded to her. She waved at him and leaned against the outside fence, content to just watch today. Something was going on with Jimmy, but Lloyd seemed to take him under his wing.

Kayce and his father also came down the hill not far behind Stella. Kayce looked out over the pen and watched the men work on the herd. He spotted Stella off to the side and smiled in her direction. He enjoyed seeing her happy here. His dad spoke to him, bringing him out of his reverie.

“Spent all morning pricing stallions. You can buy a damn house in town for what they cost now.”

“I just gave you a stallion.” Kayce stated.

“No one can ride him, Kayce.” John objected. “He's smart and mean. That's a bad combination in a horse.”

“Stella said she’s been doing just fine with him. He ain't got a mean bone in his body. She’d be the first to tell you. She’s just gotta finish him.”

“Well, that was Lee's job.”

“Which I thought you’d given to her? Have you even talked to her about it, or have you just left her hanging?” Kayce got angrier the more excuses he heard from his dad. Stella was most likely giving him free labor at this point.

“I don’t know if I want her to do it by herself. I don't have the time to finish him. Rip, he doesn't have the temperament.” John explained.

“I can pull him back down to my place and work on him with Stella then. She’s got the perfect temperament for it.”

“Why don't you work on him here? You're a horse trainer, aren't you?” John asked. “Aren't you? So train mine.”

“I won't work for you or steal Stella’s job. Why don’t you want her working the horses so bad? She does a damn good job.” Kayce defended her. “I know for a fact Lee wouldn’t have even bothered working with her if she didn’t have a knack for it.”

“I might need her to be in charge of the broodmares if we were to start a breeding program. That’s a full time job itself, let alone having to worry about breaking them. But you know what?” John waved his hand dismissively. “Just take the horse back. I don't want him.”

“The horse is me saying I'm sorry.” Kayce said quietly.

“You don't have anything to be sorry for!”

“I should've been there sooner.” Kayce paused looking at the ground. “I shouldn't have been there at all.”

“You gotta stop looking backwards, son.”

“I'll fix the horse for you. Ain't no gift if you can't ride him, but I won't let you pay me.” Kayce agreed.

“Yeah.” John scoffed. “That's a good deal for everybody but you.” He walked off and left Kayce to ponder their conversation. Kayce wound his way to Stella. She could help him out with Tank.

She smiled at him. “Hey, you,” she said gently budging his arm. “Welcome home, Vigilante.”

“Hey.” Kayce scolded her and gave her a look. “You got a minute?”

Stella made a face. “Yeah, I’m free as a bird right now. What’s up?”

“Let’s go get Tank.” He made a face back at her. “That’s what you named him, right?”

“Yes, actually.” She laughed, pleased that he remembered. “Today was supposed to be his off day. He might be pissed.”

“Well dad wants me to work on him with you.”

“Oh? Does he think I’m not doing it right?” Stella looked frowned.

“No, I just think he’s worried about you not having Lee to bounce off of.”

“I’m guessing he decided against giving me the position, huh? Sending you to tell me was smart on his part though.” She huffed. “Makes it sting a little less.”

“I think he’s got something up his sleeve for you. Don’t get bummed out yet.” Kayce patted her shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s go get that stallion.”

Stella watched Kayce while he trotted around the round pen with Tank. He looked pleased. That must have meant she’d done something right. ‘Not good enough for John to keep you in the position though,’ the nasty little voice in the back of her mind surfaced.

Footsteps crunched through gravel behind Stella. Looking over her shoulder she could see it was Monica and Tate. “Hey y’all.”

“So how is he?” Monica asked.

“The horse, or Kayce?”

Monica snorted a laugh. “Both, I guess.”

“Well, I thought Tank was doing just fine. Not so sure about how John feels though.” Stella tapped the fence. “Kayce? He seems alright. Quieter than normal, but I think being here does that to him.”

Monica and Kayce smiled at each other. Monica questioned. “Didn't buck you off?”

Kayce trotted over to the women. “There ain't nothing wrong with this horse. Stella’s done just fine.” He smiled at his best friend. “I'm gonna wash him up and get out of here.”

Tate interrupted. “But Grandpa said we can stay the night.”

Kayce looked like he was about to object, but Monica interrupted. “Look, he got no sleep last night.” Monica interrupted. “If we go home, he wonders where his cousins are. I just need to recharge so I can have that conversation.”

John walked up. “Tate, you're staying in the main house with me. You two take the trapper cabin. Give your minds a vacation for a night.” He pivoted on his heel. “Tate! Tate, come on.”

Stella smiled at the couple. “Y’all have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t!” She scurried off to the bunkhouse.

Walking in, everything got quiet. Stella’s hand remained on the door, her eyes wide as she looked around. “Shit don’t everyone talk at once now.” There was a man here she wasn’t familiar with. Her brother was here, so she didn’t feel too threatened. “I know I’m not supposed to be in here, but I’m gonna make it quick. I promise.”

The man in the rounded cowboy asked. “Who’s this?” He sauntered over to Stella in the kitchen.

She could practically hear her brother steaming from across the room. Ryan bored a hole into the back of the man’s head, challenging him. “That is someone you’ll be leaving alone, Walker.”

The man, Walker, tipped his hat at Stella with a charming smile. “Walker ma’am. Who might you be?”

She barked out a laugh. “Pfft, I’m Stella. Ryan’s sister. Resident horse hand.”

“Well it’s mighty nice to see a pretty face around here.”

Stella stood there speechless. She couldn’t do anything but stare at him. Stella’s brows pulled together. Ryan’s shoulders dropped with a feeling of dread. He thought she was falling for his thick layer of charm.

She looked left and right, behind her and past Walker. “I don’t know who you mean, but sure. I just work with the horses, my guy.” Everyone chuckled and she weaved her way around to her brother and Colby.

Walker asked from behind her, “do you stay here?”

“No, thank god. I mean sometimes, but I have my own house.” She let out a groan while she seated herself in Ryan’s bunk.

Colby cut in. “That means you’re not invited.”

“Okay, okay I get it. Off limits.” Walker receded his advances.

Stella watched as all the men in the room hawked the new guy. She smirked, mostly to herself, knowing they would jump him if he batted an eyelash at her wrong. It wasn’t necessary. Walker’s gesture was appreciated and made her feel like she could still have the ability to get a man. If she went out on the town and didn’t work her life away, that is. Walker smirked back at her. ‘Ooo I smell that trouble from a mile away.’ She smirked again at her thought.

Ryan decided to change the subject. “Stell, what did you mean when you said you’re not supposed to be in here?”

Her lips folded together as she looked to the ground. “Well you see,” she cut herself off with the glare Ryan gave her. “So Rip found out about me trying to fight Fred. I’m banned for however long he decides since I broke the rules.”

Ryan sighed, but knew nothing could be done. Rip’s word was final usually. He zeroed in on the new guy. “You play that guitar?”

“No,” Walker scoffed. “I just like to drag this fսckin’ thing around.” He propped the guitar case up on his knee. “Why, y'all want to hear one?” No one answered him. “Yeah, I guess you do.” Strumming a few chords to check the tune, he asked everyone, “happy or sad?”

Stella called out to him. “Happy.”

Walker gently pulled out his guitar and fiddle with the tuning for a minute. He cleared his throat and began to sing.

Monica leaned back against the cabinet and smiled at her husband. “I wonder how many poor farm girls you snuck into this cabin.” Kayce sat up straight to listen to her. “I can just see you now in your shaggin’ shirt, wooing some lovestruck blonde.” She watched Kayce stand up. “Or maybe you brought Stella here.”

“What is a shaggin’ shirt? And if you mean to escape the crazy that is my family and our wranglers? Have a place to sleep so the adults didn’t know we took forever to come home? Yes. Never like how you’re meaning though.”

“You know, it's your fanciest shirt, your get-the-girl shirt. The one you never work in.” Monica straightened herself. “And come on, you can’t tell me that you and Stella never messed around with the idea.”

“I don't know if I own a shirt that I've never worked in.” He busied himself, not wanting to talk about his best friend and the things they may or may not have done as stupid young kids. “And no, I don't think we did.”

“I'm trying to remember what I was wearing when I met you.” She changed the subject.

Kayce smirked. “All I remember was you weren't wearing it for long.”

“You think it's selfish, keeping Tate from a life like this?”

Kayce’s jaw tightened. “That sounds like my father.”

“It is.” Monica admitted.

“He has a life like this. It's just simpler.”

“It's not simple anymore, Kayce.” Monica argued.

“I thought we were forgetting tonight.”

“I'm just having a conversation.” Kayce stalked away to the bedroom. He closed the door with force. Monica yelled out. “Well, I guess the conversation's over!”

Stella was just about half asleep on Ryan’s bunk when the door opened and startled her. She sat up and blinked heavily. Rip and Lloyd were calling for the new guy. Rip discovered her sitting in the back. He fixed her with a look.

Her eyes found her brother and he smiled warmly at her. “Good mornin’ sunshine.”

“Hey doofus. I think I’m gonna head out, okay?” She started to work her way to the edge of the mattress.

“You sure you're not too tired?”

“Yeah I’ll be alright.”

He gave her a stern look. “Okay, but you text me the second you get home.”

She hopped down off his bunk and gave him a quick squeeze. “Yes mom.” She smirked. She grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter. Rip grabbed her arm gently to stop her.

“I thought I told you to stay out of the bunkhouse for a while?”

“You did and I heard you. I came to talk to my brother before I left. I’m leaving right now, okay?”

Rip remained silent as he observed her. Stella stared up at him. Her eyebrows tightened and her face fell into an annoyed resting face.

“I’m leaving now.” Stella emphasized and weaved around Rip and headed off to her car to make the journey home.

[chaifootsteps]

Stargazer anon!

I gave a listen to the songs, and I am absolutely frustrated by Loser, Baby. Who in their right mind would tell an SA victim they're being whiny and not special? Who? Why would you even compare traumas? Doing that just makes the other person feel invalidated. That is Psych 101 stuff. It had the potential to be a cute ship, now Huskerdust's ruined for me. Viv really be teaching how to not write a yaoi ship and spotting red flags when making one.

Aside from that, Respectless and Whatever It Takes made me like Velvette and Carmilla. Zestial and Carmilla are pretty cool. The side characters are a 1000x better than the MCs. I'm even starting to dislike Al's presence - he's lost his mysterious appeal. But dear lord Val's accent is dreadfully inconsistent.

I hope you're doing well with all the bs that's happening with Viv and her stans. Honestly, without you I'd have never found out that Viv was actually rich and all the terrible crap she's done.

Btw, what's your favourite Studio Ghibli film? Mine's, unsurprisingly, Spirited Away though I also like Howl's Moving Castle and (if you count it as one) Nausicaa. The Pom Poko post hit hard, although the OG cast are doing way better at least. I noticed Vaggie just being in the bg, is there something with Monica? I don't think I know much of what happened with her.

- And what potential to be cute it had! We could have had these two guys bonding over how much their lives suck in general, but left Angel's rape victim status out of it, and I would have honestly been all over that. So close, Viv, so goddamn fucking close.

- Aww, thank you! That always helps to hear, honestly keeps me going.

- Monica's fine, she's besties with Viv and went with her to Japan on a tour of every abusive animal establishment they could fit into their itinerary.

- My favorite Ghibli film is My Neighbor Totoro! Here's my guy that I bought in Harajuku a decade ago with the intent to use him as a pillow on the plane ride home, trauma bonded with him, and he's still with me to this day -- a few chest spots down, but deeply loved.