#i took the windy drawing from the big post from the other day. there was too much in that one.

[lunarharp]

lil scribs & follow-up on the drunken moments

[alexiusgoesrogue]

Status Update: Day Ten

Today was not a very big day. But although it can’t be compared to the first days of this adventure, it was fun nonetheless.

First thing Bee and I went out for some drinks and snacks. They got themself some pineapple juice, and I got raspberry licorice. Never thought I’d ever like anything containing even the word licorice, but here we are.

With no actual plans on our agenda, we headed for a few last rounds of Taiko no Tatsujin at Timezone. It was once again really fun, but did quite a number on my right wrist (no idea why this one in particular and not both).

We took another break, which included food again, because of course it did. This was the first time of me trying anything from KFC ever. And while it was tasty, it was not really something I’d see myself craving someday in the future.

Our ideas on what to do for the day ran thin, so we decided to just head back to the hostel. The walk back was quite funny though, as it was really windy at times.

I used the time I had to already pack up some of my luggage to make it easier for tomorrow. I also finally finished my halo book (hooray me!), technically. I read all main chapters and the epilogue. The adjunct files were just a bit.. too boring. I’ll just get back to that some other time.

Additionally, I took some more time to get back into traditional drawing. The pictures will be posted someday (hopefully) to the respective blogs they belong on (90% are CJ and Darnell related, because what else would they be honestly).

Nothing much happened since then. I spent time in my room watching YouTube and downloaded more videos on Netflix for the long flights. I thought the night would end with a ‘short’ viewing of Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring, but that didn’t end up happening due to technical difficulties.

My alarm is already set. My shower towels are dry and in the suitcase. All left unpacked are toiletries (because I was too tired to do it now), some valuables in the locker, and my bluey plushie of course.

Tomorrow will be quite a day, and I don’t know if I’ll like that. But just like the day when I began this journey, I’ll get through this.

Sponsorships of the day: KFC lunch, several rounds of Taiko

***

Note: I refuse to fight with the wifi again, so same as with my previous post, I will not share any pictures here and simply add them in a reblog at a later point in time, when better wifi is available to me.

[furinana]

Reviewing SMT's 30th Anniversary Event in Yokohama

In 2023 (the year of Nanashi's birthday!) I spent some months in Japan so I lucked out when they announced a Megaten concert right before my departure.

This is a compilation of thoughts from tweets and messages I sent to friends that I decided to turn into a public post for archival purposes.

Disclaimer: unless stated otherwise, none of the pictures I'm using here are mine. Most of them were taken from the event's official account.

May 6th. From Kyoto (the city I was staying) to Yokohama was approx. two hours by Shinkansen. Like how a close friend of mine says, "The thing about Japan is that you ride one train and you just become the biggest car hater immediately".

[I ended up taking an overnight bus for the back trip however, took around 7 hours. Cramped on your legs but your pockets hurt way less]

How is Yokohama at the moment? A bright sunny noon and like this user illustrated, windy as hell (my cap came off once and I had to run in the middle of the street to rescue it).

[KT Zepp Yokohama]

I arrived 4 hours before the concert's schedule so I fucked around Yokohama's cozy Chinatown for a bit, among other places I don't remember. I didn't take into account that you could arrive hours prior to the event to purchase the limited merch line and stare at concept art of mainline games in an exhibiton placed in the entrance. The merch would get sold out in a matter of minutes in the gap between the opening and when the concert would start! Don't underestimate scalpers, folks.

A beginner's mistake, this is how life teaches you to be smart.

[For every 5,000 yen you spent, you got the chance of receiving a colored bookmark of one of the protagonists. A lot of items involved abysmal luck to get. Fortunately I was able to grab what I set my eyes on in the later online raffle so things turned out fine on my end (although I'm currently having to deal with a lot of dupes much to my annoyance. But hey, I have official merch of Flynn and Nanashi now)]

Regarding the exhibition: Not a lot of stuff to comment on. They made a timeline of sorts for each mainline title (except the NES games because fuck 'em I guess) and pretty much most of it was available in official artbooks published previously. Nocturne for example, they displayed the writing process & how they sketched cutscenes and attacks prior to making them 3D etc, which was no-news if you browsed the Ayakashi Monthly book before.

[We weren't allowed to take pictures so I can only show the previews from the official account. We had to stay at a long line to look at each piece in a chronological way so it felt particularly... uncomfortable. I don't like the feeling that I might be slowing down other people so I end up rushing what was supposed to be a serene activity]

The actual exclusive never-seen-before art was regarding beta character & demons concepts from SMT4A:

[Top: Drawn from memory by me. Bottom: The "mermaid" is a reference to the Starbucks logo that interestingly, is also present in Nanashi's room (which could mean there was an intention of Nanashi's only reference of a mermaid being the logo of a cafe that wouldn't exist in-universe anymore. For those unaware, the mermaid in question is actually a siren!]

Here are the descriptions I typed on my phone right after I exited the exhibition (and would use as base for my own sketches a day later):

Chironnupu had two beta forms with the face as it is now where one walked on four legs and the other his legs faded out in a ghost-like manner. He also had a third and more distinct from his current design where he was dressed in Ainu attire on 2 legs and was smiling to the viewer (a Youkai Watch sort of vibe, very cute).

Nanashi had an unseen sketch where Doi drew him with a suspiciously big waist. Yeah, I know it's minor but I wanted to comment on how unhinged Doi is in drawing girly boys. Go off king

Cleopatra had a form where she had dark skin, dark green hair and emerald green eyes (...huh? I just realized I painted her hair with brown instead of green lmao I became fixated in making her look similar to Maria Torres from Trauma Team). Considering how some demons get color variations (such as Vishnu or Moh Shuvuu), some even getting darker skin in adaptations (take Rama in the Devil Survivor 2 anime), perhaps Cleopatra getting an alt that is closer to this beta depiction isn't an impossibility. I can dream

Vishnu-Flynn had a version where his face was the same as how Flynn normally is.

Mermaid had a form where she was supposed to resemble the Starbucks logo where her palette was red&other color (I don't remember if it was blue or green) and showed an alluring evil smile.

Now let's talk about the concert. The structure of how it went was basically alternating between the band playing remixes of soundtracks with gameplay videos on the screen and then pausing for the hosts to talk with the audience and share some free-talks with the musicians that worked on the titles.

Fans used this menorah they sold in the booth as a glow stick (the ones you see in idol events).

[Event announcers Mafia Kajita and Chiaki Matsuzawa in day 1 and 2]

At the end there was a little quiz with gameplay-specific questions, for example what a certain skill does. You had to answer with this little cardboard thing that had a Jack Frost in one side and Black Frost in the other.

Regarding the free-talks, a summary of what I was able to get (take those with a grain of salt):

Kozuka never played any Megaten before composing for the games (he thought they were too dangerous)

SJR composer played all of them

Tsukasa said the songs for the SNES games were a lot longer and better-sounding but unfortunately they had to chop off a lot

Meguro makes sound effects before making the music, finished SMT2 before starting composing but doesn't play games anymore

By the end, Kajita wishes Megaten games were released more often so events like this could happen frequently and Matsuzawa says she's a big Digital Devil Saga fan.

By the way, you could easily recognize the western fans from the audience from how louder and cheerier they were compared to the local ones. Japanese fans are the types that respect silence to a scary degree. For another example, I was able to watch The Boy and the Heron right in the opening week and nobody from the session I went to laughed or made any perceptible reaction to other viewers. The only one laughing in the entire room was my, notably, non-JPN roommate.

When the concert was nearing its end however, the hosts allowed everyone to be as loud as they wanted to thus letting the atmosphere at long last turn closer to the spirit of Megaten... chaotic.

[Going personally to the concert was a totally unique experience compared to seeing it from a screen with diluted audio. You truly had to be there to have your stomach twisting from the echoes coming from the band's instruments]

My personal favorite remixes:

SMT1's Ginza

SMT2's Disco Theme

SMT4's Boss Theme & Map theme

SMT4A's f6 Godslayer (when they showed Vishnu-Flynn on the big screen... 😳)

[sirensmojo]

"Collection" - Hubby!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Big fluff, typical wife/hubby scenes.

gif of @mistress-gif {here is the post}

Summary: Tommy ruining your carpet collection.

*Masterlist*

“Tommy, what’s this?” You calmly asked, pointing down.

“The ground, Y/N.”

“On top of it, you idiot.”

“Carpet?” He responded not sure about what your point was.

“Yeah. Now, what’s on top of it?”

“What’s the thing, eh?” Tommy was puffing on his cig while reading the newspaper, as usual for this time of the day.

“Just answer me, Thomas.”

It was around 4 in the afternoon, the only time in the day when he wasn’t too busy these days. He spent most of the time at the House Of Commons, so much that a little routine had settled.

Each day at 3:30 you heard his car outside, a maid telling you your husband was back home. And as each day at that hour, you were reading your weekly book, training your creativity for the novels you were writing.

When Tommy was back at the Arrow house, you weren’t there to welcome him, but you always had the maids put some tea in the living room along with biscuits for him.

“Wine.” He confidently responded, still reading his papers.

You knew your husband, despite whatever he was doing outside the house, he loved his cocoon, this moment of peace you gave him. In the only free hours of his day, he could drink without thinking too much, but Tommy being him, he soon began to read some books about politics, he couldn’t stay too long without doing anything.

You would always let him spend this time alone, sitting on the armchairs of the living room, a drink of whiskey next to his cup of British tea and a plate of biscuits. You let him charge his batteries, so he wouldn’t be too exhausted when coming back late at night.

All you wanted was to nourish him so he could be better at “work”, because that’s what he wanted for himself, and even if you loved him so much, you couldn’t know what was best for him better than himself, right?

It was pretty unusual of you to disturb him like that, and he wasn’t even ready for what was coming.

“No. No.” You shook your head to the left and right, “It’s blood. You fucking stained my expensive carpet with fucking blood.” You accentuated ‘expensive’ and raised your brows to voice your displeasure without even looking at him, which made your husband stop what he was doing to look up to you, blinking.

It’s the first time he lifts his eyes to you since you started this conversation, and an unreadable expression was all over his face.

Your working desk was turned towards him, which means you could still write on your typewriter as you were settling a score with him, you didn’t even lift your gaze to him and this added a dramatic side to the scene.

“So you’re not mad about the blood, you’re mad I stained the carpet.” He said utterly to himself, wrinkles of confusion drawing at the corner of his eyes.

You throw him a quick glance and see that he had dropped his papers on his crossed legs, he was now attentively looking at you.

“My fucking carpet, Tommy.” You highlighted, making him exhaling deeply.

You weren’t usually swearing that much, and the fact you did in this situation made him realize how mad you were.

“I can buy you another one.”

“You offered it to me the day we were coming back from our weekend in Paris.” You said, pouting.

This time you stopped writing and stared at him with puppy eyes.

“Yeah, because a couple days prior to that you made a scene about another carpet, Y/N,” Tommy said outright. He seemed fed-up with your obsession with carpets and came sipping on his drink.

You remember that day as if it was yesterday and couldn’t hold a laugh that escaped your throat, echoing in Tom’s ear that looked back to you.

The face he was making made you laugh even louder, so much he gave you his side look.

Of course, he loved to see his wife smiling and hearing her laugh, but with you, it was always more than just a smile, more than just a laugh, you were pretty dramatic, in everything.

When he would come home late, you used to sit in the armchair of your room and wait for him there, in the dark, lightening up the bedroom as soon as he set foot in it.

You were always lightening up the mood, you brought him something light. He knew that with you nothing was too serious, contrasting with his life where everything was, so no need to say you were succeeding at easing his mind.

He and you first met at the garrison, you forced the barmaid to give you a drink even though you were alone, using the excuse that you finished writing your first book and that it deserved to be celebrated.

When Tom heard that, he was instantly intrigued by you. A woman writing? It wasn’t the type of woman he knew. Of course, there was Lizzie but she was writing secretary things, not a book.

He was impressed, and somehow wanted to know more. That night was the first night since forever that Tommy spent the night with a woman without fucking her.

And a thing leading to another, you grew very fond of each other before the love came, submerging both of you with its violent waves.

Your marriage was still very fresh in your memory, as were your shared memories such as the day Tommy referred to before he took you to Paris for a weekend.

If you were, to be honest with yourself, you would say that the only reason for this weekend together was to make you forget about the time his men wrapped up a body in your carpet.

It was a windy spring day, Tommy was sitting in the garden at the table, his head dropped back to feel the wind fondle his face and embrace his figure.

The area was so calm and peaceful that your voice almost made him fall off the chair.

“Tommy Michael fucking Shelby! I’m fucking going to kill ya!” You were yelling at him, walking towards him in the grass, barefoot.

His eyes opened abruptly and he tilted his head towards you, hands crossed on his stomach.

As soon as his vision got used to the bright light, he frowned and straightened up on the chair, you were dragging a gigantic embroidered white carpet on the grass. And this wasn’t all, you were wearing your almost see-through grey satin nightgown.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” He desperately let out, getting up, ready to reach you.

“You fucking put down your little ass on that chair, Mr Shelby.” You screamed again while breathing heavily from dragging this huge luxurious piece to him.

He exhaled deeply and sat down, passing a hand over his face. He wondered what was on your mind this time.

You ultimately reach the perfect spot so he could perfectly see what you will be complaining about. You dropped the heavy piece of fabric you were holding and pushed strands of hair that were on your face behind your ears.

Sweat beaded on your forehead but you were sure it was worth it.

“What the actual FUCK happened with my carpet, Thomas?” You pointed to the multiple burn marks on your carpet. “Do you know how fucking expensive it was? It came from Italy, mate!” You angrily let out.

Tommy’s jaws dropped when seeing the integrality of the carpet, he knew what happened with this, but he wasn’t sure that telling it to you was a good idea at first. It’s when he saw your scolding look that he cleared his throat.

“Y/N… There was a fucking body in this.”

You opened your mouth in a perfect “o” shape, “There was what, where?” You solemnly repeated, hoping you didn’t hear right.

You didn’t care about Tommy’s business, you’d never showed any reticence toward the way he lived his life. You will never judge him, he was doing what he had to do.

But this… This was too much.

“There was --”

“Ssshh,” You interrupted him, “you fucking crossed the line Thomas, I bought that one with my own money. You owe money to me now! Fucking Blinder Devil.”

“What the fuck are you saying, Y/N? What line?” Tommy frowned even more. He was amused but a bit scared if he was, to be honest, how his oh so tiny wife could spit like that, he’ll never know.

He even thought for a second it was him that woke the monster inside of you by buying you your first carpet on your wedding day.

He coughed at the last part of your swearings. Well, it was true you were a writer so he shouldn’t be surprised you came out with such a nickname for him.

“Don’t forget you owe me carpets still. I ain’t forgotten about my Italian carpet!” You squint your eyes while looking at him, and that’s when you glimpse a smile at the corner of his lips.

You tried your best not to smile, but the vision of a smiling Tommy made your heart flutter more than anything else.

Your warm smile lighted something inside of him, and it was with haste that you got up to join him. Tommy was intently watching each of your movements as if you were mesmerizing him. You came to sit on the armrest of his chair, placing both your arms around his neck, your eyes anchored in his, and stayed there.

It wasn’t the only times he did shitty things to your carpets, and it’ll probably not be the last, but at least you will have plenty of stories to tell your children when you have some.

[milfgritty]

constellation of asters | m. frost & j. farabee

❀ ⇢ requested: yes | no ❀ ⇢ genre: poly!au | soulmate!au | gender neutral reader ❀ ⇢ word count: 12.9k ❀ ⇢ a/n: yea i have no excuses for this. enjoy.

everyone has a soulmate, it’s just a simple known fact. a red string, a soulmark, first words tattooed on the inside of your wrist, there’s something to help every person find theirs. except, well, you never had any of those. growing up, you (kinda) came to terms with the fact that you might just not have a soulmate at all. it’s not until you meet morgan and joel that you begin to reconsider the possibility that you actually have not one, but two.

⇢ posted: 02.07.21 . | . masterlist

There are the lucky ones in the world who are born with an identifying soulmark. Something that leads them straight to their soulmate, whether it be a red string of fate, or the date of their other half’s birth, or even a tattoo shared only by the two of them. 

You, though?

You wish you were one of them. But alas, no string, no tattoo, no drawings, not even a damn clock. Nothing to ever even allude to the existence of your supposed other half. When you were younger it terrified you, made you think that something went wrong wherever soulmates were paired. Left you alone, destined to never be the perfect match for anyone. You used to watch in envy of all the kids in the schoolyard proudly displaying their tattoos, showing off whatever new their soulmate drew on their skin that morning. Knowing that they would remember that you were one of the unlucky ones soon enough, the ones people whispered about under their breath, never loudly as though terrified if someone heard them their own soulmate would vanish.

Not having a soulmate was kind of a big deal, if you couldn’t tell. 

And still years went by and you grew up with half-assed reassurances of ‘don’t worry, I’m sure your soulmate is out there somewhere, you’ll see’ and ‘maybe you just have an invisible soulmark, didn’t you know those are a thing?’. Years went by, and you grew up, and you rationalized. 

You didn’t need a soulmate. People without them got along just fine, and sometimes people lost theirs without ever meeting them in the first place. Hell, you were actually luckier than everyone else because you had the free will, the agency, to pick who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. So what if they weren’t handpicked and perfect for you, you would be happy, dammit.

That’s what you told yourself, at least. 

~

Done with a particularly rough day of classes, you figured it was only fair to reward yourself with your favorite drink from your favorite cafe near campus. It was a special treat that you rarely afforded yourself, what with you fitting the stereotypical broke college image to an almost painful extent. Dodging other people on the sidewalk, you clutched your jacket closer around your body to protect from the harsh wind. The bag on your back straining under the combined weight of your single (five subject) notebook, textbooks, and laptop, you cursed yourself under your breath for not at the very least putting it in your car before making the five minute trek. 

Slipping into the tiny cafe nestled on the corner, you allowed yourself a sigh of relief. You took the moment to drop your stuff at a vacant table before making your way to the counter. Waiting in line, your eyes scanned the menu despite knowing exactly what you would get, as you did every time you let yourself come here. Back aching and your hand attempting to massage it from the worst possible angle, the line continued to shorten until you could order and retreat back to your table. 

You were tempted to stay, even after getting your coffee. Free wifi, decent music, and minimal noise? Easily get through at least homework for one class. But a larger part of you yearned for your warm bed and cozy blankets, preferably with pajamas. And so, it was with maximum effort that you picked back up your bag and coffee and slipped out the door and into the windy outdoors once more. 

The walk back to your car was more bearable with the addition of a hand warmer, so much so that you took the longer way through the small park you had walked past on your way there. With the trees above and around you and the dancing leaves raining down, their colors slowly changing from their normal shade to the yellows and oranges of autumn, a smile slipped onto your lips. Your eyes lingered on the flowers lining the pathway, your mind trying futilely to identify which ones they wer—

A body slammed into yours, shoulders knocking violently as you were shoved off balance. Your still mostly full coffee fell from your hand, lid flying off and spilling onto the ground. You landed miraculously not in the growing puddle of hot coffee, but still flat on your ass as you stared up in shock at the man who had somehow remained standing. 

Seconds ticked by as you stared at each other, uncomprehending. The tall and outrageously sturdy stranger broke through his shock first.

“I’m so sorry, holy shit,” he rushed out, hand reaching down to help you up. Gazing unblinking at the outstretched limb, you allowed him to pull you up. Bare skin touching yours, you only allowed a split second of disappointment when there was no discernable reaction before smothering it back down.

Really, you thought, what did I expect? A mark to show up on our hands linking us together? How naive. You really thought you had gotten passed doing that.

“It—it’s fine,” you mumbled, sparing a despaired glance down at your spilled coffee, “don’t worry about it.” How neither you nor your bag didn’t end up in the puddle was beyond you, but you’ll take it. 

His gaze followed yours, landing on the pitiful cup. “Fuck, your drink, I’m so sorry.”

“Seriously, it’s fine. Stop apologizing,” you told him, adjusting your bag and turning to leave. There was no way you were going back to the cafe and getting another drink, this one was already indulging yourself. 

“No, hey,” he lightly grabbed your jacket, stopping you. “Let me buy you a new one, make it up to you for spilling that one.” 

Suddenly much closer to his tall frame, your eyes caught on his brown ones. There was just something about him that you could already feel your resolve chipping away. 

“I was on my way to Starbucks anyway, it’s no problem,” he continued, as though sensing he was breaking you down. At the mention of Starbucks, though, your nose involuntarily scrunched. Something he definitely caught. “Or wherever it was you got that,” he laughed, his smile making your heart catch a beat. 

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Not when he’s oddly pretty and he could have a soulmate who’s not you and—

“Yea, sure.” You smiled, “Luckily for you, it’s pretty close to here.”

His smile widened, eyes crinkling at the corner, and his hand dropped from your sleeve. It was strange how much you felt its absence, but you pushed the thought away. “After you then,” he stepped aside, gesturing you forward. 

Moving around him, you fell in step together, going back the way you came. 

“I’m Morgan, by the way,” he—Morgan—introduced himself after a beat. Studying him for a split second, you thought the name suited him. 

“Y/N,” you said in response, ignoring the way his smile made you want to smile, too.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” And the two of you kept walking. 

~

Two months. It had been two months of hearing Morgan talk about Y/N this, Y/N that, and Joel still wasn’t quite sure if he liked or hated you. 

Depends on the day, really.

It wasn’t anything against you as a person; it was just, well. He wasn’t sure what it was if he was being completely honest. Maybe it was the way Morgan brightened at the mention of your name, maybe it was how he always brought you up in conversation, maybe it was how obvious it was that he liked you.

But he definitely wasn’t jealous. Of course not. How ridiculous.

He watched Morgan move around in their shared kitchen, rambling on and on. Something about how you joked earlier when you were hanging out that you would wear his jersey if he bought it for you. At that moment, he couldn’t hold the thing he couldn’t quite identify in anymore. “So have you brought up how you feel, yet?” 

Morgan stopped and closed the fridge door that he had half his body shoved inside and digging around in as he turned to face him. Brows furrowed, he shook his head with a look of poorly feigned confusion. “I—what? No, it’s not like that. Why would you even ask that?” he questioned, staring him down.

Joel shrugged, fidgeting on the stool he had perched himself on when Morgan went into the kitchen. He really wasn’t sure why he had asked. He just had. A part of him didn’t want to know why.

“Just feels like the two of you have been hanging out as much as you can. The way you talk, it’s pretty obvious how you, at least, feel,” he replied. He picked at his sweats, avoiding his roommate's gaze.

Morgan cleared his throat, turning back to the fridge. “I don’t—not like that, man,” he told him over his shoulder. He gave the fridge a second glance before closing the door, walking past Joel and out of the kitchen. 

“It’s not a big deal if you do,” Joel said as he followed him back into the living room. “You haven’t found your soulmate yet, plenty of people date before they do.”

“Why are you so concerned about it, Beezer?” Morgan pivoted on his heel to face him, forcing Joel to stop in his tracks unless he wanted to run him down. 

“I—I don’t, I’m not,” he answered, mind racing, “I just think you’ve been practically obsessed with them for months and I haven’t even met them—”

Morgan laughed sharply, cutting him off, “Is that what this is about? Seriously?”

“I mean, kinda? It’d be nice, at least.”

“Fine, then I’ll ask if we can all do something together this weekend. Is that good for you, Joel?”

Ignoring the sarcasm in his last sentence, he maneuvered around his body and flopped down onto the couch. “It is actually, thanks.” In his head, however, he was less certain. How was he gonna be able to interact with you? Would his jealousy—no, not jealousy—be obvious to Morgan, to you?

Aside from the noise coming from the TV, the next few minutes passed in relative silence after Morgan crashed down next to him. Their previous conversation already partially forgotten, Joel became focused on the shitty reality show that had started to play without them noticing earlier. 

“Look, it’s not like I’m an idiot,” Morgan started suddenly, scaring him slightly. Joel’s head turned toward him, brow lifting in question. Morgan glanced at him before returning his gaze to the TV and continuing. “It’s just, yea. Maybe you’re right.”

He trailed off, leaving him to wait. “And?”

Morgan rolled his eyes and shuffled further into the couch. “And, I don’t know if I even have a soulmate,” he steamrolled on, “Just because I might not doesn’t mean—doesn’t mean no one does, you know? I don’t want to be the selfish asshole who gets into a relationship with someone who might have a perfect match waiting for them, someone that isn’t me.” 

“You don’t know if you have a soulmate?” The piece of information stuck out to him. Hit him in the gut and made his heart jump into his throat.

His roommate shrugged, continued to steadfastly ignore him. “Never had a mark or any of the other shit people had. It’s not—not that big of a deal. But I don’t want to be with someone and always be afraid that they’re going to find what I can’t and leave me behind.” 

Joel swallowed roughly, his heart racing. “Oh,” he mumbled, voice as quiet as Morgan’s had become by the time he had gotten done speaking.

“Yea,” Morgan huffed a bitter sounding laugh, “Oh.”

“You know,” Joel spoke lightly, softly, as though worried that talking too loud would ruin everything, “People always say that things work out in the end, even if it’s shit getting there.”

This time the laugh that escaped Morgan was more real, less cold. “Is that your way of making me feel better, Beezer?”

“Depends,” he smiled, bright at the sound of his laugh, “is it working?”

Morgan threw a pillow at him, it bouncing lightly off his head. “Dude, shut up,” he told him, the smile on his face softening his words. Following his advice, Joel adjusted himself on the couch, heart feeling just a bit lighter than it had previously.

~

“So I was thinking,” Morgan started as you walked down the street together.

“Absolutely shocking, continue,” you cut in, rewarded with a shove as you laughed.

“As I was saying,” he stressed, “You should come over for a game night or something this weekend.”

“Uh,” you stuttered out. “Yea, sure. Sounds fun. Will Joel be there?” You hadn’t meant to sound so shocked, but as it was, you most definitely were. In the what, two, three? Months since you had known Morgan, you never went to his place. Never met his elusive roommate. Sure, you had heard about Joel. It was hard not to when Morgan could—and had—talk for hours about his teammate. 

But you had never met him. And to be honest, at this point you were kinda scared to. 

Sure, he seemed like a nice enough guy. Except he clearly meant the world to Morgan, and well, Morgan meant the world to you. And yea, you weren’t sure when he began to mean so much, but he does. And you want Joel to like you. What if he doesn’t?

“Yea, Beezer’ll be there. Finally get to meet him.” He nudged you lightly, shooting you a smile. Smiling nervously back, you ducked under his arm and into the cafe as he held the door open for you. 

Coming to the little cafe on the corner had become tradition, Morgan falling in love with the shop just as much as you had. It didn’t bother you in the slightest since he pays for you whenever you two come. Which is, to say, far too often.

Placing both of your orders and finding a table, you turned to your friend. “Do you think,” you began nervously, picking at the edge of the table, “do you think he’ll like me? Joel?”

Morgan looked up from his phone and tilted his head. “Of course he will. Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, lying through your teeth. “It’s just, he’s your roommate—and your teammate—and wouldn’t it be, like, a little awkward if he actually hates me?”

Your question seemed to stump Morgan for a minute, his mouth opening and closing, eyebrows scrunched up as he looked at you from across the tiny table. You sat quietly, watching him think over his answer. Eyes wandering his face, your lips quirked as you just managed to pick out the way his lashes curled at the ends. So unfair, you thought, why does he get the long eyelashes? Finally, he seemed to get his words in order.

“Even if he doesn’t like you, which he definitely won’t,” he rushed out the last half, “But if he didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s not like we would stop hanging out or anything. We would just, just keep hanging out the way we have been.”

Watching him, you chewed on the inside of your lip. “Promise?” you asked, voice coming out quieter than you had wanted. You hated the way you feared losing Morgan, scared that he had wormed his way into your life so quickly. 

His foot nudged yours under the table, breaking you out of your thoughts. Eyes meeting yours, your heart gave a tug at the sweet smile dancing across his lips. “Yea,” he told you, “I promise.”

Breath catching, you smiled back. “Then this weekend it is.”

~

The weekend came far sooner than you expected. 

“But you’re on your way, right?” Morgan questioned you over the phone. Figured you were running late today of all days. It was Saturday, dammit, you slept in late. That wasn’t a crime.

“Yes, Morg, I’m on my way. Leaving right now,” you reassured him, grabbing your keys off the counter and making your way to your door.

You heard his—frankly, exaggerated—breath of relief even on your end, gaining a fond eye roll out of you. “Okay, good,” he replied, “See you in like, twenty?”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered halfheartedly in response, more focused on locking up behind you. “I’ll see you in twenty.”

The only downside, of course, is that twenty minutes was definitely not enough time to settle your anxiety. And so soon enough, you were at Morgan’s shared apartment, and walking up to Morgan’s shared apartment, and oh god you were in front of his door, oh no—

This is fine. This is fine. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that no matter what, even if Joel didn’t like you, Morgan wouldn’t drop you. He promised. 

Christ, that sounded lame even in your head. 

Psyching yourself up, you raised your hand to their door and knocked. Ignoring the way your hand trembled lightly, you almost jumped when the door swung open faster than you expected.

“Hey,” Morgan appeared in the doorway, beaming down at you, “You made it.”

A snort left you without your permission. “Yea, you dork, I made it.” 

Catching his eye roll, you grinned as he stepped aside and swept his hand out. “Welcome to our apartment.” Your grin widened at how dumb he was and moved past him, brushing lightly against him as you entered. 

Walking in, your eyes caught on the form draped against the couch. Heart stuttering, all the anxiety that had briefly left you came flooding back. Morgan stepped around you, guiding you over to the living room. 

“Hey, asshole, you gonna say hi or what?” he asked, picking up a pillow and throwing it at Joel. It thumped softly onto his chest and rolled off the couch, causing him to glare up at Morgan. 

You stared wide eyed as Joel huffed and slung his legs over the side of the couch, standing up and unfolding to a height similar to Morgan. Giants, you scoffed lightly under your breath, they’re literally giants. Casually, you maneuvered until your body was just barely behind Morgan.

“Sup,” he did a weird head nod thing, his eyes roaming up and down your body. “I’m Joel, it’s uh—it’s nice to finally meet you.”

You smiled weakly up at him. “Y/—” you tried, cutting yourself off and clearing your throat, “Y/N. Nice to finally meet you, too.”

The two of you stared the other down, silence filling the room as Morgan watched the two of you watching each other. Rocking on your heels, you alternated between looking at him and around the room. 

“You know, uh,” Joel started abruptly, slipping his hands into the pockets of his sweats, “Frosty talks a lot about you. Can’t shut up, I don’t think.”

“Dude,” Morgan hissed at him as a laugh slipped past your lips. You felt your cheeks warm, your smile finally feeling less forced and more genuine.

“It’s funny,” you told him, ignoring Morgan, “he talks a lot about you, too. Once he gets started, it seems like he can’t stop.”

“I hate both of you. Why did I think this was a good idea,” Morgan said, throwing his hands up and slipping in between the two of you into what you assumed was the kitchen. The sound of yours and Joel’s laughter followed him, the pair of you sharing a conspirator’s smile. 

Joel was the first to break, his smile lingering as he spared you a glance and followed Morgan. “Don’t be like that, Morg. We’re getting along already. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

Giggling, you walked in after them. “I don’t know what I was worried about,” you teased, sidling up to the counter, “Joel is great.” 

“Oh, you would think so,” Morgan rolled his eyes, pulling a sweet tea out of the fridge and handing it to you. Smiling in thanks, you opened it and took a sip.

“Wait,” Joel stopped and shook his head, “were you actually worried about meeting me?”

Eyes widening and head shooting up, you were positive panic flitted across your face. “Uhhh,” you started, shifting from foot to foot and shrugging, “A little? I mean, you’re his roommate and teammate and he talks about you all the time—”

“—I do not—”

“Yea, you do, Morg,” you laughed, glancing over at him before returning your attention to Joel. “But, yea. After so long without meeting, I guess I kinda built you up in my head and I got worried you wouldn’t like me and things would, I don’t know, be awkward for Morgan. It’s dumb.”

It was dumb, you realized, standing there. Joel was...you didn’t even know how to describe it. He was soothing. Calming in the same way Morgan was to you, like a balm to your anxiety. Easy to talk to, joke with. It had barely been ten minutes and already you could tell that. It was the same feeling that made you let Morgan buy you another drink when you first met.

“It’s not dumb,” he told you, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug, “I guess I felt the same way.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised. For some reason, you didn’t really expect him to feel much of, well, anything when it came to meeting you.

Grinning, he nudged your foot. “Don’t look so shocked. Even NHLers have feelings, you know.”

“Shut up,” both you and Morgan chorused, glancing at each other before laughing. It was then you realized how close the three of you were, the kitchen not exactly the largest room. If you moved one way, you’d bump into Morgan. If you moved the other, it would be Joel. 

“Wanna play fortnite or something?” Morgan asked, clearing your thoughts. He knew you well enough to figure out what the scrunch of your nose after his suggestion meant. “Or not fortnite, you have a better idea?”

“What else do you guys have?” You asked, hoping against odds they would have something that wasn’t completely awful. 

Joel and Morgan shared a look, communicating silently. 

“Uhh,” Joel started, “I think we have like, Skyrim? Never got around to playing it, though.”

Eyes immediately brightening, you straightened. You almost didn’t notice how the move brought you that much closer to him. “Dude, Skyrim came out like ten years ago. How have you never played?”

“Looks like Skyrim, it is,” Morgan muttered, squeezing past you to the living room. 

“I don’t know,” Joel tried to defend himself, “It’s not what I usually play.”

“Well, that changes today, buddy.” 

“Did you just call him buddy, oh my god,” you heard Morgan’s voice distantly, covered mostly by Joel’s shocked snort. 

Thirty minutes later found the three of you sprawled across the couch, limbs just barely intertwining as Joel tried still to make his way through the character creation screen. 

“Is that a cat? Do they have fucking furries in this game?”

“I swear, I’m gonna throw my sweet tea at you,” you threatened while swallowing down laughter at Joel’s commentary.

“Do it, I’m not getting you another one,” Morgan told you, his hand lying lightly on the bottom of your calf. 

“Yea, you would,” you smiled over at him. 

A snort came from Joel’s direction, followed by, “Dude, you would.”

“Shut the fuck up, Beezer, I didn’t ask you.”

Mock gasping, you reached over and hit Morgan’s shoulder, eliciting a sharp ‘hey’ from him. “No being mean to each other,” you laughed, settling back down, shoulder brushing against Joel’s side.

“You heard the lady, Frosty,” Joel smirked, sticking his tongue out at him. 

“I’m never letting the two of you hang out again,” Morgan groaned, throwing his head back. His thumb had paused in the motion of rubbing circles into your leg. 

Exchanging a glance with the boys, you smiled. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

~

“You know,” you had innocently told Morgan and Joel a few days ago, “it’s kinda funny that two of my closest friends are professional ice hockey players and I’ve never even gone skating before.”

He was shocked at the revelation. Horrified, even. And definitely planning on rectifying that minor fact, something Joel fully supported and helped plan. Sadly, it took a few days before he and Joel were both home and didn’t have practice or a game and you didn’t have classes or homework, leaving the three of you able to hang out. 

He always counted it as a minor miracle when all of your schedules lined up. In the months he and Joel had known you, it happened far less than he would’ve liked. But as much as it felt better, more…more right, for it to be the three of you—which was normal, you were best friends; he didn’t like one of you more than the other—he took what he could get and didn’t complain. 

Much.

That’s how Morgan found himself at an ice rink with his two closest friends on his day off, watching one of them tie the other’s skate.

“You could’ve done this yourself,” Joel told you, fingers making quick work of your laces.

You beamed down at him, a satisfied little smile on your face, “But you do it so much better than me.”

Morgan laughed to himself, bending down to finish lacing up his own skates. Joel had gotten his done first and found himself helping you, not that he exactly put up a fight. Finishing up, he stood and leaned against the boards, peering down as Joel worked. 

“You waiting for us? That’s so sweet,” you smiled up at him, resting your weight on your hands behind you. 

Joel huffed a laugh and half turned to look over his shoulder at him, flashing him a smirk, the asshole. “Our Morgan? He’s just a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

Morgan reached out and kicked him, mindful of the blade of his skate. Rolling his eyes, he maneuvered around both of you and stepped out onto the ice. 

“Just for that, I’m going without the both of you.”

Hearing the teasing calls of his name accompanied by laughter, he smiled and went to do laps around the rink. Slowly he went through the motions, glancing behind him now and then to see if Joel had finished yet. 

When he finally did, Morgan made his way back to the two of you. “You ready to see what you’ve been missing out on?” He teased, eyes catching on the way you wobbled unsteadily and clutched tightly to Joel’s arm next to you. 

“Quick question,” your laugh came out high pitched and as unsteady as your walk, “just how hard is skating?”

“Please, don’t worry,” Joel scoffed, shortening his steps to help you. Morgan watched his teammate stabilize you, the steady rock to your choppy sea. “Skating is one of the easiest things in the world.”

“Okay, let me rephrase,” a cheeky smile flitted across your lips, “how hard is skating for us normal people?”

He shared a fond look with Joel, laughing quietly. “Trust us, you’ll be fine.” 

“I do,” you responded without a moment’s hesitation, pausing in your baby steps before continuing. “Trust you, I mean.”

The breath left his lungs in a quick rush, not expecting that, not expecting how sincere and matter of fact you had said it or how it affected him. It wasn’t fair, how quickly you could throw him off balance with what seemed like barely a thought. 

Joel cleared his throat, his hand tightening around yours. “Good,” he told you, voice remarkably soft and low before returning to normal. “I guess it’s time to get you on the ice, then?”

Morgan had to laugh a little at the fear that filled your face at Joel’s words, the way you immediately clung somehow even tighter to him. Smiling, he reached out to you, offering you his hand.

“You said you trusted us,” he told you, “So trust us. We’re not gonna let you get hurt.”

He watched your eyes meet his and fly down to his outstretched hand, back and forth between the two. One of your hands slowly let go of their iron grip on Joel and settled into his.

“Promise?” You looked from him to Joel, eyes painfully doelike. 

Once again, he shared a soft glance with his teammate before looking back at you. 

“We promise.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath and appearing to steel yourself. “Okay, alright, I’m good. Let’s fucking do this.”

Laughter peeled out of him and Joel. “There’s our Y/N,” his teammate grinned, helping you out onto the ice. The two of them kept their grips on you tight as you shakily stepped onto the ice, making sure you didn’t immediately fall.

Your first steps were wobbly, with the only thing keeping you from eating ice being him and Joel. Slowly, the three of you made your way across the ice. “There you go,” he encouraged you, “just like that. Slow and steady for right now—”

“Head up, try not to look down so much, alright? We’ve got you,” Joel reassured, the two of them going back and forth, offering advice and making sure nothing happened.

It took a bit, but soon you were giggling and flashing them pretty smiles, your grip on them loosening slowly but surely. It was enough for Morgan to speed up and swing around to skate backward in front of you.

Catching your worried glance, he smiled. “Still here, just letting you skate more on your own,” he squeezed your hand, now being held more for assurance than to help keep you up.

And so the three of you kept skating around the rink with you getting more and more confident until you were on your own and no longer needed them to hold on to. Morgan watched proudly as you went from wobbly steps to actual skating, though your arms still stayed out by your sides for balance. 

“Show off,” you yelled and laughed, attempting to shove Joel when he went to skate in wide circles around both of you. 

“What?” Joel threw his hands up, laughing loudly and dodging you. “I’m just skating circles around you.” 

“Ha ha,” Morgan grinned when you sarcastically laughed at Joel’s antics. “You’re simply hilarious, you dork.”

“I know,” Joel smiled happily, swooping in to smack a loud kiss to your cheek before speeding away. The kiss nearly knocked you over, leaving you gawking after him.

Morgan observed the two of you as he glided in front of you, a wide smile stretching across his lips. Small huffs of laughter left you as you skated—still not great, but definitely better—over to him, grabbing his hand and trying to tug him. 

“Morgan, come on,” you giggled, “help me avenge my honor.” 

“Oh, of course,” he replied, nodding his head in mock seriousness. He pulled you along in chase of Joel, the three of you laughing as you went around and around the rink. 

It wasn’t until you two caught him—Morgan suspected Joel had let them catch him, like they wouldn’t have been able to eventually—and Joel decided to try to teach you how to skate backward as Morgan followed that he realized something. 

He realized as he watched the two of you smiling and laughing, as he skated behind while Joel held your hands, as both of you made corny jokes and looked back at him to make sure he was still with you, he realized that—fuck.

He was fucked. 

Because he looked at you and heard your laughter and felt his heart tighten. Because he looked at Joel and the way he looked back at him with a fond look and toothy grin, and his heart stopped.

Because he looked at both of you and felt the same exact thing. And he realized it didn’t feel right when all three of you were together because you were just his closest friends. 

It was because when he was with the two of you, his heart skipped beats and all of these feelings weighed him down and lifted him up and—and—

Fuck. He was well and truly fucked, that’s what he realized.

~

Humming quietly under your breath, you picked up the plates from the table and made your way back to the kitchen. Stepping around Morgan, you reached down to put the dishes into the sink for him to wash. After you let them sit, you hoisted yourself up and onto the counter next to him and watched as he grabbed for one of the dirty plates.

“You think Joel will be back soon?” You asked him, tilting your head and pursing your lips. 

Morgan met your gaze and held it as he washed the plate. “Hopefully, we can’t start the movie without him.”

Dinner and a movie at their place. It was almost like a date if you let yourself think about it. But you didn’t, because they’re just your friends.

Your tall, attractive friends that you had completely platonic feelings for. Okay, mostly platonic feelings for. Fine, not at all platonic and actually very romantic feelings, but you refused to think about it. There were two of them and one of you and that, that was weird. Right? 

Right?

Kicking yourself mentally, you shot him a tiny smile. “Do we even want to know what he chose this time?” Every movie night, a different one of you had complete control over the movie. Tonight was, regretfully, Joel’s night to choose and he refused to tell either of you what you were watching. 

It went without saying that you were a bit scared. 

“I don’t think so,” Morgan made a face, putting another plate in the dish rack. You laughed lowly to yourself, watching a smile creep over his face as he glanced back at you.

“Either way,” you told him, “he needs to get back soon, I’m starting to miss the weirdo.” Shimmying down from the countertop, you walked over to the fridge to get a drink. 

Morgan made a noise of agreement, finishing up and turning off the sink. He turned to face you, grabbing a hand towel from next to him and leaning against the counter. He stared down at you without responding; the action causing you to grin slightly in confusion. 

“What’s up?” You questioned him, stretching your foot out to lightly tap his.

Head shaking slowly, his mouth opened a bit. Closing it, his eyebrows squished together in what seemed like deep thought. 

“Do you ever think about your soulmate?”

The question caught you off guard, making your body physically recoil just a touch. You shook your head, mouth hanging open. “Uhhh,” you stuttered, a startled laugh making its way past your lips. “Not if I can help it, why?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, brows still furrowed and an intent look painted across his face.

Shrugging, your eyes flitted around the room. At your side, your fingers twitched against the counter, creating a muted tapping noise. “Nothing, just...I don’t know. It’s not my favorite subject. You?”

“Yea,” he said with a forced smile, “Same thing, I guess. Not if I can help it.” 

You hummed softly, trying to figure out his expression and the change in subject. You couldn’t recall ever, ever, talking about soulmates with either Morgan or Joel. Not in the entire time you had known them. It was like some sort of weird unspoken taboo topic, never brought up, never talked about despite how popular it was for everyone else. Never asking what your soulmark was, or what date was splayed across your skin. Like there was a sense of fear lingering around it, which made sense for you but never for your boys. 

The boys. Not—not your boys, you scolded yourself.

“It’s just, you and Joel,” Morgan started, scaring you a little. “The two of you get along really well.”

Was he? Was he implying that you and Joel? Soulmates?

For a split second, your mind ran wild with the thought. To be soulmates with Joel, with his smiles for just you and Morgan, and his wild hair and dumb hats, and horrible facial hair and horrible jokes and—

How nice it would be. How irrevocably nice it would be. 

But even as you let yourself think about it for that split second, you knew it wasn’t what you wanted. Not entirely. Because it wasn’t just Joel in your daydream, but Morgan, too. With his pretty eyes and the look of exasperation he always had when he was with the two of you. The three of you. 

Always the three of you.

Shaking your head before you knew what you were doing, you replied, “Me and Joel? No, no, I mean—”

“You’re always happy and smiling around him,” Morgan cut you off, not making eye contact, “maybe the two of you—”

“I’m always happy and smiling because I’m with the two of you, you idiot,” you rolled your eyes as you cut him off in return, ignoring the way your heart pounded in your chest. 

He pursed his lips, about to retort when the sound of the door opening caught your attention. 

“Alright, assholes. I’ve got the goods,” Joel’s voice called out, the door closing behind him and keys clattering loudly into the horrible gritty tray you had gotten them. You and Morgan remained quiet as Joel made his way into the kitchen, digging around in the bag he was holding. 

He paused upon entering, eyes lifting to look from you to Morgan and back. His arms slowly fell, his face screwing up in cautious confusion. “So, uh, what did I...miss?” he asked, stepping inside apprehensively. 

“Soulmates, apparently,” you told him sarcastically when Morgan kept silent. You made grabby hands for the bag, reaching in to grab your bag of peach rings. 

Joel winced, a just barely audible ‘oh boy’ falling from his lips. “What got you on that god awful subject?”

You snorted, already shoving a peach ring into your mouth, “So you agree? It’s an awful subject?”

“Oh yea,” he nodded, reaching over and tugging at the peach ring balancing between your teeth before it tore in half, shoving his stolen half into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously. 

Pulling back, you batted at his outstretched hands, “you should’ve gotten your own. Stop stealing, thief.”

“I prefer the term rogue,” he replied, shooting you a cheeky grin. A soft ‘oh my god’ left you with a groan as you rolled your eyes and set the bag down.

Morgan’s continued silence worried you, and you could tell it unnerved Joel just as much. You stole glances at him, his posture tense and face troubled. The whole soulmates thing wasn’t your favorite, but what was going on inside of his head that had him like this? Was he still thinking about you and Joel—which was a ridiculous idea. But maybe that’s just because you knew the truth you resolved yourself to. That you just didn’t, for some unknown reason, have a soulmate to begin with. 

“What’s going on in your big boy brain,” Joel nodded at Morgan, eyebrow quirking as he watched him.

Morgan startled almost imperceptibly, his attention shooting to his teammate. He shook his head, “Nothing, just the whole soulmates thing.” 

“Still?” You frowned as you crossed your arms, puzzled. 

“Dude, just move on already,” Joel told him.

Morgan rolled his eyes, shifting his weight from foot to foot. You saw his grip on the countertop behind him tighten for a second before relaxing again.

“What’s going on?” You asked him, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm.

He flinched back, a tiny movement that you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t already watching. Swallowing roughly, you stopped and let your hand fall, hurt coating your insides. Morgan licked his lips and rubbed at his chin, face screwing up. 

“Don’t either of you ever think about the people you have feelings for being a perfect match for someone else? That it doesn’t matter what you feel in the end?”

Taken aback, you share a look with Joel as you grasped for words. Because you do think about that, about how Joel and Morgan have someone waiting for them that isn’t you and you don’t know when it’ll happen, only that it will and you’ll end up left behind like you always are. Alone. It wasn’t often, but late at night, the knowledge crept over you like thick sludge, refusing to move or leave.

“All the time,” Joel spoke before you could string together a sentence, his voice weak and a frown marring his features. “But it does matter, doesn’t it? Because you still have time with them now, and you can’t waste it for something that might happen.” 

“But it will,” Morgan stressed, the hand that had rubbed his chin flying out to his side with a look of helplessness. “It will happen.” 

“But you don’t know that,” you countered, fighting to get the words out. Your throat was tightening up, your heart pounding away. “No one really does. You don’t even have to end up with your soulmate.”

“Why wouldn’t you,” Morgan laughed without humor, “why wouldn’t you leave to be with the person hand picked for you?”

“Because I don’t have one,” slipped past your lips without your permission, the truth behind your words hitting you like a brick. Tears pricked behind your eyes as you swallowed harshly, stepping into yourself. 

Morgan moved back and hit the counter behind him with a dull thud, staring at you with an unreadable expression. To your other side, Joel looked down at his feet, hands shoved into his pants. 

“I never had one,” you continued, softer, quieter. Weaker. “I’ve always been the person without someone made just for me, but I’ve moved on. Because it doesn’t matter. It’s what I make of it, and it’s the scariest fucking thing, but it is what it is.”

“What if I can’t move on?” Morgan whispered, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Then the people you were scared of leaving weren’t worth it to begin with,” Joel told him, gazing at him sadly. 

Morgan’s face dropped forward into his hands, rubbing harshly. The three of you were silent, the tension nearly suffocating. Waiting, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I can’t just get over it,” Morgan said, shaking his head. 

“Why not,” Joel questioned just as quietly, running a hand through his hair. 

“Because I just can’t,” Morgan threw his hands up, voice raised as he stepped forward. “I can’t stop thinking that my feelings are a waste. That all of this is just a waste.”

“All of this?” You asked, uncomprehending.

“Yes, all of this,” he told you, gesturing wildly between the three of you. “Us. This. It’s a waste.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Morgan,” Joel was the one to ask this time, his voice low and daring. Daring Morgan to say it, to tell you exactly what he means.

“That I look at both of you and see two people who are going to leave me. Two people that I care about, that I want to be with, and know that it won’t last.”

The shock that came from him admitting his feelings and finally giving you the knowledge that you weren’t alone in your pining all these months still wasn’t enough to overwhelm the rest of his confession. The part that said that we were a waste, that cut a part of you that you kept hidden.

“Did you ever stop and think about how we felt?” The words left you as you stepped away, needing to get away. “That we might, for just a second, feel the same?” 

“But it doesn’t matter,” Morgan nearly cried, voice shaking. “It never did.” 

Nodding, you swallowed down tears. “Okay,” you whispered, maneuvering around Joel, who had remained quiet. “Okay.” 

“Where are you going?” Morgan asked, reaching toward you.

Nearly laughing, you told him, “Away. I’m sorry, Joel, but I can’t be near someone who thinks everything about us, our friendship, our relationship, our feelings, are a waste. Not right now.”

Joel nodded, glancing back at you and offering a weak smile. “Don’t worry, I get it.” 

Returning it, you turned and went to grab your things. 

“Wait,” you heard Morgan before you saw him try to follow you, looking between you and Joel. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It doesn’t matter, Morg,” you whispered, shrugging lightly. “I’m gonna go for awhile. I need to go.”

“No, please—”

Dodging him, you left the apartment. Vaguely, you heard Joel tell Morgan to stop, to let you go. Silently, you thanked him. You just couldn’t be near them right now, constantly reminded of your feelings and knowing at least one of them thought it was all useless.

All of this is just a waste. Us. This.

You nearly ran out of the building and to your car, just barely making it in before a yell forced its way out.

“Fuck,” you hit the steering wheel, letting your head droop forward to rest on it. You gave yourself a minute to pull yourself together and turn your car on, starting your journey back to the apartment you had slowly considered home less and less. 

And so you drove away from the one you had begun to consider home, and from the boys that made it feel like that, and to the place you could finally let yourself break down.

~

Day after day became a week and then two. There was now this tension between him and Morgan, you weren’t replying to his texts the same way, and he wasn’t even sure if you and Morgan had talked at all since that night. He hated it.

Joel hated this. 

It didn’t help that everything was bleeding over onto the ice and he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop making rookie mistakes, couldn’t do anything when Morgan got yelled at for fucking up on a play. Couldn’t do anything.

The two of them were this close to getting benched, they both knew it. He knew this couldn’t keep happening, but he didn’t know how to stop it. 

He saw his phone light up on his nightstand out of the corner of his eye. Mentally, he debated leaving it and continuing his inner dilemma, but a glance at it convinced him otherwise.

Sitting up in bed, he struggled against the blankets tangled around his legs to reach over and grab it. He crashed back down, lifting his phone above him and pulling up the text.

[10:38pm] armrest ; coffee tomorrow? 

Seeing the name he had you under brought out a grin. You hated it the moment you saw it and argued that everyone was short next to a group of hockey players, which is exactly why both he and Morgan had you listed as it. In a sense, it was a reminder of better times.

[10:40pm] bumblebee ; yea ofc

[10:40pm] bumblebee ; the two of us?

He didn’t miss the fact that you texted just him and not the groupchat—the one aptly named the 3 stoiges, because Morgan made it with a typo and you and Joel kept it there to bully him. Time after time, Morgan tried to change it, and yet every time he went back, there it was once again in all of its dumbass glory. 

[10:43pm] armrest ; yea i wanted to talk about everything. just the two of us for now

[10:44pm] bumblebee ; im there just lmk when

You texted him back the time, and that was that. The entire exchange left him feeling underwhelmed and anxious. It felt wrong. Stilted. He missed the jokes and subtle digs at each other. The goodnight texts that just kept on going. 

He had a hard time going to sleep after that, not that he was doing a good job of it before. Tossing and turning, knowing that his teammate was his roommate and just a door over and that it didn’t matter because they hadn’t actually talked since the fight. And probably wouldn’t, since that was how things seemed to be going.

But tomorrow, maybe tomorrow would change things.

~

Morning came and went and he woke up to his alarm, feeling the opposite of well rested. He had slept like shit, just like he had been for the past two weeks. Getting out of bed, he got ready to go meet up with you, ignoring the absence of Morgan in the kitchen or on the couch. The lack of a good morning and a smile from his arguably favorite teammate. 

He left the apartment in a rush, something he had found himself doing a lot of lately. Not on purpose, he didn’t think. It was just like a lot of other things in his life now; it felt different. Less warm, duller. Void of life, of everything that made it home to him. 

An open bag of peach rings still abandoned on the kitchen counter, never moved. A little shittily made origami crane knocked over on the coffee table, never fixed. Hoodies missing, never returned. Reminders.

He made it to the little rinky dink cafe on the corner soon enough, refusing to admit he hesitated a bit before he went in. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you at all since that night, but he would be lying if he said it was the same as before. 

You were at their usual table, wearing a recognizable sweatshirt—one of theirs, but at this point he wasn’t really sure if it his or Morgan’s—and clutching a cup in your hands with a cup sitting across from you. Hearing the bell ring, you looked up and spotted him, giving him a tiny smile.

He didn’t want to think about the way the sight made the tension bleed from his body, the familiarity filling him with a rush of warmth. He made the short walk to you, slipping into one of the open seats.

Both of you ignored the still empty third seat.

“You’re late,” you told him, with just enough of a smile to take the edge off. 

He grinned back. “You telling me you weren’t, too?”

Your laughter rang softly through the mostly empty cafe. “No.”

“Thought so,” he replied, taking a sip of the coffee in front of him. His go to order, just the way he always got it. 

God, he missed you. 

A few beats of silence passed with the two of you just soaking up the other’s presence. 

Clearing your throat, you looked down at your hands and picked at your nail. “I think it’s probably time we talk about…”

“That night?” he finished for you. “Yea. I think so, too.”

Another pained smile passed between both of you. Another beat of silence. 

“You know—I mean—” you tried to say, taking a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I care about you and Morgan. About both of you. Not—not platonically either.” 

He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading, the heat creeping into his cheeks. “Yea, I figured.” You deadpanned at him and he had to resist the laugh bubbling up inside of him. He nudged your foot under the table. “Me, too. Non-platonically care about both of you.” 

“Yea,” you rolled your eyes, grinning, “I figured.”

Letting the laugh out, he shook his head. “Ass.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink, “You started it.”

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too,” you whispered back, smile gaining a sorrowful edge.

Staring at you, he felt so many emotions. So many things, and yet something was still missing. 

Licking his lips, he risked a glance to his right, at the empty seat next to him. “It doesn’t—things don’t really feel the same without him, though.” 

“Yea,” you looked at the chair for a second, pain flashing across your face so fast he almost didn’t catch it. “They don’t.”

Hearing you agree, he let the breath he had been holding go. He picked at his cup, resisting the urge to down it. Dimly, he realized you had gotten his coffee before he got there. Which meant you bought it for him. The broke college student who rarely gets anything from here got him coffee without thinking twice. That feeling in his chest grew, fondness for you radiating throughout him. It was a small gesture, one you probably barely thought about, but it made him fall even harder.

“You know, I keep,” you stopped, tilting your head with a jaded smile before steamrolling on, “I keep hearing him say it in my head. ‘Everything’s a waste.’ And I know he didn’t—didn’t mean it like that, but…”

“But it still hurts,” he finished for you quietly, watching you and the way your shoulders hunched forward. 

“Yea, it still hurts.”

“We’re all just miserable anymore, aren’t we?” he asked, knowing the answer and asking anyway.

You laughed softly, glancing up at him. “That we are.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“No,” you held eye contact, steady and intent, “It wasn’t.”

The bell above the door jingled, your conversation dying down. The two of you nursed your drinks, avoiding the painful subject. Pushing it off and dragging it out just a little more.

“I don’t want us to end here, Joel,” you told him, voice barely a whisper. “Not like this. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“I don’t think I could either,” he replied. He could handle not being everything he wanted with the two of you. He resigned himself to that a long time ago. Could handle not being in a relationship, unable to hold or kiss either of you, to look at you and know both of you were his.

He could handle that. What he couldn’t handle? 

This. 

These past two weeks, the three of you barely talking. The tension, the awkwardness, the lack of everything that made you work. Not having either of you really, truly, in his life anymore. 

“I’m gonna talk to him,” he told you, not letting himself think too hard about it. He nodded, ignoring your unreadable expression, and kept talking. “I’m gonna talk to him and then we’re gonna—we’re gonna—”

“We’re gonna fix things?” You croaked out, gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip.

“Yea,” his throat tightened, making him force out the words, “Yea, we’re gonna fix things.”

~

He cornered Morgan later that night in the kitchen when he finally came out of his room to get something to eat. 

“We need to talk.”

Morgan jumped, keeping his back turned to Joel as he dug through the fridge. “About what?” He asked, the forced casualness of it shining clear.

“I think you know what.”

He slowly drew himself up and closed the fridge. “I don’t think—”

“Yea, we do,” he cut his roommate off, his arms folded across his chest. “We both know we do.”

Morgan turned around, facing him with his eyes closed and shaking his head. “Please—”

“We can’t keep going on like this, none of us can,” Joel forcibly told him, refusing to back down. He was doing this for them, for you and for Morgan and for him. “I was with Y/N earlier.”

Morgan flinched back, ducking his head. “Yea? How—how is—”

“Good,” he softened his voice, uncrossing his arms and taking a step toward him. “Come on, let's go sit down.”

“Okay,” Morgan whispered, nodding and following him slowly to the couch. They sat further away than they usually would, a space left open for the one not there with them. 

Joel opened his mouth to start, but Morgan cut him off before he could.

“I’m so sorry,” he told him, avoiding eye contact. Clenching his hands tightly on his lap, he squeezed them periodically. “I didn’t—didn’t mean anything I said that night. Not really. Not like that.”

“I know.” 

“I was just scared,” he kept going, still not looking at him, “I still am. Fuck, I wish I could go back and just—”

“Morgan,” Joel stopped him, getting up and moving to sit down on the table in front of him. “Look at me.”

It took a second, took him reaching out and nudging his face toward him. 

“We know. We’re all scared. And we can’t take back what was said, but we can move forward. Together. The three of us.” 

Morgan shook his head, tears lining his eyes as he leaned imperceptibly into his hand. “How?” 

He almost laughed, but stopped himself in time. “I don’t know,” he shrugged helplessly, smiling at him. “But we will. Because we care about each other. That’s all that matters.”

“Yea?” 

“Yea,” he laughed this time, his hand pressing further into Morgan’s face, the other coming up to rest on his knee. 

Morgan’s hand found his, and they stayed like that for a while, taking comfort in finally being near each other again. Mentally, physically. 

“I missed this,” Morgan told him, blinking softly up at him. 

Joel grinned back, “Well, I don’t know if we’ve ever done anything like this before, but—”

Morgan scoffed, rolling his eyes and pushing him away. One of his hands came up to subtly wipe at his eyes and Joel pretended not to notice as he reached out and pulled him back to him. 

Hand threaded in his hair, he tugged him in to rest his head against his neck. “Kidding,” he laughed, turning to nuzzle into Morgan’s hair. “But seriously, I did, too.”

Morgan’s hand squeezed his side, the two of them lapsing back into silence. At least, until he broke it.

“So, which one of us is gonna text our better part?” 

~

[8:17pm] frostbite ; come over?

The text from Morgan lit your phone screen and sent your heart into a steady gallop. You knew Joel was going to talk to him, but for some reason, you hadn’t thought it would be so soon. 

Was it bad that you didn’t feel ready?

Honestly, if you thought about it, you didn’t think you would ever feel ready. In a way, this was the buildup of months of dancing around each other. It was terrifying, that tonight everything would be out in the open.

You would be lying if you said a part of you couldn’t wait.

[8:19pm] armrest ; omw over

Rushing around, you put on shoes and threw back on the hoodie you were wearing earlier when you saw Joel. You grabbed your keys and locked the door behind you, making your way to your car. 

The drive to their apartment was short, though it still took everything in you to obey the traffic laws on the way there. The walk up filled you with even more anxiety, your hands shaking despite your best attempts to settle your nerves.

You knocked lightly on their door, unable to manage more than a mediocre tap. Luckily, it was Joel that opened the door, beckoning you inside with a hand on your waist. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, sending heat into your cheeks.

“He’s in the kitchen making tea,” Joel told you, closing the door behind you. 

You nodded, dropping your keys onto the Gritty tray. Together, you made your way to the kitchen. 

Seeing Morgan for the first time in two weeks, after not having spoken at all was...was strange. It hit you like a fist to the gut. 

You saw how exhausted Joel looked earlier, disheveled and messy. But compared to Morgan, he looked only a bit different from usual. Morgan, though—

He looked rough. 

Heavy bags under his eyes, hair wild, clothes wrinkled. Even his shoulders were hunched in more than usual. Your heartstrings tugged just looking at him. 

“Hey,” he mumbled when he looked up and saw you, mustering up a weak smile. 

Slowly, you made your way to where he stood. He set down the cup of tea he was reaching out to offer you, worry plastered on his face.

He took a deep breath and started to talk, “Look, I’m so sor—”

You caused him to stop mid-sentence, throwing your arms around him and gripping tight. “You’re such an asshole,” you told him, voice muffled in his shirt. Burying your face deeper, his arms came up and wrapped tightly around you.

“I know,” he said, laying his head on yours, “I’m so sorry.” 

You didn’t respond, taking the moment to really let everything sink in. Giving him one last squeeze, you let go and stepped back, picking up the mug that you claimed as yours on one of your first visits.

“Living room?” you asked, smiling at the two of your boys—because you finally let yourself give in and call them that, because they were yours and you didn’t plan on letting go so easily. 

“Living room, it is,” Joel answered, reaching around to grab his mug and guide you over. Morgan followed behind, staying close. 

Like none of you could bear to be more than a few feet anymore. It was just a tad ironic at this point. 

The three of you settled down in your usual seats, with you in the middle, Joel to your right, and Morgan on the left. You put your tea down after taking a sip, smiling when it tasted exactly how Morgan always makes it for you. 

“So, I guess this is where we talk about everything,” Morgan said, putting his cup down next to yours and turning to face the two of you. 

Joel followed suit, nodding. “That it is.”

For a second, the three of you sat there in silence, looking around at each other. 

“Any volunteers to go first?” You ventured finally, raising your eyebrows. Your question earned you a pair of laughs. 

“I’m the one that started this mess, so I’ll go, I guess.” Morgan darted his tongue out to lick his lips, glancing between the two of you. 

“That night, I let my fear take over. And I know I’ve already told both of you, but I’m sorry.”

“Morgan,” you tried, but he stopped you. 

“Let me talk,” he smiled, so you let him. “At that point, I just really let myself consider that I had feelings for the two people I thought of as my closest friends. And it made me scared, because there are soulmates out there and I know—I think—I don’t have one. But as far as I knew, both of you did. The thought of losing you to someone I had no chance against, it made me lash out. 

That was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. We’re adults, mostly, and I should’ve handled it better. I’m sorry.”

You were aware you were gaping a little, but you were unsure on how to stop. Joel got his bearings back before you.

“Yea, you definitely handled it like shit,” he said, shrugging and getting a snort out of you and a ‘fucking hell’ from Morgan. “But it is what it is. It got the ball rolling and we can’t go back. We can only go on.”

“When the fuck did you get good at talking about your feelings?” You turned to him, an incredulous look on your face. “Seriously, you were like the last person I expected to be spouting off relationship wisdom.”

“What can I say,” he grinned, “I’m a man of wisdom. Isn’t that why you care about me non-platonically?”

“Why do I like you,” Morgan muttered to himself, covering his eyes, “Literally why.”

“Moving on,” you announced, choking back a laugh, “On the subject of soulmates, as far as I’m aware, I don’t have one either, so there’s that. And right now, I don’t know if me having one would even stop me from wanting to at least see if this is something worth having. Which I think it is.”

“Yea, I remember you mentioning the soulmate lack,” Joel nodded, “And I agree, with the second part.”

Bumping his shoulder, you went to pick up your tea. 

“So that’s two out of three?” Morgan asked, looking at both of you.

“Make that three out of three,” Joel butted in, raising his hand. “Like 99% sure I don’t either.”

“So none of us have soulmates?” You looked between Morgan and Joel. “Really?”

“Lucky?” Morgan hazarded a guess. 

“I’ll take it.” Joel grinned.

“And to clarify, there are mutual feelings here? Threeway feelings?” 

“Don’t—don’t call it that,” you replied to Morgan, wincing. “That’s just bad.”

“I don’t know,” Joel told you, grinning, “I like it. Threeway Feelings. New groupchat name?”

“Yes.”

“No.” 

You glared at Morgan, repeating, “No, motion overruled.”

“You’re two to one,” Joel teased.

Smiling sweetly back, you told him, “Cute that you think this is a democracy.”

Laughter rang through the apartment. It was almost like the past two weeks had never happened at all. 

“But let me clarify,” Joel started, sitting up straighter and holding up a hand, fingers up, “All of us think we’re soulmate-less, and even if we’re not, it’s something we’ll deal with when we get there,” one finger down, “All of us have feelings for the other two people in this room,” another finger, “and we’re not dating yet?”

“Correct,” you confirmed.

“Sounds about right so far,” Morgan nodded.

“But we should, though,” Joel said, glancing at you, “Date, I mean. It’s the next logical step, right?”

“Kinda worrying when he uses logic,” you leaned over to stage whisper to Morgan. 

He nodded, leaning close, “I agree.”

“I’m right here, jackasses,” Joel threw a throw pillow at Morgan, apparently taking the name literally. 

“Were you? I couldn’t tell,” Morgan replied sarcastically, throwing it back. 

Closing your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath and tried not to laugh. 

“I agree with Joel, though,” you told them, stopping them in their tracks. “About dating.”

“You wanna date us?” Morgan asked you, Joel pointing at him to back up his question. 

Rolling your eyes, you smiled, “Yes, I wanna date you. Do you wanna date me?”

You felt ridiculous for asking, like a flashback to kindergarten with a note saying ‘do you like me? yes or no’.

“I don’t know, what are the options?” Joel asked, pretending to think about it.

“Yes or yes,” you deadpanned.

“I think I’m gonna have to go with yes on that one,” Morgan told you, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m gonna have to go with yes, as well,” Joel nodded, kissing your other cheek. 

“Okay,” you tried to ignore the pulsating heat in your cheeks. 

“Wait,” Morgan stopped, clearing his throat and looking over at Joel, “Are we? I mean—”

“Dating?” Joel asked, lips quirking into a soft smile. 

Morgan nodded, staying quiet. 

Joel shook his head and laughed, “Yea, I think I could manage dating both of you.”

“Yea?” Morgan smiled. 

“Yea.” Joel returned it.

“Cool,” Morgan said, running a hand through his hand before stopping and frowning. “I know that all of that shitshow was my fault, but we’re never doing that again, right?”

“Oh, seconded,” you immediately replied, “Never again.”

“Thirded,” Joel agreed, nodding wholeheartedly.

You looked at your boys—now officially yours—and smiled. 

~

Their first date, it was decided, would be dinner at Morgan and Joel’s apartment, just the three of them. Private, no pressure. 

You showed up, dressed up but not too much, as per Joel’s vague instructions, at 8pm on the dot, making it the only time you were ever on time for something. You liked to think that if it wasn’t at your boys’ apartment, they’d be late, too.

“Well, don’t you look lovely,” Morgan let you in, bending to kiss your hairline. 

“I could say the same for you,” you replied, taking him in, pressing a kiss to his chin.

Not the usual pre-game suit, you noticed, unable to decide if it was disappointment or relief in your stomach. He was clad in a nice pair of pants, his dark blue button up undone at the top and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Sans shoes, because of course.

On the whole, a very nice look, in your humble opinion.

He noticed your glance down at his lack of footwear and grinned, “Footwear optional.”

“You should’ve mentioned that sooner,” you groaned, bending down to remove your own shoes that had already begun to pinch at your toes. 

He laughed, waiting for you to finish and take his hand, leading you to the kitchen. 

Joel waited for you there, bent over a pot on the stove. Shirt completely unbuttoned, tie hanging around his neck. Shaking your head, you stepped up behind him to wrap your arms around his back, kissing his shoulder blade. 

“Who let you be in charge of dinner?” You teased, catching his eye as he turned around in your embrace to return it. 

“Say the word and we’ll order pizza,” he whispered back into your ear, lips lightly brushing it.

A tingle ran down your spine as you withdrew, sharing a secret smile and ignoring Morgan’s snort. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” you told him, leaning against a counter. 

A laugh bubbled up and out of you at Morgan’s subtle wince. “Dinner’s just about done, anyway. Guess we’ll find out,” he said, getting out a few plates. 

“So, what exactly is on the menu?” You questioned, unable to quite tell. 

Joel looked up at you, opening his mouth and closing it quickly. “You know,” he answered, hand bracing on the countertop, “I’m not sure if I can pronounce it right.”

Giggles flew out of you even as you felt a sense of apprehension take over. “This is gonna be good.”

Sharing a laugh, you got to work setting the table and bringing over the food, which you cautiously noted smelled somewhat decent. Not—not really entirely good, but decent.

“Not gonna lie,” Joel told both of you once everyone was seated with a plate, “Kinda scared to eat this.”

“You’re really not filling me with confidence here, babe,” you replied, getting a tiny forkful of food. 

“On three?” Morgan proposed. 

“On three,” you and Joel agreed. 

“One,” you started.

“Two,” Joel continued.

“Three.”

You shoved the food into your mouth, barely giving yourself a moment to reconsider. Slowly, you chewed, watching your boyfriends’ faces.

It seemed the general consensus was…not good. 

“I think we fucked up somewhere,” Joel swallowed loudly, grimacing.

“Oh, we definitely did,” Morgan agreed, pushing back his chair and standing. “I’ll get my phone.”

“Pizza?”

“Pizza.”

~

“We’re only here to get essentials,” Morgan reminded the two of you, grabbing a cart. 

You and Joel followed behind, hands swinging between your bodies. “Yea, totally,” you smiled, “Essentials.”

“Of course,” Joel nodded gravely, before turning to you and whispering, “We’re definitely getting the stuff for ice cream sundaes, right?”

Giggling, you nudged into him. “He said essentials, Joel. Obviously, we’re getting the stuff for ice cream sundaes.”

“I can hear both of you, you know,” Morgan called back, looking over his shoulder at the pair of you. 

You shot him a smile and blew him a kiss, knowing Joel was beside you doing something just as cheesy.

The next thing you knew, Joel was speeding up and dragging you along to catch up to your other boyfriend. “I’m getting in,” he dropped your hand, lifting a leg over the side of the cart. 

“No—Joel—oh my god,” Morgan tried to jerk the cart away, laughter spilling out of him.

“Joel, you’re not getting in the cart,” you shoved him, blissfully ignoring the stares coming from the old lady down the aisle. 

Joel pouted exaggeratedly, turning to face you. “Why not?”

In a quick motion, you propelled yourself into the cart. “Because I am!” Your giggles came out maniacal, joined with Joel’s bark of laughter and Morgan’s groan of disappointment. 

“Where’s the food gonna go?” Morgan asked, continuing to push the cart with you in it. 

“In the cart with Y/N,” Joel told him, bumping lightly into his shoulder with a grin. 

You pointed at Joel, agreeing. 

Morgan shook his head, that exasperated fondness prevalent on his face as he sighed and tried not to smile. “Fine,” he relented. 

~

“You know, that monkey kinda looks like you,” Morgan overheard you tell Joel as he paid for the cotton candy. 

“You’re such an ass,” Joel pushed you, laughing. 

“Speaking of asses,” Morgan said, coming up behind you and handing over the cotton candy, “Do you think they have donkeys here?”

You threw your head back with a loud laugh. 

“This is the zoo,” Joel replied, grabbing his hand, “...I actually don’t know. We should check.”

“In the whole zoo, you want to see donkeys?” You asked in bemusement, leaning into him. 

He shrugged, wrapping his unoccupied arm around you. “What can I say, I’m a man with taste.”

“Oh, for sure,” Joel retorted, snorting and squeezing his hand in his own.

~

Limbs tangled, you relaxed on the couch with your boys.

A book in one hand, you carded your fingers through Joel’s hair with the other. Sprawled across your lap as you rested against Morgan, he was the perfect image of relaxation. Rain pattered against the windows as a romcom played in the background, the volume just low enough to zone out. Morgan and Joel—okay, just Morgan, because you were pretty sure Joel was half asleep at this point—were watching, attention set on the tv.

All in all, an excellent night. 

~

Seeing your boys over the summer was difficult, but you made it work. You always did.

It was one of those incredibly rare days where you lounged about in the midsummer heat with them, Morgan and Joel taking a slight break from offseason training to just be together. It was nice, and it was quiet and exactly what you needed. 

You had made the mistake of putting on one of their thinner, more threadbare hoodies last night and the decision was catching up to you. You untangled yourself from the pile of limbs on the bed belonging to your two boyfriends, ignoring their cries of protest, and just barely managed to get up. 

First, you were gonna turn up the air conditioning, and then you were gonna take off this damn hoodie. 

Meandering over to the A/C, you accomplished one mission and moved on to the next one. Pulling the hoodie over your head, you felt your shirt slide up and refuse to separate from it. 

“Hey,” you heard Joel call from behind you, “Did you get a tattoo without telling us?”

Confused, you yanked the hoodie the rest of the way off and turned back to them. “No?” You answered, but it came out less sure than you would’ve liked. 

“I definitely saw something on your back,” Joel insisted, reaching over and swatting at Morgan to get his attention. 

“Hmm?” Morgan grumbled, switching sides to look at you. 

“Come here,” Joel beckoned, an action you reluctantly obeyed. His hand on your hip turned you to face away from him, your back in his line of sight.

You shivered, feeling his fingers glide across your skin as he lifted your shirt. In an instant, you felt his grasp waver, a choked gasp slamming out of him.

“Holy shit,” Morgan breathed, the bed creaking as he shot up. 

Spinning, you turned to face them, grabbing at your back. “What?” You demanded, terrified of their answer, “What it is?”

Adrenaline poured through your veins as Joel lifted his gaze, now wet with tears, to meet yours with a wide smile.

“It’s a soulmate tattoo,” he told you, standing up and cupping your face. His lips came down fast and hard to yours, the emotion behind the kiss slamming into you. 

You felt Morgan come to stand behind you, lifting your shirt to look. His fingers traced down your spine, almost reverently, sending shiver after shiver through your body. 

“Liar,” you croaked when you and Joel split, refusing to believe it. 

Joel shook his head with a disbelieving laugh, “I’m not. Go look in the mirror.”

You pulled away, making your way slowly to the mirror by the door, your boys close behind. You twisted around, craning your head as you pulled up your shirt. Your breath stilled to a halt when scrawled writing along your spine become visible out of the corner of your eye with every inch of skin shown. 

And there, once your shirt was all the way up, was an indisputable soulmate tattoo curving down your spine.

morgan frost ~ joel farabee

The names of your boys—your boys, you nearly cried—written in calligraphy on your body, separated only by three flowers. 

“Soulmates,” Morgan whispered, finger stilling on the flowers. 

Recognition sparked deep in your mind, a memory surfacing behind your eyes.

Your eyes lingered on the flowers lining the pathway, your mind trying futilely to identify which ones they wer—

“I know those flowers,” you mumbled, lips parting as you stared uncomprehendingly. 

Joel laughed a little, fingers running up and down your side. “I didn’t think you were into flowers.”

You shook your head, fixated and unable to look away. “No, I know those flowers. Asters. They were—”

“In the park by the cafe,” Morgan finished for you, catching on, “The day I bumped into you.”

“The day we met,” you said, smiling. “I was trying to figure out what kind they were, it’s why I was distracted. Why we—”

“Met,” Morgan gaped, a smile slowly spreading across his lips. 

You nodded, unable to talk just yet. The sight of those flowers, ones that you hadn’t really given any thought to after you had googled them one day after being curious. Flowers that were now imprinted on your body, a permanent reminder of everything you gained in such a relatively short amount of time.

To your side, you watched Joel take off his shirt and turn around, revealing flowing names down his spine separated by three dainty flowers. 

y/n ~ morgan frost

Morgan mirrored him on your other side and sure enough, there were your names in identical print and the same tiny three flowers. 

joel farabee ~ y/n

A perfect set.

~ fin ~

[mimisempai]

Wait for me on the other side 7/8

Summary:

Will we attend the long awaited meeting?

Notes:

Final stretch before the end... How are you doing?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32948254/chapters/82448716

Loki's apartment - 2021

I WANT TO MEET YOU!

FOR REAL THIS TIME!

Loki turned the drawing over, Mobius had added a few words to it.

Answer me after 6pm, I'll wait by the mailbox.

Loki looked at the clock, it was 5:15 p.m., he took his notepad and his pencil and left in a hurry towards the house on the cliff.

Arriving a few minutes after 6pm, he went to the mailbox, scribbled quickly on his notebook, tore out the page and after putting it in the box, he raised the flag.

It was lowered almost immediately, the start of another conversation punctuated by its movement.

Mobius House - 2019

Mobius was pacing around the box, avoiding looking at his watch every minute, wondering if he had frightened Loki with his request for a date, when the flag suddenly rose.

L -How?

M -Pick a place. I will be there. I promise. Tomorrow, what do you say?

L -Mobius. It's not tomorrow for you. You'll have to wait two years.

M -I don't care. I'll wait. Meet me at the restaurant tomorrow and I'll be there. I'll be two years older, but I'll be there.

L -What will you be doing all that time?

M -Think about you. And working out every day, getting in shape, praying I don't lose my hair...

L -Are you sure?

M -I've never been so sure of anything in my life. I've already lost so much time. I don't want to waste any more with you.

Loki suddenly felt almost dizzy. Mobius had two years to prepare for this appointment while Loki had less than twenty-four hours. He took a deep breath before closing the mailbox.

L - See you in two years, then.

M - See you tomorrow night. Where would you like to go?

Frigga  restaurant - 2019

Mobius entered the restaurant and was greeted by the hostess.

"Hi, I'd like to reserve a table for two."

She flipped through the reservation book before telling him in an apologetic tone, "Well, I'm sorry, but we just received our fourth star and I'm afraid it's extremely difficult to get a reservation at this hour. When did you expect to dine here?"

Mobius replied with a smile, "Two years from tomorrow. September 15, 2021."

The hostess blinked a few times and then closed the book, before answering with a big smile, "We should be able to accommodate you, sir."

Loki's apartment - September 15, 2021 - Morning

Loki prepared to leave for work. He looked at the outfit he prepared for that evening. He couldn't remember when he hadn't felt such excitement. He couldn't remember ever feeling this excited.

September High School - September 15, 2021 - 5pm

As he packed up his things after having finished his last class of the day, and was already looking forward to the evening ahead, he was jolted out of his reverie by Thor's stormy arrival in his office.

"Thank God you're still here."

"Obviously." replied Loki, pointing out with irony.

"I'm sorry, I know it's not your week, but can you do a detention watch for an hour? Jane is visiting between flights and I was supposed to monitor tonight's detention, but-"

Loki looked at his watch and sighed, "Yes, I can, but one hour not more. I have a date."

"Thank you, thank you! I promise, it's just an hour, no more. But I want to hear all about this date tomorrow, okay?"

Loki shook his head and chuckled, "Alright, alright, go meet Jane!"

Before leaving, Thor threw over his shoulder, "I don't know who that is, but I've never seen you smile like that before, Loki, and it suits you! Bye!"

He was gone before Loki had time to answer.

An hour later, Loki was walking quickly towards his apartment. He entered in a hurry, ran into the room and threw off his clothes.

Croki followed him around, curious, as Loki muttered, "He waited two years. What's another half hour? Right?"

He continued his preparations, but at a calmer pace. He put on a dark green v-neck sweater, of a shade that he knew brought out his eyes, at least that's what the saleswoman had told him, a pair of charcoal-colored pants that highlighted his silhouette. He looked at himself two or three times in the mirror before shrugging his shoulders.

A few minutes later, he left his building and took a cab to the restaurant.

Frigga Restaurant - September 2021

Loki stopped before entering. He inhaled several times to calm himself. He was ready, excited but confident. He opened the door with a firm hand.

While removing his coat, he scanned the room. There are not many tables. Before he could find Mobius, the hostess approached him.

"Good evening sir, can I help you?"

Loki cleared his throat, "Yes, I have a reservation. Laufeyson. Or Mobius, I'm not sure what name it was made under."

The hostess examined her book and looked up with a huge smile, "Oh yes! You're the..." she paused before pulling herself together, "Follow me."

Loki was led to a table for two. It was empty. He was a little surprised.

The hostess turned to him and said, a little embarrassed, "I hope you'll forgive me, but I can't help asking..."

"Yes?"

"This reservation is sort of... legendary. It's been here longer than most employees. There's always been intense speculation about who made it, and why, and whether you were really going to show up. Some of the team members even made bets..."

Loki looked around. Throughout the room, waiters were glaring at him. The chefs and kitchen helpers were looking out the kitchen door. Loki suddenly felt very embarrassed.

The hostess immediately apologized, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I'll send the waiter to get your drink order right away."

A little later a waiter returned and poured Loki a glass of champagne.

"Compliments of the chef."

Loki nodded in thanks.

Just before leaving, the waiter threw him a small smile, "Good luck."

Loki began to sip the champagne, a little more nervous.

Some time later, his glass was empty and he was still waiting, alone at the table. The waiter approached to refill his glass, but Loki stopped him.

He was aware that the restaurant staff was watching him, whispering among themselves. Two hours passed, other customers lingered over dessert, coffee, chatting intimately at the candlelit tables.

Loki was still alone.

After a long moment, he pushed back his chair and stood up. Everyone was looking at him, gravely.

He walked to the front, expressionless, and took his coat, without speaking to anyone before leaving under the sad look of the hostess watching him leave. Loki returned home, alone. His stoic facade began to crumble. He had tears in his eyes.

He took a paper and wanted to write but didn't have the heart. Not now.

House on the cliff - September 16, 2019

The day was gray and windy, Mobius stood in front of his mailbox and read the words "YOU WEREN'T THERE." He shook his head, lost.

M - I'm really sorry. I don't understand. Something must have happened. Look, I have two years. I'll try to fix it.

L -No, Mobius... You don't understand. It's too late. It's already happened.

I'm not upset. I mean, I was at first.

But now I just feel stupid... that I forgot how much a person's life can change in two years.

And for expecting yours not to change.

For expecting you to wait, to stand still, to put your life on hold, for me.

M - But I can do it. I can wait for you. I know I can. I won't forget.

L -Maybe you did. Maybe, wherever you are, you are busy, happy, and living so fully in the present that the dinner you planned two years ago just... slipped your mind. Just like you forget about impossible fantasies when they're over, when you get on with real life.

M - You mean I should go on with my real life?

L- I mean... I think we both should.

After seeing his words, Mobius hurried to answer, his hand trembling with emotion.

Please write to me, answer me.

Mobius put his letter in the mailbox and raised the flag. It stayed up.

An hour later, the flag was still up, Mobius opened the mailbox, there was only the note he had put in.

Hours, then days, then months passed, as Mobius wrote and posted letter after letter. Finally, there was a stack of his letters in the box. They continued to pile up, unanswered. Until the box was so full that Mobius could not put any more letters in.

Bi-Frost Bar - Février 2022

It was winter, everything outside was covered in snow.

Loki was sitting at a table with Bruce, Thor, Heimdall and Carol.

They were now meeting here at least once a week after work.

As Bruce and Carol debated some obscure point of astronomy, mediated by Heimdall, Thor leaned toward Loki and put his hand on his arm.

"Are you okay?"

Loki gave a half-smile and answered honestly because Thor was one of the few people who could read him, "I've been better."

"Are you still writing to your mysterious pen pal."

Loki, his throat tight, could not answer and shook his head.

Thor simply said, without insisting, "I'm sorry, Loki, if you need to talk, you know my phone number."

Loki did not answer.

Later, as he returned home, he found a message on his answering machine.

"Hi, Lo. It's Sigyn. I'm in town. I had to come in for a meeting."

Loki started to press the button to delete the message, when Sigyn's voice continued, "A real one this time. I swear to you. Call me. Only if you feel like it."

The next evening Loki and Sigyn were sitting in the pizzeria where they had met before. Neither of them really felt comfortable.

Sigyn said quietly, "I didn't think you'd come out."

Loki replied wryly, "Don't take this personally but..."

Sigyn interrupted him, "You couldn't say no to the free meal."

"Exactly." they both laughed.

Then Loki asked, "So. How did your ' meeting ' go?"

Sigyn looked slightly offended at the way Loki had emphasized the word meeting.

"I told you I didn't make it up, it really happened. They offered me a job.A bigger firm. I'm going to be in-house counsel." She smiled proudly before continuing, "Call them if you don't believe me."

A little later, they arrived in front of Loki's residence which was on the way to Sigyn's hotel. They stopped at the door.

Sigyn said quietly, "I took this job because I wanted to. This is not an ambush, Lo."

Loki nodded and replied softly, "Well, that's great news.  Congratulations, Sigyn. I'm really happy for you."

Sigyn smiled, "Thank you, and thank you for coming."

Loki leaned over and kissed her goodnight, briefly. Sigyn looked surprised and pleased.

Loki watched her, it was comfortable and familiar, but then his gaze slipped to the tree behind Sigyn. Its leaves swayed in the night air. It was the tree Mobius had planted. Loki looked at it, then closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, I'm sorry Sigyn, but I can't."

After a tearful goodbye, as he walked back up to his apartment, Loki muttered to himself, "I may not be able to meet him, but I can't lie to myself either."

Mobius House - 2020

The mailbox was covered with snow. It was so cold that the lake had frozen over. Mobius, who was walking outside, looked inside the mailbox, by reflex. It was empty. He closed it slowly, disappointment on his face.

Distracted, he didn't notice that Croki was walking away quickly, towards the forest.

Mobius finally looked around.

Croki started to run. Mobius chased him. But soon, in the density of the forest, he did not see him anymore. Mobius ran straight ahead, continuing to call. He tripped on a stump and fell into the snow, he got up and called again, looking around, upset. Croki was really gone.

Mobius was about to run again, when he suddenly stopped. A realization dawned on his face.

Croki was going to find his new owner.

Mobius knew what he had to do.

A few days later, he was talking in the living room with Casey.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Mobius replied with a wistful look on his face, "Yes, I need to move on, staying here, I won't make it."

Casey nodded, understanding and added simply, "If you need help, you can count on me."

A few weeks later, "Mobius packed the house methodically and with determination. He assembled boxes with tape and threw his things in. He put the trash in bags, swept and mopped.

As he was tidying up, he found the stack of letters from Loki. He looked at them for a moment, then packed them up and shoved them in the bottom of a cardboard box before carrying the box to the attic and sealing it.

Hill & Fury Law Firm - 2020

Mobius checked the address on his phone, walked in, and headed to the front desk.

"Hello, I'd like to speak to Sigyn Iwaldi, I don't have an appointment, but tell her it's Mobius and it's urgent."

A few minutes later, Sigyn arrived in the lobby, and motioned for him to follow her into an adjoining meeting room.  She barely greeted him and did not look happy to see him.

Mobius didn't wait and asked her point-blank, "Do you still want to rent a house by the lake?"

He didn't wait for an answer and tossed her a bunch of keys. Sigyn looked puzzled.

Mobius continued, "That's what Loki wants."

Sigyn looked angry and asked him abruptly, "How can you know that? How can you know what he wants? Besides, we're not even..."

Mobius shook his head, "I don't want to know anything, but trust me this is what he wants."

Mobius waited no longer and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Later, as Sigyn was opening her car, something caught her eye in the distance. An alligator was slowly strolling down the street, looking lost but heading straight for her. It was Croki.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

__________

I've said in the last chapter, as a reader I hate cliffhangers. So for you, I've put the turbo on and I'm just saying, stay tuned... you won't have to wait until tomorrow for the last chapter... maybe with only one comment on this chapter, I'll be convinced to publish it even sooner... 😏

[magniloquent-raven]

Number 73 "take mine" I'm thinking jacket sharing with Harringrove (either offering the jacket) if you have time!! 💖 💖

so. it’s not jacket sharing, i hope that’s okay!! and it’s actually a sequel to your first prompt? @bambixxblue and i were talking about a fix-it sequel where billy comes back and im weak for fix-its so i ended up with this. it’s. angsty. but also. soft? idk, i hope u like it anyway!!

basically the premise is billy and hopper were both in russia and had to break out together. posted on ao3

—-

Max turned seventeen three weeks ago. It’s hard to keep track of the days sometimes but Billy’s pretty sure he’s right. It’s hard to wrap his brain around Max being seventeen. When he pictures her in his head she’s still a bratty twelve-year-old with skinned knees who doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.

He tells Hop. Tells him about the birthdays he was there for, wonders about the ones he wasn’t. Cries a little too. Funny how easy it is to do that now. It used to be an ordeal, would burn and claw at him until he broke. He’s too exhausted for that nowadays, lets his tears fall unfettered and ignores the shame that still sneaks up on him when he does.

They have to be quiet, always afraid of being caught again. Billy’s constantly looking over his shoulder, jumping at shadows. It’s stupid to risk it, for something so trivial, but he can’t stop the words from spilling out.

“You miss her.” It’s not a question. Hop doesn’t ask that kind of shit, he just knows. Which is why Billy doesn’t respond. Doesn’t have to.

He pats Billy’s shoulder awkwardly. It’s the clumsy kind of affection a father is supposed to offer and it sets Billy off again, tears dripping down his nose and cutting streaks through the dirt smeared on his cheeks.

They’re holed up in an abandoned warehouse this time. Waiting. Always waiting. The plan is to stow away in the next cargo hold with enough space but in the meantime they’re fugitives, laying low wherever they can find empty, forgotten places.

Hop tells him about El while they wait. Billy’s heard most of his stories by now, but he listens anyway. Listens to the wobble in his voice as he talks about teaching El to read, hears the question under it all, about whether he’ll ever see her again.

Billy wishes he had an answer.

~~

The first time Billy set foot in Hawkins, Indiana, he was seventeen, angry and wanting nothing more than to be anywhere else.

It’s three days after his twenty-second birthday the second time. An icy December evening, dark and windy. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t eaten in two days. He’s a patchwork tapestry of scars that weren’t there before, a battered effigy of the person he used to be, cobbled together with scraps of what he could salvage.

Hawkins is the same unremarkable, rinky-dink town it always was. Seeing it again is a relief and a punch in the gut all at once. It’s all he’s wanted for three years, but it’s terrifying.

They end up in Loch Nora, of all places. The Byers’ old house was empty, and going too far into town is risky. 

It doesn’t feel real. Standing on Steve Harrington’s front porch, suddenly all too aware of the layer of sweat and grime on his skin. This place is too clean, too quiet. Peaceful, in a way that can’t be true.

Billy chews on his thumbnail, stands behind Hopper while he bangs on the door. There are no cars in the driveway, which means at the very least Steve’s parents won’t answer the door. But there’s no guarantee that Steve even lives here anymore.

He’s getting antsy, glancing around, heart pounding.

Then the door swings open.

Billy is seventeen, half-drunk and stinking like beer, colder than he’ll let on because fucking Indiana and its shitty weather, wiping the drool from his chin when he spots him across a room, already half in love by the time he’s clambered over a couch to get a closer look.

He blinks. He’s twenty-two, pale and shivering, thumbnail still between his teeth, and Steve Harrington’s doe eyes still make him weak in the knees.

Steve’s hair is longer, brushing his shoulders, but other than that he doesn’t look any different. Except that he isn’t looking at Billy with thinly veiled contempt or anger.

“Hey, kid.” Hopper says. “Gonna let us inside, or what?”

Steve is silent. Staring, lips parted. One hand still on the doorknob, the other slack at his side. He sways dangerously, and Billy tenses, prepared to catch him if he falls over. He doesn’t, but Billy’s still itching to touch him.

“Am I dreaming?” Steve blurts, looking dazed, unable to decide who to look at and ending up unfocused and hazy.

Yeah, it’s me, don’t cream your pants. The memory feels like someone else’s. A lifetime ago.

Billy bites down on his lip, battling an inexplicable, and slightly hysterical, urge to laugh.

“Dream about me often, Harrington?” Billy says, because apparently it takes more than nearly dying and spending three years as a fugitive to get over his inability to keep his mouth shut around pretty boys (or one in particular). Though now his voice comes out soft, quiet, betraying genuine sentiment. He’s not sure if that’s better or worse than the armor of taunts he used to cover that shit up with.

Probably worse.

Steve’s looking at him. Only him. Billy had almost forgotten how addictive that is. He watches Steve’s mouth open and close, tracks the way one corner curls up a little when he lets out a little disbelieving huff that isn’t quite a laugh. “More than you’d think,” he murmurs.

And Billy’s brain shuts off. There are a thousand questions stuck up there, but he can’t get a single one of them out because he’s too busy trying to get past, more than you’d think, echoing through his head in surround sound.

He’s startled out of his Steve-induced haze by Hopper’s pointed cough.

It seems like he’s not the only one, because Steve visibly flinches, “Right, shit,” he stammers, “Get—uh, get inside.” He ushers them in, glancing around, checking the street behind them.

The Harrington residence is one of those big fancy houses with more rooms than anyone could possibly need, but that means multiple bathrooms so Steve (as politely as possible) tells them they can both shower whenever they feel like it. And he fusses. A lot. All nervous hands clutching his elbows and teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek, eyes darting between Billy and Hopper like he’s sure they’ll vanish any second and never have been there at all.

Billy isn’t sure how to deal with it, so he avoids his eyes. Then misses looking at him.

An hour later they’re all in the kitchen. Billy keeps plucking at the sleeve of his borrowed sweatshirt, trying to keep calm. It’s too much, all at once. His skin feels raw, weird and tight. The overhead light is too bright, and the smell of Steve on everything is making him lightheaded. The soft detergent scent from his clothes, the shampoo Billy used when he showered (his hair is a lot longer than it used to be, it took forever to detangle it all).

Steve makes some calls. It’s late, too late to be calling people’s houses but he does it anyway.

Not long after, the front door bursts open.

Max is taller than he remembers. Rougher around the edges. Her hair is a choppy mess, auburn waves sticking out in every direction, curling around her ears, and there’s the sharp glimmer of silver in one lobe. She’s wearing a jean jacket with a torn elbow.

And she’s crying, messy and red-eyed, not bothering to wipe the snot from her nose.

“Where. The fuck. Have you been?” she sobs, shoulders shaking, and she practically trips forward in her hurry to throw her arms around Billy’s neck.

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Feels unsteady, like he’ll fall to pieces if he moves wrong.

“I’m here now,” is all he can manage. She doesn’t need to hear about military hospitals and Russian prisons, about being kept in a cell, wondering if he’d ever see sunlight again… She doesn’t need that right now. Hell, he’s not ready to talk about it. Might never be.

He hugs her back, torn between wanting to squeeze as hard as he can, make sure she’s real, and being terrified of breaking her.

She still uses that shitty coconut-scented soap, and that’s what shatters him. He’s crying into her shoulder, clutching the back of her jacket. He used to dwarf her, remembers her being tiny and fragile, despite her fierceness, yet now she’s supporting his weight while he buckles.

They’ve never actually hugged before, he realizes, and that realization opens a door he wishes he could’ve left closed a little longer.

Guilt. Like undertow, pulling him back to harsh reality, cold steel gripping his heart, weighing it down. He should’ve been better. Treated her better. And now she’s here, crying like she actually missed him, and he doesn’t deserve it.

He pulls away, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

She’s still looking at him, hands on his shoulders, a wobbly smile on her face.

Billy is overwhelmed again. It must show, because suddenly Steve is at Max’s side, eyes gentle and his soft mouth pinched in a frown, “Max. Maybe give him some space.”

She clenches her jaw, probably physically holding back an argument, and nods, stepping back despite the reluctance written all over her face.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says, barely louder than a whisper. Then he can’t stop himself from saying it, again and again, gaze fixed on the floor, tears still dripping down his chin. He has to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to finally stem the tide of apologies. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to will the world away.

“Billy.” Steve’s voice is soft. He has a nice voice, so Billy focuses on it, through all the angry buzzing in his ears. “Billy, I need you to nod if you’re listening.” He doesn’t want to, he wants to curl up and fucking die, anything but be a person right now because everything hurts and there isn’t enough air in this room and— “Billy?”

He bows his head, twitches, it’s barely a nod but it’s all he’s got.

“Okay, good. Can I touch your hand?”

Billy’s heart stutters, aches. He’s having a hard time concentrating through the burn in the back of his throat, the static drowning out his thoughts. He nods again.

Steve’s fingers are gentle, pulling Billy’s hand from where it had tangled in his hair. He hadn’t noticed the fingernails digging into his scalp until Steve took one of his hands away. It ends up pressed against something warm, soft material under his fingers, moving slow—oh. His hand is on Steve’s chest.

“Can you breathe with me? Concentrate on me, okay?”

He does.

Steve’s cradling his hand. He’s got callouses along the top of his palm, barely there but present. He’s breathing deep, calm and steady. But despite his outward demeanour his heart is racing, Billy can feel it through his shirt. He curls his fingers into the sensation, fingertips digging in as far as he can push them.

Billy almost forgets to breathe he’s so fixated on Steve’s heartbeat.

It does its job either way though, because exhaustion is starting to hit him as the static recedes. He sags, relaxes. Every muscle in his body feels leaden.

He opens his eyes, squints against the sudden light.

He’s almost afraid to look up. Afraid of being judged, of triggering another episode, so fucking terrified, all the time—

“Billy?”

His fingers twitch reflexively, tightening his grip on Steve’s polo.

“You good?” His voice is still so soft, and so close it hurts.

It takes several long moments for Billy to collect himself. Then he looks up.

Max is hovering, standing behind Steve with wide eyes, her worry palpable. Hopper looks grim, but then again, he kind of always does. He’s a respectable distance away, watching. And Steve… Steve is right there still, holding Billy’s hand and looking at him like he cares, doe eyes shining, fixed on Billy’s face.

“I’m okay,” Billy says, voice rough. He sounds like hell, but they all visibly relax anyway.

The room is silent for too long after that. It feels tense in a distant way, like it would be awkward if Billy had the energy to care, was awake enough to feel anything but vaguely fuzzy. He’s still got a handful of shirt and doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon. Steve’s the only thing keeping him upright, and he hasn’t let go either.

“Did… did I do something wrong?” Max asks, her voice is small and tremulous and cuts right through Billy.

“No!” he’s quick to cut in, “No. Max. It’s…” Billy trembles, stutters to a stop. He has no idea how to explain, even to himself, let alone Max. Steve squeezes his hand. His stomach flips. “It’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t look like she believes him, but she doesn’t argue. He wishes he could make it better, but he’s got no idea how.

“We should all get some sleep,” Steve says.

And that’s that. His tone brooks no argument, even in a room full of stubborn assholes. Apparently, the past few years have given Steve time to hone his babysitting skills. Or maybe they’re all just as exhausted as Billy is.

There’s some squabbling about sleeping arrangements though.

Everyone insists Hopper take the master bedroom, Steve says his parents won’t know or care, his old friends did worse than sleep in that bed. They all poke at him until he relents and trudges off, bidding them a quiet goodnight.

Then Billy says he’ll take the couch and both Steve and Max yell at him.

Billy rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, guys,” he mutters. He’s not about to make Max sleep on the weird little couch (he’s done enough to her already) and putting Steve out in his own house would be shitty. “It’s not like I haven’t slept on worse.” He winces as he says it, realizing as the words come out of his mouth that it’s probably the wrong thing to say. It was meant as a reassurance, that he would in fact be fine with the couch, because at least it’s clean and warm, but all it does is make Max look sad and put a little wrinkle between Steve’s eyebrows.

“I’ve slept on this couch before,” Max says, a stubborn tilt to her jaw, “I’ll take it.”

Steve scoffs at that, “You complain every time you have to sleep on that couch, Max. Take the guest bed. Billy can take mine.” His fingers tense when he says it, and Billy realizes they’re still holding hands. His hand slipped from Steve’s shirt while they were bullying Hopper into taking the master suite, but Steve has yet to let go.

And… suddenly he wants nothing more than to sleep in Steve’s bed. But. “Only if you come with me,” he blurts.

Which is really not how he should have said that, but it’s out there now.

“Oh my god,” he hears Max mutter.

His whole head feels like it’s on fire. “Shit. I—I mean—”

“Okay,” Steve says hurriedly, then clears his throat, “Yeah. That. That works. Uh. Okay.” He’s glancing at Max awkwardly, nervous, but she just rolls her eyes. Billy barely notices her do it, too busy looking at Steve, his heart hammering.

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m—” It’s her turn to look uncertain, but it’s only for a second. “Me and El are dating. We’ve been trying to figure out how to tell everyone, and—yeah. Anyway. I’m not going to judge you, or whatever.”

Well, that was not at all what Billy was expecting. He takes a moment to worry about both of them, be terrified of what would happen to them if someone found out. Then he remembers that El can kill people with her brain and Max once threatened to castrate him with a spiked bat. The knot of anxiety doesn’t dissipate but he’s freaking out less.

“How long has that been going on?” Steve asks, sounding more bemused than anything.

Max turns pink, and it’s kind of fascinating to watch. She’s flustered. That’s adorable. “Since, um. Since April.”

“Happy for you, kid,” Billy says. And he means it. He barely knows El, in theory, but really. The kid’s been in his head. He could recite every story Hopper’s told him about her from memory. He died protecting her.

He knows her well enough to know she’s good for Max, and he loves Max enough to want her to have good things.

She grins, bright and real. Billy’s fairly certain he’s never seen her that happy before, and his heart clenches.

“I’m not sure who I’m supposed to give the shovel talk to here,” Steve says, more to himself than anything.

Billy snickers, and tugs on Steve’s hand, “Like you could take either of them.”

Steve steps closer, looking faux-offended, “I’ll have you know I won a fight once.”

“Yeah, three years ago. You’re a has-been, Harrington,” Max chimes in.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I’m seventeen, dingus.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

He missed them so much. Missed something he, if he’s being honest with himself, never really had in the first place. They both hated his guts before, and he… he was a mess. Still is. Just a different kind now. But being here, being part of this, is something he always on some level wanted and…

“Oh my god, Billy, are you okay?” Max asks, concern bleeding into her voice.

He’s crying again, smiles through the tears. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

[transkholins]

hey uh, throwback to 2019 when i made a rand fanmix. posting it because it can't hurt, but note that the track descriptions and song choices are all unedited.

. BLACKOUT — frank turner

but it’s not enough anymore

we can’t turn just around and close the door on the world

it’s asking uneasy questions

this one’s for winternight and the eye of the world. it’s the start of the world going to hell and being overwhelmed by the shadow (“are you afraid of the darkness?”), and it’s essentially rand against the world. he can’t just walk away from it— his house is attacked by trollocs, and the only option he has is to go with moiraine. he doesn’t really know what he’s up against, only that he’s up against something bad.

. HERO — family of the year

let me go

I don’t wanna be your hero

I don’t wanna be a big man

I just wanna fight with everyone else

this song’s all about not wanting to be a part of something big, just wanting a simple and easy life. at the beginning of the great hunt, rand really does not want to be the dragon reborn— I mean, who would? but it’s a role that he’s forced into, nonetheless. at his heart, he’s just a farmboy who wants to go home. moiraine kind of forces his destiny on him, not letting him postpone it or shove it aside. but at this point, he just doesn’t want to be a hero. the song itself is very soft (and acoustic to boot), which I think nicely represents the simple life that rand wants.

. UNUSUAL — typhoon

get your pitchforks out

the crowd is coming and they’ve named you

why, gentle mother, must you wring your hands and weep?

tide brings you a sword, sword will cut you free

dead demands a tribute in the hour of our need

blood be the river to wash the ledgers clean

oh, it took so much self-restraint to not put more than two songs from this album on this playlist. offerings is just so good AND highly existential, so if you’re wanting more sad rand hours, go listen to it. I think this song best fits rand’s start of really being the dragon reborn, around (you guessed it) the dragon reborn. the world is kind of a mess, and he doesn’t really know what to do, so he just does what he thinks he should do. he’s chosen by the pattern— the world demanded a dragon to save the world, and he was the unlucky soul born on the slopes of dragonmount. you know, his blood on the rocks of shayol ghul and all that. this song, like the one preceding it, is softer— rand hasn’t hardened himself like he will in later books. however, around halfway through, it gets louder and brings in more drums. tdr is the start of rand’s transition from farmboy to dragon reborn, in both good ways and bad.

. KIDS — mgmt

we like to watch you laughing

picking insects off of plants

no time to think of consequences

this song focuses a lot on the idea of self-control/self-restraint— not doing more than you have to, good or bad. it reminds me a lot of rand’s earlier experiences with channeling and being ta’veren. saidin is dangerous, what with the taint and all, and drawing too much of either half of the one power has severe consequences. he’s not as in control of his ta’veren-ness as he will be in later books— like his channelling, it’s a bit all over the place. the quote at the beginning of the music video (it’s friedrich nietzsche, not mark twain, but whatever) also ties in with this idea— if you’re not careful, you can become the very thing you were fighting against.

. LOUDER THAN EVER — cold war kids

I was carrying my cheek

I was digging my strange

I was taking you for granted

you were holding the reins

but I can hear you louder than ever

whisper to me, help me remember

I can’t see you but we’re still together

I can hear you louder than ever

moiraine’s “death” is a tipping point for rand— he feels like he could’ve prevented it, even though moiraine literally tells him that he couldn’t, and that what happened was the best possible outcome. after she passes through the portal, rand realizes that he took her presence for granted. her advice was good, if often unwelcome, and after her death rand just ends up going off the rails in so many different ways. when she returns in a memory of light, he realizes how helpful she was to him.

. SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT WITH ME — cold war kids

something is not right with me!

something is not right with me!

something is not right with me!

I’m trying not to let it show

the taint on saidin is just really like that, huh? rand can tell that something’s wrong, with lews therin’s voice in his head. the thing is, he doesn’t let anyone know because he’s 1) scared of showing weakness and 2) sane people don’t normally hear voices. this song is fast, but not in an upbeat way— it feels chaotic, panicked, and just barely in control. the singer is almost shouting the lyrics instead of singing them, contributing to that feeling. I think it embodies most male channellers’ experiences with the taint— it isn’t smooth or calm like saidar, it’s a raging river of fire.

. DREAMS OF CANNIBALISM — typhoon

unhand me, I am not a criminal

but I’ve played a guilty part

in the modern sense that one pretends their life is original

I wrote a book and I will call it something cynical

the story’s slow, the hero does not change

and if he can, then he won’t anyway

instead his foes and lovers all become identical

this song ends with the line “soon enough you will be dancing at my funeral,” and I can’t come up with something that encompasses rand-as-the-dragon more. people are terrified of him— hell, even he’s terrified of him. the world doesn’t want a dragon, but they got one anyways. the second set of verses above is a more textual examination of rand at this point— a crown of swords through crossroads of twilight is incredibly slow, and rand doesn’t change much throughout those books (hence why this song covers 4 books). he could make a change in his life if he tried, but he doesn’t, since he thinks he needs to shut others out to protect them. the whole song seems to be conveying the idea of being stuck and not going anywhere, but running from yourself, which, to be fair, is very close to what rand experiences in his own head in these books.

. GHOSTS THAT WE KNEW — mumford and sons

so lead me back

turn south from that place

and close my eyes to my recent disgrace

so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light

’cause oh, that gave me such a fright

but I will hold on as long as you like

just promise me we’ll be alright

I picked a soft song for the softer scene in the gathering storm where min and rand are talking about how cold he’s become. he realizes that he doesn’t have to fake an uncaring and unemotional nature— to be human is to feel, and it’s not bad to be human. the song is about going through something that’s wearing you down (a common interpretation is depression), and knowing that you have someone helping you through it. min sticks with rand during almost everything that happens from lord of chaos to the end of the series. she’s a support for him, and too stubborn to ever leave him, no matter what.

. DARKER — typhoon

I tried, you know, just to toe the line

love all the neighbors and live in the light

sure, I stumbled sometimes

self-contained; a convenient lie

every source of pain, every sting of pride

had to come from the outside

you won’t even fight me fair

wait for the darkness, catch me unaware

yeah, you pull me close

then you twist the knife

of course, that happy, warm feeling can’t last, because that scene is followed by semirhage being sadistic and deciding that now is the perfect time to use this new torture device. because of that, rand ends up shutting himself off even more than before. he’s suspicious and cruel, and thinks only for himself. it’s scary, frankly. darker, like all the songs on the album that it’s from, is very existential, though this song is, fittingly, darker than the others. it’s filled with the sense of impending death and strong suspicion that characterizes rand at this point in his life. he tried to open up, and look where it got him. this quick change is mirrored by the sharp musical contrast between the quiet, acoustic ‘ghosts that we knew’ and and the more drum-heavy, electric, and distorted ‘darker.’

. MOUNTAIN AT MY GATES — foals

I see a mountain in my way

it’s looming larger by the day

I see a darkness in my fate

I’ll drive my car without the brakes

through lanes and stone rows

black granite, wind blows

fire lake and far flame

go now but come again

dark clouds gather ’round

will I run or stand my ground

oh, when I come to climb

show me the mountain so far behind

yeah, it’s farther away

its shadow gets smaller day after day

the obvious scene for this song is the events leading up to rand’s epiphany on dragonmount. I mean, ‘mountain’ is in the song’s name. I think that this song works well to represent the weight and lack of direction he feels in the days building up to that. something that works especially well about this song is how it builds, both lyrically and musically. the song starts with a hopeless and dark tone to the lyrics, and stays that way for a while. the bridge (second set of lyrics above) is where the tone starts to change. the bridge also uses a lot of imagery that one can tie to the buildup— the streets of ebou dar, the rocky and windy peak of dragonmount, the belly of fire in the mountain itself and tar valon, the city that the peak looks over. the song then crescendos into its final segment, where the singer sings “give me my way/give me my love/give me my choice/give me my fate/give me my lungs/give me my voice.” to me, these represent rand’s realization that the reason the wheel keeps turning is so that people can live again and love again.

. COLORFUL — jukebox the ghost

we're just getting started

take your fears and let them go

for the lovers and the broken-hearted

I! love! this! song! I haven’t found another song that captures that feeling of hope in darkness: when everything around you has gone to hell, but you keep going because the darkness isn’t all there is. that’s how veins of gold ends— with rand realizing that there’s something worth fighting and living for. the gathering storm literally ends with rand laughing without bitterness for the first time in months, if not years— he’s finally looking on the bright side of life again.

. BEAUTIFUL LIFE — the collection

you do not have to be good

even the best of us have been misunderstood

so get up onto your feet

the sun is shining repentance through the leaves

its rays will wash you clean

this one’s for the end of a memory of light, when rand decides to leave and live the rest of his life on his terms. he wants to explore the world, without the pressure of his past and who he was weighing on him. he has a chance to slow down and appreciate this “beautiful life,” instead of rushing through it towards tarmon gai’don. and that’s what this song is about, i think. it’s not super peppy, and neither is rand at this point. it’s more of a quiet and peaceful acceptance.

. ALL THESE THINGS THAT I’VE DONE — the killers

I wanna stand up, I wanna let go

you know, you know, no, you don’t, you don’t

I wanna shine on in the hearts of men

I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand

over and in, last call for sin

while everyone’s lost, the battle is won

with all these things that I’ve done

first of all, the wheel of time series takes place over the span of two years, and rand does so much within that time. within this playlist, I don’t think of this song as an ending, rather a summary of rand’s life through the books. I specifically want to talk about the iconic refrain of “I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier.” it serves as a bookend to rand’s arc as a character— initially he refuses his role as the dragon reborn (even though he’s suited for it, due to his heritage and upbringing) because he doesn’t want to fight in that way. during the bulk of the series, he embraces a role as a fighter, even though he doesn’t have the soul for it. and finally, he realizes that he isn’t a weapon, and that he never was. on another note, the line “these changes ain’t changing me/that cold-hearted boy I used to be” hits a bit too close to his character.

[whatsseobb]

Something Old, Something New (Crystal x Gigi Fanfic) - Chapter 7

AO3 Link

[A/N: I am really sorry it took a very long time to post this one. I got caught up with a lot of stuff but I am trying to write and post as much chapters as I can in the next weeks. Thank you for all your support and for patiently waiting for this story.]

Synopsis: Crystal finds an enchanting jewelry box from the antique shop. Day by day, she discovers different journal entries hidden inside the box. Where is it coming from? What exactly is the music box? Most importantly, who is G?

Chapter Seven  – The Two of Us

Surrounded by green grass, Crystal walked around the meadow. She let her hand down, touching the beautiful flowers she saw. As she walked around, she saw a tree with a picnic cloth underneath it. As she walked closer, she saw a figure sitting by the picnic area. It was a scarlet-haired girl, the same girl she saw a few days back. The girl had a slightly chiseled jaw, her hair wrapping her face as the wind blew. Her almond eyes were looking down at a piece of paper she was reading. As she lifted her face, Crystal saw her button nose, perfectly positioned in the middle of her face. The teenager walked closer to her. She noticed the girl holding a small piece of paper which looked like a photo of two girls smiling. Crystal approached slowly.

“Uhm, hi.” She greeted softly, showing a small smile on her face. The girl looked up and Crystal saw her face clearly. She knew that face but could not pinpoint where she might have seen it before.

“Hello Crystal. I have been waiting for you.” The girl replied with a big grin plastered on her face.

 A loud ringing from her phone went off, waking Crystal up. She realized she was still on her vanity table as she fell asleep while looking at her drawing of Gigi and her. She checked her phone and saw a missed call from her friends.

As she put down her phone, she caught a glimpse of the drawing by her mirror. She looked at it intently and her dream came to mind. She immediately grabbed a sheet of paper and wrote down to Gigi.

Crystal went to her bed and wrapped her arms around a pillow. She can’t stop thinking about the weird dream she had. Somehow, the girl from the dream reminded her of someone. She reminded her of Gigi. It fit the description of how she looked like in one of Gigi’s letters. She felt eerie at that thought and decided to just close her eyes and go back to dreamland.

The next morning, Crystal excitedly opened the music box. She saw a newly arrived letter inside, smiling as she read Gigi’s reply.

Reading Gigi’s reply mesmerized and stunned Crystal. It was peculiar, having the same dream. What does this mean? She thought to herself as she read the girl’s letter again. She would glance at the picture she drew from time to time, staring at her drawing and remembering the scarlet-haired girl in her dreams.

It was a windy Thursday afternoon. Crystal was able to finish her classes early that day and so she decided to pass by the thrift shop. It had been a long time since she came by and that afternoon, she just had the urge to visit. She looked around and saw Jackie by the corner, putting out some items from a box.

“Hey!” She greeted as she approached the owner. A wide smile flashed on Jackie’s face as she saw her visitor.

“Ms. Crystal, it has been so long. How have you been? I suppose you got a little busy.”

“Oh, yeah. There were just a lot of requirements to accomplish for school. Got anything new today?” Crystal walked around the small shop, scanning the new blouses on the racks.

“Yeah, I also got new coats at the back in case you need some for winter.”

Crystal then proceeded to walk to the other end of the shop were the artworks were placed. A riveting painting caught her eyes. It was a portrait of a girl smiling while looking down. The curly locks almost covered her face, except her eyes and her smile. The painting put a small beam on Crystal’s lips, for some reasons it just made her happy. The artwork was really mesmerizing to look at.

The teenager moved closer, staring at the painting. The strokes were really good and the colors the artist chose was exquisite. She noticed a writing at the lower corner of the painting. She saw a letter C written on it with the year ’59 beside a signature. She let her fingers run through the written words before going back to looking at the portrait.

“Would you like to buy that, Crystal?” A voice broke the silence as the owner walked closer to the teenage girl. The girl shook her head, offering a faint smile.

“Maybe next time. It’s a very pretty painting, though. The painter got some amazing skills.”

  That night, Crystal was tailoring some clothes she just bought from the thrift shop when she heard the jewelry box started playing its soft tunes. It immediately put a smile on her face as she knew that Gigi sent her a letter. She excitedly hurried towards her vanity and opened the box.

Crystal was once again surrounded by green grass, the breeze blew past her. She walked towards a familiar-looking tree. Just then, a flowing skirt from behind the tree caught her attention. She walked towards it and saw the same scarlet-haired girl standing while facing a canvas.

“Hey.” With a nervous feeling, Crystal greeted the girl first.

“We meet again.” A delighted beam flashed on the girl’s face as she glanced at Crystal.

“What are you painting?” Crystal nudged her head towards the canvas. She moved closer to the girl as she waited for her reply. The other girl looked at her once more, making Crystal feel more comfortable with the stranger. There was just something in her eyes that felt safe for Crystal. It was as if they were not strangers at all.

“I was just painting the grass. I have no subject yet.” She picked up a brush and tapped it on her palette, looking around.

“Well, what inspires you? Right now.”

“Hmm… No idea. Wait, I want to give you something, Crys.” The scarlet-haired girl dug her hand inside her pocket before handing a folded paper to Crystal. As Crystal opened it, a pleased look covered her face. It showed a small sketch of Gigi and her, the scarlet-haired girl laying her head down Crystal’s lap. It was a delicate drawing and it put a huge smile on the teenager’s face.

“Wow, did you make this?” The other girl nodded, smiling back at her. The curly-haired girl continued to look at the picture. On the other hand, Gigi got herself busy with the paint brush as she painted her subject.

 The morning came and Crystal woke up to the music from the magical box. She opened it happily and read Gigi’s letter.

The letter from Gigi confirmed that last night’s dream was no ordinary dream. They met once more. Even if it was through that, Crystal did enjoy their time together. The dream was vivid and clear, even to her memories, as if it really happened on her conscious reality.

[A/N: Really, thank you for waiting patiently. I apologize for not updating for a long time. I hope you liked this chapter. Enjoy!]

[jovialyouthmusic]

Kiss from a Rose

A Valentine’s Day adventure

Pairing - Bastien Lykel and Sophia Turner from my TRR AU of Protect and Serve and Silver Service. 

This is a three part fic, the final chapter will be posted on Valentine’s day. Exceptionally fluffy with a good dose of smut in the final chapter - so 

NO UNDER 18s PLEASE

This chapter features my good Tumblr friend @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria​ or Erin, as it’s set in her home city, Edinburgh, which I visit regularly. Many thanks to her for letting me know the trendy places to go. I hope you enjoy it, darling xx

If you haven’t read any previous works with Sophia and Bastien, all you need to know is that this takes place after Anton has been on trial and locked away. Riley ended up with Drake and Liam is involved loosely with Olivia. Sophia is a member of staff at the Royal Palace in Cordonia who joined shortly before the social season that Riley took part in. She is English and the devoted LI of head of the King’s Guard Bastien Lykel. 

Word Count 4027

1 Athens of the North

‘What do you mean, you’ll be passing over us?’ Sophia’s mother’s voice was shrill at the other end of the phone line. ‘Are you flying in the Royal Jet?’ Sophia squeezed the bridge of her nose.

‘It’s okay Mum, don’t get so excited. King Liam will be visiting Queen Elizabeth at Holyrood later this year, and Bastien has to go over to liaise with her security team. I’m going with him – and yes, it will be in the Royal Jet so I’ll be in Edinburgh next week. I’m sorry we won’t be able to stop off and see you, time is tight - but if you want to fly up…’

‘Me, fly again?’ her mother’s voice was still shrill ‘I still haven’t got over that ghastly flight over the Alps in December’ Sophia groaned. Her mother was not a good traveller at the best of times, and Christmas time had not been a good choice. Her father had told her of the turbulence they had encountered on the way back, which made her mother fear another trip.

‘Well never mind, perhaps we can come and visit you later in the year’ Sophia sighed. Bastien frowned at her and tapped his wrist. ‘I’m sorry Mum, I have to go. Give my love to Dad – yes – love you lots – bye…’ She dropped her head in frustration.

‘I’m sorry theá mou, that didn’t sound harmonious’ Bastien said

‘No, she’s still going on about the flight back last time’ Sophia sighed ‘But it does mean we’ll have some time to ourselves in Edinburgh’ In the back of her mind she wondered what might be on the itinerary, as they would be there for Valentine’s day. She didn’t presume that her lover would do anything to celebrate it as he would be working a lot of the time, but she knew he never missed an opportunity to make her feel special. He walked over and drew her into his arms.

‘I’m sorry Sophia, I don’t know how much time I’ll have to spend with you’ he replied.

‘It’s fine, Erin and I can catch up. It will be good to see her again, and I can see my friend Les too’

She knew the city well, having spent some time researching for her college thesis in the library there and taking a job later on in her career. It would be cold compared to Cordonia, and possibly wet and windy, but you never could tell with British weather. They might be lucky and hit a mild spell, or it could very well feel like all four seasons in one day. The city wasn’t big, and a shopping trip or a tour of Art galleries were both possible in bad conditions. She was excited to be going back there with Bastien and her friends.

------

Sophia settled down into the plush leather seat and buckled herself in. It was her first time on the royal jet, and she was delighted to have so much space. Bastien sat facing her, and Drake and Riley had seats on the other side of the aisle. They would be staying in Edinburgh at a different hotel before carrying on to a regular flight to New York afterwards. It was the day before Valentine’s Day.

‘This is rather special’ she smiled, and Bastien squeezed her hand. She was not a nervous flyer, and looked forward to looking out at the view when they took off.

‘I barely travel on regular flights’ Bastien said ‘I must admit it’s good not to have to queue or check your bags in, and to have plenty of leg space.’

Happily, a plane journey with Bastien was more pleasant than a road trip. He pointed out various landmarks as they flew toward the English Channel, when she was thrilled to fly over the island where her parents still lived, and on which she grew up. After that it was Sophia who pointed things of significance out to the other three. Bastien smiled to see her so excited to be visiting her home country. She had been born in the Midlands and she and her parents had moved to the tiny island in the English channel when she was little. She had gone to university in the north of England, and worked in Scotland before she had applied for the job in Cordonia. Despite the length of the journey, it didn’t seem long before they were taxiing along the runway. They were only a short tram ride away from the city centre, but they took a taxi which dropped Drake and Riley off at their hotel on Regent’s Terrace before taking Bastien and Sophia to the prestigious Balmoral Hotel right in the centre of the city on the main thoroughfare, Princes Street.

Bastien would be visiting the palace the next day to liaise with his counterpart there, but they had the afternoon and evening to settle into their hotel and perhaps do a little sightseeing. The car drew into a service entrance before they could get out, and their luggage was whisked away to their rooms while they checked in at reception. Sophia was delighted with their suite, which looked out over the famous Edinburgh Castle and along Princes Street, taking in the tall monument to Sir Walter Scott, famous writer of many books in his time. They had their own lounge as well as a huge bathroom with a walk in shower and corner bathtub.

As soon as the door had closed, Sophia flung her arms around Bastien’s neck for a passionate kiss.

‘My goddess’ he smiled as they stopped for air ‘I feel you’re very eager to put me through my paces’

‘We didn’t manage to join the mile high club’ she said in a sultry tone ‘So the least you can do is make love to me in a five star hotel with a stunning view of a historic landmark or two’

‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure’ he growled, loosening his tie.

------

Sophia had a glow and a spring in her step as she and Bastien made their way up the steep steps of Calton Hill which overlooked the city and held the famous national monument, observatory and Nelson’s Tower. The observatory at the very top had been developed recently and featured a new restaurant with extensive views through a huge ninety degree picture window, and Bastien had booked a table for the two of them.

Sophia caught onto Bastien’s arm as he negotiated the steps with his cane, but it was more to offer support if he needed it than to drag at him. He smiled, knowing her little trick and appreciating how caring she was. The higher they went, the more his thigh ached, but it was not challenging enough to slow him down much. He believed it was improving, and were he to come in a year’s time, he might make it to the top without any discomfort.

They were soon sitting overlooking the lights of the city as the light faded. The sun had set quietly and without spectacle. The hill was very popular with tourists and photographers alike, and many a photo had been taken and posted online and shared around the world. Perhaps the morning would bring colour in the sky, or the next afternoon – as it was February the sun would set in the late afternoon and rise around eight in the morning, so it wasn’t challenging to try and catch a spectacular shot.

‘This place was more or less derelict when I worked here’ Sophia explained to Bastien. ‘This is such an improvement. I’m looking forward to seeing inside the observatory in the morning.’ Bastien was reading the menu, and she reached toward him over the table. He took her hand without even looking away from the menu. Her eyes prickled, her heart skipped a beat and she squeezed his fingers. He looked over at her, puzzled.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘I love you, Bastien Lykel’ she said softly. She picked his hand up and kissed it and he responded by taking hers and drawing it to his chest.

‘And I you – with all my heart, my goddess’ he affirmed. They smiled fondly, lost in each other’s gaze for a few moments.

‘Sir, Madam, are you ready to order?’ Sophia jumped as the waiter spoke. She wondered how long he had been standing waiting for them to notice him. She had barely skimmed the menu, but Bastien had it all under control

‘We’ll have a bottle of champagne – the Veuve Cliquot - and the tasting menu’ he said. The waiter nodded and turned away. ‘The tasting menu has a small portion of everything to try’ Bastien explained in a low voice. ‘The couple on the table in the corner have it – the portions aren’t over generous but I’m sure you won’t mind that’ His eyes sparked, and she coloured, knowing that he wasn’t talking about sating just one appetite. She rarely over ate because it meant less opportunity to make love – a full belly was not compatible with their libidos.

‘I don’t know’ she said in a low tone ‘we need to keep our strength up’ Underneath the table she stretched out her leg and rubbed his ankle with her foot.

‘Room service is available twenty four hours’ he rumbled, leaning toward her. At that point the waiter arrived with the champagne and poured a little for Bastien to test, and he leaned back in his chair.

‘For the lady too?’ the waiter asked when the guard looked up at him and frowned slightly. He nodded and poured a little for her too. There was a flash of amusement in Bastien’s eyes as they both sipped.

‘What do you think, my sweet?’ he asked, and she furrowed her brow, pausing for a moment as she kept the wine in her mouth and rolled it around. She wasn’t sure if it was the correct procedure for champagne, but she hoped her bluff convinced the waiter. She swallowed, making a face of approval. She certainly wasn’t about to spit it out as she had seen some doing. Casting her mind back, she remembered Riley had lessons in wine tasting with the Beaumonts back when she was representing them in the social season. She resolved to ask her about it later.

‘Acceptable’ she nodded gravely, and the waiter poured more for both of them before leaving them to drink it. The main feature of the menu was that every ingredient was locally sourced, and it made for a very interesting range of dishes. Before long, the starters arrived – three small plates bearing food, and an empty plate each to sample the dishes. The waiter described the dishes for them, and instead of serving any of it out onto their plates, Bastien gave her a little to taste. There was a dish of trout with an accompanying relish, one of artichoke, ricotta and hazelnuts, and one of raw beef with wild garlic. She decided she liked the trout best and the beef least, so Bastien served her a little of the beef, halved the artichoke dish, and gave her most of the trout.

The food was not over generous as Bastien had said, but what it lacked in quantity it more than made up for in taste and texture. Sophia rolled her eyes and curled her toes at the delicately balanced flavours. Bastien looked at her in amusement.

‘What is it?’ she asked. His eyes flashed with amusement as he leaned closer to speak quietly.

‘You made that face only a couple of hours ago in our hotel suite’ Her eyes widened.

‘You mean – that’s my…’ she stopped ‘I make that expression when I…’ Bastien was trying hard not to laugh out loud, but he was very amused as his goddess flushed red. ‘You’re teasing me’ she hissed, but he shook his head and put his hand on his heart.

‘I speak the truth’ he whispered, and Sophia huffed.

‘Well you taste it’ she said, slightly miffed. Bastien was still trying not to laugh, but he took a small mouthful, rolling his eyes and mimicking her expression. She kicked him under the table, making sure it was his ‘good’ leg.

‘Just like that’ he teased. He gathered himself together ‘I’m sorry Sophia’ he said ‘Truly, it’s not exactly the same, but it is very similar’ She scowled a little, and he reached across the table to take her hand ‘It’s wonderful’ he said ‘I love that face. It means you’re happy, and if you’re happy, so am I’ Sophia tilted her head to the side, her expression softening a little.

‘Okay, I’ll consider forgiving you for laughing at me’ she said reluctantly. The waiter reappeared to clear their plates away, and it wasn’t long before the main course came. This time the options were scallops, crab and langoustine, and wild duck. Sophia was pleased at the selection of seafood, and this time Bastien just split each dish evenly. At the first taste, Sophia rolled her eyes again, but this time she exaggerated it, and under the table she slipped her shoe off and rubbed Bastien’s ankle. She made a sound of appreciation, and was rewarded by watching him nervously try to loosen his tie, looking sideways at the other diners.

‘This is divine’ she breathed, putting as much feeling into her words as she could. Bastien swallowed and his eyes darkened. He leaned over the table toward her

‘I think you’ve paid me back with interest’ he said quietly ‘any more of that and I’ll be tempted to clear the table and…’

‘Is everything okay with your meal, Sir?’ The waiter appeared at Bastien’s side, and he jumped. He recovered quickly, clearing his throat and answering

‘Yes, it’s excellent – pass our appreciation on to the chef please’

‘Certainly Sir – more champagne?’ he asked, as although their glasses were full, the bottle was empty.

‘No thankyou, but if you have a bottle of Glenkinchie I’ll have a glass with water on the side please.’ He glanced at Sophia ‘Will you try a glass of whiskey, my dear?’ Sophia smiled sweetly.

‘Of course, darling’ She gave Bastien’s ankle another nudge, and he drew it back out of her reach with a stern look. She sighed and carried on eating and sipping at the cool effervescent wine, savouring every mouthful. They finished their main course in silence, but they had attained a truce for the moment. The champagne finished, the whiskey was brought over in cut glass tumblers with a jug of water. Bastien took a tiny sip of the neat spirit before adding a drop of water, picking the glass up again and inhaling the aroma.

The dessert menu arrived, and Sophia beamed with anticipation. She had a sweet tooth though Bastien did not, but he often shared dishes with her, making the excuse that it would keep her waistline trim.

‘Though I would love you whatever shape you were’ he would affirm, and Sophia would eye him warily but say nothing. She looked at the menu in confusion. Bastien cocked an eyebrow at her. She leaned over and whispered

‘I have absolutely no idea what any of these things are’ she confided ‘or at least I can recognise the words – it is English after all – but it doesn’t sound very inspiring’ she looked down the list ‘What on earth is ‘Elric’s log’? I can’t tell you what I think it might be.’

‘I’m sure the waiter will enlighten us’ Bastien assured her, but she made a face. At that moment, Bastien’s phone chimed with a text message. He looked at it briefly, seeing it was a text from Drake. Sophia spoke before he could tell her.

‘Can we leave dessert?’ she asked, keeping her voice low ‘I have a much better idea’ Bastien frowned, but he saw her earnest expression. He looked over at the waiter and raised a hand to beckon him over.

‘Can we have the bill please?’ he asked

‘But sir, you haven’t had dessert yet’ Bastien pursed his lips and looked at his phone

‘Unfortunately I’ve been called away on important business, I have to go as soon as I can’

‘I’m so sorry Sir.’ The waiter said with concern ‘I’ll get the bill immediately’

 Minutes later, the two of them walked back down the hill arm in arm. Sophia was used to the cooler climate and wore a tweed jacket and a knitted cashmere hat, but Bastien found it cold and wore a stylish Italian wool coat that just skimmed his knees, and a woollen hat and thick scarf, whereas Sophia’s scarf was more for show than warmth. Their breath showed in the cool air, but it was still and the stars shone brightly.  

‘I’m sorry Bas – I know you’re not fond of dessert anyway, but it was just so - pretentious. I hope they didn’t charge you’ Sophia said apologetically

‘No, but they were a bit stressed trying to work out the new charges’ he said ‘I tipped them so they got almost the same as if we’d had everything and not tipped, so they can’t be too upset.’ He squeezed her hand ‘So, what was your idea for an alternative?’

‘Gelato’ her eyes shone ‘There’s an Italian restaurant very close – not even as far as the hotel – that makes award winning gelato’

‘I’m actually very partial’ he smiled. Her eyes it up

‘That’s wonderful! I used to go with Mark for pizza’ she said thoughtfully ‘The portions were so generous I never had room for gelato’ Bastien felt an unaccustomed stab of jealousy at the mention of her former lover. She felt him tense, and hugged his arm tighter.

‘I’m so happy to be here with you’ she said ‘There are lots of places to show you – we can make new memories together’ He smiled fondly, reassured of her affection.

‘I hope I won’t be kept too late tomorrow. You can show Drake and Riley round if you like, and with luck I’ll see you for dinner’

‘I’ve seen round Holyrood Palace’ she said ‘But of course you’ll be working in the parts the public don’t get to see’

‘I’m sorry they won’t allow me to take you round’ he said ‘They are extremely strict as to who enters, and with good cause’ Sophia shrugged as they came to the restaurant. The décor was oddly reminiscent of an American diner, but the staff were all Italian, and the menu was too.

‘Here we are’ she said, ‘Let’s hope they aren’t busy, it’s too cold to wander the streets with gelato’ Luckily it was quiet and they were able to take a table after ordering a scoop each. Sophia chose prosecco and strawberry and Bastien had panacotta and salted caramel, and they shared.

‘Really you can’t beat mint choc chip’ Sophia asserted ‘but I can’t resist trying this one’

‘I favour double chocolate chip’ Bastien said ‘but this is acceptable’

‘I’ll come in with Les tomorrow and try a sundae’ Sophia said ‘I don’t have room for one right now.’

‘That’s an excellent idea’ Bastien smiled ‘Drake and Riley are at a place called the Black Bull just around the corner, we can pick them up there. Where are we going next?’

‘We’re meeting Erin at a place called Tiger Lily on George Street’ she said ‘It’s about ten minutes’ walk away. I’ve not been there – it’s new, but places open and close all the time’ The two finished their dessert and met Drake and Riley at the Black Bull, which turned out to be similar to the place Riley used to work at in New York – a creditable dive bar frequented largely by bikers in studded leather jackets - before they set off across the city. Although the shops were closed, there were plenty of revellers walking around going to the many bars and restaurants and clubs. Soon they had reached their destination and her friend stood up from their table to wave them over. She was blonde and petite, and had similar looks to Sophia. Her partner was much taller – about the same height as Bastien. His hair was lighter, his shoulders as broad as the older man’s.

‘Sophia – it’s so good to see you’ Erin cried, throwing her arms around her before pulling away to introduce her partner ‘This is Sean – Sean, Sophia’

‘Nice to meet you’ Sophia replied, shaking his hand, and indicated the others ‘This is my partner Bastien, and I told you about Drake and Riley’ Erin’s eyes flicked to Bastien, and he reached out his hand and shook hers firmly. Her eyes widened a little in awe before she turned to Drake – and flushed red to the roots of her hair. Their handshake lingered a little longer, and Sophia nudged her, clearing her throat. She seemed to be having trouble tearing her eyes away from him, but at last she did, turning to Riley, who gave her a sharp look as they clasped hands. Erin looked back to Sean and took his arm affectionately as if to reassure him as he in turn shook hands with the others, and Riley visibly relaxed.

‘How are you finding Edinburgh? asked Erin as they all sat

‘I’ve been before, very briefly’ said Bastien. ‘I find it intriguing – the old town and the new town.’

‘It’s an incredible place’ Riley affirmed ‘It’s just oozing with history – and I can see where JK Rowling got her inspiration for Harry Potter’

‘You have some great dive bars’ grinned Drake ‘and the whiskey…’ he rolled his eyes ‘I’m in heaven’

‘This is a lovely place’ Bastien waved around at the plush surroundings – notably the ceiling covered in decorative cherry blossoms, the marble bar and dark wood tables, low walled booths upholstered with padded leather, the pillars covered with mosaic mirrors, the bright modern lighting.

‘It’s rather special’ Erin smiled, and looked thoughtful for a moment ‘I don’t know what you’re used to, but there’s no table service here - you need to go to the bar to order drinks’

‘Oh, I see - I’ll get the next round’ Bastien offered ‘What do you want, ladies?’ Sophia was looking at the cocktail menu, perplexed, but Erin was ready  

‘I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay please, Bastien’ He nodded and turned to Sophia

‘There’s far too much choice’ she said ‘I’ll have a glass of prosecco, that shouldn’t be too challenging’

‘Sophia honey, you need to live a little!’ cried Riley ‘Bastien may have to work tomorrow, but the rest of us are as free as birds, it’s the weekend’ She nudged her ‘I’ll choose for you, darling’

‘Really, I’ve already had champagne and whiskey’ she protested ‘and I hate hangovers, they’re such a waste of time’ She looked at the list again. Bastien was beginning to realise that Sophia was often overwhelmed when given a choice – the menu at the restaurant had been too much for her as well.

‘Have an old fashioned’ Bastien suggested ‘That’s whiskey based, but with soda so it’s a longer drink’

‘I’ll have a Manhatten’ grinned Riley

‘You should try a Gentleman’s Agreement, that’s whiskey based’ Sean piped up ‘I tried it first time I brought Erin here. It’s the best I’ve ever tasted’

‘It was our first date’ she smiled, squeezing his hand.

‘Thank you Sean, I like the name’ Bastien responded. ‘Does that sound good to you?’ he asked Drake, who nodded enthusiastically, and Bastien rose from his seat ‘I’ll be back shortly’ Sophia shifted toward the end of the leather upholstered bench.

‘I just need to go to the Ladies’ she said ‘Where is it, Erin?’

‘It’s past the bar to the right’ she replied, and Sophia made her way past the bar to find the bathroom.  She soon came back out to see Bastien still at the bar, waiting for his order. She was about to make her way over to help him carry the drinks back to their table, when she heard a familiar male voice that froze her in her tracks, hair on the back of her neck prickling.

‘Sophia? Sophia, is that you?’

[guylty]

Hello hello hello! A week has passed and I am back from my mini break. I am going to indulge in a little travel report here, so those of you who have no interest in sitting through someone else’s holiday pictures – no offense taken, I totally understand! – please just scroll down to where you see the header for the round-up. All your tumblr Armitage needs will be satisfied down there 😉.

Tbh, it was lovely to leave the confines of my home town and finally venture out a little bit farther afield. In fact, it only occurred to me as we were on the road, that I hadn’t left Dublin at all since mid-January 😱. Ireland is not really that big – it reaches about 500 km (300m) from top to bottom – but the terrain here is characterised by rocks and hills, which makes for small, windy roads, especially as the infrastructure does not need to be as car-friendly as in other, more populated countries in the world. So don’t be surprised if you see the estimated travel time in the map below.

Yes, it takes more than 4 hours to travel 287km (178m) in Ireland. 😁 If you look really closely at the map you will actually notice a black jagged line running through the land. That is the border between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, which is part of the United Kingdom. Our route this time took us the Northern Irish way, crossing into NI near Belturbet and then exiting again via Pettigo. The border is still “green”, i.e. there is no visible sign that you have actually moved from one jurisdiction to another. (I can usually only tell by the difference in road surface 😂 and the fact that the speed signs are suddenly in miles/h and not in kilometer/h any more. It’ll be interesting to see the Brexit regulation work out the issue of the United Kingdom’s *only* land border while keeping both EU customs rules as well as inner-Irish peace…) This is the shortest way of getting up from Dublin in the centre of the East coast, into the Northwestern corner of Ireland, which is part of the Republic and called County Donegal.

Our journey took us even longer than the estimated 4 hours, but then we also had to switch drivers in order to relieve my mother-in-law (77) and take a lunch break. We eventually arrived in Dunfanaghy in the late afternoon where my father-in-law had specifically booked rooms with a view in the plush Arnold’s Hotel. At first I was a bit taken aback at the layer of dust in our otherwise lovely room but then I realised that it meant the room had not been used in months and we were the first occupants since reopening the day prior, i.e. no lingering viruses there… From our luxurious king-size bed we had views out to the beach. (Click all images to enlarge!)

View from the bed

Village idyll

Busy despite the Covid crisis

Dunfanaghy beach at low tide

I have to say I was a bit skeptical as regards the attitude of the holiday makers towards keeping safe from the virus, though. Dunfanaghy was packed to the gills with tourists, particularly from Northern Ireland. (The weekend actually coincided with the traditional, Protestant celebrations of the Battle of the Boyne on the 12th of July every year. This is a significant date in NI, marking the victory of Protestant king William III over Catholic king James II, celebrated with drums, huge bonfires and marches by the Orange Order. It continues to be a controversial tradition within NI, with (some) Catholics offended by the celebration of this victory, while (some) Protestants insist on their right to express their traditions.) As part of the UK, NI has had a different approach to the Covid crisis than the Republic, and tbh I was not really that impressed with the general lack of social distancing displayed last week. (It goes without saying that it was *not only* NI people who were far too close for my comfort; there obviously were also plenty of Irish holiday makers there, too.) Within the hotel, there were hand-sanitisers at all exits and corridors, so it was easy to keep hands clean. In the restaurant, the staff wore PPE masks and the guests were seated well apart as fewer tables than normal were set up. So I felt relatively safe in there. But I hardly saw any face masks worn in the village, people were congregating in big groups outside pubs and shops, and it felt as if there were no covid restrictions at all. All that made me very angry. On our walks, particularly in the very busy Glenveagh National Park, people would not keep distance even though the paths were more than 2 meters wide, and on the parking lot, cars parked directly side-by-side. But then again, at least we were outside, and Glenveagh is an absolutely stunning place.

Glenveagh

Glenveagh Castle

In the kitchen garden of Glenveagh

Bag End?

Entrance to the kitchen garden

Wild life very close by

I have been to Glenveagh a good few times before. It’s a stunning valley with a 19th century hunting lodge castle at the centre. There is a formal garden through which you enter the castle grounds, but what I had not see until now was the amazing kitchen garden. The little gardener’s cottage under the large tree somehow reminded me of Bag End.

The best thing, of course, is the beaches and dunes and the mighty North Atlantic.

Tramore Strand

Horn Head

View of Tramore from the dunes

Horn Head from Dunfanaghy

I was thinking of Squirrel/Radagast who had commented about wild flowers before I left for the North, and I took a good few photos of flowers.

Native Irish orchid

Calla lily – associated with the Irish struggle for freedom

The weather was – Irish. We had two days that were predominantly dry, with only a little bit of drizzle here and there. Only on our last day the weather really turned against us, which was annoying as we had planned to go walking with my in-laws a bit. But well, a bit of wet doesn’t deter my hardy in-laws. There is no bad weather – only inappropriate clothing. So we trudged off on a two-hour walk in the Ards Forest. I think I was the only who got drenched to the skin. Yep, even after 20 years I still haven’t learnt… or bought the right equipment.

Typical family picnic. In the rain. Sharing 1 bottle of Guinness, 2 apples and 2 sandwiches. No lie.

However, we did also get a bit of sunset in, and so the trip’s best memory is this – a sundowner from Horn Head with the ragged shape of Tory Island in the background.

So, that was my summer holiday 2020. Four nights away with family. It was actually really lovely, especially as my f-i-l is now getting really old. This may have been his last trip up to Donegal. It was lovely to spend time with him and my m-i-l who are still very active and who are interesting to chat to. I was especially delighted that Little Miss Guylty came along, too – not just for myself but also for the grandparents for whom her presence is particularly special. And I had four nights of sound sleep that really recharged my batteries. So much so that I can now jump energetically into this week’s tumblr round-up:

  Badtennantwolf has put together a set of icons. I am including the set here for the first four pictures of RA at SDCC in 2015 as we recently had a chat about that occasion (and the famous dragon beanie throw) elsewhere

Richardarmitagefanpage reminds us of a Hobbit Extended Editions rewatch organised by One Ring Net for 21 July

Some dramatic Guy of Gisborne gifs, season 3, by riepu10

LOL. Including this mainly for the spot-on caption by thewarriorandtheking

*sniggers* Mezzmerizedbyrichard has come to the aid of many hot and bothered Mr Thornton admirers…

I have always been somewhat intrigued by that pock mark on Richard’s arm. Maybe he had it removed or something, because I also remember pictures from around the same time where he sported a blue plaster on his bicep. Picture posted by hobbitoferebor

Goodness me. 13 years ago. Yes, he looks a good bit younger. And full-on Gisborne-sideburns. Gifs by riepu10

Eyelash porn courtesy by mezzmerizedbyrichard

Ignore the wig and enjoy the nose! Richard as Claude Monet, giffed by mezzmerizedbyrichard

Lehnsharks’ Thorin drawings

BTS footage of Richard as Thorin was few and far between, so here are a few precious scenes, giffed by riepu10

Daniel Miller/Trevor Price looking ominous… Gifs by riepu10

One of nfcomics’ What A Guy Wants… interesting metaphor…

There we go. Sorry for the whole long holiday crap. I can faithfully promise that that is it for this year *sardonic laugh*.

However, before I go and more importantly, just a quick reminder:

It’ll be August soon and that means… RA birthday auction time!!! Donations of items have been coming in and it is high time for me to start organising and promoting, soon. Watch this space for more info!

Have a lovely weekend,

Sonja ❤️

  2020 Armitage Weekly Round-up #28 Hello hello hello! A week has passed and I am back from my mini break. I am going to indulge in a little travel report here, so those of you who have no interest in sitting through someone else's holiday pictures - no offense taken, I totally understand!

[2due-the-anteka]

Whipstaff Manor Hotel

Man, it's good to be back :> I haven't written a fanfic in forever and I wanted to make something small and special for Halloween! Always been a big fan of the Casper movie from 1995, pretty much grew up with it, and I recently rewatched having a blast x3 A little idea crawled in my head and wanted to write something out of it. I hope you enjoy this little journey! Don't forget to be spooky and have fun in such a dark time

I also kind of want to return to my previous Legend of Zelda fanfic, Tears of Light and Blood, I'm surprised there are people still following it and I'm sorry I stopped so abruptly. I never stopped thinking about it and I have few ideas for it.

I’ll post the next chapters on my AO3 account

Thank you once again and see you soon :3

==========================================

Many years have passed since Dr. Harvey and his daughter moved in Whipstaff manor, many things have changed...

Whipstaff Manor Hotel is today a famous themed hotel with a long list of bookings. One day, right before Halloween, three weird singers appear in town and things couldn't get any crazier. Three mysterious characters will drive ghosts nuts and one of them holds a long forgotten secret.

==========================================

PROLOGUE

“Absolutely not!”

Kat crossed her arms, puffing out her cheeks annoyed, glaring back at the tall ghost. “You sure have a thick head for being transparent...” Before he could add a nasty comment, she cut him off, “This place is a sinkhole and you all well know! We can no longer sustain it, we’ll be forced to move and you guys will return haunting a decaying, sad, old castle. Humiliating, wouldn’t it be? Fun over for who knows how long.”

Stretch scoffed, but his brothers looked pretty concerned at the thought of not being able to tease Doc and their new target, Angus, ever again.

“We have workers ready to go, it’s just 5 rooms on a floor, you have the whole manor for yourself and the underground will be locked up.”

“You’ll bring more skinbags in this household! Consider yourself lucky we accepted him and his servers already!” He pointed at the young man behind her.

Kat “Didn’t look like a sacrifice, you immediately took a like on poor Angus, teasing him and treating him like a punching bag all day long!”

Angus gulped, but he walked closer, gently holding Kat by her shoulders. “I-I might have an idea.” It took all his courage to not wince under the ghost’s glare. “We already planned it to be a themed hotel… you three could help us with special effects… you know… people could get here to be scared.”

Kat looked at her fiancée with a mix of confusion and interest, that was something she didn’t think about, though she wasn’t sure the ghost would accept-

A big grin appeared on Stretch’s face. “Go on.”

==========================================

NEWSPAPER

        It was a rare calm evening at Whipstaff Hotel, cold and windy, perfect for some peaceful newspaper reading on a favourite sofa… or so was what a tall lanky ghost believed. A way too cheerful red-haired girl was sitting on his lap, covering most of the pages. The 12 year old was focused on her drawing and using him as a pencil holder, stabbing his ectoplasm with a dozens of coloured pencils. She even thoughtfully picked a few colours, placing back others in his torso and arms, to then return to her art.

Stretch though didn’t mind that one bit, he silently allowed her to invade his space and held her pencils without thoughts. Thing was, he had a big soft spot for Vivian and her younger brother, Edward. Everyone in the manor knew that, but hell could freeze over before the hot headed ghost would say it out loud.

“This or this?” She suddenly asked, showing him two pencils of similar colours. To him, honestly, those looked exactly the same… He nodded randomly at one and observed her thinking about it. “Yeah, you’re right.” She stabbed him with the rejected one and returned to colouring the dragon she drew that very afternoon. She was a big fan of those beasts, dinosaurs and cats, and also of weird pocket-creatures things, her room was filled with drawings and plushies of those. She’s been a bad influence on Casper in a very short time.

Suddenly a light knock on the open door. “I knew I’d find you here.” Kat smiled, crossing her arms.

Stretch quickly let all the pencils drop to the floor, much to Vivian’s dismay, before she could say hi to her mother. “Take her, if you please.” He hissed without looking at Kat. Vivian groaned hopping off to collect her things, to then silently snicker as she saw a ghostly tail secretly helping out.

“Come on, Vivi, time for bed, leave the grouch alone.” Kat walked in and leaned against the table, trying to peek at the front page of the newspaper. “What weird stories has the town got to say today?”

Vivian got her items and whispered a gentle “Good night of fright, Uncle Stretch.” The ghost gave her a half smile before she left and resumed being with his usual pissed frown. “Same things from yesterday.”

“A-ha…” Kat quickly snatched the page from his grip, peeling it from the rest of the newspaper, happily reading through the titles. He gave her a glacial glare, but nothing more, giving the pages a whip to fix them. “Another sighting of the supposedly giant snake-ghost,” she snorted, “this morning at dawn nearby the main park. And it comes with a dark, blurry as heck photo, haha, classic.”

“Not a co-worker, that for sure. Probably some stupid prank of a stupid fleshbag.”

“Such a disgrace to your kind’s reputation.” She chuckled and went on. “Acrobatic trio of singers conquers everybody’s awe with improvised shows down the streets. - Who on Earth writes these articles…? - The trio, formed by…ah…” She stopped sharply and Stretch raised an eyebrow at her.

“Been wanting to update you, by the way, somebody booked the suite for a whole week. Got a call a couple of hours ago.” She looked at him, well knowing she got his attention. He quickly showed a great interested, proudly showing a malicious grin. “They requested extra scares.” Kat neatly folded the page, showing him the picture of the singing trio, tapping it with a finger.

Stretch’s shrieking laughter echoed in the whole castle as he snatched the page and dashed off after his brothers, leaving the room in a tornado of papers.

Kat smiled satisfied holding the collar of her sweater.

Screams of guests soon filled the dark corridors of the mansion.

[merryfortune]

Aiball Week Day 5

February 12h: Hugs // Cyberse

Word Count: 983

Tags: Canon Compliant, Post Canon, Fluff

    Yusaku had been sitting at his desk pretty intently for a while now, Ai observed from afar. It wasn’t entirely like him. Yusaku was trying damn hard to reintegrate into his school, better than the first time around. Mostly because Ai had insisted that Yusaku make amends for the past few months in which he had spent tracking him and piecing him back together again. So, he was taking his homework and study more seriously than he had before; he had reconnected with the likes of Kusanagi and Takeru and even Naoki.

  But this, Ai observed, was different.

  Yusaku rarely enjoyed homework. He struggled through anything which involved the finer things in life, poetry, art, literature, but he didn’t get downright excited, like he was now, over the things which he did understand such as mathematics or most strains of science. It was a shame that Ai was trapped in his little glass prison, as some things never change, and that Yusaku’s back was in the way of whatever little project had captured his passion.

  Ai waited a little bit longer and soon enough his thin patience was rewarded. Yusaku set down his pencils and straightened up. He leaned back in his wooden chair and twisted around and said, “I’m letting you out now. I’m done.”

  Ai grinned an eyeball grin upon hearing that. He watched as Yusaku got up and came to set him free. Yusaku latched his Duel Disc onto his wrist despite Ai pestering him. His Ignis body hanging about and he was begging to know what Yusaku had been doing.

  Yusaku was secretly pleased to have Ai grovel over him. He knew it just meant that Ai was bored and under stimulated, but it strangely meant a lot to Yusaku. He didn’t mind having his wrists assailed by Ai’s tiny hands and his ears assaulted by all the begging which followed.

  Yusaku smiled fondly, as fondly as he could, down at Ai. “I made you something.”

  “You did?” Ai’s yellow eyes bulged hugely at that. “Something? For me? It’s not even my birthday.”

  “You don’t have a birthday.” Yusaku flatly replied.

  “Still, Yusaku, you shouldn’t have buuuuuut as you have, I simply must have it.”

  “Good.” Yusaku’s lips twitched with something of a smile.

  Yusaku sat back down at his desk and he coyly placed his hand over something. Ai was intrigued by the action, but it gave him more grounds on what to expect. It was small, and as Ai scanned the rest of Yusaku’s desk, cut up paper and pencil shavings and other stationary haphazardly skirting where he liked to work, Ai could ascertain that this was an arts and craft project type gift. How adorable.

  “I was thinking about your deck.” Yusaku said, sounding a teensy bit nervous, unsurprising as gift giving, especially creative gift giving was not his forte. “And I was thinking about how your normal summon monsters are all based on your friends. During our duel, I was terrified that you might debut some card based on me.”

  “That’s awfully egotistic of you to have thought.” Ai teased, crossing his arms.

  Yusaku grimaced, unsure how to react to that. So, he didn’t. He moved on.

  “Since I don’t know how long it’ll take to retrieve, let alone revive, the other Ignis so I guess your @Ignister monsters are all we have of them, for now anyway so I made you another card for your deck.” Yusaku explained.

  He lifted his hand off his desk and took a little bit of paper. He held it up and showed it to Ai. Ai gasped and melted.

  “I love it, Yusaku.” Ai said, hands reaching out and Yusaku let him take it with such grabby hands.

  The piece of paper was drawn to resemble a Duel Monsters card. It was rather cute in how scratchy the drawing was. Though, Yusaku had taken care to draw all his rounded lines and coming up with a fair effect, level, attack and defence.

  “Ai-Yu-Yu.” Ai read aloud.

  “The name’s kind of a work in progress.” Yusaku sheepishly admitted.

  “But Ai love it so very much.” Ai said.

  Yusaku’s heart skipped a beat. It meant more to him to hear that than he realised. A scant blush flushed through his sharp cheeks.

  “I’ll turn it into a card right away.” Ai said. “My way, not using Kusanagi’s dinky little device and certainly not with any of those big corporation card printers either. You should be honoured, Yusaku, no human’s seen cards get made like this before.”

  Ai held the card, as flimsy as it was as it was drawn on printer paper, in his fingertips. It looked about as big as his head. Then something from his fingertips misted. The temperature of the room changed. A data storm was summoned. A very small and gentle data storm but a data storm, nonetheless.

  “Man, good thing I ain’t Windy, huh? If I can do this, in the real world, imagine what he can do.” Ai bantered.

  Yusaku then watched as the card that he had drawn Ai in earnest was transformed. The printer paper became sturdier. The pencil smoothened and became similar to ink. The mismatched shading that Yusaku had tried to avoid became solid and brilliant. All whilst Ai’s hand glowed in soft pinks, purples, and whites. It was strangely beautiful as the data cascaded around the card, entrenching it before shattering thus unveiling the brand new @Ignister Cyberse card. Yusaku’s eyes were dazzled.

  “I quite like the name, so I kept it.” Ai chirruped. “And I cannot wait to use this little baby.”

  “Then let’s have a Duel. My deck against yours; not in the VRAINS.” Yusaku suggested.

  Ai huffed. “It’ll take me forever to print out all my cards this way.” He complained and sighed. “But that sounds delightful Yusaku. Just gimme an hour or two to prepare.”

[its-belle-obviously]

Wander

Summary: An unusual Companion provides hope for the next life Notes: I started playing Journey this month and absolutely fell in love with the game. I was inspired to write this piece after viewing a post by @xxkaibutsukoxx on Tumblr, which I will link to here and at the end of the fic. The two characters are inserts of my partner and me. I hope you enjoy the fic! Link to the post: https://xxkaibutsukoxx.tumblr.com/post/148790807072/video-here-if-you-want-to-watch-with-music I’ve placed the actual fic under the cut so I won’t clog up anyone’s dashboard:

I had walked these paths dozens of times before with various companions. Most were friendly and wanted to play and interact. Others disappeared partway through our Journey. A few taught me where to find treasures and secrets. They helped me discover all the glyphs and teach those that came after them. Discovering all the glyphs led me to earn the white robes, the Guide robes. Robes I wear with great honor and pride; for helping others brings me joy and great satisfaction.

For all my previous companions, this one stuck out to me. They switched between being completely silent despite my inquiries; to singing nonstop for minutes at a time. As we progressed along our way, they started to talk more. They didn’t seem to mind when I showed them something they may not have known about. I grew proud as their scarf got longer with each new symbol. They always gave a small thanks when I showed them our history. Taking a seemingly keen interest in the scenes revealed.

Their markings were those of someone’s first rebirth or second journey. I made sure to show them some of my favorite spots. As well as the best places to have a bit of fun. It felt even more special to share it with them. Almost like I was seeing them for the first time once again. The most memorable was also the first time I got a genuinely different response from them. It was at the end of the Memory Passage before the last slide. 

We sat there side by side in the amber glow for several minutes. I was half afraid they had left, disappearing into the sand like others before. However, much to my delight, when I stood to continue our journey, they stood with me. They flew into the air giving off several full melodious notes. When they landed next to me again, I gave a beep and a twirl. I bounced once into the air and towards the slopes. 

Together we jumped off the cliff, back down the slope. We slid down the slope in unison as the light faded, and the sand dimmed. Flying off the edge together, I gave off a single burst of song, knowing we both knew what was coming next. Their returning call was the last thing I saw before we plunged underground.

As a Guide, I made sure to steer them away from the Guardians. I knew not how their previous passing faired, but I knew this time they’d be safer. I was also determined to have fun with them. We flew around blue-lit tunnels as much as their scarf would allow and danced amongst the jellyfish. They drug me into a game of hide-and-seek as they weaved among the seaweed. We sang joyously as we played and found each other.

Once we reached where the first Guardian awoke, I fell back into my position. The harder I tried to be the sensible Guide, the more they tried to drag me back out of it. Whether it was flying dangerously close to a Guardian, causing me to let out a series of rapid notes and urge them away. Suddenly backtracking and disappearing from view, making me urgently look for them. Or even flying through arches from the ancient structures. Those made me the fondest as I would discover them sitting up there patiently. I could detect the smug tone to their chirp upon standing from meditation.

We made it to the Sanctuary with our scarves intact; my heart was pounding, unlike even my first trip past. We ascended the tower gleefully as I continued to show them secrets. There was something about the yellow weightlessness that really made them brighten. I showed them the secret history scene, and they played amongst the banners. I couldn’t help but watch them glide between the pillars with ease. They took a great interest in the giant cloth creature, riding them around twice before departing. The extraordinary creature hidden at the bottom held their attention for several minutes as they investigated it.

Standing before the snow, this time around was new. I wasn’t curious like I was my first journey. Nor was I apathetic like so many times before. I wasn’t even apprehension about the impending trials. Looking beside me at my companion, I was filled with excitement for the trek ahead. I was looking forward to seeing what they would do as we tried not to freeze. I wondered what game they would drag me into, what dance they would do. I was eager to see how they reacted to what was beyond the snow.

As we journeyed forward, I hadn’t known to anticipate just how strong my reactions would be. The Fire Pit was comforting and welcoming. We sat there for a long moment enjoying the warmth and each other’s company. The Windy Path made me far more nervous than they ever had before. I felt my heart stop when my companion was blown off the bridge, not restarting until I had dropped after them to see they were well. They had chirped reassuringly and circled around me to show they were well.

Moving through the Guardians’ area was harrowing. Even though we bypassed a large chunk to reach a far off history scene. Reemerging back onto the path, a Guardian spotted us. As a Guide, I jumped in front of it to shield my companion. Said companion didn’t say anything until we were back in safety. They then proceeded to berate me and show how scared they were by reenacting what happened. I let them speak, but I was firm in my opinion that it was my job to protect and guide them. 

I knew they weren’t happy, but we continued on anyway. Occasionally my companion would pause to gripe at me. Soon enough, we reached the frozen seaweed. It seemed like they were either too cold to play this time or were still too upset to play. Either way, they didn’t speak again until we were in the next canyon. They circled me twice before slipping into a meditative pose. Confused but willing to comply, I sat with them. We were close enough that our symbols glowed upon our chests, and their scarf didn’t lose power despite the chill.

Eventually, they got back up, and we continued upon our merry way. It was then that I realized exactly where we were and what was ahead. My heart sank, and I slowed down to put off what was coming. They noticed I wasn’t keeping up and slowed down to match my pace. Our symbols glowing and our closeness providing little warmth. They asked me what was wrong with a single chirp, but by that point, we had reached the Wasteland. 

I stopped in my tracks and stared at what was to come next. As they had been nearly this entire time, my companion stood next to me. They chirped lowly once. Twice. Three times before, I beeped back. They gave me one last big note before plunging past the gates. I was quick to follow, unwilling to let them go alone. Reluctant to let them out of my sight.

We sang back and forth to each other, none stop. We sang as the wind blew us sideways. We sang as the wind blew us backward. We sang as the wind blew our scarves away, our magic. We sang as it got harder to move. We sang as it got harder to breathe. We sang as our notes got lost in the gale. We sang even as we couldn’t hear each other anymore. We sang until we couldn’t.

We fell. Together. Side by side.

As the Ancestors came and spoke to me, rejuvenated me. All that was on my mind was seeing my companion again. Wondering if they were okay. If the Ancestors had already revived them. I was filled as much by the Ancestor’s magic as I was by the determination to see them again as I flew off. The Guardians did not frighten me, nor did I try to avoid them as I had in the past. I had one goal and one goal only. I was going to reach that ball of power, and I was going to see my companion again.

White filled my vision as I reach the ball of power. Once the light cleared and I could move again, I sang as loudly as I could. I held my breath as I waited for a reply. I was scared that by some fluke, the Ancestor’s hadn’t revived my companion. Or that perhaps they had faded away once they had reached the ball of power. My head filled with wilder what-ifs as time wore on with no reply.

In the end, my companion never replied to that call. Instead, they took a flying charge at me, knocking me said ways. The pure joy I felt at that moment is still indescribable to this day. I sang out my delight before circling around them excitedly. We danced around each other, before shooting forward in unison. I knew they were going to love this place!

We sang and twirled around each other as we reached ever higher. There were a couple of times they would dart off in a specific direction, and I would go chasing after them. We’d always pause at the arches if we’d lost the other for a moment. Though we were quick to continue our play afterward. For the first time, someone actually joined me on the giant clothe creature. Together we rode it nearly all the way to top.

When we reached the top, we took a minute to meditate together. Before us stood the end of our journey, yet neither of us wanted to go. My companion stood up and began running around the sand. It seemed like they were precise with their movements. Curious, I stood up to see what they were doing. They continued for a beat before sitting down like they had finished. I discovered that they had drawn a picture of a lotus flower.

Inspired by their drawing, I tried my hand at it as well. I moved to the other side of the clearing and began my work. It was a bit difficult for me to visualize how to draw a rose, but I think I got my message across. My companion seemed to approve as they sang and spun around me. That just led to me revolving around them, and we both got dizzy.

For some reason, seeing our drawings next to each other eased my reluctance. I knew they wouldn’t be there the next time I passed through. The next time didn’t seem to matter then as they were there then. I would have the memory of our flowers, the memory of them, each time I reached this clearing.

With that thought in my heart, we walked towards the light in unison. We walked into the light together.

Unknown to me at the time, two lights shot from the mountain that day. Other Travellers watched as the twin lights danced together. Twirling their way back from whence they came, back to the beginning. At the last moment, one whisked away from the other.

All I know is that when I awoke for my next life it was with a new symbol. There was a black lotus flower on the back of my head. A sign of my profound connection to my companion. A bold reminder of our time together and a bold hope for our next meeting.

[ak47stylegirl]

Royal Tracy Au.

Edit: this chapter is out of date, I changed a couple of somethings to it to make it fit in better, the updated version is here

okay, I know I said I wasn’t going to post this until I finished one or more of my other WIPs but I couldn’t help my self. so here’s the first chapter/introduction to this royal Tracy Au. 

I’m thinking I’m going to write a couple chapters setting up the world a bit first but after that I got room to play, so send in your prompts and tell me what intrigues you.

or/and what do you want to see more of or find out about, like really, don’t be afraid to ask me stuff, getting an ask makes my day 😄 okay now on to the fic.

The waves crash against the cliffy shores of the country of Honia, the moon shining in the background. 

Honia was a lush, green country with plenty of resources, that have made the country very wealthy over the hundreds of years it has existed. It was located on the Far East coastline of Europe, a lot of Honia’s beaches were very rocky and cliffy but there were some nice beaches, they were just harder to find.

There were mountains all around Honia, acting as a natural border for centuries, anything before the mountains (plus a couple of mountains themselves) was theirs and anything passed the mountains wasn’t. 

But because of the mountains, their winters got very cold and wet and windy and cold ...yeah it was very obvious he didn’t like winter, wasn’t it?

It didn’t help that he always ended up catching a pretty nasty cold (or flu, it was debatable with how bad it got at times) whenever winter hit, no matter what his brothers did to try and pervert it, he always got sick! 

It was not fair…

Summer was a lot better honestly, it was warmer and it meant he could play outside without freezing to death...okay, he may be exaggerating but still, summer and spring too! Was way better than winter. 

But unfortunately, it was winter right now and he couldn’t play outside in the palace grounds, at least not without heaps of layers on that is and that just took the fun away...

And If you were wondering, yes he did say palace. He was the youngest son of King Jefferson and the late Queen Lucille, making him one of the Princes. 

And because of that, he lived in a palace. He guesses it pretty cool, not all six-year-old get to say they live in a palace but honestly? It’s not all that exciting to him, because it’s all he ever has known. But he’ll admit it’s fun to sneak into the areas he’s not allowed in, which were a lot. 

He was only really allowed in the private areas, like the bedrooms, the drawing-room, the blue drawing-room to be precise, the library for his lessons, the dining hall and outside in the gardens if someone was watching him and he doesn’t wander out of sight.

He guess those rules were there for a reason, the palace was a big place and it was easy to get lost….he knows from experience because he has gotten lost before.

and it was a really scary experience for him, didn’t help that there was a thunderstorm was going on outside, making him even more frightened than he already was by being lost in his own home, so yeah...not a nice experience at all.

He has four very overprotective older brothers... like really, they got overprotectiveness down to an art form at this point...

His eldest brother, Scott or his royal highness, the Crown Prince Scott, the second of Honia as he was officially known. But to him? he was just Scotty, the big brother that gave him cuddles and always looks out for him, no matter what. 

Then there was his brother John or again as he was officially known, Prince Johnathan of Honia. John doesn’t really like being called by his full name surprisingly, he says surprisingly because John is a very by the books kind of guy, so he would think John would want to be called by his full name but nope, the guy hates it. 

he wasn’t complaining, ‘John’ was easier for him to pronounce than ‘Johnathan’ anyway.   

his next brother was Virgil, who may look intimidating at first glance but really he was just a big softy, who loved so intensely, always seeing the best in people. 

Then there was Gordon, the family’s jokester. Gordon was always trying to make people laugh, always looking on the bright side of things. He and Gordon could play all day if, given the chance, it was so fun playing with Gordon!

Then there was himself, Alan, the royal family’s baby. The child that was protected at all cost. He remembers hearing someone calling him the baby of the nation one time, that if something happens to him the whole nation would be up in arms. 

He wasn’t sure about the nation part but he sure knows his brothers would rage all hell if something was to happen to him.

And he wasn’t joking about the baby part, you see I wasn’t exactly planned….like at all. Scott was in his twenties when I was born, making me so much younger than my brothers. 

And that age difference could be why my mother….why my mother died in childbirth with me, I don’t really know what happened really and when I ask, I always get told that I’m too young to understand…..it’s scary to think about, what were they not telling him and why wouldn’t he understand? It scared him….like...like was he...he the reason he didn’t have a mum? 

He remembers one time when Scott was tucking him into bed when he was a bit younger then he was now. he asked Scott ‘what was mummy like?’ and Scott had frozen..like...like he been electrocuted, going scarcely pale before snapping out of it a second later. 

It...it had scared him, why did Scott freeze like that? 

Scott had, of course, reassured him that everything was okay and that he just wasn’t expecting the question but something deep down told him that Scotty wasn’t telling him the whole truth...but he didn’t ask into it because...because Scott freezing like that really scared him okay? And he was a lot younger back then too. 

But because of that and just the fact that his brothers looked so sad whenever he asks (he wasn’t game to ask his father) he learnt not to ask about his mother, even though he really wants to know more about her. 

He hated not knowing something but that was just a part of his life, there was always something he couldn’t know. Royal life was filled with secrets, he just had to get used to it. 

You’re probably wondering why he hasn’t mentioned his father yet, haven’t you? The truth is...he wasn’t very close with his father, he didn’t know why but his father always seemed so distant around him, unreachable. A small part of him wonders if that because...because if it wasn’t for him, mum would be alive still. He knows it’s ridiculous, his father loves him but he can’t help but think it at times.

Especially when he can’t sleep, like now. He was woken up by...by a bad dream, he couldn’t really remember what it was about but he could remember what it made him feel and it wasn’t nice. 

He sighed, leaning his cheek against his window. He was sitting in a little window nook, looking out at the night sky through his opened window. 

But he guesses that one of the actual reasons why he wasn’t really close with his father was to do with the fact that his father was just so busy all the time or on some kind of trip(like he was on now) that he barely saw his father at all.  

In truth, Scott was the one that did a lot of the parenting, like he doesn’t remember a time when Scott wasn’t like a parent to him, he just always been there. 

Sure he had a nanny, who looked after him and was an awesome lady (he wish he could say the same about his governess…) but Scott helped out a lot, even though the guy didn’t have too. Scott was already so busy with being the crown prince, he didn’t need to look after him but he did and that was one of the reason that he loved and looked up to Scott so much, Scott was always there.  All his brothers were. 

He yawned, rubbing his eyes. The solar system clock on his wall read that It was about two in the morning, way...way past his bedtime.

he knew his brothers wouldn’t be happy with him being up at this time of night, Scott especially. 

But he couldn’t sleep! He couldn’t! That...that dream will come back if he...if he goes back to sleep and...and it was scary and..and-

He hiccuped/sobbed, rubbing at his eyes trying to stop himself from crying. He should probably go to one of his brothers...he really should...he thought looking at his door that leads out into the hallway that connected all their rooms. 

But...but he was a big boy now, he thought turning away from the door, pulling his knees up to his chest.  He was six now, a big boy and big boys could handle a little dream...it...it wasn’t even that bad...it really...it really wasn’t that...that bad, he tried to convince himself but it wasn’t really working.

He sniffled again, it was taking all his will power to keep himself from bursting into tears, he didn’t know how long he could keep this up f-

“Young man, what do you think you are doing up at this hour?” 

[rulesofthebeneath]

how bout a dance: part 1

<AN> Ok... so this is the Bullshit. It’s a bit of a departure from what I normally write, but I had this idea and it kinda got stuck in my head, and with the help of @euphonyinestetica and @ajaysbhandari it kinda came to life. It’s basically a post-college ajay x mc au, where basically they broke up when he went to college and now, well... you’ll have to read to find out. I’m really excited to share this all with you guys. Projecting a total of 13 parts, major OC usage. Please please let me know what you think, Feedback is Life. Crediting: @euphonyinestetica as cowriter and fierce editor. Tagging: @pixelburied, @witchiegirl, @lilmissperfectlyimperfect, @anlashokk, @itsbrindleybinch. I hope y’all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! </AN>

The cold March wind blew Grace’s hair across her face, temporarily blinding her. She sighed with thinly veiled exasperation and reached up to fumble it into a messy ponytail with numb fingers. She hitched her scarf up to cover her exposed neck and buried her nose into it, trying to shield herself from the cold. Continuing along 43rd Street, her chapped hands made their way back into her coat pockets. She cursed her Brooklyn apartment for being so far away, she cursed the six hours she’d already spent on her feet waitressing that day, and she cursed the entire state of New York for being so damn cold.

She finally reached the theatre, a tiny thing nestled between shops and restaurants on the upper west side, and silently slipped inside the stage door. It was still thirty minutes before rehearsal was supposed to start, but Grace took the saying “early is on time, on time is late, late is fired” to heart and didn’t want to leave anything to chance. She reached the stage and set her things down in a chair. Then, she went off in search of a bathroom so she could change into her dance clothes.

A few minutes later, she was back onstage and a few of the other actors were there, along with the director, Charlie. Charlie was a man nearing his sixties with an impressive head of hair that he insisted was real. From the two rehearsals they’d had so far—the table read and the first sing-through—Grace gathered that he was the gentle kind of man, a rare find in New York City. He tended towards the eccentric in his creative decisions, but Grace had had worse directors. She was interested to see how he would direct this musical. She shot him a smile in greeting—he was in the middle of a conversation with their producer—and then sat down near a group of the other actors to start stretching.

The musical she’d been cast in was Bonnie & Clyde, and Grace had never been more excited to be in a show. Well, maybe she had been more excited for her first show ever back in high school, but this was the first time she was the lead in a paying production. It didn’t pay much, granted, but that was what her day job (and Actor’s Equity) was for. She was in theatre for the passion, the heart, the excitement, and she was very eager to see what doors this would open for her. Grace had heard of people getting discovered in even less prestigious theatres.

A guy not much older than her, Kevin, played Clyde. He plopped himself down beside Grace and offered her a fist bump.

“Your hair looks messed up,” he said by way of a greeting. “It’s hella windy out there.”

Grace rolled her eyes but paused her stretching to attempt to pull her hair into a reasonable braid.

“Better?”

“Much,” he grinned at her. “How was the pub?”

“Same as always. Full of rude people. How was the drugstore?”

“About the same.” He sighed. “I can’t wait until tech week… Like yeah, all the ten of twelves will be hell but it’s a more pleasant hell than eight hours at the cash register.”

“Retweet,” Grace said absently. Her eyes followed the director as he climbed up on stage, having just ended his conversation. He was flanked by the stage manager and the producer, a middle-aged lady that Grace hadn’t met before but had seen watching the first read-through. She didn’t think it was normal for the producer to come to so many rehearsals, but she knew she was hardly an expert. Charlie clapped his hands once to draw the attention of all the actors and everyone’s attention turned to him.

“Actors,” he said in his booming voice. “I have an announcement. Last night, I was offered a job directing an off-Broadway production. I have loved the work that we’ve done in our short time here, but I have to do what’s best for my career. So I’m sorry to say that I will be leaving you, effective immediately.”

In the pause where he took a breath, Kevin muttered a shell-shocked “what the fuck” from beside her. Grace didn’t really know what to think. Her mind had gone blank, save for one phrase that she couldn’t stop repeating: failure. The first production that she was a lead in was now officially a failure. She shook her head as she realized that she was going to have to start the nerve-wracking audition process all over again, the processes that gave her twenty rejections before one measly job. The best job opportunity of her life so far: a failure.

The other actors had broken out into mutters too, all of them looking as shocked as Grace felt. A voice from the back spoke up above the noise and all eyes fell on her, a woman that Grace vaguely recalled as playing Blanche, as she stood up.

“So the show’s just done then?” she asked, her voice trembling but still somehow managing an accusatory tone. “After everything we’ve done?”

The director’s eyes widened. “No, no, of course not!” he stuttered, his hands flying up in front of his chest, taking a few steps back. “I’ve arranged for Annette Keiser,” he indicated the stressed producer, “to conduct interviews for a new director as quickly as possible. In fact, I believe her first appointment is in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, yes. We’ll have a new director by Monday, I promise you that you won’t be out of work. I know of a few promising young directors that are interested in the show that I’ve contacted since last night. I’ll make sure that we only get the best.” Annette announced in a strained voice, giving away how stressed the normally bubbly woman was. “Now, I have to go prepare for my first appointment. Everyone is dismissed until Monday.” With that, she and Charlie walked off the stage in opposite directions. The stage manager nodded at the group of actors for whom the shock still hadn’t worn off, then scurried off stage to inform the techs of the new development. The actress that played Blanche walked over to Grace and Kevin, both of whom were still sitting on the floor mid-stretch.

“Well, that was a surprise twist,” she said in a soft, lilting southern accent.

“No shit, Rosa,” Kevin chuckled, causing Grace to smile. He got up and started brushing off his pants. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Monday, Grace. You too, Rosa,” he said, then sauntered off the stage.

Rosa rolled her eyes in his direction, also biting back a laugh. She stuck out a hand to help Grace up. After a beat Grace took it, smiling.

“So I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink,” Rosa said. Her words broke a little of the worry in Grace’s heart, and she started to giggle.

“Where do you live? There’s a good pub in Brooklyn, does a nice fish and chips and an even better whiskey.”

“Ooh, fish and chips does seem like it would hit the spot. Whiskey too. I live in Brooklyn, so it sounds alright to me.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Neither stopped to change out of their dance clothes, but just bundled back up and threw their bags over their shoulders, and both recoiled as soon as the cold wind hit their faces.

“Ugh. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Rosa complained. “The place I’m from, it never snows. The summer heat’s brutal, though.”

“Oh, where are you from?”

“Texas,” she answered in an exaggerated accent. “Real southern belle right here.”

“Damn,” Grace replied. “You’ll have to help me perfect my accent. This whole musical takes place there.”

“If there is a musical anymore,” Rosa rolled her eyes. “But anyways, enough about that. Where are you from?”

“Oregon,” Grace sighed. “But I went to southern California for college, so I’m not quite used to this cold either.”

“Oregon, huh? Farm girl?”

“Small town girl.” She hummed a couple bars of “Don’t Stop Believin’”, making Rosa laugh. “My parents own a diner. I think everyone was surprised when both me and my twin brother ditched Oregon for LA. We both went to USC, and he plays for the Chargers now. I guess in comparison I’m the underachiever,” she joked, trying to laugh off the accidental reveal of too much information. Rosa, bless her, smoothly ignored it and changed the subject.

“So your family’s all over the place, huh? Everyone I know is still in San Antonio. We’re all either there or Mexico, but I haven’t seen my Mexican family in a long time.”

Grace hummed in sympathy. “My twin and I were adopted. It was a closed adoption, so I still have no idea who my birth parents are, other than that they were Thai. My adoptive parents—my real parents—don’t have good relationships with their parents so I don’t have much extended family. Our family was basically the whole town.”

After a few steps in silence, Rosa spoke up again. “Well, I bet that soon enough both you and your brother will be big stars.”

“Aw, Rosa.”

“No, seriously though. You’re an amazing singer, I heard you during the first sing-through. I thought, damn, how does such a big voice come from such a little person?”

“I’m not that small!” Grace protested. Rosa just laughed from a height six inches taller than Grace. Grace adjusted her bag on her shoulder, accidentally hitting a passerby in the shoulder.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” She whipped her head around to apologize to him, tucking her bag closer to her. She'd only lived in New York City for a few months, and hadn't yet succumbed to the rudeness the people of the city were so known for.

“That’s okay!” he shouted over his shoulder, not even looking back. He must have been in a hurry. But when he turned his head, Grace thought the recognized him. The black mop of hair, the tortoiseshell glasses, the crooked grin that she’d barely caught before he turned away. She stopped in her tracks, dodging pedestrians to try and get a better look at the retreating man.

Rosa noticed Grace had stopped and walked back over.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” Grace started breathlessly. “I just... thought I saw someone I knew.”

Rosa raised an eyebrow.

“It probably wasn’t him. I haven’t seen him in, God, seven years? Yeah, no way that was him.”

“Is there a story there?” Rosa asked.

Grace’s face flushed a bit. “There is, but… you’ll have to buy me a few drinks first.”

“Hell, I’m not made of money,” Rosa laughed. “I live in a shoebox for 1300 a month, if I could buy you more than one drink I would.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll tell you later, it’s not anything too interesting.”

“Whatever you say.”

The two finally reached the Brooklyn pub after a long subway ride that was a welcome reprieve from the cold. The inside of the pub was warm with soft yellow lighting. It was clear that it was more of a hole-in-the-wall than anything classy, but they both were more comfortable with the casual setting. They both sat at the bar and the bartender made a beeline over.

“Hey, Grace! Back so soon?” he teased. Grace rolled her eyes.

“Just looking for some food and some drinks for my friend and me. Our director left the production, so we might be out of a job soon.”

Rosa swatted her. “Don’t say that! It’s bad luck.”

Grace turned to her in surprise. “You were saying the same thing not even an hour ago!”

“I’m trying to be optimistic!” Rosa retorted, making them both laugh. Grace turned back to the bartender.

“Aaron, do you know if anyone has a shift this weekend that needs to be picked up? I didn’t get scheduled at all.”

“We’re closing for a renovation this weekend, remember? Getting new wallpaper.”

Grace wrinkled her nose as she looked around at the peeling wallpaper, completely torn off in some places and horribly stained in others. “Good, we need it. But that just means I’ll starve this weekend.”

“Better eat hearty tonight, then. Employee discount, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Grace brightened up. “Two Old Fashioneds, then, and two plates of fish and chips.”

“Comin’ right up,” Aaron said as he turned to grab bottles off the shelves. Rosa turned to Grace.

“So, spill. Who was that guy on the street?”

“It probably wasn’t even him,” Grace deflected.

“Well, who did you think he was?”

Grace let out a long sigh. “That guy just… looked a lot like my high school ex. That’s all.”

“Oh, so what’s the story there? Messy breakup? Lots of drama?” Rosa rested her chin on her hands, eager for the story.

“Ugh, no, not at all. He was two years older than me, so we broke up when he went to college. He went to NYU, so we decided long-distance wasn’t really an option. It sucked a lot because we were together for almost a year and a half, but there’s no bad blood between us or anything. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, so I was just surprised. But that probably wasn’t even him. A lot of guys these days like the glasses and blazers-with-jeans look.”

“Hmm,” Rosa hummed, a little disappointed. “Wouldn’t that be weird if it was him, though?”

“Yeah, really though,” Grace laughed. “Honestly, I’m not really sure what he’s up to nowadays. We don’t really talk, and he’s not too active on social media. Whoever that man was, he just gave me a serious blast from the past.”

Aaron set their drinks down, and they both smiled gratefully before picking up their glasses and clinking them together.

“To the new director,” Rosa suggested.

“To the new director!” Grace responded. “Whoever they are, they’ll have a hell of a job.”