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#i am very tired of my bed after eight weeks
ginger-grimm · 4 months
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Another year has passed and though most of us live out our Pride all year round, it's officially our month to celebrate (almost). I've attempted this once before and unfortunately became too busy to finish it. This time things will be different. I've had an awful two months and it's time to turn stuff around. So please, join me in making some gifts for each other's OCs once again and make this month even more fun than it already is!
As a disclaimer, because I don't want to get too anxious about it again. I will only post your gift once you've posted one for me! It's happened a few too many times that people sent in either forms that aren't filled out properly or never posted a gift and I let it slide because I'm historically too nice (aka no backbone disease). I don't mean to sound like a nag and if you don't feel like editing you don't have to sign up or anything, that's why I do the polls. Anyways, your gift then you get mine.
The Rules and regulations are simple, but they exist nonetheless, so here they are:
The exchange, for now, is open until July 1st, though I may extend it who knows *Kevin James meme*
You may make 1-2 requests, but hey, I will probably reblog it saying you can make more once no one requests anything *Kevin James meme intensifies*
Please reblog this post to spread some awareness, please. You can like for remembrance but just a like doesn't count (you already know this, I know my 5 regulars who come here every time)!
As aforementioned, this is open to my regular drunks and new patrons alike, so please do not be shy. Think of me as I think of birds, I am more scared of you than you are of me.
Fill out the form linked below and find the password in the form!
Please only send me faceclaims with good quality and plenty of material to use. Also, no cartoon characters. Video game characters are all right if it's motion capture. I'm not trying to discriminate, it can just be really tough for me to find material for cartoons, animes, video games, etc. as I edit by making little video clips first blah blah blah. However, if you slide in my DMs we might be able to discuss some stuff.
Please, please, please fill out all the columns I need and choose at least two gift options. It makes it infinitely easier for me to make something for you. Just remember I can't read minds and it's worse when I can't find anything in your blogs.
Remember the pleases and thank you's, pleases and thank you's make my heart grow fond.
I don't do Harry Potter OCs or Stranger Things OCs and while I don't have a specific list of FCs I don't use, I ask that you do not request anything for overtly problematic actors, thank you!
I accept pretty much any gift in return, it can even be story reviews or playlists for people who don't/can't edit themselves. If it's a story review, please let me know in the form so I know you did as I don't check my accounts every day.
I'm fine with gifts for any of my OCs - my master list as well as the link to my Pinterest is in my pinned post.
Obviously, since this is a Pride exchange, please only send in LGBTQ+ OCs. Gay, lesbian, bi, pan, trans, etc. anything from the LGBTQ community - this excludes kinks and whatnot, obviously.
FOR ANY OTHER QUESTIONS OR CONCERNS FEEL FREE TO SEND ME A MESSAGE AND I WILL TRY TO CLEAR EVERYTHING UP!
SEND IN THE PRIDEFUL FORM HERE, HERE HERE HERE, DO IT HERE, NOWHERE ELSE JUST HERE
TAGLIST: @eddysocs ​ @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @nikosasaki @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @lucys-chen @andromedalestrange @forchrissy @daughter-of-melpomene @bibaybe
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rin-fukuroi · 10 months
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𝐀 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 [𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲]
Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.
The originals of my works can be read here
Fandom: Genshin Impact
Pairings: Wriothesley x fem!reader
Warnings: none, just b-day fluff~
Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq
I am, as always, very punctual, so I almost made it to the birthday of this hot cryo man (o´ω`o) I'm sorry if there are typos in his name and correct me, please, because I'm posting this at five in the morning and I feel like I'm going to fall asleep at the computer, but I couldn't put it off until the morning anymore XD
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You glance nervously at your watch. Another tedious working day at the Palais of Mermonia is about to end, and you are looking forward to visiting your friend. Of course, you didn't need some special day to see Wriothesley, and you didn't need an excuse to just burst into his office and share another cup of tea with him, which, by the way, you did quite often, but today… Today you just have to get him to the surface.
Although you knew perfectly well that your feelings towards the duke would probably never be reciprocated, and you knew that this man was "married to his job," the desire to see him as often as possible still never left you. You rejoiced at the fleeting moments when you could see his sincere, but slightly tired smile, rejoiced at the sound of your name flying off his tongue, rejoiced at every modest gift that Wriothesley handed you after each visit to the Fortress (often, of course, it was cosmetics that Sigewinne left for you when she couldn't give it away personally, but sometimes it was also gifts from the duke himself, who carefully supplied you with tea that you might like during your meeting), but gradually became more and more greedy, wanting to get more.
It's so selfish to think that one day Wriothesley will leave the Fortress and finally break out to Fontaine to see you more often, however, what's wrong with just dreaming about it sometimes?
When the hands of the clock finally move to the cherished eight o'clock in the evening, you happily jump up from your chair, no longer feeling the same fatigue. This happens every time you plan to visit Wriothesley, but today you feel a special surge of strength that you want to direct to ensure that this day goes perfectly. Everything has been planned in your head for a long time, down to the smallest details, although you know that it has rarely happened that your grandiose plans have been fully realized, but you are ready to make every effort to ensure that today goes exactly as you imagined it before going to bed for several weeks in a row.
You cheerfully run out of the Palais, briefly saying goodbye to the melusines who are vigorously waving after you, and go straight to the Fortress, anticipating to see the soft smile of Wriothesley, to whom you will fall in without warning.
A few nods of greeting to the guards at the entrance to Meropid, and here you are already going down in the elevator, nervously fiddling with the strap of your bag slung over your shoulder. This path leading you deep under the water seems especially long today, and you excitedly shift from foot to foot before the doors finally open in front of you, giving you a view of the floor on which the entrance to your friend's office is located.
For some reason, all your resolve melts more and more as you approach his door. Of course, your plans will hardly please the Duke, but isn't it already too late to worry about it?
You slip through the heavy doors, taking a deep breath before finally climbing up the stairs. Your curious gaze immediately catches the slightly disheveled smolny strands of hair and the gaze of a man sitting in his usual place concentrated on the papers on the table. Risley seems to be so immersed in his work that he doesn't even immediately notice that someone has snuck into his office without warning until your figure appears in his field of vision, forcing the man to look up at you with a tired look.
— You're uninvited, as always, — the duke jokes, smiling gently and turning his attention back to the pile of documents stacked on the right side of his hand sliding over the paper.
— And you, as always, are not ready to break away from work even when a friend comes to visit you!
— Y/N, you should have already remembered that you can feel like at home here. I still have to finish… — the man's words are cut off when you audaciously interrupt him, banging your palms on his weighty wooden table.
— Wrio, today we are going out for a walk on the Fontain, and I don't accept a refusal! — your eyes are full of determination when Wriothesley looks up, meeting your gaze.
The duke sighs resignedly, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, as if thinking about something before finally answering.
— As you can see, I have a lot of work to do.
— Come on. You're idle most of the time. I hardly believe that during your long rest you don't have any urgent business, — you raise an eyebrow disapprovingly, taking the same defensive pose as Wriothesley.
— I told you that I don't like to rise to the surface unless absolutely necessary. It costs me a lot of effort to dodge the interview of that journalist from the "Steam Bird", you know. If she sees us…
— She won't see it! And if she does, I'll deal with it, I promise.
Another dissatisfied sigh, and Wriothesley still gives up, reluctantly getting up from his chair.
— Well, you said it yourself, so I'll leave the role of my personal bodyguard to you for today, — the duke chuckles softly before slowly walking towards the stairs.
It's amazing how easy it was to get him to sign up for your adventure, but you're still elated, almost skipping along after Wriothesley.
— Ah, ah! How upset will all your fans be when they find out that your fists and those threatening gloves have lost to the fragile girl you entrusted to protect yourself!
Wriothesley's velvety laugh and your quiet giggle bounce off the metal walls as the two of you go downstairs, casually exchanging jokes before finally the heavy door slams shut behind you.
✧ ✧ ✧
— So… And where do you want to go? — Wriothesley asks, finally coming to the surface of Fontaine. A soft breeze blows the short strands of his hair and the jacket draped over his broad shoulders.
— Mmm … — you smile mysteriously, proudly raising your head. — I have everything planned!
— I'm already scared.
And so your little adventure began.
The first point was the cozy cafe "Lutes", where you had a snack with crepes before going for a leisurely walk through the streets of Fontaine. Wriothesley was confident and unyielding, even when every second resident of Fontaine considered it his duty to cast an alarmed and amazed look after you both. The duke, so casually strolling around the city, really excited the Fontaine people even more than any appearance of judge Neuvillette among the common people, but it didn't seem to bother you particularly, judging by the fact that you were still as relaxed as usual with your friend about everything and nothing at the same time.
Wriothesley looks at the streets and people around with interest, which he usually never had enough time for even when he had to go up to the Fontain. You catch every look of a man, not missing the opportunity to once again examine his features and every scar adorning his face and neck when he turns away to hold his blue eyes on something that attracted his attention. He looks so relaxed, even though he doesn't show that he likes it, and you can't help but feel elated at the realization that, although you had to get him to sign up for your idea, Wriothesley doesn't seem to mind at all just walking with you like this.
After a small snack at Louis's diner, you both visited the fountain, admiring the bright lights of lanterns lit up all over the Fontain when the bright moon rose over the region. The time flew by as quickly as it always did when you managed to share it with the duke. It's so unfair. This evening is really special, and how would you like it to never end, and you just feel the presence of a loved one next to you for at least a few more hours before you are left alone again.
But this is impossible, and the realization that you will soon have to part one way or another settles with bitter sadness in your chest.
— Hey, Wrio… — you suddenly stop when you both gradually complete a circle through the streets of Fontaine, inevitably approaching back to the entrance to the Fortress. The man hears your quiet voice behind his back and also stops, turning around to look at your gloomy figure. Wriothesley wanted to ask what suddenly managed to break your fighting spirit, with which you accompanied him all your walk, but you suddenly smile again, looking up at him. — I want to… go somewhere else.
✧ ✧ ✧
Waves smoothly flow to the shores of the outskirts of Fontaine, caressing the soft sand. The light sound of the water is so soothing, and you take a deep breath before plopping down on the grass under a tree standing alone near the walls of the city. Your gaze immediately clings to the majestic Moon reflected in the crystal clear water when a cool breeze touches the skin of your face. Such quiet, peaceful evenings are usually meant for lonely thoughts or romantic dates, but you are here today for none of these reasons. You hear quiet footsteps and a short sigh from the man behind, who reluctantly sits down next to you, resting his palms on the soft grass and fixing his gaze at the sky.
— It's been a while since I've seen the moon, — Wriothesley breathes in fresh air, closing his eyes for a moment, and you finally turn around, looking at the peaceful expression on his face.
The gaze unconsciously slides down his tense forearm muscles under his black shirt, his chest heaving in time with the measured breathing and his legs stretched out on the grass.
"And I haven't seen you like this for a long time…" — you would like to say out loud, but you swallow your sentimental desire, and straighten up, shifting your bag onto your lap.
— Wrio… — you mumble softly, and the man mumbles back to you, still without opening his eyes and continuing to enjoy the quiet murmur of water and the distant sounds of the Fontain getting ready for bed.
The man feels your hand touching his shoulder, and opens his eyes slightly, noticing how you look at him, awkwardly pursing your lips. Your cheeks are lightly powdered with blush, and the fingers of your other hand are nervously fiddling with the lock of the bag, and Wriothesley also straightens up, paying all his attention only to you.
— In general… here, — you hesitate, but then you hurriedly take out a small box from your bag and hand it to him.
For a moment, the duke's eyes widen while he just looks at the small gift intended for him, lying in your palm, but then he accepts it, without hesitation opening the lid. A silver tie clip, decorated with a small ruby, shimmering in the moonlight, lies neatly on a miniature gray pillow when Wriothesley carefully takes your gift out of the box.
— I'll understand if you don't wear it, but… happy birthday, Wrio, — you look away, blushing even more, while the man just looks at the little thing without saying a word.
You're ready to sink through the ground on this very spot. His silence doesn't mean that he didn't like your gift, does it? Oh, you really could have given him something more useful, but in the end you presented him with what should be on his tie, comforting your selfish desire that your gift be with him every day, glimmering somewhere in the depths of your soul.
You're almost ready to just hurriedly say goodbye and run away to your home to bury your face in the pillow and replay this awkward moment in your head an infinite number of times to drive yourself into even more despondency, but you hear a quiet click and turn back to Wriothesley, noticing that his tie is already decorated with silver jewelry, which he is looking at with a slight thoughtfulness in his gaze before looking at you.
— Mm, I think it's not bad, what do you think?
Your lips open, and the words get stuck somewhere in your throat when you just look at Wriothesley in a discouraged way.
The man grins, amused by your reaction, and lets go of his tie before leaning towards you.
If before it seemed to you that time was so inevitably slipping through your fingers like sand, now for the first time you felt it stop at the moment when you felt the touch of Wriothesley's warm soft lips on your flushed cheek. The scent of his perfume has cut into your nostrils, and you are ready to swear that you will never be able to forget him again, as well as this short kiss, which will now always burn the skin of your face whenever the image of Wriothesley will pop up in your mind.
Your face now seems more like a frightened otter, just frozen in shock when Wriothesley pulls away, barely restraining himself from laughing at your funny reaction.
— Thank you, Y/N.
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androgynousblackbox · 2 months
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This Life We Build. 1 [Appleradio, Radioapple]
Okay, so this is basically an AU of my Arranged Marriage AU. We can call it Fluffy AM AU lol This would take place after the epilogue in "How I Met Your Father", but I really think it would make it easier if you read the first chapter of "How to Lose a Lucifer in 10 Days". Only the first chapter, though! After that the plot starts off. Here, there is no plot or don't plan to. Just pure self indulgent fluff. Also! I reserve the right to make up any prompts I want and jump the timeline because, again, this is just for fun. Not all chapters may contain smut. [Day 1: Pregnancy test + electro stim]
Something was wrong.
Alastor knew it when the third attempted Overlord and their minions of the week came to try to prove themselves in front of the king that Vox had announced on their dumb boxes. He could still take them down without much of an issue, but this time, for the first time ever, he felt lightheaded when returning back to his original size. When he called upon his own minions to take care of the bodies, he stumbled one time on his own foot.
It was all Lucifer needed to appear at his side as soon he came inside the hotel.
"I am fine" said, instinctively, but the tiny angel was already pressing a hand on his forehead, that did felt warmer than usual.
It wasn't a fever, though. It was the heat of after doing exercise. For a few days now, it was taking him more effort than expected to use his magic. The first time he noticed it, he though maybe it was an issue with himself still needing to learn to regulate his own powers after coming back to hell, like how he had to adapt a new muscle to the use he wanted to give it. But even if that was the case, it would happen too with small task and it didn't. It was only when he needed to do something bigger or get into his full demonic form that he could feel the limit. Not to mention how he never had that problem right after falling, when the contract with Lucifer came into full effect. It was only on the past week or so.
"Cut the bullshit" Lucifer sighed, holding his cheek. "We are going to the Sloth Ring."
Alastor protested in principle. He was just hungry despite all the minions and their leader he just ate. He was just tired, freshly woken up from bed. A good breakfast could solve anything, there was no need to worry so much. Lucifer did not want to hear about it.
At the very least they didn't had to wait long. As soon Lucifer texted Belphegor, she went to look for them in the lobby and take them up to her private office. Sitting on her chair, Alastor looked up to the ceiling and then to the eight eyes in the goat face of the Queen of Sloth.
"It's not that serious" added in the end when he finished explaining. As Bel prepared herself to give him a quick exam, he shook his head to Lucifer. His husband haven't stopped looking at him with a slight frown the entire time. "My love, I am fine."
"Just for my sake then, okay?" Lucifer took his hand and squeeze it, his blue thumb rubbing the backside of his palm. For this outing he had changed into his blue shark demon look. Bel didn't have any issue to identify him directly and didn't even question the different form at all. But his voice was the same, the concern on his face was too Lucifer to hide. "I will feel better with this."
Alastor sighed. As if there was any way he could refuse anything now. But at least it had been made clear now that, if it was for him, none of this would be necessary. They barely even had time to tell Emily that they were going out for a bit before they were just gone.
"Get on the bed" said Bel, opening a curtain for him to pass inside. Alastor laid on top as Lucifer kept a hand over his shoulder. Bel's hands started to glow in purple as she passed them over his body, not touching, but still making him tense up a little. The only hands he allowed so close to him were his immediate family. Bel could count as extended one at the most. "How long have you been having this issue?"
"Not long" Alastor frowned, trying to remember. "Mmm, I want to say a week, more or less. 10 days max. That is why I wasn't thinking there was moment to get alarmed" said, sending a side eye to Lucifer. "It never impede me to do what I need to do."
"But it's there when it wasn't before" pointed Bel calmly, going over his legs extended. "That alone is worth checking to see what is going on. Luci did well. This could have escalated eventually and be harder to deal with" Alastor grunted, ignoring the satisfied smirk that Lucifer send him. Bel moved up his torso and continued, passing over both his arms and finally his head. All with the same blank sleepy expression of always, so surely she wasn't detecting anything that serious either. That is what Alastor was assuming until she spoke. "Mmm. I need another test. You can sit up."
She moved to a cabinet on the side, looking on the drawers.
"Any idea what it could be?" asked Lucifer, letting his warm hand on Alastor's back as soon he changed position.
"I have an idea, but I need to confirm it" Bel came back with a wide stick of light grey on her hand. "Put this into your mouth, over your tongue. It won't take much."
As Alastor did, resigned to his fate, that was probably goin to include rest, Bel sat on her chair again.
"How about you, Luci? You didn't feel anything different lately?"
Lucifer shook his head.
"Absolutely nothing. If something was happening with the girls, I think they would have told us already. So at least it's not contagious, right?"
"No, it's not" Bel looked at the clock on her wall and then at the stick of Alastor, slowly blinking as the extreme that wasn't behind Alastor's teeth started colouring on a soft lilac. When the whole things was painted, she extended her hand to grab it. Alastor growled low for a second before forcing himself to relax again, realizing that nobody was taking food out of him. "I see" she said, her eyes going big for a moment. But once that second was gone, they were back to their half lid default. "Luci, you never checked on his magic, right?"
"No" Lucifer frowned, immediately a sense of guilt sinking his eyes. "Should I?"
"It's best if you do" Bel nodded. "I can tell you now, you are not sick" added to Alastor.
Lucifer turned to him, taking the hand that he kept on his lap to ask for permission before. He nodded, bracing himself for he weird feeling of having his being naked in a way that had nothing to do with his clothes. The first time it happened it was such a shock he could only interpretate like an attack, but now it was just something different he couldn't quite prepare himself for even if he knew it was coming. The previously yellow eyes of Lucifer turned into red and looked at him, his gaze instantly landing on his abdomen. He tilted his head to a side.
"What?" asked Alastor, not really liking his silence.
"What is that?" asked Lucifer to Bel instead of answering.
"So you do see it" said Bel. Just when Alastor was about to demand what they were talking about, she looked up to him. "You are pregnant."
Alastor stared at her like she just spoke gibberish.
Lucifer blinked, his red eyes glued to the same spot a second longer before they came back to normal, seeing at Alastor.
"You are" said, breathless. "I can show you" added with urgency, squeezing the hand of Alastor in his again.
In front of Alastor's eyes it was his own silhouette, full with green magic in constant movement. On his stomach there was a glowing white spot that was also moving without losing that essential circular shape.
"That…" said Lucifer and his voice sounded so close to chocking up that Alastor squeezed him back. "That is a baby. Is a baby, right, Bel?"
"Yes" confirmed Bel calmly.
"How?" said Alastor, like it was the only word he was capable of pronnouncing.
"It's a magical pregnancy. Both of your magic must have combined when you both wished for a new child and made it possible. The reason you have been feeling tired so much it was because the fetus needed your energy to keep form. You were using even more magic that you thought at once. If you were a normal sinner it would have dissolved already without more magic from the father. I imagine that in a month or so that would have happened here too. If you want to keep it, it was a good thing you came now."
Alastor blinked and his vision went back to normal. He turned to Lucifer, the expectation on his face so pulled back that he had to reach out, cupping his cheek. The king exhaled sharply, as if it burned.
"What is that if about?" Alastor brought him closer, kissing his forehead. "Of course we are having it. Of course. Aren't we?" he hummed softly as he kissed the tears that started to fall from Lucifer's eyes. His silly king could get so worried over nothing. How could he even imagine for a second he was going to have any other response? "You wanted it too, didn't you? Why are you surprised?" teased lightly, nuzzling his temple.
Lucifer whimpered without words as hold him tight, burying his head on his chest as Alastor squeezed him tight back. A nice melody all around them was the only way he had to express how full and content he was, his body vibrating with radio static coming from his core.
Maybe it wasn't what any of them expected or planned for, but right at that moment that didn't matter at all. They were going to make it work, somehow. Just like they did for Charlie and Emily, they would do as well for the new addition to their family. They had everything they could need.
"Babe" Lucifer kissed his neck and went up until he found Alastor's lip, clinging him him like he wanted to imprint his presence there. "I love you" sighed, keeping his head close to pet his ears. There were streak of tears on his cheeks, but they were drying up and his smile was so much bigger now. "I love you so much."
Alastor laughed, a light and joyious sound that reverberated with radio noises, and kissed him back, his lips and his red dot and his neck as he hugged him again, stronger than before.
Bel stared at her wall, full of pills of every color in the rainbow. Either because she genuinely did not care or for giving them that moment, she didn't say a word until Lucifer adressed her again by wrapping his arms around her and lifting her up. She was like a rag doll, a doll that was bigger and taller than him, but the king did not mind at all.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" said Lucifer, laughing. "You have given us the best news ever, Bel! You are the best! How can I repay you?"
"You are welcome" said Bel calmly, somehow elipping an arm-tentacle from the grip of Lucifer to clumsily pat his head a few times. "I won't charge you, but you need to know a few things. If you let me sit I can tell you."
"Thank you" Lucifer giggled, giving her one final and especial kind of strong squeeze, before letting her come back to her chair.
If she were anything else but a Sin, they would have heard the sound of her ribs crushing already. Instead she just plopped down, fixing up her robe.
"Well?" asked Alastor when she just looked at the bed with a wishful expression.
Bel directed her eyes at him and pronnounced a little oh, suddenly remembering.
"Right. The baby needs the magic of both parents to keep growing. It's a similar process as what you did for Charlie already. Just one minute for week of magical transference should be enough. If you want to add more minutes it's fine, it won't hurt them. The magic will just go to the pregnant father if it's not absorbed by the baby. I can teach you a way to keep track of so you know if you need more."
Bel taught him a little sigil to know the level of magic the baby needed. After drawing it on the air, the color it glowed would be the status. For now the levels were at a dull green, out of danger, but it was best if they could do one as soon they could. It had to be a brighter green. If it was ever in red, that was their sign something was wrong already. Alastor could feel Lucifer tensing up at his side as his grip on his waist became stronger. He draw circles on his back to calm him down as Bel continue. They were never going to let it get anywhere close to red, that was for sure.
Since it was magical, and not entirely biological, Alastor was going to have significant less symptons than usual, but they could still be there. For that, there were pills. If he had trouble sleeping, there were pills. If anything at all was stressing him out, that wouldn't be nice for the baby, so there were pills. He could eat and drink whatever is that he wanted without worrying. Finally, she wanted to keep checking on the baby every month to make sure it was developing normally. It was exactly two weeks since the conception started so they would have to come back in other two.
Lucifer made some questions, to ease his own mind. Bel answered everything as succintly as she could, not minding to repeat it when Lucifer just wanted to double check. When all of their doubts were resolved, Lucifer hugged her again, thanking her for everything, and Alastor shook her hand. Once they were traspassed the portal to go back home, landing in front of the hotel, Lucifer had a bag full of pills hanging from his shoulder and the biggest smile he had in years.
"Oh, Charlie and Emily are going to be so excited!" squealed, opening the door to let Alastor in. "We have to tell everyone!"
As soon the door was closed behind them, Alastor pushed Lucifer behind a curtain with his tentacles. The little king let out a gasp before Alastor reclaimed his mouth, holding his chin up. He didn't know, but he felt possessive, as if needing to leave his mark all over the father of his unborn kid before letting the rest of the world even know that it existed.
"You heard the doctor, love" whispered, taking a hand of Lucifer. He guided his tentacles to open up his shirt from the bottom up, placing the warm palm of his husband above the fur on his stomach. His skin was still flat, as if nothing had happened, but soon that was going to change. He kissed Lucifer hungrily, sucking on his lips. The curtain was a heavy cover that wouldn't let anyone even know what they were doing, as long they weren't too loud, but even that could be handled with an easy spell from his own fingers. "Our baby needs his papa."
"How could I forget" Lucifer sighed, licking his own lips before bringing him down again, turning him around so now Alastor's back was against the wall. The hand that was over on his stomach slipped under his pants, his underwear, rubbing his mound of fur until Lucifer recieved a nod from Alastor. "How do you want it, baby?" asked, opening the pants of Alastor to pull them down. He gripped his ass between his fingers, mouth watering already. "Hand, tongue or cock? Anything for the good daddy."
"Hand" Alastor punctuated his response by taking the wrist of Lucifer and pushing it on his underwear, further ahead until he moaned with the intimate contact.
He looked over to the side of the curtain, controlling that nobody was getting in or out, but it was as deserted as it was when they left in the first place. If any force on the universe were interrupted them now, he was going to destroy them for the rest of eternity until there was nothing left. This was his little moment of celebration and was going to grab it with open claws if he had to.
"So wet already, babe" Lucifer grunted, pushing inside to his knuckles with two fingers. Alastor grabbed to his shoulders, shivering in delights as he rotted his hips, rubbing himself on the palm. Lucifer's chuckles was like the most pleasant grumble from his chest. "Does carrying my baby makes you like that? Are you going to be one slutty daddy for me?"
"Maybe" Alastor panted as the fingers kept moving, relentless. "You will have to make sure our baby keeps growing to find out. "
Lucifer's grunt came out with a bit of fire between his teeth. Alastor extended his legs further to get down on the wall, grabbing Lucifer by the back of his head to steal a smoky kiss, the tip of his tongue getting so warm as he pressed it inside Lucifer's mouth. For a moment both his tongue entangled on each other, one tasting of hell fire and destruction in such a way Alastor wanted to swallowed it whole, let it burn his insides as much as the fingers were driving him insane.
"Here I go" said Lucifer.
Alastor didn't know what was going, but then a warm, tingling sensation that had nothing to do with Lucifer's movement went up from his fingers to inside of him. His vision was changed again to show him his figure, his magic, and traces of golden magic that were taken out by the white spot inside of him. Everytime a new trace of gold appear, a new little shot of electricity made him jolt, vibrating.
It all lasted a couple of blinks and then he was looking again at the yellow eyes of Lucifer, brow furrowed slightly in concentration.
"Does it feel good?" asked Lucifer. "I can make it softer. Or stronger. You tell me."
"Stronger" Alastor braced himself, holding onto him when the big shock came. The sudden stimulation made him moan harder, one large sound that extended in the air. After that shock, Lucifer added a third finger and kissed his jaw.
"You are taking it so well, baby. You are such a good daddy already" Lucifer's voice smiled before he could see it.
Alastor nuzzled against his head and bite on his cheek down at the next shock, breathing sharply. This one went from Lucifer's fingers to his palm, immediately on top of his sensitive nub. He gave a strangled scream, mouth open, before furiously licking on the droplets of golden blood offered up to him. The sudden warmth of the blood, as if swallowing down whiskey during a blizzard, quickly extended to the rest of his body, making him relax again.
When Lucifer shocked him again, Alastor lost all strenght on his legs. As if sensing, or predicting it before then, Lucifer grabbed him from under his ass to keep him up as he finger fucked him through his orgasm. Alastor moaned, his voice rasping with each exhale, until Lucifer slowly pulled out. He bite down his own lip when Lucifer made a show of cleaning himself up with his tongue, sucking on each tip. Then the king reached out to kiss him, his own flavor and smell still over him.
"Do you think that is enough?" asked Lucifer in a whisper, barely moving.
"If not, I would be surprised" Alastor sighed. The bite on the cheek was already completely healed, so he kissed gently the zone and nuzzled him. "Do you want me to do something for you?"
"Later, at night" Lucifer smiled, petting his head, scratching around his ears. Alastor hummed satisfied, feeling his tail wagging at the attention. A little involuntary squeak came out of him. "You are so cute" chuckled Lucifer, kissing his cheek.
"Shut up" grunted Alastor. He took a breath and started to put his hooves on the ground again, when he remembered. "Darling."
"I know" Lucifer snapped his fingers. Alastor squinted his eyes when a quick and sudden surge of magic passed between his legs, cleaning up his underwear. "Better?"
"More decent at least" Alastor straighten up at last, pulling his pants to close them again. Next it was his shirt and last his suit jacket. He looked like always, but soon enough that was going to change. Another visit to the tailor, who would have to keep his mouth shut if he wanted to keep living. "I am going to need bigger clothes when I start showing."
"We won't have to worry about that for a while" assured Lucifer, holding his hand.
"Oh, I am not bothered at all by the idea" said, reaching down to kiss his forehead. "I can't wait" added in a whisper, leaving a caress on his cheek. "For now, we have an announcement to make, don't we?"
Lucifer perked up.
--
Five minutes later, Lucifer had conjured up a megaphone to spread his voice as far as possible through out the whole building.
"Everyone come in to the lobby to receive the best news ever that hell has ever heard about! It's nothing tragic or bad, I promise!"
The good thing of living so long around the king of hell was the ability to completely tuned out his loud shenanigans. Alastor sat down on the couch, patiently waiting for the residents and staff to start appearing.
"Is that fucking thing necessary?" grumbled Husk, covering his ears.
Once everyone was accounted for, Lucifer smiled big and cleaned up his hands on the air.
"Papa, what is happening?" asked Charlie, who despite the warning still looked worried.
"I just wanted to have all of you at once for this!" said Lucifer, enthusiastically moving to get the hand of Alastor on his and stand at his side. "We just came from visiting auntie Bel. I noticed that Alastor wasn't feeling too well this morning, so I got worried and had her test him out. That is how we find that…" Lucifer took a deep breath, like he haven't breath at all during the whole exxplanation. "He is pregnant! We are waiting for a baby!"
Almost everyone in the room instantly looked at Alastor for further confirmation of those words. It only took a simple nod from Alastor for the two princess to make loud noises. For Charlie is was a yell, as Emily squealed, running to hug Alastor.
"Am I am going to have a little sibling?!" Charlie already had tears on her eyes, not knowing what to do with herself.
Lucifer put a hand on her shoulder and nodded.
"Two weeks and counting!" said happily, lifting two fingers. "It's a magical pregnancy that could only happen because we both wanted it at the same time! So if you think about it, it was totally planned!"
Charlie babbled something that almost sounded like how happy she was and she hugged Lucifer, lifting him off the feet on one of the signature bone crushing squeeze she learned from him. The incontrollable sob of her, predictably, started causing a similar effect on Lucifer.
"Aww, sweetie" said first, before his voice was lost on the cries. It was a struggle to understand any of them as they talked over another. "I love your dad so fucking much, duckling, and I know our baby is going to be just as amazing as you are!"
"You are the best papa ever and I love you both so much, I am so happy for you!"
Vaggie sighed, patting the back of her girlfriend as she and Lucifer turned themselves into fountains. Emily looked upon them with a smile and kissed the cheek of Alastor, holding both of his hands as she kneeled
"I don't really have a lot of experience with this side of life. Or afterlife, I guess" commented with a chuckle. "In Heaven I never really saw a pregnancy up close, but I am going to learn as much as I can so I can help you out and be the best big sister I can be" promised, nodding seriously but with a happy smile on her face.
"I am sure you will, dear" Alastor kissed the top of her head. "There is more than enough time. I won't even start showing for a good few weeks."
"Showing what?" Emily tilted her head, confused.
Alastor was taken aback at that. What the fuck did they taught them in Heaven?
"Sweetie" said, gently, "do you know what pregnant means?"
"Of course I do, silly! Lucifer just said it means you are having a baby! That is very exciting."
"Do you know how I am going to have the baby?"
"By…" Emily blinked, thinking it over as a small crease was created between her eyes, "Huh. I guess it appears when it's ready?"
"Not exactly" Alastor took one of her hands and put it over his stomach. "The baby is already here, inside my body, but they are still too small. The more they grow up, this part of me will change to contain them. Then one day they are going to be big enough to get out my body and live here with us."
"Is that how it works?!" Emily's eyes were full of wonder at the new information. She pressed her palm down on Alastor for a second, looking to feel something, and then pulled out, suddenly scared. "Sorry, I shouldn't do that! I don't want to hurt them. Are they okay?"
Alastor chuckled, cupping her cheek.
"They are fine, dear. Like I said, they are too small so it's mostly just my own body now. You didn't hurt any of us."
"Oh" Emily sighed. "Good. I definitely need to read more on it then. How long are they going to be inside your body?"
"If everything goes alright, it should be nine months. That usually is how long it takes."
"Oh, that is really a lot of time. Like almost a year! Is there something I can do to help them come out sooner?"
Alastor smiled, petting her head. Internally damming all of Heaven again because how could let an angel live for so long in ignorance of a big part of human life.
"No, dear. They need that time to develop properly. Your father and I" said, looking at Lucifer, who for some reason had decided to include Vaggie on his hug. Now he and Charlie were sniffling on each side of the fallen angel, doing her best to calm them both "will take care of them to ensure that happens. For now there is nothing else to do but wait."
"I will still do my due research!" promised Emily, standing up to hug him again. "Do you need anything right now? Juice? Water? Something?"
Please, let not this be the start of all of their interactions becoming into this, begged Alastor internally.
"No, dear, thank you. If I want something, I can still get it myself. No need to fret so much" said, feeling relieved when Husk approched him. "Yes?"
"I am going to go ahead and assume that this is real" said, making a pointing gesture to Lucifer finally returning to the floor to recieve the congratulations of everyone else. He looked positively ectatic. "Not even you would be so fucked up to make a joke out of this."
"Why, thank you."
"And you didn't do a terrible job with Charlie either. Although a big portion of that was Lucifer."
"That is usually how parenting with a partner goes, indeed."
Husk took a deep breath and exhaled, as if saying the next part was taking a lot of him.
"I am just saying, when that baby comes out, I am not changing any diapers. Congratulations or whatever" said, turning around to return to the bar.
"Was that a positive interaction or a negative one?" asked Emily in a whisper.
She was still struggling with the nuances of hellish beings.
"Positive. I think" Alastor wasn't entirely sure himself, but he was going to take what he could. After everything that happened, that was probably the most he could get from Husk.
The winged cat didn't had the same reservations about congratulating Lucifer, going so far as to endure one of his hugs. With her eyes finally not leaking. Charlie came running to wrap her arms around him. Alastor patted her back and didn't mind when he could hear another tinu sniffle.
"I am so… so happy for you, dad" said Charlie, kissing his cheek. Her emotions were still on the surface, but at least she was in better control of them. "Are you okay now? Do you need anything?"
"That is what I said!" pointed out Emily.
"Please, don't" Alastor sighed, taking both of her hands. "Dears, I came back from a doctor who said I am fine. I was merely a little tired because the baby was absorbing magic without me knowing it. Now that we do know, we can take care of them adequately. Do no start worrying so much over me when there is no need at all. That is going to be Lucifer's job anyway."
"My job is what now?" said Lucifer, finally joining them.
"That you are going to be the one fretting over me from now on, darling, so the girls don't have to. Isn't that right?"
"Absolutely!" Lucifer perked up, sitting on the couch next to him and hugging him from the side. It seemed that he just had way too many hugs inside he needed to disperse all around. Alastor couldn't say that it bothered him too much. "You two just concentrate on being big sisters and leave everything else to papa! That is what I am here for!"
Charlie pouted, but then Emily grabbed her arm.
"Where is the baby going to sleep?" asked Emily.
Charlie gasped loudly, grabbing her cheeks.
"We can totally decorate one of the rooms of the hotel! And their room at the palace too! It's going to be the cutest room ever!"
As Charlie and Emily got invested on talking about what the room on their baby sibling could include, Lucifer kissed his cheek. Alastor hold onto the arm around his middle. Planned or not planned, he thought, this was okay.
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starlordcumidk · 2 months
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New Kind of Love
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~chapter 1~
word count: 3.2k
notes: slight ooc, reader wears glasses, this is an AU of TASM!Peter where he is a fraternity brother. reader is portrayed as rude/stand-offish. reader is a tad neurodivergent. playful banter. please read this knowing that i am a newer author and the plot is based on a song.
warnings: not proofread, minor cursing? does that count?
Enough of "Love Lite"
And "I Can't Believe It's Not Love!"
Monday, October 21st, 2024.
School started back up eight weeks ago, frat, sorority, club rushs and event posters making anyones head spin. There were at least forty parties that happened just in the first six weeks of school, none you attended. Right now, the school was setting up for their next pep rally, big decorations all over the place, even in Siebert’s courtyard. 
Empire State University was known for its largely populated campus, even for a private school. Truly, the scholarships they offered were the biggest reason anyone was able to go. Those from out of state were even encouraged with extra offers, you included. 
You have been living rather normally, even with the hussle and bustle through the dorm halls every night, your favorite being the RA catching the girl down the hall with two gallon size ziplocs with coke and her boyfriend naked in the hall in the middle of September. 
It was refreshing, almost. Being back in New York always puts an extra pep in your step, especially after a very long, very hot, very southern summer spent back at your parents house. Not only was it over one-hundred and five degrees most days, the humidity was consistently breaking the ninety percent mark.
Even though you weren’t as lucky this year with housing and got the road facing room, six floors up— with a broken elevator nonetheless– you were comfortable. The room was decorated meticulously, just the way you liked it. Warm lighting from lamps, the big light never on, a rotary fan at the foot of your bed. Perfect.
The cool seventy degree weather was a welcome breeze as you opened the window, allowing yourself to get the dry, definitely polluted air into your lungs. Looking down at the road, even though it was nowhere near as beautiful as the courtyard, filled you with excitement every single time. It was a beautiful swarm of colors, bright jackets and scarves creating a moving mural with the fresh morning sun.
I missed this. The thought floods your senses as you feel your first genuine chill of the year.
This was home. Being surrounded by tall buildings, loud and awful people, hagglers and one very fit red-blue spandex hero, was comforting. Back home, there were no heroes to swoop in if you were threatened. Spider-Man was always a welcome guest, and you’ve definitely seen more of him these past few months than before. 
Maybe your paranoia was bad, but the idea of a sticky-gross-web man sweeping in and saving you made those thoughts calm down. Even if you thought the idea of being part spider was less than exciting. 
It was Monday, all of your aggravating and mundane classes were scheduled for this morning. It took effort to get dressed and go to your first lecture, but eventually you did.
As you walked across campus, you messaged back and forth with your close friend who still lived in your home state, so many thousands of miles away. 
Delilah: girl u have to go out and make more friends. i’m tired of being your only one. you: you know that isn’t happening right now. people find me too abrasive and that makes it hard enough as is. Delilah: ok well maybe be nice to people babe ? you: ehhhh not really my thing but maybe i’ll try for you < 33 Delilah: u better !!!!!! Delilah: hugs n kisses < 333 i gtg, reed is here you: it’s not even 9am so idk how you’re already at it with him… have a good day lilah.
You shake your head at the quick interaction and feel a moment of missing her before shoving your phone back into your pocket and taking a deep breath. Opening Dr. Howards lecture doors and seeing that you’re the first to show again, a small smile graces your lips as you make your way to your seat. 
It’s not long until the small, bubbly, blonde seventy-year-old woman walks in, big binders and a mug in hand. Following her are more of the students, none of which you know or care to know. You look away for a few minutes to gather you notebook and pencil to scribble nonsense notes to try and dissect later. 
And the lecture begins. 
—--------------
Peter, frankly, was over everything. He was the one who had to organize where people would be sleeping, how they’d fit into the chapter house and he even had to argue with the stupid underclassmen asking why he was the one with a private bathroom. Being in a frat was tiring, he was only here for the scholarship and housing opportunity. 
It was always the same, but luckily this was his last year he had to be involved with it. 
After this year, his bacholers in hand, he could just worry about graduate school. Everyone and everything outside of bioengineering and Spider-Man would wash off of him. His hands clean and life lonely, just as he liked it to be- with the exception of May. 
Even if one fleeting conversation leaves him enamored with the wrinkle of your nose, the way it caused the inner corners of your eyes to crease. He hadn’t been this way since highschool, it was scary and unwelcomed. Something he’d rather kill off and walk away from, but every day in the courtyard or the times you happened to be on the Q train at the same time as him, the weird adrenaline rush would light him on fire.
Mondays, Wednesdays and select Fridays were the worst. He was sure of it. 
Environmental Managment, a dumb class, but he took it to get his credit hours up, hoping to balance out his GPA…. Somehow, you were here too. Almost like a curse, he has to look at you from the back row of the class, the closest seat to the back entrance. You sat alone, front and center of the lecture hall. You were always there on time, which urged him to be too, it gave him extra time to stare. Even with this, he was never sure of your name.
—--------------
The teacher was droning on about some mudslide somewhere in California, babbling about the random effects it had on the surrounding citizens, the heavy rain that caused it. Your pencil was etching into the paper lazily with each slide. 
A small timer went off which indicated the end of class, but before you could react there was a loud clap and Dr. Howards mic was turned on. She only used it for important announcements or when the frat boys in the back wouldn’t shut up. 
“So, this semester is going really well. Many of you are keeping your grades and positivity up! But, we still need to discuss our final exam.”
A symphony of deep groans sound from the back, you feel your eye twitch at it. 
“Thank you, boys.” A pause and a glare, “Anyways, I have decided your final will be a presentation on a hypothetical scenario. In groups of two, that I assign, you and your partner will have to decide on a catastrophic event, it can be any of the ones we have discussed or any you find in your books. After picking the event, choose the setting, it can be close to home or even Australia, just make it realistic. No monsoons in New York. You two must decide how devastating it is and how the community will recover. The groups are in the class Canvas. Take care! Go Otters! Excelsior!” She closes her laptop and is out of the room before anyone can complain about her groupings.
You are quick to start thinking over ideas, most of which are tornado-centered. You’ve never experienced one, but the movie Twister was a classic at home when you were little. Quickly, you write down some ideas, tornadoes, hurricanes, mudslides…. 
You pack your books away and look into the list the professor had composed on your phone, scrolling through too many names before your gaze lands on yours next to… oh no.
Peter Parker. 
You feel dumb for a moment, you hadn’t realized he was in this course let alone the same exact class as you. Turning around to look for him, it’s hard. The cluster of bodies was too big to just be pairs discussing their ideas.
Then, your eyes meet a messy mop of brown, leaning over a laptop and the same sweater from back in summer all the way in the back. You feel nervous just looking at him, but you swallow the hard lump and start towards him. Of course he’d be all the way in the back, surrounded by sport and frat bro’s. 
With a deep breath, you tap on his shoulder. It causes him to jump, and for a moment he looks as nervous as you feel, but it disappears quickly and is replaced with a smile. 
“Hey, I know you.” Peter says it with a warm tone.
“Yep. Uhm… we were partnered for the project?” You say it coolly, staring down at him.
“Ah- so that's who you are, huh?” He tilts his head, slowly shutting his beat up laptop and leaning back in his chair. He says your name a few times under his breath, as if reciting it to himself. 
“Uh-huh….” You nod, something weird stirring in your stomach at the timbre he uses when whispering your name to himself. “So, what days are we meeting for this thing?” 
“Uh- we could use the free period on whatever days you want. As long as it isn’t at night, I have a job.” He shrugs, looking up at you and his smile falters. 
“Monday, Wednesday and Friday it is then.” You decide, grabbing the paper you scribbled ideas on and hand it to him.
He takes it and looks it over, his brows furrowed for a moment before looking back up to you. “We can’t meet today, but if you give me your number I’ll look these over and text you.” He is so soft spoken compared to the other frat guys around you, it is almost shocking.
“You have my school email. Use that.” You shrug, your tone almost rude as you speak. “Sorry, I mean- just email me about it and we can talk Wednesday….” It’s kinder this time, but the tone correction feels embarrassing.
“Oh- okay. Sure thing.” He nods and starts to gather his things around, looking you over before slinging his backpack over his shoulder, you couldn’t help but notice the skateboard sticking out from it. “See you then.” He says your name then he is gone, quickly leaving to go wherever he needed to be.
—-------------- <[email protected] 
Sent at 2:27pm 10/21/2024
Let's do the hurricane and Louisiana idea. Meet me at the library at 12:30. 
Peter B. Parker
Get Outlook for iOS>
—--------------
Wednesday, October 23rd, 2024
You walk into the library, your eyes scanning the large area. Peter and you had agreed to meet on the first floor for ease of finding one another, but he hadn’t specified if he was at a table, a computer or in a private study room. You groan at the fact you never asked for any more specifics.
The building had three levels, ground floor was all peer-reviewed journals, textbooks, anything that was used for research and could be ran through scribbr for essays, the middle floor was dedicated to fiction and had very limited stock, only a few of the books were actually worth a read, the top floor was just old archives, nothing that was allowed to leave the library. 
It was a very tall, circular shape. Each floor visible from the entrance, glass sidings and the small tables or armchairs pressed against them. Red and gold quotes painted along the walls. Your personal favorite was by Madame Curie, it was directly above the checkout desk.
"One never notices what has been done; one can only see what remains to be done." 
Slowly walking through the shelves, looking at each and every table and bean bag, you can't seem to find that stupid mass of brunette hair and slushy posture anywhere. In all seriousness, you’re getting angry. Had he stood you up? Was he running behind after he set up the whole meeting in the first place? 
Just as you were about to give up you felt a hand fall on your shoulder, a breeze of honey and pine enveloping your nose. 
“Finally, I found you!” Peter's voice was easy to recognize, especially with how sweet he smelt. 
You turn and look up, giving him a skeptical look. “Where are we going to study?”
He took a moment before pointing at the private study hall, his smile smooth and easy to take in. With a quick nod, you walked towards the hallway, looking in each room to decipher which had his items in it. To your delight, it was easy. Every other room was filled with people, some studying, others playing some tabletop games. You walked in, sat at the empty seat closest to the computer and started pulling your notebook out. 
He was right behind you, closing the door and settling in across from you. In one foul swoop his legs were propped on the table and he leaned back a bit. “So do you really think this assignment is going to take ten weeks to research?” He sounded so… carefree.
You respond with a shrug, looking at the page on natural disasters. 
Peter hummed a small ‘mhmm’ and drummed his fingers on his chest, staring at you. “So, are we gonna challenge ourselves and use just our textbook as a reference?” A small smile.
“That's dumb.” You scoff and put your book aside, logging into the school computer and doing a quick search for Louisiana and scrolling through its map, trying to find the city to zone in on.
“Oh. Okay… uhm….” He sits forward, dropping his legs and leaning forward, craning his neck a bit to try and get a peek at the screen.
“New Orleans is probably a good one. Super populated, a staple for tourists. It would be a big tragedy for it to get destroyed.” He pointed at the spot on the screen, his tone still just as warm as usual.
“No, too predictable.” It comes out like an insult, and you internally kick yourself.
There's a pause before a defeated sigh and he points out another spot on the map, it’s random and his smile is gone now. “What about there? Grand Isle?” 
You take a long look at it before nodding and writing the town name down, looking over at him with a forced smile. “Cool.”
“You know, we’re gonna have to talk like real people eventually, right?” It’s frustrated and a bit.. sad. Another internal kick.
“Listen I-” you pause, not sure of how to put it at first, “I’m not good at talking. Never have been.” 
“Yea, I’ve noticed.” He shrugs and pulls out the most beat-up laptop you’d ever seen. “But, that night in the courtyard you seemed pretty chatty.”
The memory flashes in your mind and you touch your nose, your new pair of glasses hasn’t arrived yet. “It was a momentary lapse. Probably won’t happen again.”
“Why not?” He stares intently, a stomach turning, heart flipping look on his face as he asks.
“Why would it?” You stare back, your hands starting to fidget with your jean pocket.
“Cause we’re friends now.” He spoke so nonchalantly.
“Not friends.” A groan
“Oh come on, you’ll learn to love me eventually.” His voice was soft and he brought the backside of his fingers against his chin, batting his eyelashes.
“Eh, doubt it. I’ve had enough of love lite.” You said it, genuinely grossed out.
There was a moment of silence, the buzzing LED above you making you think you won Peter's yap battle.
“What?” It came out after a hearty laugh, one that felt like it had to come from his stomach.
You roll your eyes, looking into Grand Isle, writing its population count down as you respond. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
“So you think I’m pretty?” He gasps, his hand pumping in the air as if he’d won something.
A shiver runs down your spine but you don’t let it show. “Sickening thought. Thanks, Mr. Aracnophile.” You grimace, making a fake gagging sound even though deep down you were enjoying this stupid conversation with him.
“Oh ew- never call me that again. What did I ever do to you?” His hand flew over his heart, squeezing his pullover with a dramatic gasp.
“You haven’t shut up since we got in this room.” You looked him in the eye, an almost unamused expression on your face outside of the small smile that was fighting its way past your ever slipping mask.
Peter is quiet for a moment again before rolling his shoulders back and sighing. “Got you pretty chatty though, didn’t I?” A shit-eating grin and a teasing tone accompanying his words.
You go to speak but nothing comes out. He did get you chatty. For some reason it makes your face heat up and you roll your eyes before looking back at your computer screen. “I’ll look into the town, you look into the likeliness a hurricane would destroy it?” 
He nods and opens the laptop, it has several cracks in the screen and duct tape holding a few of the plastic parts down. You take a mental note not to ask about it right now, but maybe later. 
The next hour progresses quickly, handwritten notes torn out of notebooks and stacked neatly into a pile in between the two computer screens. There are a few sneezes and quick exchanged glances while you work, but you ignore it. No reason to think too hard about it. 
As you start to type a few sentences into a digital outline, your phone buzzes, indicating your next class would be starting in twenty minutes. You sigh and start to boot down the computer. Peter lifts his head, looking at you and furrowing his brows a little bit. 
“Got somewhere to be?” He says your name so smoothly, you almost miss that he said it at all. 
“Yea. My next block of classes is about to start.” You shrug and sift through the different notes he and you had written, letting your eyes graze each one to see what’s what and how you should organize it in your folder. 
“I can take those.” He gently taps the top of the papers and you’re reluctant to hand them over. It was hard to say yes, because what if you needed to double check them and retrace your steps before- “I’ll scan them and send them to you after work tonight.”
A wave of relief washes over you, and you nod, letting his hand take them from you. “Sounds good, Spider-guy.” You say with a tight lipped smile and start to leave the study room. 
“Hey, wait. Let me walk with you.” He calls out to you but you put your earbuds in and pretend you didn’t hear him. 
—-----------------
Sent at 3:06am 10/24/2024
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Here you go, just as I promised. Oh, also, here’s my number, you know, if you want to be a normal 21 year old someday. Also, can't meet Friday. Something came up.
See you soon, trouble.
(xxx) xxx-xxxx
Peter B. Parker
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18 notes · View notes
player1064 · 7 months
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Prompt from this post: https://www.tumblr.com/xtsukinoax/673521724855402496/it-cant-be-better?source=share
DO WHAT YOU WILL if you choose <3
SO obsessed with this tweet I can't stop thinking about it like why did he say that. why did he say that. SCREAMS.
thanks for the prompt!! here's 933 words of just. fluff.
---
“I honestly don’t understand how yous’ve made it this far in life, Gary, look at the state of you.”
Gary blinks a few times, unsteady on his feet, as he takes a second to process what Jamie’s saying.
“I’m fine, Carra. ‘s been a busy couple’a weeks, is all. It’ll slow down again soon.”
“You’ve been havin’ a busy couple of weeks for the last ten year! How many times’ve you gotta be told to slow down before you actually listen?”
Another pause.
“Jamie. I’m fine. Look, I jus’ need – I just need t’go home, have some dinner, get me eight hours. I’ll see you in the mornin’, yeah?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, I’m not lettin’ you get behind the wheel when you’re like this.”
“So, what, yer gonna drive me home? Bit of a detour, that.”
It’d be a lot of a detour, considering they’ve just finished covering a match at Anfield. Jamie’s half an hour away from comfy clothes and a pizza delivery, it’d be a shame to have to drive all the way to and from Manchester and delay it.
Only one thing for it, then.
“You’re comin’ home with me.”
After the second’s delay for Gary to process again, he scoffs. “Am I fuck.”
Somewhere, buried very far in the back of Jamie’s mind, a little voice is reminding him that Gary is a multi-millionaire and could afford the cab fare home. He ignores it and steers Gary towards his car instead.
The drive to Jamie’s house is done in near silence, the radio volume turned low because Jamie knows when he’s this tired any extra noise’ll just give Gary a headache. When they get in, he leaves the overhead lights off and turns a lamp on instead, then leaves Gary on the sofa while he wanders off to order the pizzas and to get changed.
He’s pulling on his tracksuit when he realises Gary’s still stuck in his work clothes, which just doesn’t make any sense if Jamie’s insisting he stay the night, so he digs around for some things that might fit him and carries them back downstairs, stopping to grab the duvet off his bed as he goes.
“Pizza’ll be here in ten,” he says as he enters the living room. He drops the change of clothes onto Gary’s lap. “Here, there’s a bathroom down the hall you can get dressed in.”
Gary blinks, looks at the clothes in confusion, then looks at the duvet that Jamie’s unceremoniously dropped onto the empty side of the couch.
“Y’re bein’ weird, James,” he says, but gets up and wanders off down the hall without complaint.
When he comes back, Jamie pats the sofa cushion beside him and asks “what channel d’you want TV on?”
“Ugh. Anything but football.”
Jamie scrolls through the channel guide for all of ten seconds before deciding that a) it’s only background noise, so he doesn’t actually care what they watch, and b) he’s got the perfect opportunity to be very, very annoying.
“Sex and the City it is, then. What’s it say… season four, episode twelve. You seen this one?”
Jamie’s never seen an episode of the show in his life, and, judging by the glare Gary shoots him, he hasn’t either. Well. First time for everything!
The pizza arrives, and they eat in front of the TV, Jamie ‘hmm’ing and ‘ahh’ing at all of Gary’s annoyed comments about the show.
“Who’s this now?” (“I don’t know, Gaz, it’s my first time watchin’ it too.”)
“D’you ever find American accents quite tricky to understand?” (“I think you’re probably just tired. You’re understandin’ me just fine.”) (“Been stuck tryn’ta understand your Scouse mutterin’ for last ten year, would hope I’ve got the hang of it by now.”)
“Oh! Y’didn’t tell me there’d be sex in this and all!” (“It’s literally called Sex and the City you twat.”)
The duvet remains draped menacingly over the back of the couch until Jamie comes back from putting the empty pizza boxes in the kitchen, at which point he sits back down, ever so slightly closer to Gary this time (though not close enough to spook him), and pulls it onto his lap.
Gary looks at him, spooked.
Christ, but he’s hard work sometimes. Jamie figures the best thing to do is pretend like this is perfectly normal, just two grown men sharing a duvet, so he spreads it out to cover both of them.
Gary still looks spooked, sitting there rigidly upright with wide eyes fixed unblinkingly on the TV. Jamie shuffles closer to him. Throws an arm over the back of the couch, no part of him making contact with Gary but still very much… there.
Slowly, slowly, Gary leans back.
By the next ad break, he’s asleep, his head lolled forwards, chin resting on his chest. Jamie pulls the duvet up higher around him and turns the TV volume down.
By the ad break after that, Gary’s slumped further into the couch, and if Jamie shifts just an inch or so – their sides would be pressed together. Gary doesn’t stir. Jamie lets his arm drop to his shoulders. Still nothing.
Gary’s warm, his weight solid at Jamie’s side. Jamie shuts his eyes, just for a second.
When he opens them again, it’s still dark out but the TV’s gone into standby and his watch tells him it’s still too early an hour to really be called morning.
There’s also a Manc drooling into his chest, one arm draped across his waist.
There are worse places to be, Jamie thinks, and lets himself drift back to sleep.
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nerdzzone · 1 year
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Worlds Apart
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Chapter Five
Summary: Single mom, Bridget Clark, thought that she was fine by herself. Moving her son to a new town and out of the hustle and bustle of Boston, she thought that life would be quieter and simpler, but a chance encounter with a certain Hollywood actor only a week after their big move had her questioning everything. Bridget was faced with the ultimate decision of head vs heart, but would letting her guard down prove to be worth the risk?
Series Masterlist
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Waking up the morning after her birthday, Bridget was immediately reminded of why tequila shots were rarely a good idea for anyone over the age of twenty-two. Her head was pounding, it felt like it weighed far more than it usually did, and even simply rolling over had her feeling like her brain was going to burst out of her skull. She reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, taking a few big swigs in an attempt to get rid of some of the dryness in her mouth and she was relieved when her stomach didn’t turn and immediately attempt to force it back out. She might have been a far cry from feeling her best, but she’d definitely had much worse hangovers in her life and she was grateful for that small win.
However, a wave of dread washed over her as the memories of the end of their night came back to her. Frantically grabbing her phone, she was hoping to find that the messages she remembered sending had all been a dream, but the several notifications of messages from Chris confirmed that it was all true. She was torn about whether she should read what he had to say or just assume that she’d embarrassed herself enough that he no longer wanted anything to do with her, but eventually her curiosity got the best of her and she opened their conversation.
The first thing that caught her eye was the picture of his face that popped up on the screen. He looked tired and like he’d had a very long day, but he was handsome nonetheless. The visible neckline of the t-shirt he was wearing and the soft light in the room told her that he must have sent it after he was home for the night and the timestamp confirmed her suspicions as she realized his reply had come long after she’d fallen asleep.
After staring at - and appreciating - the picture for longer than she was willing to admit, she tore her gaze away to focus on the message that accompanied it.
Sorry for the late reply, it’s been a long and busy night. Not sure my face is quite up to Paul’s standard, but who am I to deny the birthday girl?
The picture came through after that message, but it was followed by another.
I think it’s only fair that I get a picture in return though, don’t you? I have a theory that I’d like to prove and it would really help me out.
Her curiosity was piqued, but the heavy feeling of residual mascara around her eyes and the crunch of leftover hairspray in her hair despite its current out of control style had her cringing at the thought. A glance at the clock told her it was just before ten - a fact that surprised her considering her routine usually made it impossible for her to sleep after eight even on days she didn’t work or have Landon - which meant it was just after seven where Chris was on the west coast. Feeling comforted by the time difference, Bridget answered him.
A theory? What would that be?
She assumed she had plenty of time - especially if Chris was up late - to relax and freshen up before he answered, but she’d barely had enough time to snuggle back down under the blankets next to her still snoring friend and open her other unread messages of delayed birthday well wishes when a notification popped up.
I’ll explain when I get the evidence I need.
Again, her curiosity was getting the best of her as she tried to puzzle out what exactly a picture of her face could be used as evidence for. She was intrigued enough to sit up a little higher in bed and fluff her wild hair as she opened the front camera on her phone. The reflection that appeared on the screen had her dreading the thought of Chris seeing her in her current state, but there was something about the casual picture he’d sent her that made her pause just as she was about to turn her camera off. He definitely still looked great - she doubted there was ever a time when he didn’t - but it was also drastically different to the pictures she’d seen of him on the red carpet earlier that day. His hair was messy, his eyes were tired, it wasn’t a perfectly poised snapshot, and if he was willing to share that vulnerability with her then it had her thinking that maybe she should let her guard down and return the sentiment.
She ruffled her hair a little more in an attempt to shift it from unruly messy to sultry messy and leaned into the hungover look as she stared at the camera and snapped a quick picture. It absolutely wasn’t her best - definitely not a picture she would want to share all over social media - but it wasn’t entirely awful and she quickly sent it before she could change her mind, adding a disclaimer underneath the picture.
I don’t always look so rough in the morning, but I’m currently facing the consequences of drinking over the age of thirty.
Bridget tried not to let the suspense drive her insane as she stared at her phone, desperately hoping that Chris hadn’t fallen back to sleep and wouldn't leave that picture unanswered for a moment longer than necessary, but she was relieved when he once again replied almost immediately.
Haha well that’s the thing! You mentioned something about not being cute after a wild night and I couldn’t imagine that you’re ever not adorable. Turns out I’m right, you’re gorgeous even when you’re hungover.
The giddiness that his words stirred up inside her had her feeling a touch embarrassed by how easily a few sweet words could get under her skin. She felt her cheeks heat up and her smile stretching wide across her face as he seemed so genuine in what he’d said. Of course, it could have just been mindless flirting - she was sure he was well versed in how to charm a woman - but the fact that he’d remembered her offhanded comment enough to circle back to it encouraged her to believe that he was being sincere - even if she wasn’t entirely convinced he was right.
Wow, that is very generous of you to say! I’m glad I wasn’t there to see your actual horrified reaction, but thank you for being so kind.
Wrapped up in the conversation happening on her phone, Bridget hadn’t even realized that Molly was awake until a voice croaked out from the blankets beside her.
“Who are you talking to?” She questioned, her face barely visible as it peaked out from under the duvet. “The ear to ear grin on your face is blinding me.”
“Sorry,” Bridget giggled as she let her phone fall onto the bed beside her. “Well, I’m not really. It’s almost ten so you should be waking up anyway, but I was talking to Chris.”
The blanket lowered slightly as Molly poked her head out of the soft cocoon she’d buried herself in enough for Bridget to see the excitement in her eyes once again.
“You were? What did he say?”
“He was just commenting on how gorgeous I am even when I’m hungover.”
She spoke with a nonchalance that she hadn’t had when sending the picture, but the way that Molly’s eyebrow raised at that information had her biting back more giggles.
“And how would he know that?”
“Because I sent him a picture.”
“Well, that was bold of you,” Molly teased, a smug look on her face as she ventured a little further out from under the blankets just in time to hear Bridget’s indignant scoff. “Not that you don’t look super cute while you’re all ruffled and sleepy, but you must really like him if you’re feeling confident enough to send him a picture so early in the morning after one date.”
“Well, he sent me one last night when he was tired,” she admitted. “So it seemed fair to do the same.”
“That’s adorable,” Molly smiled. “You guys are already disgustingly cute.”
“Shut up,” Bridget blushed. “It’s no big deal.”
“You haven’t been on a date in five years,” Molly reminded her, finally throwing off the blanket completely as she stretched. “And now you’re exchanging selfies with someone you clearly like. That is a big deal and I’m very happy for you.”
Bridget’s first instinct was to roll her eyes, but she knew her old friend was most likely being more sincere than teasing in her excitement so she flashed her a smile instead.
“I’m happy for me too,” she admitted. “I’m really trying not to get too ahead of myself, but he seems really sweet and it’s nice to have someone that I’m excited to talk to.”
“You deserve it,” Molly assured her before adding, “And I deserve some coffee. Do you want some?”
“Yes, please,” Bridget nodded as Molly dragged herself out of bed. “I’ll be out in a sec.”
When Molly had disappeared out of the room, Bridget checked her phone and saw two more messages from Chris.
I’m not being kind, I’m being honest. You’re beautiful.
How were the birthday celebrations?
She answered quickly - not wanting to draw anymore of Molly’s well-intentioned attention to the situation - and explained briefly about her day with Landon, the dinner with her friends, and drinks with Molly before turning the conversation back towards him and asking about the premiere. She briefly wondered if she’d overshared by giving him so much detail instead of sticking to something simple like ‘it was good, thanks for asking’, but when Chris responded to her own question with just as much enthusiasm, she felt more at ease. He informed her that it had been a pretty exciting evening, but shared that he always found the big premieres to be pretty draining. He mentioned the anxiety that he struggled with before every big event and how hard it could be to get out of his own head and really be in the moment in the midst of all the chaos. He assured her that it had all worked out well in the end and been a success overall, but she appreciated his willingness to open up. There was something about Chris that made her want to let her guard down and it was comforting to know that he apparently felt the same way.
They continued their conversation throughout the morning - as Bridget cooked a big, greasy breakfast with Molly and Chris prepared for the day of press he had ahead of him - but it petered out just as Bridget headed home to shower and get some chores done before she had to head back into the city to pick Landon up from daycare. Chris was on her mind for almost the entire drive as she tried once again to understand how someone as kind, interesting, successful, and attractive as he was actually seemed to be as interested in her as she was in him, but just as she was trying to force herself to get a grip back on reality before she got carried away, she pulled up to her house and noticed the almost comically large bouquet of flowers on her doorstep.
Curious about who they could possibly be from, she hurried out of the car and as she read the card that was tucked in between the bright and beautiful arrangement, she felt her heart soar.
Happy Birthday!
Sorry for the belated gift, but everywhere was closed by the time I found out. I hope you had a great day and aren’t feeling too rough this morning.
Chris
-
In the days after her birthday, Bridget and Chris spent almost every free moment they had messaging each other. With Chris busy doing press for the movie and Bridget busy balancing work and her duties as a mom, they’d had to sneak in short conversations whenever possible but Bridget was grateful that Chris was making an effort to reach out at all. However, despite the fact that he was already exceeding her expectations for staying in touch, she had a feeling that it was about to change on the Sunday after her birthday when the press tour went international and he was heading to Beijing.
They’d texted back and forth most of Sunday afternoon after she’d dropped Landon off with his dad, but Chris had to say goodbye early in the evening to board his flight. Bridget had been determined to give him space - let him initiate the conversation so she didn’t bother him or make him feel pressured to reply to him when she knew his schedule would be pretty busy - but she caved almost as soon as she woke up the following morning. Her fingers were practically itching to text him as she opened and closed their conversation at least three times before she decided that it was only polite to send him a message. Not checking in to see if he arrived safely would be pretty rude and she quickly sent him a text before she could change her mind.
After their various conversations over the weekend, she was pretty sure that he would answer her as soon as he could. However, she wasn’t prepared for the way that her phone screen lit up less than a minute later with an incoming call from Chris. A million questions instantly started running through her mind - was it an accident? did he hit the wrong button when he saw the notification of her text? did he mean to call someone else? - but she quickly realized the only way to get any kind of explanation was to answer.
“Hello?”
Her voice was quiet and tentative as if she expected it to be a pocket dial with no one on the other end, but the sound of Chris’ chuckle floating through the phone immediately put her at ease.
“You sound tired,” he informed her. “Did I wake you up?”
“No,” she assured him before pointing out, “I texted you first.”
“Good point,” he admitted. “But is this okay?”
“Yeah,” Bridget smiled. “It’s really nice to hear your voice.”
“Yours too. I was gonna text you back, but I’m pretty exhausted so I thought this might be easier.”
His admission had a frown sliding onto Bridget’s face.
“If you’re exhausted then you should get some sleep…”
“I’m trying to stay up a little longer,” he assured her. “I wanna beat the jetlag a little.”
“Oh, that makes sense. What time is it there?”
“Almost seven-thirty in the evening.”
Bridget glanced at the clock beside her bed and saw that it was also almost seven-thirty for her.
“So you’re twelve hours ahead?” She questioned, waiting for him to confirm before she asked him another question. “How was your flight?”
“It was long,” Chris sighed. “I was hoping to sleep, but it was pretty turbulent so I kept waking up.”
“I hate when that happens,” Bridget sympathized. “But if you didn’t sleep much on your way there then maybe you’ll adjust to the time difference even if you go to sleep now?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
He’d tried to sound offended, but Bridget could hear the smile in his voice.
“No,” she giggled. “I’m trying to be considerate.”
“Well, thanks, but I’d rather stay awake a little bit longer,” he insisted, pausing slightly before adding, “Especially if I get to talk to you.”
The words had Bridget’s breath catching in her throat as she felt an increasingly familiar goofy grin slide onto her face.
“You’re such a charmer,” she teased, earning another chuckle from Chris. “So, do you get to bunk alone or does Marvel make you guys share rooms?”
“They’re pretty generous,” Chris admitted. “I’m not sure about everyone, but most of us get our own rooms.”
“Ah, yes, all the big superstars have to be spoiled, I guess.”
She hoped he could hear the teasing edge to her tone and was relieved when he went along with her joke.
“Yeah, well, you know what a diva I am.” The smirk in his voice was clear and Bridget bit her lip to hold back another giggle as he continued. “But it does have some drawbacks.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, I hate being alone in hotel room beds,” he admitted. “They’re always so cold and stiff.”
“Are you wishing you had someone to break it in with?”
“Not like that,” Chris chuckled, grasping what she was implying. “But it would be nice to have someone to warm up with, maybe cuddle a little.���
“Yeah? And which of your co-stars were you hoping they’d make you share a room with to help you with that?”
“You’re hilarious,” Chris drawled sarcastically. “I actually had someone else in mind. How do you feel about cuddling?”
“I love it,” she confessed, feeling a wave of yearning wash over her touch starved body just at the thought of being wrapped up in his arms and pressed tightly against his side. “Do you?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty physical with my affection.” The images that his words conjured up in her mind doused her in a flood of heat that was followed by a flush of embarrassment that she was clearly so desperate for any of the affection he was willing to offer. “So I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“Me too,” Bridget smiled before boldly adding, “It’s just a shame we’re not in the same bed.”
There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the phone as if Chris needed a second to process what she’d said, but just before she could mumble out an apology, he chuckled. It was a slightly darker, rougher chuckle than the lighthearted ones she’d heard earlier and the sound sent another shiver down her spine.
“That is a shame,” he agreed. “I guess I’ll have to suffer in this giant bed all by myself.”
Bridget laughed at the dramatic sigh that fell from his lips, but another glance at the clock had her amusement quickly replaced by disappointment.
“Sounds like quite a hardship,” she mockingly sympathized. “But unfortunately, I have to leave my nice, warm, cozy bed and get ready for work.”
“Oh, right. I’d already forgotten that it’s Monday morning for you.”
“Unfortunately,” Bridget stifled a yawn. “So I’ll let you go get some sleep.”
“Alright, I hope you have a good day.”
“Thanks, good luck with all your interviews tomorrow and have fun at the premiere.”
Chris thanked her for her well-wishes as well before they said their goodbyes and hung up, leaving Bridget to drag herself out of bed and go about her day with a smile on her face that she just couldn’t shake.
-
The first week of Chris’ travels made it difficult for them to stay in touch. The twelve hour time difference meant that one of them was always just about to start their day while the other was winding down which meant their conversations were mostly limited to brief check-ins. However, Chris still made the effort to send her a message every single day so even if the conversations were short, Bridget was content. She really hadn’t expected to hear from him more than once or twice while he was away, but now the thought of such limited contact had her stomach in knots. She knew it was silly - they still barely knew each other and he was still well within his rights to change his mind and cut their contact altogether - but he was always so eager and genuine in their conversations. She didn’t get the impression that he would be looking for an excuse to toss her aside any time soon.
She found herself sitting on the couch as Landon built a train track on the floor by her feet debating for what felt like the millionth time whether or not she was letting herself get too attached. She was willing to admit - at least to herself, not anyone else - that Chris took up more time in her mind than anything else currently did and that she looked forward to their conversations maybe a little more than she should, but it was fun and refreshing and Chris seemed just as enthusiastic as she was so that made it easier to let herself indulge.
Almost as if to prove her point, her phone lit up in her hand with an incoming facetime call from Chris. They hadn’t even spoken on the phone since the last time he’d called so she was a little surprised by the sudden shift to video, but she lifted up her phone until it was in front of her face and answered.
“Hey!” Chris grinned as his face appeared on the screen. “There you are.”
“Here I am,” Bridget confirmed, matching his smile as she let her eyes drift to the small shot of herself in the corner to make sure that she looked at least somewhat presentable. “Did you make it to London?”
“I did,” he nodded. “We got in a few hours ago, but we went out for dinner to try and stay awake a bit longer.”
“You must be exhausted,” Bridget sympathized, doing the math of all the various time differences in her head. “I don’t know how you can handle bouncing through all these time zones.”
“I get used to it,” Chris shrugged. “And then sleep for a week when I get home.”
Bridget was just about to comment on how he’d earned the rest when their conversation caught Landon’s attention.
“Who are you talking to?”
“My friend, Chris,” Bridget informed him. “He’s all the way across the ocean in England right now.”
“That sounds really far…” Landon’s eyes widened as he scrambled up, standing on the couch to lean into the camera’s view. “Hi, Chris!”
“Hi, Landon!” Chris smiled. “Do you have baseball today?”
The question confused both of them for a moment until Bridget realized what Landon was wearing.
“No, not today, but Landon loves wearing his jersey,” she informed him. “I had to order a second one just to get the first one off of him long enough to wash it.”
Bridget rolled her eyes, but Landon puffed up his chest to make the logo a little more clear and Chris chuckled at his pride.
“I don’t blame him, that’s a pretty cool jersey. Are you liking baseball so far?”
“I love it,” Landon frantically nodded. “I even hit the ball sometimes! Not all the time, but sometimes I do!”
“Well, that’s better than I can do,” Chris admitted. “Usually I can’t hit the ball at all.”
“I can teach you!” Landon offered, earning a snort of laughter from Bridget at his confidence. “Maybe when I’m a little better at it.”
“That would be really fun,” Chris agreed. “I could use a good coach.”
“Landon might have to work on that a little bit more,” Bridget teased. “We were playing catch yesterday and he gave me a pretty hard time for not being able to throw very well.”
“But you were bad at it,” Landon protested over the sounds of Chris’ laughter. “I couldn’t even catch the ball!”
“Good coaches have to be patient.”
Bridget had to admit that she was embarrassingly bad at the game they’d been playing and Landon’s frustration was probably justified, but she appreciated the way he had the decency to look a little sheepish as he sighed and agreed to her criticism. However, before anything else could be said about it, a look of realization crossed over Landon’s face as he changed the subject with a lack of tact that only a four year old could get away with.
“Do you have a dog?”
The question was directed at Chris who nodded in confirmation.
“I do! You met him at the park one day, remember?”
“Yeah!” Landon grinned. “Where is he?”
“He’s not with me right now, he has to stay home when I travel.”
The sadness was clear in his voice and Bridget thought it was sweet how much he obviously missed his little companion.
“Landon loves dogs,” she explained even though she was pretty sure she’d mentioned that before. “He wants us to get one.”
“I love dogs too,” Chris agreed. “But, you know what? Dodger is staying with my sister right now and I’m sure he’d love it if you took him for a walk some time.”
The suggestion had Landon’s whole face lighting up as he blurted out an excited, “Really?!”
“Yeah,” Chris smiled. “He really misses me when I’m gone so I bet making a new friend would cheer him up a lot.”
Landon’s attention turned back to Bridget as he bounced on the couch, his excitement making it hard for him to sit still.
“Can we, Mommy? Can we, please?”
“I don’t see why not,” Bridget shrugged. “Is he with Carly?”
“Yeah, he likes being around the kids. They keep him entertained.”
“Okay, then I can text her and see if we can set up a time to borrow him,” she agreed, earning a squeal of joy from Landon before he jumped off the couch and turned his attention back to the trains. “I think you just made his day.”
“I should have suggested it sooner. I’m sure Carly won’t mind the break, but there’s no pressure if you don’t have the time.”
“I think we can find time to fit it in,” she assured him. “And hopefully it will get Landon off my back about getting him a dog for a little while so it’s a win-win.”
“Unless it just makes him want one more,” Chris pointed out with a smirk. “But you can borrow him when I’m home too if it does help.”
“Thanks, I think,” Bridget smirked. “Unless you’re just looking for some free dog sitting.”
Her teasing earned a bark of laughter from Chris as he shook his head.
“One day you’re gonna have to stop thinking the worst of me.”
“You’ve gotta earn that privilege, I’m afraid,” Bridget giggled. “But anyway, how’s London?”
“It’s good so far,” Chris shrugged, but as he launched into a little more detail about where they’d gone for dinner and the brief parts of the city that he’d actually had the chance to see that day, Bridget was struck by how natural their conversation was. Considering they’d only been on one date - maybe two, if painting her house counted as an unofficial one - it was amazing how easily they slipped into casually chatting like old friends. It felt far more like they’d known each other for years than the reality of them being virtual strangers, but Chris drew her focus back as he sleepily rubbed his eyes and admitted, “I’m tired though. I don’t feel like I’ll really be able to enjoy it here because I doubt I’ll have much energy for anything other than work, but maybe I’ll feel differently in the morning.”
“That’s understandable,” Bridget assured him, knowing how exhausted travelling always made her from the limited experience she had with it. “Have you been there before?”
“Yeah, so I’ve seen a lot of the big tourist attractions,” he admitted. “There’s a few other places I’d like to see, but nothing that I’m convinced would be worth losing sleep over.”
“I’ve never been, but I bet there’s some amazing libraries,” Bridget mused wistfully before she felt her cheeks heat up as she realized how lame she sounded. “Sorry, that was super dorky. I just, uh, I know that there’s one that supposedly used to be an asylum so that’s kinda cool. They're not all boring, sometimes the architecture is pretty impressive too.”
She cringed at her rambled defense as she was once again reminded that she was in a very different league to Chris when it came to interesting careers, but the amused look on his face slowed her spiral into humiliation at least a little bit.
“I know what you mean,” he assured her. “Some libraries are pretty incredible. I haven’t been in a long time, but the one in Boston is beautiful.”
“It is! It was my home away from home for a long time.”
Technically, if she was being honest, it was more like home to her than her actual home was for a very large portion of her childhood, but she was relieved when the fond smile that accompanied her words didn’t spark any more questions from Chris.
“Maybe I’ll try and squeeze in a library tour while I’m here,” he decided. “I bet there are some pretty great ones. I’ll check it out and report back, see if it’s worth your time coming all the way over here some day.”
“Well, I’m sure I could find other things in London to entertain myself.”
“Yeah,” Chris flashed her a smirk. “But would you want to?”
A giggle slipped from her lips as she felt a strange flush of pride that he apparently already had her so well figured out, but she couldn’t resist shooting him a playful glare.
“Maybe,” she shrugged. “I do have other interests.”
“Oh, yeah? Name one.”
It was a teasing challenge as while his tone implied that it would be a difficult task for her, she was pretty sure that he knew she’d be able to come up at least one other thing she liked besides libraries and books, but the answer that rolled off her tongue surprised her almost as much as it surprised him.
“Well, lately I’ve been getting kinda into Captain America.”
Her answer earned a chuckle from Chris as he pressed for more information.
“Yeah? The comic books or the movie?”
“If I’m being really honest, I’d have to say the actor is what appeals to me the most.”
“Wow, I’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.”
Chris flashed her a wink that had her biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a giggle, but as he let out a yawn she knew that his bedtime was probably long overdue.
“I hope he is and I hope he doesn’t mind that I have to cut our conversation short, but I should probably go make Landon some dinner,” she informed him, hoping he’d be less resistant to ending their conversation if it wasn’t solely for his benefit. “And you should probably go get some sleep if you’re planning on finding the energy for that library tour.”
“You’re probably right,” he agreed. “I guess I’ll have to do that now, won’t I?”
“Yep,” Bridget smiled. “I expect a full written report.”
“Of course you do,” Chris smirked. “There’s that sexy librarian side coming out.”
Despite the blush that the word ‘sexy’ had flushing over her cheeks, Bridget stuck out her tongue before saying goodnight and hanging up. She tried her best to keep the lovesick smile off of her face, but it was hard when her conversations with Chris left her feeling so giddy and she was just grateful that Landon’s age left him clueless and distractible enough not to question her suddenly great mood.
-
Most days, Bridget liked being a parent. 
She liked watching Landon learn new things, she liked any opportunity to see things from his point of view and she liked getting to teach him about the world. She even liked helping him work through his bigger emotions and watching him slowly but surely learn better problem solving and coping skills. 
However, there were also days when it was a struggle. 
Days when Landon showed his stubborn side and refused to listen, when he would get frustrated and upset over every little thing and when it seemed like nothing Bridget tried to do could turn his mood around. Luckily, those days were few and far between, but as Bridget sipped a glass of wine at the end of one of those particularly rough days, she found herself feeling very glad that it was over.
It wasn’t until she was almost halfway through her drink that she felt like her head had stopped spinning enough to turn her attention to the text that remained unread on her phone. It was the first time since Chris had left town about a month and a half earlier that she’d let any message go unanswered for more than about an hour and while the guilt of ignoring him had weighed on her, she hoped he would understand as she typed out a reply.
Sorry. Had a bad day. I’m glad you made it back to L.A., maybe we can chat tomorrow if you’re not busy. I don’t think I’d be great company tonight.
He’d been bouncing back and forth between L.A. and New York since he’d returned to the US at the start of May and they’d spent almost every evening chatting and catching up about their days. They’d planned to talk that evening, but Bridget really didn’t feel like she had it in her to be cheerful and she wasn’t sure that their relationship was at a point yet where he wouldn’t be scared off by her bad mood. That was why she was surprised to see her phone almost instantly light up with an incoming call and Chris’ name on the screen.
“Hi, Chris…”
Her greeting came out as a sigh and she immediately felt bad for how disinterested she sounded, but before she could apologize, Chris replied.
“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t feel like it, but if you need someone to vent to then I’m happy to listen.”
His words would have made her laugh if they hadn’t sounded so sincere. He reminded her of one of those cliche descriptions of the perfect man that women just want to rub their feet and listen to their problems, but she could hear the concern in his voice and doubted that he was feigning interest just to win her over.
“It’s just been a tough day,” she admitted. “But I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to me complain.”
“You’ve listened to me complain plenty since I left,” he pointed out and Bridget did have to admit that it was true. He often opened up about how monotonous and exhausting all the press and interviews could be and she was happy to listen so she wasn’t entirely sure why she felt so guilty sharing her frustrations as well. “What happened?”
“Landon’s just been giving me a hard time all day,” she told him. “He didn’t sleep well last night so I should have expected it, but I literally Googled ‘am I a bad mom?’ at least four times today so that’s the point I’m at in my parenting journey.”
“Well, I can answer that question for you because you’re definitely not.”
Considering the rather small amount of time that Chris had actually seen Bridget and Landon together, it would have been easy to dismiss his support as meaningless reassurance that he knew would make her feel better with no evidence behind his claim, but Bridget knew that his heart was in the right place as she thanked him for the gesture.
“I appreciate that,” she sighed. “But sometimes I just feel so ineffective. Like, there’s only so many times I can warn him not to do something before I have to just let him do it and deal with the consequences, but then it’s hard to watch when he’s devastated by the outcome.”
“Is that what happened today?”
“Yeah,” she nodded to herself. “We’ve spent the entire week building this big Lego spaceship and he was so proud of finally finishing it, but then he wanted to play with it which is totally fine, but he kept balancing it right on the edge of the coffee table so I warned him that it would fall off and break and he just kept getting irritated with me and saying that it would be fine until it fell onto the floor and shattered into a million pieces.”
“Oh man, that’s rough,” Chris sympathized. “But sometimes I think they’ve just gotta learn things like that the hard way.”
“Definitely,” Bridget agreed. “But he was so crushed when it broke and that turned into anger because I couldn’t immediately put it back together even though it took days to build in the first place.”
“Patience is a hard skill at his age.”
Chris’ words were said with a chuckle that - despite her still lingering bad mood - had Bridget’s lips twitching into a smile.
“It is. And that was the last of a long list of hiccups we had today so I think we were both just kinda over it,” Bridget reflected. “But I’m sure tomorrow will be better and I’m sure that you are tired of hearing me vent about something you have no interest in.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone - long enough to make Bridget a bit nervous - before Chris spoke again.
“Well, you’re wrong about that for a couple of reasons,” he informed her, a hint of something that sounded like hurt in his voice. “First of all, I asked you to vent, I told you it was fine. I wouldn’t have done that if I was going to be irritated about it after two minutes of listening to you. And second, I am absolutely interested in hearing about Landon - even on days when things aren’t so great. I know he’s a big part of your life and if we’re gonna to do this then I’d like to be involved in that too - even if for now that just means getting to listen to you work through your frustrations.”
Again, his words sounded so much like exactly what she wanted to hear that she would have questioned how genuine they were if she couldn’t hear the sincerity in his voice. He was clearly bothered by what she’d said and she felt bad for assuming that parenting woes weren’t a part of her life that he would care much about, but something he’d said had her momentarily distracted from what he was saying.
In all their conversations, they hadn’t mentioned anything about what exactly their situation was. They talked a lot - enough that they’d become pretty good friends - and they flirted pretty regularly - enough that it was obvious that friends probably wasn’t all they would be - but they hadn’t actually talked about what their plan was. So Chris speculating about if they were ‘gonna do this’ was something that Bridget took as a pretty good sign that his time away hadn’t given him any second thoughts and had her biting back a smile despite the guilt she felt from his scolding.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I wasn’t trying to be dismissive, I really do appreciate your support. I just don’t want to bore you if it’s not a problem that you can really relate to.”
“I can relate to it in some ways,” he assured her. “I’ve spent enough time with my niece and nephews to know how tough kids can be some days. They’re good kids, but even good kids have their bad days.”
“Absolutely. Landon is a good kid too, but that doesn’t make days like today any easier.”
Another heavy sigh fell from her lips as she sipped her wine and tried to shake off her bad mood, but it was what Chris said next that really cheered her up.
“I know, but I bet tomorrow will be better,” he assured her before adding, “And I don’t want to be presumptuous by thinking that this will help at all, but I’m gonna be home in a few days. Maybe I could take your mind off things by taking you out on another date?”
The flush of excitement that Bridget felt as she processed his offer easily succeeded in washing away the last of her melancholy feelings. Her heart raced, her hands started to sweat, and it took more effort that she was happy to admit to play it cooler than simply immediately blurting out an enthusiastic ‘yes!’. She’d been curious about when he would be coming back as she did remember him saying he’d only be gone for a couple of months - which by her math was wrapping up pretty soon - but she couldn’t think of a way to ask about it that didn’t feel too desperate so she’d just been hoping that he’d mention it when he was ready. So, to hear that he was eager to make plans for when he was back was music to her ears.
“I would really like that,” Bridget accepted, grateful that they weren’t using video and Chris couldn’t see the goofy grin on her face. “And you’re not being presumptuous, I was hoping you’d be back soon.”
“I'm happy to hear that!” Chris let out an audible breath of relief and Bridget couldn’t stop a giggle from slipping from her lips before he continued. “I have a few more things to do over the next few days, but I think I’m gonna fly back on Tuesday night.”
“Great. I’ll be childfree until Sunday, but I understand if you need a little while to catch your breath when you get back.”
Even though her statement was true, the thought of having to wait almost two weeks until she had another free evening made her heart clench with disappointment and she was relieved when Chris rushed to assure her.
“Nah, usually just a couple days is all I need. We could aim for Friday if that works for you?”
“Absolutely,” Bridget smiled. “That’s made me feel better already, thank you.”
“No, thank you for saying yes,” Chris chuckled. “I was worried you’d come to your senses while I was away and turn me down.”
“Definitely not. I’ve really enjoyed talking to you.”
Bridget felt that was a somewhat obvious statement considering how much time they’d spent chatting while he was away, but there was something that made her feel vulnerable about actually admitting it to him and she was relieved when he returned the sentiment.
Once their plans were in place and the weight of Bridget’s bad day had lifted, they continued their conversation as they figured out what their second official date would entail, talked about what other obligations Chris had in L.A. and what else Bridget had planned that week. It was the same easy and comfortable conversation that they always seemed to fall into, but the excitement of seeing each other again so soon bubbling under the surface had Bridget feeling desperate for that close connection that could only be reached by actually being in the same room and from Chris’ enthusiasm and increased flirtation she thought it was safe to assume that he was feeling the same way.
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theoddcatlady · 10 months
Text
My Father Survived The Chair of Truth
I was the only one home when my father called me in for his death bed confession.
He wasn’t very old in the grand scheme of things, only fifty-eight, but after a violent mugging that took place about twenty years ago, his physical health hadn’t always been great. It really took a downhill turn last year. Heart failure. And it just wasn’t getting better.
My sister Amber and I were taking care of him as his health deteriorated. Last week though, Amber was running errands for our grandmother, so yeah. I was alone. When dad called for me I thought he might need a drink or help getting to the bathroom.
Instead, he told me to sit down. He told me I needed to know the truth, the truth about the mugging and about what really happened that night.
After all of this, he’d pass in his sleep a few hours later. I can’t ask for any more details. All I can do is relay this story to you… and find out how much truth there really is to it. Below is the confession, word for word.
~*~
You know, if your mother and I weren’t in the middle of our first separation, it may have never happened. I wouldn’t have been alone in bed that night. Alone in the house, since she took your older sister with her and you were still two months out from being born. That following morning I was found on the streets, all bloodied up, pockets turned out and missing my shoes. They concluded I had been mugged. I let them maintain that conclusion.
I hadn’t even left my house the night before. It was an early night, I was tired from work. I basically passed out on the couch while the TV was on. I don’t remember if anyone broke in, if I woke up before they abducted me.
The next thing I do remember? Waking up strapped to a chair, dressed in white scrubs with electrodes plastered on my now shaved head and sitting with a circle of people in the exact same condition.
I only recognized three of the other people there, and I only knew two of their names. One of my classmates from back when I was in high school was to my right, I barely recognized Magnolia since most of the blonde hair had been shaved right off. A few patches were still plastered to her scalp, whoever had taken the razor to our heads hadn’t been the most meticulous about it. Perhaps because they had a lot to get done before we woke up.
The other two I recognized was Augusta, an older woman who lived down the street from where I grew up, and the homeless man that I usually saw begging for cash in downtown was to my left. I didn’t know his name, I only recognized him because he’d been there every day.
There were eight of us in total. The woman right across from me had smeared lipstick and a cut on her forehead, maybe the razor had slipped during her head shave. Next to her was another woman with long fake fingernails and a natural scowl that was even there when she was unconscious, like she sucked on lemons in her spare time. The most conscious of us was a middle aged guy with a few more bruises than the rest of us, I imagine he put up a fight, he was a big dude. Finally there was this portly, smaller man who didn’t need his head shaved, since he was already bald as an egg.
Magnolia began breathing faster when she came to full consciousness, glancing around wildly and in full panic. “What the fu- where am I!? What’s going on!?” She yanked at the straps, which didn’t so much as budge. “Get these things off me?! Help! Someone help!”
The burly bruised guy shushed her loudly. “Quiet down. Don’t want to alert the wrong people we’re up,” He craned his neck around to look at the room around us, it was quite bare other than the circle of people strapped to heavy duty chairs- dark brick walls, a cement floor with a drain in the center. The only light was in the center of the ceiling, and that thing was set on to bright as it could go. Everyone looked a little washed out, a little pale, sickly.
The one thing I had missed was the speaker, attached to the wall right behind my head. It crackled to life before shrieking with feedback. This definitely got everyone awake, the portly fellow moaning and bitching the loudest while the woman with smeared lipstick being the only one perfectly quiet. Her eyes I remember the most, dark and careful. She was watching everyone in the room.
“Welcome, everyone.”
Once the feedback died down, the male voice coming from it was perfectly calm, smooth. It would’ve almost been soothing if the situation surrounding it wasn’t so bizarre.
“I am the Judge.”
I flexed against the bindings experimentally. There was no coming loose from them. I was stuck there, here for whatever this ‘Judge’ had planned.
“You sit in them now because you have all committed crimes. Crimes ranging from white lies to ones that may result in… capitol punishment.”
The scowling woman’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, capitol punishment?”
“This is my court room. Where we are, no one will hear you scream. I advise you don’t cry out unless you can’t avoid it.” The Judge didn’t even take note of the interruption. “These are my Chairs of Truth. When we are finished, you will pay for what you’ve done. If you lie or talk your way around the truth, you will be punished. We will start with you, Connie.”
The scowling woman sputtered. “How dare you! I’m not a criminal! Do you know who I am?”
“Yes. Of course I do, Connie Andrews.” The Judge sounded almost… amused. “I know everything about you. Your first question is this: where do you go every Wednesday afternoon?”
“Are you for real?” Connie looked genuinely baffled.
“We are starting with an easy question. One that has minor effect on your life, legally or illegally. Where do you go every Wednesday afternoon?”
Connie looked relieved. “Um… I get my nails done,” Her fingers tapped on the arm of her chair. “What, is that a crime?”
“We’ll come back to that. Frankie? Can I call you Frankie, Frank Smith?”
The burly guy shifted in his chair. “You can,” He decided.
“Frank, during highschool, what was the extracurricular you and your wife participated in?”
“I was a football player, she was a cheerleader.” Frank cleared his throat. “And who are you?”
The Judge quietly chuckled. “I am not important. I am here only to fulfill judgment, officer,” He cleared his throat, “Onto the next. Augusta Armstrong? How many children do you have?”
My neighbor looked terrified, shaking in her chair like a scared Chihuahua. “I have five, they’re the light of my life. Please, please, let me go,” She whimpered.
“If you answer these questions, we can see about that. Charles Nolan?”
“When I get out of here, I’m going to sue you!” The man snapped, lurching in his chair. It didn’t so much as budge, it had been bolted to the floor.
“Charles, what is your occupation? No need for specifics, you like those, I’m aware.”
“Businessman, I work for-”
Charles suddenly breathed in sharply. I had to crane my neck around the homeless guy to see what had happened. I only caught the glimpse of what looked like a sewing needle exiting Charles’ arm and going back into the chair, a pinpoint of blood beading from his skin.
Fuck. I took a better look at the chair, which I’d only assumed was a heavy duty wooden chair. Now I saw there was holes all in it, some small enough for needles to come out and jab, others thin slats that looked large enough for daggers to come out and slice through us.
“When I say something, I advise you listen,” The judge explained patiently. “Harley Scott?”
The homeless man lifted his head up. I’d never heard his name before then. It was strange, finally putting a name to the face I’d seen so often. “Yes?” He said, barely louder than a whisper.
“Harley, what branch of the military were you in, and what was your rank?”
“A-army,” Harley swallowed, “Private.”
“Edward Adkins.”
I flinched when I heard my name.
“What is the date of your wedding anniversary?”
I actually had to think for a second. My mind was running blank.
“What is the date of your wedding anniversary? Don’t make me ask a third time.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I- it’s June 6,” I managed to get out.
I felt genuine relief when he went on to Magnolia, asking what she did for some extra spending cash, and she responded that she was a babysitter. The final question was asked to the woman with smeared lipstick and careful eyes, and it asked where she lived. I don’t remember the exact address, but I know it was in a rough part of town. Part of town I’d never go, anyway.
The Judge sighed, sounding pleased with our cooperation. “Very good, so far, only one punishment had to be doled out,” He said.
“Oh go fuck yourself!” Charles snapped. This did get the needle jabbing back into his arm, right where the wound had just began to scab over.
“These questions are not going to get any easier. In fact, they will be harder. So learn to cooperate and answer truthfully now. It will save you later.”
I expected him to start going around the circle again. Instead, the voice surprised me.
“What is your occupation, Delilah?”
“Unem-” Delilah cut herself off, sighing. “I bet that’s not what you mean. Fine. Sex worker. Prostitute. Hooker. Whatever you want to call it. That what you wanted to hear?”
“Very well. Charles, how did your friend Rosemary Marshall make so much money from your company’s stock?
Charles shifted. “Good luck?” He tried to lie, so poorly though that no one was convinced.
I didn’t expect to hear the crackle of electricity and Charles’ eyes to bug out of his sockets, his teeth clamping so tight as his body jolted with electric current running through his veins. When he finally did manage to scream, he flopped back against his chair, screeching and howling at the top of his lungs. The room beforehand reeked of antiseptic, now I could detect a faint hint of urine. The rest of us sat in mostly dumb silence, the only sounds being Charles gasping for breath and Augusta crying. I certainly didn’t know how to react.
“Charles? Answer the question correctly.”
“I…” Charles swallowed. “I gave her some information… that helped her out. She’s a single mom, she needed the money!”
“Which you took a cut from. About ten thousand dollars, a high price from the single mom you claim you sympathize with. Edward?”
Fuck.
“How did you pass your final exam in algebra, senior year?”
I actually sighed with relief. That wasn’t nearly so bad as I expected, since I was following up on Charles’ question. “My friend helped me cheat.”
“Your friend’s name?”
“Jordan. Jordan Mills. He was a genius, he knew I needed his help. He gave me the answers.”
The Judge paused for a moment before turning on Magnolia. “And you, Magnolia? How did you pass your SATs with such high scores? Remember, I can see the rest of your grades. They’re… barely mediocre.”
“What!? They’re-” Magnolia glanced over at Charles, who still looked like a mess. “… I cheated too,” She grumbled.
“Both of you, such poor students, in the same graduating year,” The Judge tutted his tongue, “Our future generation is looking so promising already. Frankie, what happened to the cocaine from the raid on the Wolfe home?”
“It’s in evidence,” the answer came out so fast I think ‘Frankie’ didn’t even consider it a lie, and for a second I thought it wasn’t a lie either.
Then the knife came out and sliced clean through the meat of his shoulder. To his credit, Frankie just breathed in sharply, gritted his teeth and took it.
“I presume you want to change your answer?” The judge asked as the knife slid back out, blood now staining Frankie’s white scrubs.
“Mm… mmhmm,” Frankie exhaled slowly, his body shaking as his face went white. “M-me and another officer took some. S-sold it to someone we knew was a dealer.”
“Therefore putting it back on the streets that you swore to take it off of?”
“It’s different!” Frankie swallowed, his eyes fluttering shut as his shoulder continued to bleed. “The original punks were dealing to highschoolers, kids! The dealer we sold to, he only sold it to thugs who have already ruined their lives.”
“… An interesting point of view, for sure,” The Judge said. “Now, Augusta? How did you get your eldest to sleep sometimes?”
“Oh, I’d rock him to sleep,” Augusta bobbed her head up and down, “He was always so fussy, and-”
She didn’t even get a chance to finish her lie. Her whole body seized up and she screeched as the electric crackle filled the room. It wasn’t as long a shock as it was for Charles, but Augusta looked far worse for wear, gasping and coughing as she tried to calm down.
“Augusta. Stop lying.”
Augusta wailed before her head flopped forward. “A… little whiskey in his bottle… never really hurt anyone, honest, how could I ever hurt my own children?” She said.
I was blown away. Magnolia cheated on SATs, a police officer dealing drugs, and now one of the nicest neighbors on my block gave her kids alcohol so they’d sleep. Christ.
It didn’t get better. That first round wasn’t always fair, after all, all I had to answer for was a false grade, and Harley admitted he took part of a military hazing in which the poor victim had to streak across the base naked. Meanwhile Connie confessed to cheating with a married man and convincing him to leave his wife for her, only to completely blow him off once the wife took the sap for all he was worth. He couldn’t spoil her if he was broke, after all.
I only lied once, I learned quickly enough after that. It was over something stupid, about driving drunk and getting into an accident, slammed into a tree. Jordan covered for me that time too, said he was the one driving since I was tanked. I’d never been electrocuted before that day and I never wanted to again. I didn’t judge Charles for wetting his pants after that, you lose all control when you get shocked like that and that’s all I’ll say about it.
It’s amazing how often some of them chose to lie, and which ones chose not to. Delilah never once lied, completely blank faced as she told us how she robbed one of her johns of everything in his wallet because he passed out drunk or how she didn’t tell her boyfriend that she tested positive for gonorrhea, although the Judge was kind enough to inform her that it was likely him that infected her and not vice versa. Harley only lied twice, once about that hazing and another time about how he abandoned his pregnant girlfriend without even a note.
Meanwhile, Charles had to be shocked and stabbed nearly ever other question, and Augusta lied literally every time. The elderly woman I’d thought was the kindest soul admitted to so many shitty things, some things I can’t even say. All I can say is I pity those poor children of hers, with such a nightmare mom that would beat them for shattering a glass or literally calling the police on her second youngest when he brought his black girlfriend home. She had claimed the girl was trying to rob them. Actual sociopath.
We’re all devils, you know. Devils with different sins blackening our hands, tearing up our souls. No one is innocent. And the Judge knew every one of those sins, no matter how some of us tried to hide them. I wish I knew how he knew that Frankie beat a suspect to get a confession, only for it to be revealed that suspect was innocent all along. I can’t even imagine how he found out that Magnolia slashed her ex boyfriend’s tires because she was mad at him for dumping her, especially since he dumped her since she was so goddamn controlling he couldn’t even see his friends.
For that final round, we all looked fucked up. Shocked, stabbed with everything from knitting needles to steak knives, being forced to reveal our darkest secrets around people that were acquaintances at best, and most were just strangers.
“It’s time for your final question. You will only have one chance to answer this properly. We will start with Augusta.”
Augusta definitely looked the worst off. Like I said, she lied every question, sometimes even more than once. I was surprised she was still alive.
“Augusta, how did your eldest two children die?”
Augusta shakily inhaled and my heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach.
“Doctors… don’t know… I don’t either… mystery illness took my babies from me when they were just six and four years old… let me go home,” Augusta whined.
The Judge sighed.
“Augusta, that’s not the truth. And I told you, this time you would only get one chance to answer correctly.”
The door on the far end of the room and the Judge finally walked out. We finally saw his face. He was tall, well built, probably at least a little handsome, but by that time my brain felt like watery pudding so all I could do was blankly stare at him. He pushed in front of him a television connected to a VHS player, tapes stacked on top of the screen.
The Judge plucked the first tape up, showing us all the name ‘AUGUSTA’ written in black sharpie on the front. He placed the tape in the VHS player and stepped back.
It was a recording of medical documents, a lot of them. The camera panned over several paragraphs nice and slow so we could get the general gist. And that general gist? Augusta’s children would get sick for no discernible reason, but would recover at the hospital. Once they got sent back home, they’d just get sick again. And one day, they both got just too sick and passed away.
“Munchhausen’s by proxy,” The Judge said, and I saw true pain in his eyes as he stood by the wall, where eight switches were neatly lined up. Each of them had a name beneath them, our names. “What are your final words, Augusta?”
“I…” Augusta shook her head. “No, I loved my children, I really did…”
She paused to take a breath and that’s when the Judge flipped the switch.
Augusta writhed and her eyes went so wide they looked like they were going to fall out of her head. She wailed one last time before her eyes rolled back and then the only movement from her came from the electric current.
The switch was turned off and the Judge looked back at us. Then he raised his hand and had his fingers ready at Delilah’s switch.
“Delilah?”
The woman, the truthful one, finally looked up. “Yes?” She asked.
The Judge stared at her. “Your boyfriend. Calvin McLaughlin. Was his murder premeditated?”
“… Yes.” Delilah bowed her head. “… he had friends in the force. He was getting out of jail for nearly killing me, because none of them believed me. So I just waited for him to get home. I waited for him to get drunk. And I wasn’t going to wait for that first punch, so I took a baseball bat and I smashed his head in.”
There was a deathly quiet pause before the judge lowered his hand from Delilah’s switch. The Judge turned his gaze on Frankie, who went pale.
“How did your wife die, Frankie?” He asked.
Frankie, to his credit, did come off as convincing. “Car accident. She went off the road, killed her instantly,” He said.
The Judge did his best to hide any emotion to us, but I did see that look of murderous intent as he grabbed another VHS that had Frankie’s name written on it. He put it in.
Another recording of another document. An autopsy report, about how a Mrs. Nancy Smith had many injuries that were in different phases of healing. How her ribs had been broken multiple times in the past, and this time one of those rib fragments broke free and punctured her heart. Followed by that were reports, doctor’s reports about Nancy’s many visits to the hospital, all for ‘accidents’.
“Was Nancy that clumsy, Frankie?” The Judge asked quietly. “I highly doubt it. Your last words?”
“You don’t understand!” Frankie blurted out. “No one seems to understand how hard our job is, what we see! It takes a toll! It’s not my fault that Nancy didn’t get it-”
I turned away from this electrical death, and when I heard the electrical chair powered down I looked up to see a froth bubbling from the dead cop’s lips, his dead eyes staring at the now flickering light on the ceiling.
“Connie Andrews?”
Connie slowly looked up at the Judge, her face twisted in rage.
“Where did you get the poison for all of the husbands you killed?”
“Fuck you,” She spat at him, saliva landing on his clean white shirt. The Judge simply wiped it off, picked up another tape that no doubt had her name on it, and put in the VHS player.
This time it wasn’t a document, it was a woman exiting a nail salon and heading into a small drug store that happened to be right next door. It was clear the video was taken from someone’s car. Connie exited the store about ten minutes later with a small bag. A newspaper was raised in front of the camera, revealing the date.
“This was two days before your third husband mysteriously passed in his sleep. Your last words?”
Connie went white as The Judge raised his hand for her switch. “No, wait! Don’t do it! I’ll give you whatever you want! I’ll confess! I’ll tell the truth!” She yelped.
Click. The acrid smell of Connie’s fake fingernails melting was so bad it made my head spin.
Magnolia shook her head wildly as The Judge went to her switch next. “I never hurt anyone! What the hell are you doing?!” She screamed, thrashing about so wildly I thought she might actually tear an arm free.
“What did you tell your boyfriend, Zachary Cullen, to do before he shot and killed himself?” The Judge’s stare.
“That… that wasn’t my fault!” Magnolia shook her head again and again, the strap holding her head in place actually coming loose. “How was that my fault?!”
The Judge held up a finger before pulling a voice recorder from his pocket. “This doesn’t need video,” He said simply before he hit play.
The conversation I heard… I can’t repeat it. It was too terrible. Magnolia telling her boyfriend again and again how worthless he was, how he was such a pathetic waste of space, and how she couldn’t wait for him to kill himself because that was the only good thing he’d ever do for himself.
The recording ended with a gunshot. The Judge cocked his head to the side.
“Your last words?”
“How was that my fault!?” Was all she wrote. Being right next to the person being shocked, it’s… it’s so disgusting. I could smell the burning hair and skin, hear every garbled sound that ripped its way out of her throat as she jolted and contorted in horrifying ways.
Charles moaned loudly as The Judge approached the switch. “Don’t. Don’t ask,” He said, even though he knew what would happen.
“Charles? Last month, early morning. Rushing to work because you were late. Did anything happen on that drive?”
Charles didn’t even speak, he just shook his head.
Another tape was taken off the VHS player, the Judge flashing the front to show off Charles’ name.
This was from a traffic cam. A couple was walking across the street, probably the same age your mother and I were at the time. The collision happened so fast, the car slammed into them and sent the man flying over the hood while the woman was crushed under the car. The car stopped for a moment, just a moment, and I recognized the bald head that poked its way out of the window. Just for a second.
And then he zoomed off, leaving the bodies broken and bleeding in the street.
“Mr. Oscar Long was dead on arrival, but Miss Hannah Garcia? She took longer to die, and she suffered for every minute of it. Do I even need to ask for your last words?”
“It was just an accident!” Charles wailed.
I don’t need to describe what happened next. I’m sure you know by now. Another human being electrocuted to death, executed by the expressionless Judge.
Harley sighed shakily as The Judge looked at him. “And?” was all the Judge said.
“… I know what I did was wrong.” Harley admitted, his head bowed before he raised it and looked at The Judge. “So I will not be confessing today, Judge. I know what I deserve.”
The Judge paused and I caught a glimpse of something. Sympathy. “Being apart of the massacre of a village of innocent people and then covering it up. The act of a cowardly soldier. So, I believe this is the bravest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Just end it already,” Harley said, his eyes closing as he prepared for the shock.
“I won’t make you suffer.”
For a moment, I thought the Judge might have an inkling of mercy in him. Instead, he crossed the room of corpses and grabbed Harley’s head. It was so efficient, the twist of his head, the snap of his neck. Harley was dead in less time than it takes to finish a sentence. Perhaps it was mercy in the Judge’s mind. It was certainly quicker than what the others went through, that was for sure.
The only people left that were still alive in that room were me, Delilah, and The Judge. I was the only one left who had a final question. He went to his switches. I knew what he was going to ask.
“Why did you kill Jordan Mills, Edward?”
I took a deep breath.
“Because I was in love with his girlfriend. And she wouldn’t give me a second look as long as Jordan was alive.”
“And the girlfriend?”
“We’re now married. Have a daughter. We have another kid on the way.”
Delilah stared at me, probably shook that someone else confessed their most dirty secret, their most wicked of sins. The Judge nodded.
“And with that, court is adjourned.” The Judge left the room, coming back a moment later with two needles. He jabbed one into Delilah’s neck, the woman’s eyes flickering as she fell unconscious.
“Why did you do this?” I asked as the Judge walked up to me, tilting my head to the side with the hands he’d just used to murder six people.
“So you never do it again,” The Judge hissed before the needle entered my neck.
The next thing I know I’m lying on the street, cops are all around me, asking if I was okay and what happened. I was back in the clothes I’d fallen asleep with, the only sign that anything that had happened was the bruises on my wrists and the memories.
Oh, I know, you never expected me to have taken a life too. I regret it. Jordan was… kind to me. It was a moment of rage, something not at all planned out. I was just lucky no one ever found the body until it was too decomposed to really tell anything. Everyone assumed he fell off the hiking trail and hit his head on the way down, causing his death.
I paid for it my own way, of course. Ever since that night in the Chair of Truth, I’ve practically been a saint. Paid my taxes, watched my words, donated time and money to help others, and even when your mother finally left me for good, I never held it against her.
Why? Well, it’s hard to do anything wrong when you know someone’s gone through your life with a fine tooth comb. The fact someone is still watching me, no matter what I do, and I feel if I ever slipped up again, I’d wake up in the Chair, and next time I’d not get away so easily.
And I hope, my son, that you learn from my mistakes… that no matter how well you hide your sins, you will be found out, whether in the afterlife or this one.
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themetaphorgirl · 1 year
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I'm having a very difficult day and I cannot tell you how much it helped to have a new chapter of psolc show up in my inbox. thank you, thank you, thank you, and happy third anniversary 💗 prompt-wise, I would looove to read some spencer angst if you're up for it!
I am SO happy it can make YOU happy!! I hope your day gets better, and hopefully this helps cheer you up!!
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If they thought midterms were bad, finals were even worse.
Everyone was subsisting on junk food and caffeine. No one was sleeping. Penelope had given up on wearing eye makeup for the week because she kept crying on her study guides. Hotch had an ear infection again, which made him cranky and irritable. If they weren’t in class, they were studying in the library, at the Honeybean, in the dining hall. It was madness.
It was bad enough for the teenagers, but it was even worse for Spencer.
Sometimes they forgot he was nine- well, ten, now, barely ten. He was so smart, smart enough to tutor kids who were six, seven, eight years older than him. But completing homework easily and getting high grades on normal tests and quizzes was completely different from going through finals. He was overwhelmed, to put it mildly.
Alex was trying to work at the circulation desk, but she could hear Spencer’s crying from across the vast room, and she couldn’t concentrate. He’s okay, she kept telling herself as she recommended books to frazzled students and scanned their checkouts. Just an hour left, and then we can take him to dinner and put him to bed.
Emily leaned over the desk. “Hey, I’m so sorry, but we need you over there,” she said in a low voice. 
Alex brushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. “Did Hotch send you?” she asked.
“No, but he needs backup, I can tell,” she said. “He can’t get the baby to calm down, he’s starting to freak out, and I’m starting to worry that the kid is going to cry till he pukes again.”
She set her scanner down. “Give me just a second,” she told the bleary eyed sophomore holding a stack of books on Manifest Destiny, and followed Emily back to their usual corner.
Instantly she could tell why Emily called for her. Aaron was sitting in an armchair, his shoulders hunched over as he tried to hold onto Spencer. “I know, I know,” he was saying desperately as Spencer sobbed and tried to go limp in his grip. “I know you’re tired, I know you’re stressed, I just need you to take a deep breath.”
“I’m not tired!” Spencer shrieked. “Let go of me, let go!”
Alex touched Aaron’s back lightly; he jumped in surprise and immediately sagged in relief when he saw her. “Please, help me,” he said in a panicked, strangled voice. “I don’t know what to do.”
He scooted over in the armchair and she sat down next to him. “Spencer,” she said in a soft voice. “Baby, I need you to take a deep breath.”
He was a pitiful sight, his hazel eyes bloodshot and ringed in blue bruises as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m not tired!” he sobbed.
“I know, I know, but do you want to sit with me?” Alex asked softly. He nodded, raising his arms to be held, and she lifted him easily onto her lap; Aaron pulled his skinny little legs over his knees as Alex leaned his head on his shoulder. She held him tight and rocked him gently. She’d learned that he did better when he was squeezed tight, like his soul was getting crushed back into his body. 
After a while he started to go limp, his sobs dying down. “I’m not tired,” he whimpered as he clung to the front of her shirt. “I h-have to s-study.”
Alex kissed the top of his head. “I know,” she said. “I do too, but I have to keep working.”
His grip tightened. “Don’t leave me!” he wailed.
“I won’t, I won’t,” she said. “You can come with me, okay? Do you want to do that?” He nodded into her neck. “Okay, darling, let’s do that.”
She looked up and caught James’s eye. “I’m on it,” he mouthed, and he started gathering up the blankets and pillows they had brought from their dorms.
“Thank you,” Aaron said. “Thanks, I- I didn’t know what to do…”
Alex patted his cheek lightly. “You should take a break too,” she said. “You’re still getting over being sick, you need a rest. I’ll take care of him now.”
“Want me to carry him?” James asked. He handed Emily the blankets and picked Spencer up easily. “Come on, buddy.”
“I wanna stay with Alex.”
“You will, baby, you’ll be with Alex.”
Emily immediately busied herself with setting up the pillows and blankets under the desk to make a little nest. “Here, squirt, you think you’ll be comfy there?” she said. Spencer nodded, rubbing his eye with his fist. “Here, climb on in.”
James set him down and Spencer crawled into the little fort, making himself comfortable. He handed him his favorite blanket. “Lie down, kiddo, I’ll tuck you in,” he said. 
“I forgot my book,” Spencer said plaintively as James drew the blanket up to his chin.
“We’ll get your book later, just take it easy for right now,” Alex said. “And I’m going to be right here, okay?”
He nodded. She leaned in to kiss his forehead, and then the three teenagers stood up and looked at each other in exhausted frustration. “How many days until finals are over?” Emily said. “Too many?”
“Three,” Alex sighed.
James slid an arm around her shoulders. “And then you and I will take him home to my parents’ house, and then we’ll have my parents to help put him back together,” he said. He kissed her temple. “And in the meantime, you’re doing a great job. He’s going to be okay.”
“I hope so,” Alex sighed.
“Um…can I check out my books now?” the sophomore asked meekly.
Alex went back to work, a little overwhelmed now that the line was ten people deep. She still didn’t really feel like she was doing a good job, but as she stood at the desk she felt Spencer reached out and rest his hand on her ankle. She tried to stay as still as possible so she wouldn’t break the tether.
When library hours were finally done she crouched down on the floor beside him. He was asleep at last, his face flushed and his lips parted as he snored a little. Alex smoothed his tangled hair away from his face and smiled at him. He would be okay. She would make sure of it.
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creationofacentury · 10 months
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Before the Storm (HP AU, Ethubs)
Etho & Bdubs, slash if you squint, could be platonic if you like
HP spoiler! Time set in Book 6.
I don't actually remember the sequence of the canon events. Sorry in advance!
Dialogue heavy...
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"We really shouldn't be doing this,"
"I know, so I'll make this quick."
Bdubs takes out his wand and mutters a quick Alohomora, and the door clicks. "Shit, it worked." He pushes the door open, peeking to see if there's anyone. He gestures Etho to follow.
"I'm serious, if someone catches us we are in deep trouble,"
"Yeah, I know! I heard you the first time and the first twenty times you said that, you big baby, if you are so scared you can just go back to bed!"
"Bdubs, c'mon. This isn't wise."
"Oh ho, yeah, because you are so wise, aren't you, Etho?"
That stops Etho in his track.
"I followed you here because I care, you know."
Two steps ahead of Etho, Bdubs stills. After a moment or two, "...I know."
"Then you know what to do."
At that, Bdubs turns to glare at him. "Don't. I don't listen to you. I am not one of you pureblood games."
"Which is exactly why you shouldn't be doing this!"
"Doing what?! Say it, Etho." Bdubs challenges, "You are not scared, are you?"
Etho rolled his eyes, desperation seeping through his hushed voice, "I'm not scared of sneaking out or getting caught, you know that. We have done it countless times, you know that's not what I'm worrying about!"
Bdubs doesn't back down, instead he stares unwavering at Etho, "Fear is not gonna get you anywhere."
"You- why are you Griffindors so unreasonable? Can't you see the risk you are taking?!"
"What risk? Getting points taken? That's nothing compared to the fact that Volde-"
"Don't say it!"
Bdubs's glare hardens, but he smiles- he caught him. Etho shuts his mouth.
"Etho Selywn. Let me tell you one thing. Getting points taken matters non to me-"
"This is a life and-"
"LET ME FINISH! Getting points taken doesn't scare me! Just as standing against Voldemort wouldn't!"
"YOU SHOULD BE SCARED! You don't understand, my mother send owl last week telling me to get ready for 'big changes', and they, they were gathering, and with your blood status, Bdubs, please..."
"You don't get it, do you?"
Bdubs looks sad all of a sudden.
"...what are you talking about?"
"This is the right thing, is why I'm doing it." He sighs, looking pained and tired, "you'll have to choose, you know? If war breaks out, we can't keep doing this."
Etho freezes. Bdubs watches as he fumbles for words to reply, then sighs again.
"Go back to your dorm, Etho. I can investigate myself. It's Hogwarts, whatever Malfoy's hiding in there wouldn't kill me. He's not that good."
"I should never have told you about Malfoy-"
"And many other things, to be frank." Bdubs smiles wryly. "I'll see you at breakfast."
Bdubs walks away, pace hurried. Etho watches him go.
----
Notes:
I wish I could type one more line saying Etho follows, but then...I think about the their Life Series as a whole, then decides, probably not. What do you think? Would Etho follow? By the way, this is right before Draco opened the cabinet, so Bdubs going into the Room of Requirement means. Well. But you could come up with you own interpretation, since I didn't specify in this tiny fic.
Also, a few details I want to share:
Etho has Selywn as surname here, because halfway through writing this, I had the sudden idea of he being a pureblood, and Selywn is one of the sacred twenty-eight if I'm not mistaken. And he's a Slytherin, for sure.
Bdubs is a muggleborn Griffindor. He and Etho are very good friends despite being in different houses and their blood status, and they are in their seventh grade here, meaning they are one year older than Harry.
Okay. Yeah that's it, I think.
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pbandjesse · 3 months
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I can't believe this week is over already. It was so wildly busy and so incredibly full. I feel happy but also so tired. But also so so so excited that we get the day off tomorrow! They canceled camp kick off! Incredible. I am thrilled.
Especially with how busy I was today. I slept fine but not the best. I woke up when James was leaving and I just remember having the biggest smile seeing them. And then immediately fell back asleep until 740.
When I got up I felt a little crazy. I made the bed and got dressed and would decide to wash my hair tonight.
I gave Sweetp a kiss. Checked in the tanks. And was off.
I had a good drive to hunt valley. And it was another good conversation! This time about homes and living in Baltimore. How we came into money for the house. How lucky we have been and privileged to have the help. Plus James getting hit by a truck. We have been lucky in a lot of ways.
Once we got to camp I was overwhelmed. There was still so much to do. I went up to arts to go over all the other programs and made lists of what needed to be collected. I was getting more and more worried. After an hour I texted Heather to ask for help.
She would send me three girls and they were wonderful. I gave them the lists and sent them off to find things. Rocks and paint and identification cards. Pitri dishes and compasses and almost everything I needed. I was just so happy to have them doing that. Because then I could go to the office to work on printing all the examples and guides.
It was a lot of work though. I had to edit so many things so they didn't say "Indian". Just out of date terminology. But things were getting done.
I handed off the prints to get laminated. I appreciate the people who helped with that so much. They wouldn't get everything laminated but they did get everything in the sleeves and I would finish the laminating later on.
I went back to art and did some more organizing of supplies and materials. I can ot wait until our boxes are in so things can be actually organized. But it's something.
I would come back to the office and Callie said we could take the camp truck and go get the deck furniture her parents were giving to camp, and then go to a deli she likes. Excellent.
While we were waiting for the truck to be available I continued my printing tasks. But it didn't take long for us to be able to head off.
It was fun taking the truck. I used to drive a truck and it was fun. It took about a half hour to get out there and it was fun talking with Callie and being silly and the sky was beautiful. It was such a nice little drive.
When we got to her parents' I got to meet her mom a bit more formally. I've said hi before but this was a real introduction. I also got to meet their very sweet dog. Who is a very nervous baby but I liked her apple shaped head.
It would take us a bit to get all of the furniture into the back of the truck. First problem was that there was a second hitch in the middle of the bed that we didn't know about. But I'm very smart and I was able to figure out how to take it out and later on would be able to tell Laney over the phone how to put it back in and I was very proud of myself.
Then it was just a lot of figuring out how to Tetris all of the things into the back of the truck. There were eight chairs and two tables. And I think we did a great job. It was a lot of teamwork and effort. Callie was in the back of the truck while me and her mom were handing her things and trying to help figure out how things should go together. And it was just I think a really good time. We only had four bungee cords but we made it work and everything was pretty secure.
We would do a 2 minute drive down the road to the deli / grocery store. And that was like our test run to see if the things were all going to fall out and they seemed pretty good besides a little bit of rattling from one of the tables. So after I got out of the truck to help Callie park because the truck is very big. We went and got some food.
. It was nicer than growls and kind of reminded me of the grocery store I used to go to in Minneapolis that was really nice. And she would get I think she said chicken salad. And I got a grilled cheese. I also will pick up edamame for later and a cannoli flavored chocolate bar to share with James. We had to wait a pretty long time but honestly food was really good and I think it was worth it in the end.
We had about a half an hour drive back to camp. The new girl who's teaching EAC was at camp and she wanted to know if we can meet up and I told her I would be available in the office in one half hour. And then I just enjoyed my drive with Kelly. We shared Western fries and worried about the table sliding around and possibly breaking the back window. But we did a really good job and so it was not a problem in the end.
Right before we got back to camp I called Elizabeth to make sure that we were good to take the stuff directly to the pool. And we were so we pulled up and I walked to the office to grab the boys so they could help her bring them in and I could go eat my sandwich and wait for Corrina to come find me.
She would come about 10 minutes later which was totally fine. Gave me enough time to eat my sandwich. And then we sat down and went over and just kind of talked through things that might be a problem and figured out some solutions and some alternatives. And I think she's going to do a really good job. There are quite a few times that she's going to be gone this summer but she's not the first one that's done that so I'm not that worried about it. As long as we have someone to cover and whatever project she picks for that week not being too difficult for them to handle.
I would spend the rest of the afternoon finishing the lamination. Tony helped me punch holes in the corner so that we could binder ring them and then Alexis daughter Josephine helped me put the hand talk flashcards into alphabetical order. And that took a really long time. And I appreciate how hard she works because that was not a super fun task. But it got done and then we labeled them with numbers so that we cannot have them fall out of order again and it will not take as long to put back together. But that was like an hour long task.
A whole bunch of materials for the hands on History and some of the other program projects had come and some people had taken the boxes after arts and crafts so I was like sweet I'm going to go up there and unpack them. But some very thoughtful but misguided counselors had unpacked everything already. Each one of those boxes had been labeled for which program they were going to and now I didn't know what program they were for. So I was a little frazzled. So once I was able to get a couple people to come inside and help me we sorted everything out and then I had them carry it to the different locations. I would follow along to the Adirondacks so that I could put things in the correct piles for the boxes for when the boxes come. And it was a little stressful and it was a little sweaty but we handled it and it was all good.
I was ready to go though. I was hot and I was tired. And I went to the office to check in with Heather because she made a comment about next week with me being with the camp all in for the whole time. I thought I was only leading programs not acting as a counselor so I was very surprised. And she was like yeah you're probably right so I'm just going to be jumping in a few times to leave programs not be there from 9:00 to 2:00. So I'll actually have time to continue finishing setting up all the programs. And I hopefully will be able to pull away a couple other people to help me because I still feel slightly overwhelmed by all of it.
I headed out of there and I had a much shorter drive home than yesterday. I would arrive back here at 5:30 and I was thrilled to see James and our dear friend Brooks sitting at the kitchen island.
James and Brooks are going to a baseball game tonight and meeting up with some of our other friends. And it was just really nice to have people over. Brooke's let me braid his hair and he was very surprised that I was able to braid it with just one hair tie. He grew his hair out in the last year or so and he still learning how to do things with his hair so I think he was surprised I was able to make him a very pretty Elsa braid with only one hair tie and not a bunch of barrettes and clips and things. He's learning he's trying. I thought he looked really nice with the braid. And he would leave the house for the baseball game with James with the braids still in.
Once they left I would set myself up outside on the porch swing. Cost per use I'm going to make this swing so worth it in the end. I love the swing. It gives me the same nice feeling that my hammock does but it's more structured so I'm not as squeezed. And I laid out there with my book and my edamame and I had an excellent evening. I had brought crab cake out to soak in a bowl for a bit and then put him in his outdoor enclosure. And I have some plans for how I'm going to build out the bigger outdoor enclosure once we have a fence. And just kind of thought about that and enjoyed sweet peace company and I was out there for a really long time. Couple hours. Just hanging out and enjoying being in my backyard that I own. I was getting eaten alive by mosquitoes and that is something I'm going to have to figure out going forward. But I really love our little space and I'm just really happy that it's coming together so well.
As the sun started to set I brought crab cake inside and put him in his enclosure. I changed out the water in there and he started burying himself as he does. And I would sit outside and write the first half of this post until sweet pea walked himself in and then I came in to close the door. And now I'm running a bath and I'm going to soak and wash my hair and wait for my husband to come home.
It has been a really nice week but man was it a lot. I am so excited to not have to go anywhere tomorrow. My plan is to do nothing. I am going to hopefully have some projects left to do here and work on some art things. Pack my little bag for next week because I'm going to be sleeping over at camp all 5 days. And then on Sunday I'm going to go visit my parents and I'm really excited about that. And I just think that this is going to be a beautiful summer and I'm really excited. And I'm really excited to continue to share my stories with you. I hope you guys all have a great night and you sleep well. Until next time. Good night
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theretirementstory · 7 months
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Bonjour à tous 👋. This morning I am in Troyes, in the all-inclusive hotel which serves atrocious food - THE HOSPITAL ! Don’t be fooled by the photos ! News of those photos will appear further down. This is certainly the place for a crash diet. However I am not here for the food (no way) I am here for the fantastic medical care I have received and am continuing to receive.
The weather here is currently five Celsius and drizzle which looks to continue until early afternoon when it should be eight Celsius.
So why is she complaining about food, I hear you ask? This was the restaurant I went to last Sunday with my friend Maud. I had filet de bœuf with pepper sauce, gratin dauphinois and mache (lambs lettuce). Followed by tartine des fruits, glace and meringue croustillant. Having not eaten so much before I was surprised that my stomach could take what was a surprisingly big meal but it did! It showed its appreciation by rumbling again at 4:30pm 🤔, I think it wanted more of the same.
It’s a beautiful restaurant overlooking the lake and even on a grey day it is wonderful.
The start of the week I was chilled then at 2:30pm that calmness was thrown into chaos when a call from the hospital said arrive at 9:00 not 15:00 as originally told. No reason was given but I calmed myself by thinking chemo was starting early?
I was ready when the taxi arrived at 7:45 for the hours journey to Troyes. I was put into the family room while my room was prepared. An older French gentleman appeared who looked to be leaving (think it was his room I was given). He was polite, recognised I was “a stranger” and told me I spoke good French, what a compliment.
After being installed in my room the day involved being fitted with a catheter into my JUGULAR, yes you read that right. Apparently it gets the chemo into the blood stream quicker than with the normal PICC line. It was painless until I started feeling pain in my shoulder, the PICC line was put in on Friday and the jugular catheter removed yesterday. I still have the pain even with pain medication and as I had had it a little time before I came into hospital I have asked if a doctor will approve an X-Ray. So that is all the complaining done. I have lost Friday to treatment and Saturday to pain but hey such is life!
Now we turn to my family, where we find that “The Trainee Solicitor” has some news to give me which he confirmed is not “bad news”. He also took “mothers’ advice” and visited the “drop in” centre about his ear problem. I hope thé drops are having an effect and no side effects (look at the paper inside the box). I am hoping you feel better soon.
This week “The Ex-Graduate” changes title and becomes “The Reconnect Navigator”. She has had a couple of boring days in the job but has also had a few very interesting days. That’s the first week over and let’s hope you had your walk yesterday as I know you desperately needed the exercise. These poor nurses don’t need exercise,they must walk miles in a day on this unit, it is huge!
“The Photographer” had been working his day job, with a day off on Wednesday, always welcome when you work a weekend.
Yesterday, he travelled to Buxton in Derbyshire, to photograph for Scarborough AFC. There had been snow but the match was played. It ended up even, 0-0, but not a loss, which should give the players a little boost. These players work all week in amazing jobs and give up Saturdays and Tuesday evenings to play matches as well as the training they need to put in too. As you can imagine, they are tired but morale keeps them going.
Our newest member to the “clan” is “The Jetsetter”, who I think may either be back home now or still cruising in Norway (rather you than me, I get nauseous in my bed 😂 I don’t the action of a boat😂). Welcome and if you are still in Norway, “God morgen 👋.
I apologise in advance if my choices in music range from years you have only read about in history books 😂 but this is the music I love and the first track is “Long Train Runnin’” by The Doobie Brothers. This is back to 1973 😱.
The second song is Yah Mo B There by James Ingram and Michael McDonald. Oh, this is a bit more recent 😂 1988.
The picture below is of my dessert last week.
Jusqu’à la semaine prochaine.
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flowercrowncrip · 2 years
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I hate to come here again complaining about That Carer again but today has been A Day.
I'll start off by saying that we are both under quite a lot of stress at the moment – one of my carers is currently having time off because a family member of theirs is at the end of their life. So my carer is having to cover a lot of extra shifts, and obviously I'm grateful that they are doing that. I will say though that she knew she would be working today in advance and that she has been very much against me having another carer join the team, which would make the situation easier.
This morning my parents had to do my care because That Carer couldn't make it in until 1300 because she'd been to a concert the night before and hadn't gotten in until 2 AM. This allowed her to get over eight hours sleep before working. So my parents (who are totally out of practice) had to get me up, clean, toileted, and into work where my colleagues said they are okay with keeping me going until my carer got there.
Because of this my morning care was physically more painful and mentally more draining, especially as I'm in a pain and other symptoms flare at the moment and only got a couple of hours sleep last night because of it. So it wasn't a great start to my day
Later in the day, after I'd met my carer at work earlier, I had a youth group. On the drive there my carer decided that fiddling with her phone while driving was better than ignoring the music her phone was playing or pulling over to deal with it. Several occasions we were swerving all round the lanes while she had one hand on the wheel and wasn't looking she was going. Talk about making an already stressful day more stressful.
After we got there and had mostly done setting up the hall (so just before the young people started to arrive) TC stormed out of the room shouting something passive-aggressive about how no one cares about her after one of my colleagues made a comment about how all the changes in routine today has led to me forgetting some stuff.
Now fair enough misinterpreting a comment and being upset – we've all been there – but yelling and slamming doors while I'm at work (and so is she) is so unprofessional and puts me in a really awkward position. I had to follow her out the room, find out what was going on for her, and calm her down while staying on good enough terms for the rest of the day/week not to be too awkward. While doing this I also had to be aware of how the behaviour might affect any young person who might see (luckily none did)
While I was making sure she was okay she told me she was mostly upset because a concert tickets didn't have as good of a view as she'd hoped and that she was tired from going to bed late (even though she still got normal amount of sleep)
I know comparisons are unhelpful but it's so ironic how she feels the need treat me like I can't handle myself when even a physically taxing day, plus a ton of emotional stress, plus a considerable amount of pain, plus only getting 2 to 3 hours of sleep didn't return stop me handling this whole situation pretty successfully while she couldn't deal with even half of that without behaving like this.
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horseforeplay · 1 year
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idk if that's long covid but i got covid 3 times and i'm pretty sure i don't have the same stamina i used to have :// everything is so tiring i just prefer to stay at home most of the time
ackkkk i'm so sorry. i'm not a doctor obvi and this is a very limited glimpse into your experience, but with how common long covid is, it very well could be post-viral ME/CFS. with PEM, you can be okay as long as you're operating within your "bubble" (doing limited tasks but nothing spontaneous or exerting yourself more than usual). unfortunately, even if real exertion feels strained but manageable (and this can be a difficult task of any kind, not necessarily physical), you can crash 24-72 hours later. a crash can last weeks, months, or years. i had terrible energy problems immediately after my acute covid infection last year (i have now learned it's because my mitochondria are simply not functioning lol -- i just never recovered), but followed the advice of the seven? eight? different specialists i saw and tried to pace myself as work demands ramped up. i was OK-ed for surgery. i took on part-time work. i applied for grants and did my household chores. my energy remained tricky (like i could work from home normally, but a trip to costco could knock me out the next day), and i'd have seemingly spontaneous bouts of pleurisy. the signs were there. now, almost a year later, i am in the midst of my first major crash. i do not know when it will end. if you have any symptoms of PEM (and you can check out the archived atlantic article i linked in response to that recent ask) i need to emphasize that this is not a condition you can push through. you cannot work your way into health. if you have ME/CFS, i do NOT, under any circumstance, recommend exercising. many physical therapists attached to long covid clinics do not know this (as mine didn't), and will recommend activities that can kill you or leave you bed bound. even if it's not classic long covid, having the virus three fuckin' times is nothing to thumb your nose at. i'm sorry the world is telling you to move on. solidarity wherever you are & i hope you are able to rest
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someinstant · 8 months
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I have had a cough since the first of January, got worse, got antibiotics for a sinus infection, got somewhat better. Cough lingered. Cough got worse again. Doctor prescribed a course of steroids to help deal with the inflamation and irritation. Felt better-- almost normal!-- for the first time in nearly six weeks. And then TWO DAYS LATER I go from feeling fucking fine in the morning to my sinuses aching with pressure by noon, and by six PM I'm running a very low fever. Not today Satan, I think, so I drink an ABSURD amount of herbal tea, flush my nasal passages, take the necessary OTCs, swab for a covid test (negative), and go to bed at 7 PM. I wake up in a pool of sweat just after midnight, no fever. Fever does not return. Congestion and pressure, however, have moved into my right maxillary sinus like they got a deal on the rent and I haven't stopped blowing my nose for forty-eight straight hours.
I have been sick to some degree for seven fucking weeks and I am so tired. I was talking to my sister this afternoon because she was so excited because she's found a house she wants to put an offer on, and I let her tell me about it for a good ten minutes before she realized I wasn't really responding, and she asked if I was okay and I started crying because I just want to feel okay for more than two days in a row and I want to have enough energy to go look at houses with her and I just don't right now.
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tw: steroids, asthma, health trauma? (if that's a thing i'm not sure)
hello! so i'm a little unsure about if what i'm dealing with counts as trauma, or just stressful, or what, so i was hoping you guys could help me figure out what's going on with me?
i'm eighteen years old, and i have asthma. i know it's technically one of those things you can grow out of? and i don't live the healthiest lifestyle, but i play a sport, have an outdoor/semi laborious job, etc. But it's a big part of my life.
I've been on daily steroids since early middle school i believe-- six or seven years? It might be longer but I'm not 100% sure of the timing. Before that, I was diagnosed with asthma after incidentally describing to my mother that i can't ever seem to completely take a deep breath. Until I was put on steroids, I could only ever seem to fill my lungs 75% or so.
I take daily steroids, and even so, occasionally I've been briefly hospitalised or brought to the doctor for bad attacks, after which I have to take heavier steroids for a week or so. Last time was years ago, but I think about it a lot. I was on a ventilator for about eight hours in the emergency room, after I had spent the day before at school tired and lightheaded, feeling extremely sick. It turned out my oxygen levels had dropped dangerously low; hence the ventilator.
Even with my daily meds, I need emergency albuterol sometimes, which has bad side affects like heart palpitations and shaking. If I'm sleeping and need it, my dreams change to chaotic black and white swirling shapes with red spots.
I get triggered by sounds or visuals of heavy breathing (like on tv) and it can induce panic attacks. I have the memories of being on the ventilator, and lying in bed not having enough air to get up and get my meds or call for help. Lying there wondering if I would wake up in the morning.
Writing this all down makes me realise... it's scary. But no one talks about asthma! It's all "out of shape" people or "not caring about your body". I'm scared! I'm angry! What would my life be like if I didn't have it? And with all the shit I've been through, why am I embarrassed that I have asthma?
I'm sorry this is so long. I guess I'm both dealing with the stress of it all but I don't feel like I can truly be stressed about it since it's just asthma?
Hi anon,  I’m so sorry you’re dealing with asthma - it’s one of my own personal co-morbidity health issues - so I jumped at the opportunity to validate your diagnosis and experiences. I wanted to start by saying that any medical diagnosis is hard, and though maybe you’ll “grow out” of it one day, there’s also a chance you won’t, and there can be a bit of a grieving process to have to acknowledge that loss of “healthy body” when it comes to both your age, but also with the societal-culture we live in.  Ableism is rampant, and sometimes it’s more of an unconscious bias from those around you, a desire to dismiss the medical needs in favor that “youth” win out.    But this can be dangerous when it comes to our condition, and considering you’ve needed steroids for years, there are certain side effects from the medication to be mindful of as well.  None of this means that you cannot have a full, functional, and wonderful life!  And I think that’s where it’s important to advocate for chronically ill persons, as well as push against the narrative that a successful life only fits within very specifics able-bodied norms. It’s a fine line to tip toe on - one where we acknowledge the struggles (article with symptoms, impacts, and support groups) so we do not experience worsening mental health from denial on top of everything else, but also find ways to life our own lives to the fullest with the adaptations we may need, but with practice, becomes easier and more natural as times goes on. Either way, I wish you well <3 - Mod Kat
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maskedrealities · 29 days
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I’ve been dealing with a lot in my life. A majority of it is surrounding constantly masking as okay when, in reality, I’m not even close to being okay.
This isn’t so bad, but I’ve been around people that say they care, yet they haven’t shown me that they have. I am very easy to pick up on other’s feelings even if I have apathy towards those feelings. The one friend I have that’s comforting to me was telling me that they were willing to focus on me so I can rest and relax like I need to.
I didn’t get that. I have been very down lately, not able to eat, not able to sleep, and not once have I really been able to take a break. “I’d like a break to rest and relax” is not met with a break and relaxation, it’s met with me needing to shove how I am down while I focus on my friend.
“I know that you’re tired, but would you be willing to help me move to eat.” That’s met with a “yes,” after so many hours pass and I’m still struggling to move and I ask it’s a response of “yeah, sorry, I’ll get in a second.” When that’s not done and I do finally get to move once the pain has stopped, I get told “no, lay down, I can go get it, I’m sorry I haven’t done that yet. I’m worried if I don’t get you food, you won’t eat.” And to that, I just stare. Because this can happen for eight hours, I do not eat for those eight hours. The ninth hour or however long it’s been hits and I’m finally able to move, I’m forced down, and still not fed. The time when I’m trying to actually go get something to eat, I am given that.
Others tell me that I make up the pain just so I “can be lazy.” That isn’t the case. I like doing things around the house. I love doing what I can to rely on myself because close friends have also proven that I cannot rely on them without putting them first.
I’m forgotten in this house. I’m completely forgotten about. By everyone. I have not been able to rest and relax.
The pain? My hip. My chest has been hurting and feels like it’s been squeezed for the past week. I have had a headache for the past week. I have been short of breath. I have been dizzy. Yet I don’t get a break.
I don’t have someone that will actively care for me without making me feel like I’m not doing enough for them. And that pains me. Because I see how I ask for it to be about me, not as a means to fuel my ego, but as an attempt to say “I really need help right now.” I don’t get that.
I was supposed to be on bed rest when I was sick. Limited movements. I was not allowed that. Even now, I still have the headache and chest pain, the same dizziness I’ve had for the past week, the same shortness of breath.
I have no one to rely on. I have no one here to help if something happens. That scares me. I could drop to the ground and no one would be here. It scares me how bad it feels like people don’t care for me. I’m just something to have a means of helping while I’m around.
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