#i used to go to bed every night at 11:00pm. who is she where did she go. can she come back.

[demadogs]

why must i stay up til 2:00/3:00/4:00am every night

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 20/?

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - your name

***IMPORTANT*** The Criminal Psychology majors will be taking a temporary hiatus as I’m getting my second dose of the vaccine today<3 I don’t know when I’ll be coming back because I don’t want to burn myself out on this series just to give content while I’m gone, yknow

Warnings: Swearing, Forgetfulness, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

They danced and sung the night away at the Gala. It ended at around 2:00am and everyone went back to the Wayne Manor. 

Somehow it came out that they should play Uno of all things. Uno is known for being the “Friendship Ruiner” or the “Relationship Ruiner” of the world. So, of course, they played it. Why wouldn't they?

Y/N dealt the cards. She was not quick about it. At all. She really struggled to deal the cards to the entire group, but she still tried. It was the thought that counted. Or at least she thought it did.

But no one seemed to mind she was a little slower with her cards-dealing. Which was different to the up-beat, face-paced life all of them lead. One would have expected that they would want a crazy fast dealer, but no one cared.

They played well into the night, with Jason ending up tapping-out and laying in Y/N’s lap. She played with his hair and leaned down to show him the good cards she got, at least until he fell asleep. She spent the time bonding with his family. 

They had always liked her. From the first time they all met her, they knew she was going to be something real. They were even impressed that Jason and her hadn’t fought yet. They were both hot-headed when they wanted to be, so when it was obvious that they put the relationship ahead of their own prides, it was something else.

They knew of the first time they had one of these moments. Y/N was at a dance competition, but Jason had to dip because of “Family Issues”, she was upset. Of course, she wanted him there and it looked like they were going to get into a huge spat about it. But, when she won that competition, she got up there and she said,

“This one is for my family, my friends, the extension of my family,” she paused, “And my boyfriend, Jason.” She smiled, “He isn’t here right now because of family issues, but he told me to follow my dreams, and here I am,” she said while raising her medal slightly, “This one was for you, baby.”

And that’s when his family knew that pride was stupid to them. Relationships are growing, changing together. And while they both stayed hot-headed, they changed that slight detail in themselves to be better partners. It was admirable.

Y/N ended up winning the last game. Half of the Waynes were sleeping, either at the coffee table where they were playing or in their rooms. She glanced over to the clock, 6:00am. She knew her parents were getting up soon, so she texted her mom,

Hey mum! So do you still want Jay and I to come over for the barbeque? 

And she nudged him a little. Everyone else had left the room, so she was trying to wake him up. So they could go to his room. He groaned.

“Baby, do you want to sleep in your bed?” she whisper-asked him, leaning down to his ear and stroking his hair. He groaned and got up, started walking to his room. She followed suit. He was on his bed and passed out before she even got up there.

She laughed and walked over to him, fumbling with his suit jacket. He mumbled something about taking him on a date first, and she laughed again.

“C’mon, work with me here, you’re going to be uncomfortable if you sleep in your suit, my love.”

He groaned and took off his jacket before unbuttoning his shirt, while she got his belt undone.

“God, take me on a date first,” he mumbled.

“Shh,” she said, placing a finger over his lips, “Just go to bed, Jay.”

He sloppily kissed her neck before she cupped his face and used her position to straddle him to the bed. She kissed his forehead before getting off of him and going through his clothes. She needed something, a shirt, pants, anything she could wear.

She fumbled with getting her own dress and gloves off, ending up throwing the dress over his desk chair, hoping it would minimize wrinkling. She undid her corset and threw it on his desk. Her heels were sitting at his desk chair. The gloves on his desk.

She crawled into bed with him, being the big spoon, burying her face behind his neck. She pulled out her phone to look at her texts. One from Artemis,

Hey, dude. That dress, oh my God?

She laughed into Jason’s shoulder and sent back,  I know. I know. I know. I killed it. You can’t say I didn’t.

You’re literally so right because again, oh my God. You did NOT need to wipe the floor with the rest of the guests. I mean, Selina was there and you were on her level.

That’s impressive. Selina is stunning. But I’d argue I was just below every Wayne lady.

Well, eventually you’ll be a Wayne lady.

C’mon. It’s been 6 months. 

You say that like the thought hasn’t crossed your mind at least once.

Yeah, but I don’t talk to anyone about it. 

You should start talking about it. Most people think about their weddings.

Okay, anyway. Why are you up so early?

I was studying most of the night with Wally.

Ah, “Studying”. Nice.

I wish! No, we were actually studying. Not like you and Jay at your little Gala. Actually had to study.

I have to study too, but exams are like next week.

Wish I could relate. Mine are today. 

And you didn’t sleep? Dude.

Shh, you’re not my mom.

She laughed and fell asleep cuddling Jason. Her phone was opened, so it died. 

----------------------------------

Jason woke up first. Looking at the time, it was 12:00pm. Y/N was sleeping behind him, still loosely holding him. He smiled. He hoped that the night before had fixed some of the issues between them. Well, he hoped there was no issues.

He didn’t want work to be more stressful than it already was. But, they were having issues. He thought it was because of finals, but he feared there was more to it. Maybe it was the fact that he’s famous. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t handle the fame. He hoped it wasn’t anything to do with the fame.

But the comment about the people with daggers at her throat obviously wasn't about anyone else. It was the press. He knew she had issues with the press. He always would. She always would.  He wouldn’t blame her if she walked away from him because of the press. Break up or a break, she was allowed to give up because of the press. He hoped she didn’t. He hoped she never would. He didn’t want to jinx them, but he really, really, hoped that this wouldn’t end in flames.

He looked at her. He remembered the first moment he knew he loved her. They were having dinner at this hole-in-the-wall restaurant that he had seen on patrol one night. She was scarfing down the food, and he wiped away the mess on her face with his thumb. He knew then. He knew in that moment that that was it. She was it. 

He was whipped and he knew it. But every time his siblings or dad brought it up, he mentioned current or past relationships they had. The only people who weren’t whipped in the Wayne household were the women.

Or maybe the all were, they were just good at hiding it. He turned around and cuddled her back He stroked her hair. He ran his fingers through her hair. 

She did it to him a lot. Physical affection was something that he was used to at this point. He still didn’t know how to feel about it, but he had ended up letting Dick hug him more often. He didn’t say it was because of her, because she didn’t outright run up to him expecting hugs, she was okay with hand holding and small touches of affection. It wasn’t because of her that he started letting people in.

But he did think she was a turning point for him. For his affection. His love style. She gave a damn about him and made it clear. It wasn’t like love he was used to, but it also opened his mind to people trying to love him.

She shifted around a bit. She ended up turning her back to Jason so he became the big spoon, and he buried his face in her hair. She groaned and tugged at the blanket on his bed, pulling it onto the two of them. He helped her get it on them. She groaned again.

“You up?” he whispered.

“No... I’m in deep sleep,” she said with a slur to her speech.

“My mistake, really.”

“It is.”

He pulled her closer, “Can you wake up?”

“No.”

“That’s sad. I wanted to talk.”

“You can talk.”

“Okay so,” he said, “I realised something. Some people would say you’re changing me, that I’m becoming someone else because of you,” he paused, “I’d have to disagree. You’re not doing anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re just inspiring me to do better. You influence me. You don’t intentionally go in and change me, I change because I love you.”

“That’s nice honey.”

“You could pretend you’re interested in what I have to say, my love.”

“I’m tired, Jay.”

“I danced you to Hell, I guess.”

She groaned, “I guess I can’t go back to bed, now,” she flexed her wrist, “You’ve interrupted my sleep.”

He cuddled in closer to her, “I am not sorry.”

“Of course you’re not, why would you be?” she said while she turned to face him, “You just want to see me.”

“Damn, you got me.”

She yawned, “We need to study eventually.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I just did.”

“School’s annoying. It’s on every last never but also none of them. It’s stressful but I also met you from it. It’s something I excel at but also causes me pain.”

“I know, babe. I know,” she said as she searched for her phone, finding it, dead and under her leg. “Fuck, killed my phone.”

“Where did you even have that all night?”

“Dress has pockets. But I didn’t bring my charger,” she sighed. “I had texted my mum too.”

“Texted your mom about what?”

“She wants us to go to a family barbeque after exams.”

“That’s so suburban of your family.”

“Yet they live in a massive city. I guess you'll see my family? you like them, don't you?” she asked. 

He had met her family in January of that year. He got along with her mom and dad, in spite of the language barrier between him and her dad. There was difficulty understanding each other, but they got along in their love for rock music. It warmed Y/N’s heart.

Her mom liked him just because he made her happy. They didn’t really need to get along, but they did. They both cooked, and her mom had dragged him into helping her when Y/N was watching figure skating with her dad. Apparently they hit it off.

“I have literally no idea,” he said.

“How do you not know?”

“Your sister has something off about her.”

“You know, that’s fair. I don’t blame you for that one.”

“Yeah, have you noticed she’s very... obsessed with vigilantes?”

“And you thought I was obsessed,” she joked, “Yeah, she takes it a little too far. The whole, “I want to marry a vigilante to infiltrate and kill them” thing was obviously a joke, but I feel like there was some truth to it. That scares me.”

“Thank God I’m not the only one.”

“If you don’t like her, don’t worry about it. i don’t care if you like her.  We’ve had  a difficult relationship all or lives. If you can be civil, it’s a win.”

“Did you have an ex openly hate your sister?”

“Yep. And he’s an ex for a reason.”

“That’s fair. I would hate it if someone openly hated one of my siblings.”

“Unless it’s Dami.”

“Unless it’s Dami, that’s very true.”

“Still don’t know what you have against that kid, he’s very sweet.”

“That’s what he wants you to think.”

“Well, then its working.”

“What a master manipulator,” he laughed. “It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N.”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N,” she mocked.

“Okay listen,” he laughed, “It is. He’s a menace.”

“But you love him.”

“It’s unfortunate. He's my brother, but he is also whatever. I don’t know. He’s amazing, he’s a genius, but who knows. Maybe one day we won’t fight all the time.”

“Imaging hoping you don’t fight with your sibling.”

“Family issues, amirite?”

She groaned and got over him, “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just need to get up, to be fair.”

“Coffee?”

“Eh, probably not.”

“That’s new.”

“You betcha. I don’t feel the affects of caffeine withdrawal yet.” She looked at her dress, it was wrinkled. Which was whatever. She knew it was going to happen. She went searching for all her stuff and put it on his desk. It was spread all out over his room, she didn’t know how it happened.

“How did your shit end up everywhere?” he asked.

“Probably the same way that all your shit ended up everywhere? I have no idea.”

“What, did we fuck?”

“No!” she laughed, “Do you not remember?”

“Days are blurring together, so.”

“Well that’s not... normal?”

[panda-noosh]

unlike me {fred weasley x reader}

  Words: 8k

Summary: You, a shy Hufflepuff, have caught the eye of Fred Weasley.

Genre: fluff

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - did i just write pure fluff? wow. i’m learning.

----

  Fred Weasley doesn’t do things to impress others. He never has. Trying to please others is so far from his mind when playing one of his pranks that it’s almost laughable to think he and his twin brother do anything for the sake of attention. They live to amuse themselves, and nobody else.

    But sometimes the reactions of others do catch his eye. It happens rarely, but there have been the odd times when Fred and George are fleeing from the scene of one of their usual messy pranks, and Fred will look over to see someone standing there, staring open mouthed and wide eyed at the scene in front of them, and he will turn back to the path and smile because - yet again - he has left somebody speechless.

   More often than not these days, that person is you.

  Fred doesn’t know much about you; you’re clearly very shy, hardly ever being spotted in the hallways unless you’re making your way to your next class, and even then you’re prone to keeping your head down, refusing to talk to anybody who wants to talk to you. Fred doesn’t know if you have any friends, if you want friends, if you’ve ever looked at him and wondered what it would be like to talk to him…

   “So, Harry, tell me a bit about that one over there.”

   Harry looks up from his breakfast plate, eyes still fogged from a night of no-doubt restless sleep. Beside him, Ron is still trying to wake himself up and Hermione is hastily flipping through a gargantuan textbook. It seems to Fred like the Chosen One may be the only one at this moment in time in a fit enough state to answer his pressing questions.

   “Huh?” he replies.

  Fred leans forward a little more, so close that his mouth is very nearly touching Harry’s ear. “That one over there.” He nods over to the Hufflepuff table. “The one sitting on their own.”

 Harry narrows his eyes. “Y/N L/N? What about them?”

  “They’re in your year, aren’t they?”

  “I think so. I don’t really know too much about them; they’re quite quiet, really.”

  “Yeah,” Fred and George say together. “We know.”

  Harry raises a brow, flicking his gaze to the twins standing on either side of him. “Why? Are you both interested?”

  “Just ol’ Freddy Boy here.”

  Ron scoffs. “You? Getting in with Y/N L/N? Mate, that’s about as likely as Percy showing up for Christmas this year.”

  Fred slaps Ron on the back of the head. “Shut your mouth, you git.”

  “So, what? You really think you have a chance with them?” Harry asks.

  Fred shifts uncomfortably; he hadn’t meant for the conversation to get this far. All he wanted was for Harry to tell him a bit about you and that be it - he was fairly confident he could handle the rest on his own using his incredible charm and humour.

   But now these snotty little fifth years are making him second-guess his own abilities, which has never happened before in his seventeen years of life.

    “I think so,” he replies, trying to keep his voice as confident as possible. “Why wouldn’t I have a chance? I’m charming, and witty, and-”

  “And loud, and annoying, and centre of attention literally all the time,” Ginny finishes, waltzing into the conversation. She sits down next to Hermione, pinching a hash brown off Harry’s plate. “Y/N is the complete opposite of that. You’ll scare them away before you even get a chance to ask them out.”

   Fred frowns. George says something in his twins defence, but Fred has stopped listening, instead choosing to glance over to where you’re still sitting, smiling shyly at the Hufflepuff boy who has just taken a seat next to you. It’s clear - and always has been clear - that you get plenty of attention - you just don’t want it. Fred has watched you get shy and awkward, shuffling away from people who so much as grin in your direction. Fred has even watched you scurry away when he walks past, and at this point, he isn’t even surprised; the scenes Fred finds him in are far from the types of scenes you’ll want to be caught in.

   You really are very different people, and Fred isn’t stupid enough to deny that. Nonetheless, there’s something about you that has always caught his eye, from the day he was a puny little second year, watching you scramble up to the Sorting Hat. Even then he found himself staring at you, fingers crossed in the hopes you would get sorted into Gryffindor, that he could find an excuse to lead you to the Common Room himself - not Perfect Percy - but then you were being sorted into Hufflepuff and an awful long time went by in which Fred did nothing to pursue you.

   But now he’s in his sixth year. If not now, then when?

  “Have you ever tried speaking to them?”

   Ron’s voice snaps Fred from his daze. He looks down and shrugs.

  “Not really.”

  “That's not like you,” says Ginny. “Have we actually found someone who makes you shy?”

 Fred scowls. “I’m not shy. Y/N’s shy - I’m just respecting that and keeping my distance.”

  “Good on you, mate,” says George, before he ducks his head down and whispers loudly in Harry’s ear, “Every time he sees them, he wets himself a little.”

  Fred kicks his twin. “Would you lot give it a rest? I’ll talk to them today, alright? You’ll all see.”

  “Oh, don’t wind him up,” Hermione tuts, slapping Ron on the arm when the group of youngsters start laughing.

  “Oooh,” George says. “You’ve got Granger sticking up for you, Fred - who would have thought that would ever happen to us?”

   “I think it’s cute that Fred likes Y/N,” says Hermione, sitting up a little straighter. “I don’t know much about them, but I think someone bringing them out of their shell could do them a world of good.”

   Fred can’t help but grin; the thought of it, of you actually giving him a chance - it makes him unnervingly happy. “Cheers, Hermione.”

   Fred takes that tiny bit of assurance and carries it with him throughout the entire day - he doesn’t really know when he’s going to make his move, just that he is.

   At some point.

  He has no classes with you. He barely sees you in the hallways. He doesn’t share a common room with you - the situation is really not working in his favour, but Fred Weasley will not let such a drawback ruin his plans. He’ll find ways around it, just as he finds ways around everything.

   The solution finally comes to him at 11:00pm.

  He should be in bed. He knows he should be in bed, that if Filch were to see him right now, the old man would be going absolutely ballistic, overjoyed with the idea of giving another student a detention. Fred has the advantage of the Marauders Map, plus a lifetimes worth of sneaking around, but that doesn’t make him feel any less nervous.

  He’s been out of bed after curfew plenty of times before, but never has he crept into another common room whilst doing it.

   He heads towards the basement, checking the Marauders Map every few seconds to ensure Filch and his filthy cat are as far away as possible. His mind is working at a million miles per hour, because for the first time in his life, Fred is convinced he’s being stupid. The amount of protective charms that must be on the doors of these openings would be insane, and Fred is insane to think he could ever try and get past them, but god, he can’t go down to breakfast tomorrow without making some attempt to talk to you, just like he said he would, just like Hermione-

   “Eep!”

  Fred spins on his heel, nearly falling over a body of armour stood in the corner. Multiple paintings rouse from their sleep, and the ones that were already awake break into fits of giggles. Fred doesn’t even acknowledge the tiny noise that made him jump in the first place, instead choosing to desperately hush the paintings around him.

   “Shut up. Sh! Filch will hear and then we’re all in trouble!”

   “Speak for yourself, Weasley,” says Doogle Doolaly through a mouthful of giggles. Fred shoots the painting a glare before abruptly remembering what had caused him to stumble in the first place.

   He spins around. To his surprise, you’re still there.

  You, standing right in front of him with both hands clapped over your mouth, eyes wide. You’re wearing a pair of yellow bed robes, hair a mess. Fred has to take a minute to just stare.

   And then, “What on Earth are you doing out of bed?”

  Slowly you lower your hands, biting your lower lip as you stare right back at him; Fred, though pleased, finds this quite odd considering he’s so used to watching you avoid eye contact as much as possible. “I was walking.”

   Your voice is quiet, timid.

   Fred tilts his head. “Walking? At eleven at night?”

   “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Me neither.”

   You nod. Fred nods back. The two of you stand a good five feet apart, unsure of what to say or do to make the silence go away - of course, there’s so many things Fred wants to ask, considering he was previously convinced you would never step out of line, but none of those questions are appearing right now.

    Fred, however, knows this silence can’t last forever, so he’s the one to make the first move in breaking it.

   “You alright?”

  You look up, startled. “I’m fine. Why?”

 “I was just wondering. You look like you’ve seen someone use an illegal curse or something.”

   “Thanks.”

 Fred’s stomach flips. “Not that you don’t look really pretty, because you do, but I’m just saying-”

   “Why were you heading towards the Hufflepuff common room?”

  Fred pauses. Have you just caught him out?

  “How did you know that’s where I was going?”

 “Because nobody else comes down here this late at night unless they’re a Hufflepuff coming back from detention.”

  “You’re good at this, you know. Right little detective, you are.”

   You shrug.

  Fred sighs, rubs the back of his neck before saying, “I was just having an innocent little dander about. Those Gryffindor sixth years can be a rowdy bunch - it’s hard to get to sleep.”

   “Oh. Okay.” You trace your eyes along his towering form, and for a moment, Fred is almost convinced you’re genuinely checking him out. It boosts his confidence a little. “Well, I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep. I’m also sorry for making so much noise - you startled me.”

   “Yeah, well, I’m a pretty scary person I’ve been told.”

  Your lips twitch. “Who told you that?”

   He shrugs. “It’s not so much a verbal thing. Sometimes sweet little Hufflepuff’s run away when they make eye contact with me.” He raises a brow, smirks when he sees your own smile fade, replaced by a mild look of embarrassment because you both know exactly who Fred is talking about.

   You cough and awkwardly kick at the floor. “Sometimes sweet little Hufflepuff’s get a little shy.”

   Fred’s confidence is really flooding back into his system now, and he doesn’t know why it feels different. This isn’t the confidence he carries around with him on a day-to-day basis, the confidence that allows him to play these big pranks without a care in the world. This is a type of confidence he has never felt before, makes him feel elated, like he can do anything.

   He smirks, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m Fred Weasley, by the way.”

  “I know.” Your eyes pop open for a brief second. “I mean - uh - Ron. Ron is your brother, right?”

  “He is.”

 “I know your brother. He’s in my year. Goalkeeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, right?”

 “Right.”

 You nod, biting your lower lip in that way Fred has learned you do quite often when you’re flustered. “I heard of you - uh - from him. Yeah.”

  Fred nods. He stares at your flustered form, finding amusement in the way you quickly look to the floor, trying desperately to avoid his gaze which has apparently now become too much for you.

  He chuckles and pushes himself away from the wall he found himself leaning upon. “It was lovely talking to you, Hufflepuff. Try not to run away next time and maybe we can talk again.”

   You look up and nod, lips twitching. Fred grins right back, bows his head to you before he walks off down the corridor, pretty darn pleased with himself.

  ----

   “So how did it go?”

  “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  Ginny gasps, slapping Fred on the arm when her, Fred and George sit down to breakfast the next morning. “You kissed?”

   Fred snickers. “No. But we spoke, and it was great. Y/N L/N is actually a bit of a rule breaker.”

 Ginny raises a brow, reaching across George for a slice of toast. “Shut up.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” says George, at the same time Fred says, “I’m telling the truth.”

   “Wow. What were they doing to break the rules?”

 “Walking about after curfew. Lucky I was there, or else Filch would have had them.”

   Ginny scoffs. “Because god forbid anyone be as sneaky as you two.”

  “Exactly,” the twins reply.

   “So what was the conversation like?” Ginny prods. She wears a distracted gaze in the hopes that Fred won’t see just how curious she really is, but Fred sees right through her.

   “It wasn’t bad,” he replies. “A bit short, but that’s easily fixed.”

  “So you want to keep talking to them?”

  Fred raises a brow. “Of course I do.”

  Ginny hums around the slice of toast in her mouth. “Cute, Fred. Cute.”

  Fred opens his mouth to give a sarcastic retort, but gets abruptly distracted by the sight of you rising from the Hufflepuff table. He sits bolt upright, craning his neck to see over the heads of everybody else; you don’t spare him a glance, apparently retreating back to your usual, shy self. With your head ducked down and your books piled in your arms, you hastily make your way towards the exit.

    Fred is standing up before he can even process he’s moved. Ginny and George watch him, both smiling maniacally as Fred utters a half-hearted goodbye and follows after you. He really has no plans for what he could possibly say when he finally catches up, but he’s decided to take every opportunity he possibly can.

   He bustles out of the Great Hall, finding you only a few seconds after as you head back towards the Hufflepuff common room.

  “Y/N!”

  You freeze, spinning around as Fred jumps onto the step just below the one you’re currently standing on. He pants dramatically, clutching his chest.

   “You move quick.”

 You glance over his shoulder, hugging your books a little tighter. “Hi, Fred. How was breakfast?”

  “Oh, good. Great, actually. I - uh - had toast.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “Yeah.” He straightens up, rubbing the back of his neck; why is he suddenly nervous? “Where are you off to?”

  “I have to go grab some books for my first few classes,” you reply, and Fred can’t help but note the slight tinge of amusement in your voice. “Where are you off to?”

  Fred pauses; again, this was not something he necessarily thought through when he first decided to follow you out here. He really just wanted a chat, to hear your voice one more time before he was forced to go to classes.

   He folds his arms over his chest as nonchalantly as he can manage, leaning against the banister. “I don’t think it’s right for a lovely wizard like yourself to be walking to class on your own; I thought I’d offer my services.”

    You raise a brow, once again taking a cautious glance over Fred’s shoulder to ensure nobody is around to hear his flirtations; nonetheless, you make no attempt to stop him, which he takes as a relatively good sign. “Well, you can walk me to class if you like. I have to get my books first, though.”

 Fred gestures up the stairs. “Lead the way.”

  And so you do. Fred follows you all the way to the Hufflepuff common room, where he is forced to wait outside whilst you gather your belongings. His stomach grumbles, evidence of his uneaten breakfast, but he doesn’t even care right now. Not when you walk out of the common room, all smiles and nervous glances. Fred offers you his arm, and it’s with only the slightest bit of hesitation that you take it and allow Fred to lead you back through the school hallways.

   “What is it like in there?” he asks.

   “In where?”

  “The Hufflepuff common room. Surely you can hear all the house elves rattling about in the kitchens at night.”

   You shake your head. “The walls are soundproof; did you know Muggles have soundproof things as well?”

  Fred raises a brow. “You’re not obsessed with Muggle stuff, are you? My dad’s into all that stuff - I’ve heard enough of it for a lifetime.”

   You giggle, and Fred is fairly certain his hand starts trembling.

   “No, I’m not obsessed,” you say. “I do find some of it interesting, though. The similarities between our world and theirs.”

  “Are there many? Similarities, I mean.”

  You shrug. Looking to the side, Fred can see your face suddenly change; what once was an expression of nerves and uncertainty is now one of interest and intrigue as Fred asks you questions on a topic you are clearly very invested in. It makes his heart lift, and he has to bite his lower lip to stop the smile from spreading and making it too obvious.

   “A few I’ve picked up on,” you reply. “They still - like - wear clothes and stuff. Just different styles. And they live in houses, and go to school-”

  “School? Don’t insult Hogwarts like that. Muggle school and wizard school aren’t even comparable.”

   You furrow your brows, glancing up at Fred. “But they still learn.”

   “Not the important stuff. Not like we do.”

  “And what would you consider important?”

  Fred hums, gazing wistfully into the distance. You giggle again. Finally, he says “aha!” and clicks, whirling on you. “Right, tell me this - do Muggles learn Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

  You frown, grip tightening on his arm. “I don’t think so. They don’t have magic, so it would be a bit pointless, wouldn’t it?”

  “Ah, but it’s important. What are they gonna do if a Dementor comes knocking on their front door?”

  “There’s nothing they can do, even if they knew the basic stuff we know. They don’t have magic, Fred.”

  Fred grunts. “Must be a hard life having to do everything by hand.”

   “I agree.”

  Fred chuckles, glancing down at you. Your eyes meet his for a fraction of a second before you bite your bottom lip and avert your gaze.

   “Go on then,” Fred continues. “Tell me some more similarities. You’ve got me interested now.”

   “Really?”

  “Mm.”

  You tilt your head in thought. “Well. . . I suppose the way their government system works is quite similar to ours.”

   “Explain.”

  “They have people in power. A system of higher-up’s, if you will, who control everything.”

  “Is theirs as corrupt as ours?”

  “Oh, definitely. Sometimes I’d even argue they’re even more corrupt than ours.”

  Fred’s eyes pop open. “Blimey. How has the Muggle world not completely broken down?”

   You laugh. Full-on laugh, eyes squinting closed and head thrown back. Fred can’t even bring himself to laugh alongside you, suddenly too engrossed in your enjoyment to indulge in his own.

   You hiccough yourself back to reality before looking up and saying, “Surely your dad could teach you all this stuff if he’s so interested in Muggle affairs?”

   “He’s interested, but he’s also a bit oblivious. Doesn’t matter how many times Harry tells him what a telephone is, he still has no idea how it all works.” Fred shrugs. “Plus, I enjoy my lessons much more when you’re teaching them.”

   You stiffen, lower lip hiding - yet again - behind your teeth. You swallow thickly, and before Fred can do anything, you’re unwinding your arm from his and picking up your pace, calling a quick, “I’m gonna be late!” over your shoulder. Fred falters mid-way, staring after you with his mouth dropped open and confusion making his stomach churn.

   Someone crashes into his shoulder as you round the corner. “Nice one, mate.”

  “Shut up, George.”

   “It doesn’t look like it’s going too well.”

 “It’s - it’s going fine.” Fred curses under his breath - now you’ve got him stuttering? “They’re just a little shy. But I think they like me.”

    “Oh yes, the most obvious sign of attraction - running away.”

   ----

   Fred is beginning to get very tired of his classes.

  He’s only here for the sake of his mothers sanity; god only knows how Molly Weasley would react if he showed up at the Burrow six months early, claiming he was finished with school before he’d even managed to bag an acceptable amount of N.E.W.T’s.

   But he doesn’t want to be here any more. He’s getting tired of forcing himself to listen to things he only half cares about, getting tired of being told off for things that - honestly - the teachers should just be used to by now. It’s not like they haven’t seen it for the past six years.

   He grunts to himself as he and George walk out of History of Magic. Yet another boring lesson that seemed to drag on much longer than necessary; all Fred has to prove he was there at all is the doodle of a cat in the top hand corner of his notebook.

   “I need a sleep,” George says. “His bloody voice exhausts me.”

  Fred opens his mouth to respond, but his twin brother cuts him off by slapping a hand to his arm and pointing straight ahead.

  Startled, Fred looks up. Standing by the gargoyle just outside History of Magic is you, hugging your books whilst awkwardly looking back and forth, as if afraid one of the passing students is going to stop and harass you.

  George snickers. “Go on, mate. I think they’re looking for you.”

  Before Fred can object, get himself together, George shoves him forward hard enough to make him stumble. Your head snaps up at the sound of Fred saying “You git!” and Fred is quick to lean against the wall, look at you and say, coolly, “Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.”

   You stand up a little straighter, lips twitching. “Hi. How was class?”

  “Boring.” He smirks. “Much better now that you’re here, though.”

  The unmistakable sound of George snorting as he passes by floats between you. You smile, giving Fred’s brother a nod before you turn back to Fred and say, “Do you fancy taking a little walk before break ends?”

   Of all the things Fred expected to happen today, you asking him on a walk was certainly not one of them. It takes him a second to reply, and it’s only the realisation that you’re probably just as nervous as he is that he snaps out of it and nods.

   You wind your arm through his without him having to offer; his cheeks are burning.

  Together, you set off down the hall. It’s quiet for a little bit, Fred still trying to figure out what’s happening, and you inspecting each and every one of the sculptures you pass, as if too afraid to look over at Fred.

    Finally, however, you break the silence. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

   Fred’s stomach jolts. “What are you sorry for?”

  “For how I reacted. You were just being nice and I - uh - I don’t really know how to handle that kind of thing.”

  Fred perks an eyebrow, glancing down at you with genuine curiosity. “I find that very hard to believe.” Because he does. He finds it downright unbelievable that compliments are not something you have grown used to across the five years spent in Hogwarts.

   You shrug. “Well, believe it. I really appreciated what you said, but I just. . . I don’t know how to respond, or if you’re telling the truth-”

 “I was definitely telling the truth.”

   You bite your lip. “I shouldn’t have ran off like that. It must have made you feel awful.”

 Classic Hufflepuff behaviour - thinking more about other people’s feelings than their own.

  “You know,” Fred drawls, “if my flirting makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and I’ll stop.”

   “No!”

  Fred’s eyes snap down. You look back up at him, eyes wide before you realise the abruptness of your protestation and hastily avert your gaze to the floor.

  “No,” you say, softer now. “I - uh - I don't think you should stop. I quite like it, actually.”

  Fred smirks, keeping his eyes trained on you even as you fight desperately to look anywhere but him. “Do you fancy me, Y/N L/N?”

  “Oh, give me a break, Fred.”

   “I think you do.” He rubs his cheek against your own. “Just a little bit.”

  You jerk away, slapping his arm. “Well, it’s not bloody difficult, is it?”

  Fred falters, though his smile only widens. “What does that mean?”

  You groan, pulling your arm from his yet again. Fred stumbles back, unable to help the laugh that bursts from his throat at the sight of your flustered state.

   “I’m going to class,” you announce.

  “You didn’t answer my question!”

   “I don’t have an answer to your question.” You stand there a little longer. With a smile still beaming, Fred watches as you take a single step forward, a step back, another step forward-

  And then, as if telling yourself to just get it over with, you jump forward and press your lips to Fred’s cheek. His jaw drops open, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything before you’re spinning on your heel and rushing away, rounding the corner without so much as a wave in his direction.

   Fred swallows thickly, reaching up to brush his fingers against the area you have just kissed, just like they do in those cheesy Muggle movies his mum is so fond of. He can’t believe the feeling that comes with it - his heart is going to explode.

    Oh, no…

   ----

   The Hufflepuff table is boring compared to the Gryffindor table. That’s the first thing Fred notices.

  Maybe it’s because his friends aren’t with him. Maybe it’s because George flat-out refused to accompany him. Maybe it’s because Fred is nervous, and he’s angry about it, because since when has Fred Weasley ever been nervous about anything?

   This morning, however, he is pushed on by the memory of your lips against his cheek. That is his only source of motivation, the only reason he doesn’t flick Ernie MacMillan on the back of the head when the Hufflepuff boy turns and scowls at the Gryffindor student currently making his way towards you, sat at the very end.

  You have yet to look up from your textbook. Fred takes great pleasure in wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your body jumping back against his in your shock. He leans down and chuckles in your ear, moving his head so you can see his clearly amused features.

   Immediately your eyes widen. “Fred! What are you doing here?”

 “I thought I’d come have breakfast with you.” He waves his wand; a sausage springs up from Ernie’s plate, which he catches before biting into. “Like a date.”

    You bite your lip. “Do you want to sit down?”

 “Uh, Y/N?” Ernie calls over as Fred takes the empty seat next to you; he doesn’t miss the way you barely look up when you hum in response to Ernie’s - quite frankly - rude call of your name. “You know the houses have to eat together. He’s breaking the rules.”

   You shyly look up. “Oh, Ernie, let him sit down…”

 “Yeah Ernie,” Fred jeers. “Let me sit down, you nosy little git.”

   You choke on the pumpkin juice you just lifted to your mouth, spinning in your seat to hide the amused smile growing uncontrollably upon your face. Fred grins, placing his hands on your shoulders.

  “Did you like that?”

 “You’re impossible,” you hiss, slapping his arm. “Just ignore him. He’s got a grudge against anyone who plays for Gryffindor.”

 “Yeah, I know.” Fred narrows his eyes, craning his neck a little to see over your shoulder, where Ernie sits with a scowl on his face. “He better not give you a hard time for hanging out with me, you know. You’d tell me if he was?”

    You shift so you’re covering Ernie’s face and are now the centre of Fred’s attention. “Of course I would. Plus, Ernie doesn’t scare me.”

   “I’ll certainly scare him if he so much as-”

 “Fred,” you laugh, nudging his knee beneath the table. His eyes drift back to you, his body immediately relaxing at the sight of your glowing smile. “Calm down, okay? He’s got nothing against me - it’s you and the Gryffindor team he’s got a problem with.”

   “Is that supposed to make me hate him any less?”

  You shrug, plucking Fred’s hands from your shoulders and placing a hash brown between his fingertips. “He’s got a point, you know. You are breaking the rules by sitting here.”

   Fred raises a brow. “Right, I’ll leave if you-”

  “No!” You latch onto his arm, pulling him back to the bench as Fred bursts into yet another round of raucous laughter at how easily flustered you become. “No, you should stay. Dumbledore isn’t even looking.”

   “If I was any less wise, L/N, I’d think you want me to have breakfast with you.”

   “I just don’t get to see that much of you,” you mumble.

  Fred coos; he’s trying so hard to keep up the fun-guy persona, putting on a mask of confidence despite the speed at which his heart is hammering in his chest at the moment. You make it so easy for him to feel this way, too easy, because sure, Fred has had crushes on people before, but never has he put himself out like this. Never has he wanted to make someone laugh so much. Never has he been so proud of being the reason for someone else’s smile.

    Fred leans forward, lowering his voice. “That’s very cute.”

  “Yeah, well…”

   He chuckles, flicking your heated cheek before he takes a bite from the slice of toast you’re holding. You jolt upright immediately, swatting him away with a glare. “Hey!”

   He licks the butter noisily from his fingers. “Yummy.”

  You roll your eyes. “Get your own breakfast.”

  “But yours is so much tastier.”

   You grab another slice of toast from your plate and push it against Fred’s lips. He opens his mouth, takes a bite and hums appreciatively.    

   And then the world stops.

   It really is like those scenes in those cheesy movies his mum watches all the time, where the room seems to go still and it’s like nobody else exists. Your fingers hover inches away from his face, your eyes cast to his lips where the slice of toast has just disappeared. Fred swallows, his own eyes drawn to your lips, slightly parted, so soft looking-

    “Weasley! What do you think you’re doing sitting at the Hufflepuff table! Get back to where you belong right this instant!”

   McGonagall grabs a fistful of his robes, pulling him up from the bench. Fred gasps, stumbling up with his eyes still locked on you. You hastily look back down at the table, pushing hair out of your eyes, trying to avoid being told off by the Deputy Head.

   “Awk, lay off, Professor!” Fred exclaims. “I was having fun!”

  “You were breaking the rules, Mr Weasley. You can integrate with your pals whenever breakfast has finished, but until then-”

   “Yeah, yeah,” Fred grumbles, giving you one last glance. It’s to his utter relief that he sees you looking back at him, a tiny smile on your face. Fred winks before McGonagall shoves him forward, back into his seat at the Gryffindor table.

   ----

   When Fred receives your note, he is sat in the Gryffindor common room with George.

  Homework litters the table in front of them, unfinished and not understood by either of them. Hermione had long since gone to bed, insisting she wasn’t going to help people who didn’t want to help themselves. And so, the twins sat up until the late hours of the night, staring at their homework with a sense of frustration building between them.

   Fred feels certain he’s going to snap at any given moment; this whole school thing really isn’t working out for him nor George, and the two of them have such prestigious dreams that sitting in a classroom all day just feels like a waste of time. Maybe that’s why he can’t bring himself to properly concentrate on his lessons. Maybe that’s why neither he nor George care as much about grades as all his other siblings.

   “Right, so clearly Flitwick was on something when he wrote this,” says George, scowling at his charms homework. “He didn’t even mention flying charms last lesson, so why has he-”

   The fireplace suddenly erupts.

  Both Fred and George jump at the sudden interruption, swivelling round in their chairs to catch a glimpse of what has happened; they both know full well the kinds of things these fireplaces can permit, and neither of them want to deal with anything too dangerous at this time of night.

    In the fire, however, is not the face of a Death Eater, or anything close to such - instead, a single piece of paper sits in the ashes, Fred’s name printed in bold across the top.

   The twins frown at each other. George makes a suggestive gesture, all but shoving Fred closer for inspection.

  Fred stumbles, sends George a glare before he bends down and picks the piece of paper up. Immediately the handwriting is recognisable by the lazy flick of the letters, how effortlessly neat it looks. It would take Fred hours to write a note that looks like this, and yet he’s watched you scribbling notes down; this is undoubtedly your doing.

   Suddenly he’s smiling.

  “Oh, here we go,” George groans, noticing his twins expression. “You’re sending love notes to each other now?”

   “Shut up.” Fred sinks down into one of the armchairs, reading your note thoroughly. “Y/N wants to meet up.”

  “Right now?”

   “Mhm.”

  George raises a brow. “Have you two even kissed yet?”

 Fred’s eyes snap up, cheeks heating before he can stop them. He never ever gets flustered around George, but the mention of such a thing has his stomach flipping. “Why do you care?”

   George raises his hands in mock surrender. “Never said I did, mate, but the smile on your face right now would suggest at least a peck on the cheek or something.”

   Fred scowls. “No, we haven’t kissed. We’re not even properly together, so drop it.”

   “How does that make sense? You both fancy each other-”

   “Yeah, but it’s nothing official.” Fred lazily flicks his hand, clicking his fingers so the note folds itself into a perfect square and zips into his robe pocket. “You wouldn’t understand these things, Georgie Boy. You’ve got to take it slow.”

   Goerge scoffs, throwing a pencil at Fred. “Very bloody slow apparently. But I forgot, it’s a Hufflepuff you’ve got your eye on. They tend to be a bit hard-to-get, don’t they?”

   Fred opens his mouth to protest, to stick up for you, but he can’t even deny the truth in George’s words; a fair amount of time has passed since the two of you first started talking, and all you’ve done is say you enjoy his company. There’s been no kissing, no hand-holding, nothing even close to being considered romantic.

   Fred is okay with this, of course. He’s in that very weird head space where even just being in your presence is enough to satisfy him; he catches glimpses of you as you parade from one class to another, and that is enough until he sees you again at lunch, or dinner, or during breaks.

   He sighs, pushing himself up from the armchair. “Don’t wanna leave them waiting, do I?”

  George scowls. “What about our homework?”

  “We’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not covering for you if Flitwick asks what you were up to that’s more important than his homework assignments.”

 Fred grins, not even giving a response as he clambers out of the common room and ducks into the hallways.

  He knows exactly where to go, even though he’s never met up with you after hours before - not since the first time, which he doesn’t even count considering it was entirely an accident. To this day, he still isn’t convinced that wasn’t some type of dream - a Hufflepuff, out of bed after hours? Not a single soul would believe him if he told them.

   Fred makes his way down the corridor and grins when he sees you standing there; you’re much braver than him. Fred, personally, feels much safer when he’s wading through the halls - it makes it more difficult for Filch to catch him if he’s not stationary. You, however, seem to have no issue with standing behind a suit of armour, waiting patiently for Fred to round the corner.

   “Hola. Bonjour. Hello. Hi.”

   You look round, face immediately lighting up. “Fred! Hi!”

  He’ll never get used to that greeting.

   “Y/N! Hi!” he mimics. “I got your note.”

  “Good. Great. I was worried I did it wrong.”

   “You? Do something wrong?” Fred screws his face up in an expression of mock confusion, which prompts you to roll your eyes and nudge him. He grins, stuffs his hands in his pockets and says, “Out after curfew again, eh? Have I finally corrupted you?”

   “You must have,” you reply.

   Fred tilts his head. “What’s the actual reason you invited me out?”

   And that’s when your expression shifts.

   You bite your lower lip in that way you always do, eyes darting to the ground awkwardly. Fred raises a brow, leaning forward a bit in his attempt to get you to look at him again, but you suddenly seem much too embarrassed to even be giving Fred the time of day. His stomach flips with uncharacteristic anxiety, and he can’t stop himself when he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your elbow.

   “Hey. Did something happen?”

  The words burst out of you in one breath. “I left my book in the bathing room and I’m too scared to get it myself but I really need it to help me sleep, so I was wondering if you could help me get through the hallways without Filch knowing and then I promise you can go back to bed and never speak to me again.”

   You take a sharp breath before looking away again, apparently too embarrassed by your request to even look at him.

   Fred takes a moment to reply. He has to untangle your words first, and then he has to bask in his amusement at how embarrassed you were by asking it; personally, he doesn’t see the problem. He’s happy to help. In fact, he’d be pretty annoyed if it wasn’t him you were asking.

   “Alright.”

  Your eyes snap up. “Really? I mean, you don’t have to, I just thought - well, you know your way around, and you’ve dealt with Filch-”

  “You don’t need to explain.” He offers his arm, just as he always does. “What book is it?”

 And it’s with only the tiniest bit of hesitance that you take his offered arm and allow him to guide you through the corridors he apparently knows so well; in truth, he doesn’t tend to go out after curfew all that often, because he gets all of his mischief done in the day time now. But you were indeed correct in saying he knows this place better than anyone else. He and George spent the majority of their school careers finding secret passageways and little hiding spots they could use at any given time. As he listens to you talk about the book he’s about to try and save, he recalls each and every one of these hiding places whilst keeping a sharp ear out for Filch.

   The two of you arrive at the bathing rooms and Fred pushes open the door. It squeaks, and you wince, glancing at Fred anxiously; he merely places a hand on the small of your back, pushing you further into the room.

   He follows, closes the door and exhales heavily. “Made it. Now where’s that book you’ve lost?”

   You skitter around the edge of the massive bathing pool; it’s still filled to the brim with forever hot water, always clean despite the amount of people washing themselves within it on a daily basis. Fred stands on the edge, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watches you rush to the far side of the room, rummage around in a basket of towels before pulling a particularly thick book out from beneath them.

   You look over, smiling broadly with the book pressed against your chest.

  Fred raises a brow. “Happy now?”

 “Overjoyed.”

 You skip back over to him, pulling open the front cover to look inside. Fred leans forward, reading the confusing inside blurb over your shoulder.

   “And you use this for a bit of light reading in the bath?” he asks.

  Startled, you slam the book closed. “It’s good, honestly.”

  “I’ll take your-”

   Fred’s sentence is cut off by the sound of Filch yelling.

  And it’s unmistakably Filch yelling, because Fred has heard it many, many times before. It always comes with that initial rush of panic, the realisation he’s been caught, and if he was with anybody else, that initial panic wouldn’t have even lasted. Now, however, he takes one look at your slack face, the horror swimming in your eyes, and he realises this is the first time you’ll have ever gotten in trouble with the caretaker.

   A traumatic experience for anyone.

  “Oh, god,” you whisper, dropping the book with a SLAM. You jump, scrambling to pick it up, but the noise only seems to draw Filch closer to the door. Fred has to think now.

   He groans low under his breath, fumbling beneath his robes for his wand - a wand that has been left on the table back in the Gryffindor common room.

  You jolt back up straight, hugging the book to your chest, and that’s when Fred does the one thing he can think to do right now - he grabs your arms and pushes you back, jumping into the deep end of the bath with you alongside him.

    He holds you close, opening his eyes as much as he possibly can. He can hear Filch’s yelling from above, aggravated screams of “I know you’re in here! I know you’re in here! I heard you!” Fred simply pulls you closer, urging you to hold your breath for as long as possible.

   But he can see you panicking, the air leaving you. He can see your lips threatening to split open so you can scream or cry or breathe, Fred doesn’t know, but he can’t let you do it. Not right now.

   Without magic, there’s only one thing he can think to do.

  He presses his lips to your own and pries your mouth open. He doesn’t know how this works. He read about it once in a Muggle Studies book, but he never thought he would ever actually need to pay attention to the details. He takes your relaxing body as a good sign, tightening his hold on your shoulders as he continues to breathe as much air into your mouth as he can possibly muster.

    And then the door is slamming, and Filch’s screams are muted behind the gold plating, and Fred immediately lets go of you and bursts to the surface.

   You follow, gasping for air, wiping water out of your eyes along with fat strands of wet hair. Fred pants, wiping his eyes roughly, trying so hard to find words for an apology but unable to gather enough breath to even think proper thoughts at the moment.

   His heartbeat soars. He looks over at you; you’re already looking at him, and the entire room is silent besides your synchronised panting breaths.

   You shove past the water, into his arms, and kiss him.

   Fred’s eyes pop open wide, but his arms wind around your waist almost instinctively. His lips mould against yours, and once the initial shock has passed, his eyes are slipping closed and he’s falling, falling, drowning, never wanting to resurface ever again.

   You pull away first. Water drips from your bottom lip, your eyelashes, your chin, and Fred has never seen a sight so beautiful. He reaches forward, swiping his thumb along your lower lip before he leans forward and gives you a final peck.

    “Always full of surprises, you are,” he whispers.

  ----

   Fred watches you. Leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest, he watches as you run the towel down your face, grumbling beneath your breath about how impossible it will be to explain your soaked robes to Professor Sprout.

   Fred hasn’t even stopped to properly think about how the two of you are meant to get back to your respective common rooms without someone noticing; you’ll surely leave a trail of water in your wake, and Filch is already on high alert. Despite this, Fred can only focus on the kiss the two of you have just shared, and what it means for the future.

    You sigh, slamming the towel down and turning. There’s an adorable pout on your face, eyebrows furrowed, hair still soaked and clinging to your skin.

   “That really was a shock,” you say.

  Fred chuckles. “Just the bit where we took a swim?”

   “And the bit where you saved me from drowning.”

  “And the bit when we resurfaced and you-”  

   You groan, waving your hands in front of you as if swatting a fly. “Awk, don’t. I never do anything like that. I probably did it all wrong-”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Kissing is just something I never got the hang of. I’ve only done it a few times, because I don’t really tend to like people that way, but-”

  “But I’m a special case?”

  You scowl, deflating. “You know you are.”

  Fred grins that cheeky grin of his, pushing away from the door. He wades towards you and stops only when he’s close enough that you have to crane your neck to look into his eyes. “I think you got the hang of kissing perfectly fine. You’re a bloody natural.”

   You blink. “Yeah?”

  “Yes.” With that, Fred leans down and presses his lips to your own. It’s only slow, slow enough that Fred can feel you melt into him, your rib cage suddenly coming against his own, your fingertips brushing delicately against his waist. It’s adorable, feeling you lose yourself like this, barely registering what is actually happening.

   He pulls away just as slow, so you can feel everything when he does so. Your eyes stay closed for a second before opening, lower lip retreating between your teeth, face hot when Fred brings his hands up to your jaw.

   “Does - Okay, well, stupid question, but does this make us a couple?” you ask.

  Fred laughs. “If you want, yeah.”

  “Do you -”

  “Oh, Y/N, don’t even ask that; you know full well I want to be your boyfriend. Full. Well.”

   A grin splits your face. “Okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  You nod, wrapping your arms around his middle and placing your chin in the centre of his chest. “Yeah.”

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 17

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“We should get champagne or something, to celebrate,” Scully says, her eyes roving over the menu.

After three weeks of rehab, Teena Mulder has finally been able to move home, though she’s under the constant care of an in-home nurse. Knowing that she’s back in her own space, no longer the medical setting that made her miserable, is a huge weight off Mulder’s shoulders. This is why they’re out to dinner, celebrating a hopeful return to what feels like normal.

“Only if you’re driving home,” Mulder replies playfully, “you know what bubbly does to me.”

She gives him a flirtatious smirk. “Yes, I do.”

“Dana?” someone calls out, and they look over to see two women. One is tall and slim with light olive-toned skin and brunette shoulder-length hair. The other is significantly shorter, Latina, with thick hips and an ample bustline, her dark hair cascading down her back.

“Monica, hi,” Scully replies warmly to the tall woman. She turns to the shorter one, “you must be Dahlia.”

“Guilty as charged,” the short woman answers jovially with a heavy Spanish accent.

“This is my boyfriend, Fox Mulder,” Scully continues, gesturing to him, “Mulder, this is Monica, I’ve told you about her.”

Mulder nods in understanding. Scully has often mentioned a woman she regularly has coffee and lunch with who works in VICAP.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Mulder says, offering his hand to Monica.

She takes his hand with a firm grip, then gestures to the short woman, “this is my partner, Dahlia.”

Mulder and Scully both greet Dahlia with handshakes.

“Well, we’ll leave you to your meal, it was nice to run into you,” Monica says.

“Would you like to join us? We haven’t even ordered yet,” Scully offers, giving Mulder a quick glance to confirm that this is okay. He nods almost imperceptibly.

“Oh, we don’t want to impose,” Monica answers.

“Not at all,” Mulder jumps in, correctly picking up that Monica is worried about imposing on him, not Scully, “I’d love to finally get to know this mysterious VICAP woman Scully is always talking about.”

Monica smiles and he moves to the chair beside Scully so she and Dahlia can occupy the other two. They order champagne and appetizers, and he finds the two women to be very pleasant company.

“So, you work in VICAP too, then?” he asks Dahlia, and she gives him a confused look.

“No, I work at a little flower shop in Alexandria,” she answers.

“Oh, sorry, I thought Monica said you were partners.”

Scully shoots him an embarrassed glare, but Dahlia laughs.

“You know, I always tell Monica she should just call me her girlfriend, but she insists on ‘partner,’” she says, looking at Monica affectionately. He can’t help but smile, realizing he’d missed the very obvious fact that they are lovers.

“Girlfriend sounds so juvenile to me,” Monica explains, “partner feels a bit more serious, and permanent.”

“It’s okay, mija,” Dahlia continues, “you can call me your partner, hasta el día en que puedas ser mi esposa.”

Monica beams at her, and while he didn’t understand a word of that, it’s plainly clear that they are very much in love.

Appetizers come and go, flutes of champagne are emptied and refilled and a second bottle is ordered. Scully brings up Monica’s education and her experiences working at the New Orleans field office, and she and Mulder carry on a conversation about the change in VooDoo practices over the course of generations while Scully and Dahlia discover that they have similar taste in literature. Dahlia is telling a story about reading a Spanish translation of Jane Eyre as a teenager and how she still, to this day, has a hard time not calling him “Señor Rochester,” when the waiter brings by the check and Mulder snatches it away just as Dahlia was reaching for it.

“My treat,” Mulder says, pulling out his wallet.

Dahlia gives Monica a look, saying “me gusta este chico,” and Mulder chuckles.

“That I understood,” he quips, and they all laugh.

Back at the apartment, they get ready for bed. Scully is standing at the sink brushing her teeth when Mulder slinks up behind her, slipping his hands onto her hips and dipping his head down to kiss her neck.

“Mmm, there’s that champagne,” she says, the words garbled around her toothbrush.

“It’s not that champagne makes me want you, Scully. I always want you. It just makes me a little more bold,” he explains, trailing his fingers down to the hem of her night shirt and lifting it enough to get a look at her panties.

She swats his hand away. “Let me finish brushing my teeth,” she chastises, and he retreats to the bedroom.

She joins him a few minutes later, slipping under the sheets and draping her bare leg over his. He lifts his arm so she can burrow against his torso, her head on his chest. He rubs his hand across her back, eliciting a contented sigh.

“So, what did you think of Monica?” she asks, her fingertips on his ribcage moving in small circles.

“I really like her, I can see why you two hit it off,” he answers.

“She reminds me a little of you, actually,” she says, and he can feel her smile against his skin. “She has some...out there ideas.”

“Am I not talking enough about cryptids at home, Scully? You had to go find a friend to supplement?” he asks playfully, dipping his fingers into her armpit briefly in a threat to tickle her.

She clamps her arms against her sides and giggles. “We don’t talk much about that, but when I first met her she told me about my aura, so I figured you two would have some things in common.”

“That sounds more like Missy’s purview,” he comments, and then they fall silent for a moment.

“I’m actually really glad we ran into her,” Scully begins, running her hand down his abdomen to rest just beneath his belly button. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up without you having some context.”

“Scully, if you’re about to suggest we have a foursome with Monica and Dahlia, I’m going to owe Frohike five hundred bucks,” he interjects.

She scoffs, “in your dreams, Mulder.”

“I think you mean Melvin.”

“Well, sorry Melvin, but that’s not what I was thinking about.” Her thumb hooks just beneath the elastic of his boxers, his happy trail tickling her skin.

“Okay, sorry, what were you thinking about?”

“What if,” she begins, dragging her finger back and forth under the fabric, “Monica was your partner. On the X files.”

He puts his hand over hers to still the movement, pulling away a bit so she’ll look at him.

“What do you mean, Scully?” He feels a rush of adrenaline, though he’s not yet sure if it’s from excitement or fear.

“I mean, she’s open to...unexplainable phenomena. The two of you get along quite well, and she wouldn't try to debunk your work or scoff at your theories. You said they might let you reopen them if you had a partner you could work with, and I think Monica might be that person.”

He considers this for a moment. “Who’s to say she’d even want to, she’s assigned to VICAP-”

“She hates VICAP,” Scully interjects, “it’s a bunch of macho men trying to one-up each other. I know she’d be happy to be reassigned, and to work out of the Hoover building. She and Dahlia live in Palisades; her commute sucks.”

His mind is reeling, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. “I don’t even know where we’d start, Scully. It seems so unlikely.”

“Just ask for a meeting with AD Skinner. If you think it would help for Monica to be a part of that meeting, I know she’d be happy to attend. I’ve told her a bit about The X files and I wouldn’t even bring this up with you unless I was sure she’d be interested. I can talk to her about it on Monday, if you want to give it a shot.”

He looks up at the ceiling, eyebrows stitched in thought. Hope pricks at the corners of his mind, but he knows well enough not to let it take root; he’s been disappointed too many times before. He looks over at Scully, her expression holding all the hope that he won’t allow himself to feel.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks gently.

“Because I want you to be happy,” she says earnestly, pulling her hand from beneath his and bringing it to his cheek, “from the moment I met you, I saw how you light up when you talk about The X Files. If there’s a chance you can investigate them again, I want to pursue it.”

He sighs, a tender smile tugging at his lips. He turns on his side, pushing his palms under her ass and pulling her on top of him as she giggles.

“Okay, talk to Monica,” he says, sliding his hands under her sleep shirt and up her bare back, “I’ll email Skinner on Monday.”

She smiles at him, self-satisfied and victorious.

“Now, about that champagne,” he says, pulling her down for a kiss.

———

She nervously checks her email every two minutes, aggressively clicking the send/receive button. Monica and Mulder were meeting with AD Skinner at 11:00am and it’s now almost 1:00pm and she hasn’t heard anything. That could either be a very good sign, or a very bad one. She has class in ten minutes and needs to head over to the lecture hall to prepare. She refreshes it one more time, and an email pops up.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: September 18, 1997 12:51pm

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: Maybe good news?

He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes, either. He asked us about 800 questions and then said he had to run it by the section chief. My impression is that he wants to make it work, but obviously it’s not totally within his control.

Fingers crossed. Hopefully we’ll know by Friday.

She heaves a big sigh, a cautious smile playing on her lips. She shoots him a quick response and then makes her way to class, praying all the way that the answer will be yes.

———

She’d taken that Friday off, for no reason in particular. Ever since Mulder had effectively moved in with her, she liked to take random weekdays off here and there just to have some time to herself. She’d spent the afternoon reading, re-arranging her spice cupboard, and making space for Mulder to have half her dresser instead of just one drawer. She’s sitting on the floor of the bedroom, surrounded by neatly folded stacks of T-shirts and pajama pants, when she hears the front door open. She checks her watch; it’s only 3:00 pm, too early for Mulder to be home.

“Hello?” she calls out nervously.

The bedroom door swings open and Mulder is there, his chest heaving and a dopey smile on his face.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, “what are you doing home?”

“It was approved,” he says breathlessly, apparently having run from wherever he parked the car.

“What was approved?” she asks, standing.

“The X Files, Scully. They’re reopened, effective Monday, with me and Reyes as the assigned agents,” he says, his smile broadening even further.

Her mouth drops open in disbelief, a surprised smile forming on her lips. She had held out hope, but she was also very aware that the chances were slim. He crosses the room, scooping her up in his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips.

“It never would have happened if it wasn’t for you,” he says, adoration in his eyes.

She kisses him, and he turns to lay her on the bed, shedding his suit jacket and tossing it on the floor. Moving quickly, desperately, he tugs at the waistband of her pants, stripping them off along with her panties, and pushes her shirt up to expose her breasts. He begins kissing her neck, down to her chest and belly, pausing intermittently to speak words of affirmation and gratitude until he reaches the apex of her thighs and is quiet.

He laps at her tenderly, humming and sighing as her body catches up and she feels the flush of desire form in her belly. She pushes her fingers into his hair, scraping gently at his scalp in encouragement as he flicks his tongue against her opening and she bucks her hips in response. His thumb swipes gently over her clit as he pushes his tongue inside her, licking at her increasingly slick walls and making her whimper. After a few minutes, he switches to his fingers inside her and his tongue at her clit. Swirling and sucking until she commands him not to stop, he holds steady as she falls apart against his lips, flexing his fingers deep inside to draw it out. Finally she taps on his head, and he crawls back up to plant soft kisses along her jaw.

“Consider us even,” she breathes out, eyes still closed in bliss.

“I think I might like to continue making it up to you,” he says with a nip to her earlobe, and she laughs.

“Okay, if you insist.”

[lstories]

Random 11:00pm urge to retry writing my OCs Felix and Olivia

(Soft, Safe, Willing, Vore)

Another long day. Olivia just wanted to lay down and rest for a while. Her eyes were already heavy from working and driving but she had to stay awake for just a little bit longer, her house was just around the corner. She pulled into her driveway contemplating just sleeping in her car. She did have to work early tomarow anyway so why not. She did love her job, it was her dream job and it paid more than she ever hoped for, but it exhausted the hell out of her. Before she got out of her car she saw a shadow slip behind her house. She made enough money to live alone in a two story suburban home. A nice big front and back yard, white wooden fence, rose bushes along the sides, and a metal mailbox with her last name specially imprinted on the side. Her neighbors wondered how her life went so perfectly, able to afford the best house on the block and live alone. At least, her neighbor's thought she lived alone.

She jiggled the door knob forgetting to unlock it, getting annoyed that her mind was turning to mush. Her eyes were too heavy to look for her keys, closing them and starting to feel around in her purse until she heard a click from inside the house. The door unlocked from the inside startaling her for a second. Walking inside she didn't see anyone that could've unlocked the door. "So you wanna play this game tonight." She sleepily said almost not closing the door on the way in. All the curtains were closed and most of the lights were off with the exception of a few lamps. On the marble counter was a bowl of her favorite type of soup. She hung her jacket and purse onto the knobs neer the door and started to eat, not noticing what was coming up behind her. A large hand creeped out of the shadows, curling her hair around its finger. "Not right now, I just want to eat then sleep." She said and the hand slowly withdrew back into the shadows.

She walked upstairs, leaving the bowl on the table and got dressed into warm pj's. They felt like they had just come out of the dryer and were just too soft not to fall asleep in immediately. She tried to fall onto her bed but fell short by a couple feet, falling onto soft carpet. "Good enough" she said reaching up to grab a pillow off her bed. She couldn't get her arm up high enough to grab any, now just trying to grab a blanket to make one fall down. As she finally grabbed a corner of the blancket to tug on, one of the pillows fell on her. She knew exactly who dropped it on her. "Thank you" she quietly said, her face pressed into the carpeted floor. She slowly rolled onto her back, pressing the pillow to her stomach. "It feels so nice to have you in their. Don't worry, I'll let you out in the morning. For now just sleep, it's safe." She heard a low growl from the other side of the bed as here arms were grabbed and she was dragged under the wooden bed frame. She closed her eyes as gravity seemed to flip around her like a mini roller coaster settling onto her back. It was soft and warm, her eyes were only slightly open but she could see the pink and green plush fabric she was laying on and the two arms holding her in place made of the same fabric. "That's my line." Her boyfriend said in a soft voice sounding a bit jealous.

"Come on Felix, you think that I'm trying to out pred you." Olivia said trying to roll onto her stomach. "Well you can't really out pred me, your using a pillow and you haven't even eaten anything alive annnd... that's an inanimate object." Felix said trying not to let Olivia slip out of his grasp. "You used to be an inanimate object, just my favorite plush that I slept with every night." Olivia said finally overpowering him staring into the black and speckled blue that was Felix's eyes. "Ya, but your dad turned me into your favorite boyfriend, do you want your dad to turn the pillow into someone and we can fight over your love and..." Felix was saying before he got cut off. "Eat me." Olivia said putting her chin on Felix's lips. "Eat you? No I'm not going to eat you, that's weird and deffenetly not safe. What if your dad found out or if someone around the neighborhood..." Felix was saying before getting cut off again before he could "protest" anymore. He acted like they haven't done it almost every night, knowing full well it was perfectly safe. He couldn't hurt her in there even if he tried. He only digested cloth, fabric, feathers, and pillow stuffing. That included her pj's that he would always put in the dryer when she got home, like putting a snack in the microwave.

Olivia stuck her hands and forearms into Felix's mouth, slowly rubbing his tongue with her thumbs. "Eat... me... nowww." Olivia said slowly and tiredley, shoving more of her arms into his mouth. A hum of delight escaped Felix's throat at the taste, she was always so tasty and it always felt better to eat her than just a blanket or a pillow. His stomach let out a low growl as he subconsciously gulped her arms down. "But what if I can't let you out or you have a panic attack. I don't want..." he was cut off again by Olivia sticking her entire head into his mouth, her arms were already down his throat and she was trying to inch her way deeper into Felix. Guess playtime was over as he couldn't resist it any longer, and started to swallow.

Felix swallowed, tasting every part of her as she went down. He swallowed again and again, he could feel her hands entering his stomach as he started to gulp down her legs. It was fluffy all over in his stomach, a feeling she knew all too well and she couldn't wait to get in and sleep again. They both loved the feeling of Olivia slipping into Felix's stomach, Olivia being smothered by fluffy strands of grey silk and cotton and Felix feeling his stomach swell and her weight helping him sink further into their bed. She started to curl into his fluffy stomach, only her feet remained out of Felix's mouth. She shoved her face into the walls of his stomach knowing full well that it was sensitive. He chocked swallowing her feet needing to sit up and let gravity do the work so he could catch his breath. "Keep doing that" Felix muttered as he felt the full weight of Olivia sliding into his gut. "Only if you give me back rubs" she said starting to knead into his stomach walls. Felix started to rub his bulging stomach where Olivia's back was and she was kneading the inside of his stomach like dough. They finished with the double massage and were starting drift off to sleep for the night. "Do you want to take a sick day tomarow. We haven't done anything fun outside the house in forever." Felix said nodding off to sleep. "We'll see. Good night ya big softy." "Good night my sweet sugar cane."

Ace boy tries to wright a romantic story based on how he read others stories.

[ronnie-azumane]

Kitten?

This is something I came up with at midnight while trying to complete my numerous missing assignments. I apologize in advance

Summary: Tsukishima Kei is a mod of a discord server And with his luck, he finds his first love on the server he runs. He falls head over heels, and vows to fulfill all her needs. However, not everything is what it seems.

Tsukishima was a simple man with simple likes. Granted, However, these likes weren’t as commonplace among his peers.

Sure, he moderated a Discord Server full of people of all ages. In said server, they would play games and talk about the various shows they watched together, some of which were considered children shows.

“Anyone catch the new episode of My Little Pony?” someone on the server would ask.

Tsukishima would bat in immediately, saying, “Remember the two-week spoiler warning, everything else must be covered and properly tagged.” He was the perfect mod, as he was both online all the time he didn’t have school or practice, as well as he was a stickler for the rules. Plus, he had only recently gained access to last week’s episode not long ago, therefore, he had not seen the new episode.

Another thing he liked to do on this server was talk to others on the voice call feature. He enjoyed talking to the many people who decided to join the server, even making a couple of friends, which he refused to believe for the longest time.

One of these many friends was a user that went by the name of gamergirl05. She was a peculiar person, only logging in late at night and logging out early in the morning, only to be away from her computer until late that night again.

She intrigued Tsukishima. Not only was she one of the only girls on the server, she always seemed to be on the voice chat. She never typed messages, never spoke, unless she was spoken to on the voice call. 

Her voice was soft and breathy, with a medium pitch. Her profile picture was a white cartoon cat against a pastel pink background. Sometimes, when playing videogames, you could here her grunt in frustration every once in a while.

Tsukishima couldn’t help from gaining a crush. 

She didn’t seem clingy, she seemed rather chill and independent, it was like God itself sent this woman into Tsukishima’s life. 

She was perfect.

Tsukishima couldn’t help but get excited whenever he saw that she was online. He would always join the voice call whenever he saw she was online.

They would have meaningful conversation. Tsukishima would learn much about her. She was living in Tokyo. She was a year older than Tsukishima; a second year in high school. She had been playing videogames for as long as she could remember. She has an overactive imagination, pretending that she was getting chased by dragons and facing checkpoints every time she walked to school in the morning. She wasn’t popular, but had a couple of close knit friends.

The more they talked, the more Tsukishima fell head over heels. However, the more he started to fall for her, the more he realized that he didn’t know how to express himself in a positive way. He was known as a negative nelly most of his life, with his relationship with the fellow members of the Karasuno volleyball club solidifying that feeling of disgust he felt toward others. Ever with his best friend Yamaguchi he was unable to show positive feelings toward, even though he didn’t feel anything negative toward his best friend.

Unknowing what to do, he looked up online ‘how to show someone you like them,’ only to come up with a website offering a free test to those wondering what their love language was. perfect.

Tsukishima took the test, answering each question as truthfully as he could, even asking his mom what she thought of him for one of the questions.

After thirty minutes of reading, understanding, and clicking, Tsukishima gat the result he was looking for- his love language.

His love language was gift-giving.

He knew exactly what to do at that point. 

Later that night, he stared at the voice call box, waiting for a certain someone to join the call. At 11:00pm on the dot, gamergirl05 joined the call. Tsukishima joined the call soon after.

“Um, hey, uh, how was your day?” Tsukishima asked her.

“My day? I guess it was okay,” she replied. Her voice was still light and breathy as usual. Not too high-pitched as to make Tsukishima believe that she was fake, and not to low to make her sound unattractive to him. The perfect voice for arguably the perfect human.

“Do you have Nitro by any chance?” Tsukishima asked her.

“No, I don’t see the benefit for paying for it myself,” she replied.

“If someone got it for you, would you use it?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“I-I Don’t mid gifting it to you, if you tell me your Venmo, Ill send the money right now!”

“Ok.” 

She read off a couple of letters and numbers, spelling out her Venmo for him to gift money to. Tsukishima used his mom’s credit card to send her over $50, with the unspoken promise of paying her back one day, even though she didn’t even know her youngest son stole her card.

They talked the rest of the night, until Tsukishima had to go to bed.

XxX

Tsukishima didn’t let up on his gifts to gamergirl05, or Cat as she started referring herself to. Anything she mentioned offhandedly form a new skin to a longing for a fast food meal, Tsukishima sent her the appropriate funds needed to retrieve that item. 

Each monetary gift he sent on Venmo was given a reply of the kissing face emoji.

Tsukishima was over the moon. Not only was he becoming better at volleyball every day after school, but he was also getting closer and closer to Cat. When he found out that he was going to Tokyo for a training camp, he excitedly went online that night to tell cat about how he was going to be in Tokyo and that maybe they could meet up.

“Sorry, but I have plans for that weekend,” Cat said. Tsukishima sighed, but figured as much. He was disappointed, but not surprised.

However, he picked himself up by the bootstraps and packed up his stuff to go to Tokyo for the training camp.

XxX

The weekend was tough. Karasuno faced loss after loss against the Tokyo powerhouse schools. However, the team had learned a lot about both themselves and their offensive and defensive power.

After a long weekend of training, all the guys were sore. All their muscles were aching and screaming, begging for some relief.  The coaches complied, supplying all the players with all the watermelon they could eat.

All the players gathered into groups, talking within each other’s friend groups. Tsukishima kept his distance from the others, with Yamaguchi joining in with them. They talked about various topics here and there, but nothing too serious.

Tsukishima was starting to zone out, thinking about Cat, and what she may or may not be doing. He hated to admit it, but he was head over heels in love, even though he had never seen Cat in a picture, much less in person.

While Tsukishima was zoning out, thinking of his unofficial lover, Hinata, Kenma, and Lev gathered nearby, talking loudly about who knows what. Tsukishima wasn’t paying attention, until the topic of discord came up. All his focus then went into listening in on this conversation.

“So you guys are on discord? What servers are you guys in?” Hinata asked.

“Not too many, I bet Kenma’s on a couple though,” Lev replied, only for Kenma to grunt in reply.

“Oh really! What servers are you on, Kenma?”

“Ehh, just a couple here and there. I frequent a My Little Pony server because a mod there gives me money a lot.”

Tsukishima felt a shock run throughout his body. A My Little Pony server? Maybe he was on the same server as him. He would never bring it up, but he was glad to know someone on the server; talking to 12-year-olds all day did get old.

“Wait, someone pays you to be on a My Little Pony server?” Lev asked.

“No, I think he is somehow attracted to me, every time I mention something I want, he sends me money.” Kenma replied, taking a massive bite out of his watermelon slice.

‘That’s kind of odd, who would give money like that to a guy like Kenma?’ Tsukishima thought.

“How did you do that, Kenma? I could sure use the extra cash,” Hinata asked.

“Well, Kuroo taught me to raise my voice like this to sound like some kind of gamer girl,” Kenma explained in a girly voice. Not too high to sound fake, not too low to sound unattractive. Perfect.

Just like Cat.

‘This has to be a coincidence, there’s no way that Kenma and Cat are the same person’ Tsukishima desperately thought. 

“Oh, do you guys want to be friends on Discord, so we can keep in contact?” Hinata asked.

“I guess. I’m gamergirl05#0000,” Kenma replied, essentially murdering Tsukishima with his response.

Tsukishima stood up from where he was sitting. Forgetting the fact that he was still supposed to be in a conversation with Yamaguchi, he left the area, trying to find a secluded area, eventually settling for a small ally in between two of the gyms.

Once making sure he couldn’t be seen, he let all his held-in emotions out. He screamed up to the sky as the threw his watermelon rind against the wall, watching it break into numerous pieces. 

“My Heart!” he screamed out, “I loved her!” He sank to the ground and let the tears flow. As he wailed out in despair, he covered his face with one hand while knocking his fist against the grass with his other.

Yamaguchi, who saw this all go down, ran up to go comfort his best friend. He didn’t know what was going on, other than the fact that his best friend was a mess on the floor.

How was Tsukishima going to tell his mom, who was already suspicious of him stealing her credit cards, that the money wasn’t being spent on her future Daughter in law? How was he going to log back in on the server, knowing he was cat fished?

He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. All he knew at that moment was the soft an warm hand of Yamaguchi softly rubbing his back in an attempt to calm him down.

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】Tears of Themis: Main Story 6-13 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 6 – Tiger’s Accomplice Ghost (Parts 1, 2): 6-1 / 6-3 / 6-5 / 6-7 / 6-9 / 6-11 / 6-13 / 6-15 ♦️ ♦️  6-16 / 6-18 / 6-20 / 6-22 / 6-24 / 6-26 / 6-27 / 6-28 / 6-29

--

Fu Qiao’s House

Tuesday night 8:00PM, we arrived at Fu Qiao’s house. Fu Qiao and Zhou Nan co-rented a place, so it sounded like they were somewhat richer than other university students, but the area of the place they lived in was actually very small.

MC: This house is just about 30 square meters, right.

On the left of the entrance was the washroom, and on the right, there was a very simple kitchen. There was a washing machine right under the induction stove. Deeper inside, there was a bed and book table. You could see everything in one look – the room was small enough that there wasn’t space for excess seating.

Fu Qiao: More or less. Rent in the middle of the city is expensive, and we can’t afford any larger.

Zuo Ran: Campus housing has cheap rent. You and Zhou Nan were both students, so why not rent a place there?

Fu Qiao: Nannan… didn’t go to school often. She spent more time going to the bar.

Fu Qiao: The transit here is convenient. You can take the subway to directly get to the bar or school.

MC: How many transit lines do you have to take to get from here to Xunye?

Fu Qiao: You take Line 7 to Changzhou Station, then switch to Line 3 to Jinyang Street to get there.

Zuo Ran: Isn’t it alright to take Line 7 straight to the bar? Having to switch rides must be troublesome.

Fu Qiao: Xunye Bar is on the other side of the road. If you get off the stop on the bar’s street, you’ll have to walk quite a distance over. Taking Jinyang Street is relatively closer.

Fu Qiao: From C exit, Xunye is a few steps east.

>Fu Qiao is lying!

MC: (Fu Qiao is lying. If he never knew where Xunye was, then how could he be so familiar with switching rides on the subway to get there!)

I pretended to casually shoot Zuo Ran a glance, and our eyes met. It was obvious that we were thinking the same thing.

MC: After Zhou Nan’s accident, you didn’t move back to live around on campus? You can save on costs like this.

Fu Qiao: No. I’m already in my fourth year of university, and I’m mostly focusing on internships and looking for work, so I don’t really go back to school.

Fu Qiao: Plus, we rented this place early on – we rented in first year. Rent was cheap back then, and it hasn’t risen these past few years.

Fu Qiao: It’s now really hard to find a place nearby at this price, so I didn’t back out of renting this place for future work convenience.

MC: That’s true. Real estate prices have grown fast in these past few years.

Fu Qiao: Ah, look at me, I forgot that I don’t have extra chairs at home, letting you two stand while talking.

Fu Qiao: In the past when Nannan and I were at home, it would always be one person sitting on the bed while the other sat on the chair. If we placed more around, they wouldn’t see any use.

Fu Qiao: Please wait for a bit, I’ll go borrow some from a neighbour.

Zuo Ran: Thank you for your trouble.

--

As Fu Qiao was gone, Zuo Ran and I could take this opportunity to observe if there were any clues in Fu Qiao’s house.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, have you noticed where things aren’t quite right in this house?

Zuo Ran: Mm, there are several places.

>Select: Closet

MC: Lawyer Zuo, look at that transparent closet.

The doors of the closet in Fu Qiao’s place were transparent – it could be considered as a sort of simplistic, industrial style.

MC: It seems like it’s all male clothing in there. I don’t see any female clothing in there at all.

Zuo Ran: There are few clothes hung in there – it’s clear that there’s still lots of space.

Zuo Ran: But we can’t exclude the possibility that Fu Qiao placed Zhou Nan’s items in a box to keep them.

Zuo Ran: Look at the bottom shelf – there are storage boxes.

MC: But based on my experience in putting away clothes, storage boxes typically contain clothes for other seasons.

MC: The weather’s not cold these days, and the clothes Fu Qiao hung are all unlayered clothes…

MC: Thick clothes like down clothing are probably inside the storage boxes.

Zuo Ran: If we consider that, there are only two storage boxes, so there isn’t space to put Zhou Nan’s clothes.

Zuo Ran: Because even if they were compressed, with the addition of winter bed linings, he would only be able to stuff it inside the closet.

MC: The topmost shelf of the closet is also empty…

MC: Is it possible that Fu Qiao threw away Zhou Nan’s clothes?

MC: But didn’t Zhao Fei say that they were all left for Fu Qiao as mementos? Since they’re mementos, why would he throw them?

This was very contradictory – I had somewhat of a hard time figuring it out.

Zuo Ran: We’ll indirectly ask him later.

 >Select: Closet (2)

MC: This kind of simplistic, industrial-style closet seems to be really popular these days – it’s fashionable.

Zuo Ran: I favour wooden furniture more – they have more of a sense of reality, and they look stable.

Zuo Ran: What about you?

MC: For me…

MC: Seems like there’s nothing I prefer in particular – fashionable or retro, I’m fine with it all.

Zuo Ran: Is that so… I understand.

  >Select: Bookshelf

Zuo Ran: “Basic Applications of Chemistry”, “Calculus”…

Zuo Ran: They should be Fu Qiao’s books.

MC: There isn’t a single book on photography, and there aren’t any pictures in the room like at Zhao Fei’s house…

MC: Even if Zhou Nan didn’t like studying, didn’t go to classes, and didn’t get teaching materials, she should still have photography equipment.

MC: She even went to a bar to work for photography, so she probably truly liked it.

Zuo Ran: There also isn’t any photography equipment in anywhere visible…

Zuo Ran: Photography equipment are expensive items, and they must have been things that Zhou Nan valued, so where could they be kept…?

 >Select: Bookshelf (2)

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you have a lot of collected books in your house, right – are they all law-related books?

Zuo Ran: Half of the second floor at my house is a movies and music room, and half is book room – the books I’ve collected could be considered to be many.

Zuo Ran: Aside from law, there are also movies, philosophy, science fiction, and some original German books.

MC: If there’s a chance, could I borrow some to read?

Zuo Ran: Of course. You’re welcome anytime.

 >Select: Dresser

MC: A guy’s dresser sure is simple…

Zuo Ran: Will a lady have many things on her dresser?

Zuo Ran: Things like skincare products and jewelry?

MC: That’s right! Aside from the skincare products everyone knows about, I’ve even got several kinds of combs.

MC: Such as hairbrushes, toothed combs, round brushes, bristle brushes, et cetera…

Zuo Ran: Is it to deal with different hairstyles?

MC: Of course.

MC: But the toughest part of every day is seeing all the hair that I’ll never be able to fully clear off from the combs…

Just as I’d spoken, I heard Zuo Ran laugh quietly.

MC: If I already got the high-level lawyer qualification, I probably wouldn’t be troubled by this.

Zuo Ran: No, you’ve misunderstood, I didn’t intend to laugh at you.

Zuo Ran: I just feel like you… are very lively like this.

MC: Eh?

Zuo Ran: I don’t see you like this often.

MC: …

Zuo Ran: I’ve learned it from you now. When I go home, I’ll research the different types of combs – usually, I really don’t use this many.

MC: But, Lawyer Zuo, what are you studying up on this for…

Smiling, Zuo Ran shook his head without replying to me.

 >Select: Dresser (2)

Zuo Ran: Most of the things on the dresser are things that males use. There is no indication that a woman lived here.

MC: (Where did Fu Qiao store Zhou Nan’s things?)

 >Select: Bed

Zuo Ran: There is only one pillow on the bed, and the bedsheets are also the dark-coloured style preferred by men…

MC: Yeah. Typically, though the fabrics on often get washed, it’s rare for them to be thrown away, unless if they’re damaged.

MC: For the blankets, quilts, and so on that I’ve bought, I’ll use them for several years.

MC: This is even more so for pillows – I’m reluctant to switch them out after getting used to them…

MC: But Fu Qiao… though it’s a two-person bed, it’s obvious that only one person used the fabrics on the bed.

MC: And it’s the kind that guys prefer…

Zuo Ran: After Zhou Nan’s death, he threw all the things they originally had, and changed to a new set.

Zuo Ran: We can’t exclude this possibility.

MC: Anyway, if it were me, I probably wouldn’t buy fabrics of this style.

--

MC: Looking at Fu Qiao’s house furnishings, it looks just like he’s completely erased all the indications of Zhou Nan living here.

Zuo Ran: Someone who loved deeply, who couldn’t retain in time the indications of his partner’s life after she passed…

Zuo Ran: He must be hiding something if he’s cleared everything out so cleanly.

Fu Qiao was taking a bit of a long time borrowing chairs, so Zuo Ran and I waited for quite a while before he came back.

--

Fu Qiao: My apologies, the neighbours around all get off work late, so most of them aren’t home.

MC: No need to worry, we were the ones to trouble you.

Fu Qiao: You can’t say that…

Fu Qiao: After Nannan passed, very few people still thought of her. Thank you for worrying and running around for her.

Zuo Ran: We were also entrusted to this by someone.

Fu Qiao: Uh, was it Nannan’s big brother? I’ve seen him a few times, though we’re not very familiar.

Fu Qiao: As for Nannan’s mother… she’s already emigrated to another country with her new family. After Nannan died, she only gave a call.

MC: …

Fu Qiao: You two said before that Nannan was murdered, so you mean… she didn’t use illegal drugs herself?

Zuo Ran: Yes, we suspect that Zhou Nan was deliberately murdered, so we wanted to get an understanding of the situation from you.

Zuo Ran: You should be the person who is the most familiar with her in this world.

Fu Qiao: How could that be… how could she have been murdered…

MC: Mr. Fu, do you mean that it’s not possible for someone to have murdered Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Though Nannan worked as a bar waitress, which is kind of… you know, but she probably never started a feud with anyone.

>He didn’t approve of Zhou Nan!

MC: (With Fu Qiao’s tone, it’s clear that he doesn’t approve of bar waitressing!)

Fu Qiao: Ugh, I don’t know where to start, so ask as you please.

INTERROGATION START

Relations with Zhou Nan

MC: Mr. Fu, we just saw you burn the paper cranes – the relationship between you and Zhou Nan must have been excellent.

Fu Qiao: Mhmm, Nannan was my first love, as well as the only person I’ve ever liked up to now.

Fu Qiao: If not for Nannan’s incident, I had already prepared to marry her after graduating from fourth year, which would be next year.

Zuo Ran: Mr. Fu, I presume you aren’t a native to Stellis City and did not attend the same school as Zhou Nan. How did you two meet?

Fu Qiao: I’m not a Stellis City citizen – my family lives outside of the city.

Fu Qiao: I don’t really like to interact with people in real life. Instead, I chat with friends online more.

Fu Qiao: Nannan and I met online. I first liked the scenic pictures she took, then got to know her.

MC: Scenic pictures? Were they posted on social media?

Fu Qiao: Yes. We were both in high school back then, and there was lots of pressure to study, so I liked to look at her pictures to relive pressure.

Fu Qiao: During then, I vaguely felt like I liked Nannan, and I wrote in the Gaokao* that I aspired to go to Stellis City.

Fu Qiao: After we met offline when first year started, we officially started dating.

Zuo Ran: Looks like Zhou Nan’s photography skills are excellent.

Fu Qiao: Mhmm. To me, the pictures she took were the most beautiful.

 TL Note:

*Gaokao are China’s standardized tests for university admissions.

Locations of Zhou Nan’s Works

MC: Have you still kept Zhou Nan’s works?

MC: I don’t seem to see any in your house.

Fu Qiao: About this…

Fu Qiao: I… I burned all the photos…

MC: Burned them? Why?

Fu Qiao: Missing someone after seeing related things will only make me sadder.

Fu Qiao: Not just her works – I either donated all her things or burned them.

Fu Qiao: I feel like I won’t be able to walk free all my life if I leave those things at home.

Talisman

MC: If I may be so bold, is the thing on your neck… an talisman?

MC: If you keep it so close on you, was it something left by Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Ah, this…

Fu Qiao: This is an talisman, but it wasn’t left by Nannan. It’s a symbol of peace that I prayed for at Yunxia Temple.

Zuo Ran: Could you take it out for a look? I’m just purely curious.

Zuo Ran: I’ve always wanted to go to Yunxia Temple to pray for one, but work is too busy, and I never have time.

Fu Qiao clutched at his collar, looking somewhat agitated.

Fu Qiao: Sorry, the master said that it’s best to not show it to anyone aside from family – otherwise, it won’t work.

Zuo Ran: I’m sorry, I acted impolitely.

The moment Fu Qiao put down his hand, I noticed that the bottom of his index finger seemed to be a bit thinner than the upper part…

MC: (Is this… the mark left by a ring?)

MC: (If one wears a ring for a long time without taking it off, day or night, then it’ll leave this kind of mark.)

MC: (A lot of people who wear wedding rings are like this.)

MC: (Ring…)

  Bar Waitressing

Zuo Ran: A hobby like photography is very costly – after all, the equipment is very expensive.

Zuo Ran: Was Zhou Nan’s financial situation alright? Did she have any financial conflicts with anyone?

Fu Qiao: Nannan’s costs were indeed large, but she was a girl that strove for self-improvement and always relied on herself to work for money. She never took on any loans.

Fu Qiao: If she didn’t have to deal with these costs, she wouldn’t have worked as a bar waitress.

MC: Mr. Fu… you must not have been willing for Zhou Nan to be a bar waitress?

Fu Qiao: Of course I wasn’t willing. This job is both tough and dangerous. Aside from drinking every day and damaging her body, those guests…

As he spoke, Fu Qiao clenched his fist.

Fu Qiao: Those guests became handsy with her quite a few times.

Fu Qiao: Though Nannan wouldn’t stay out for the night, but…

Zuo Ran: When did you find out that Zhou Nan was a bar waitress?

Zuo Ran: You considered Zhou Nan’s convenience of transit when you first rented the house, so she must have worked as a bar waitress for a while.

Fu Qiao: At the beginning, I only knew that she worked in the north area. I didn’t know she was a bar waitress.

Fu Qiao: After, she told me that she worked at Xunye, and only said that she was a singer.

Fu Qiao: Nannan’s singing was very good.

Fu Qiao never directly answered the question “When did he find out about Zhou Nan being a bar waitress”. But based on how Fu Qiao described this job, he didn’t seem like he only knew of Zhou Nan bar waitressing after her death – instead, it was like he went to get an understanding of it beforehand.

He didn’t tell the truth, and Zuo Ran and I didn’t persist in these questions, to avoid raising his alert accidentally.

Interpersonal Relationships

MC: Theoretically, if Zhou Nan was murdered by someone, can you think of any suspects?

Fu Qiao: Uh… as of now, I can’t come up with anything.

Fu Qiao: Aside from exams at the end of term, Nannan very rarely went to school. Most of her friends were ones she knew from the bar.

Fu Qiao: If I really had to say, I think that the bar guests are more probable.

Fu Qiao: Those people weren’t good people to begin with, and they could have gotten in contact with illegal drugs.

Zuo Ran: But what reason would they have to murder Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Maybe it was love-related jealousy?

Fu Qiao: They’re too far away from my life, so I don’t really know much about it.

Proof He Wasn’t on the Scene

MC: What were you doing on the night of Zhou Nan’s incident?

To avoid making this question seem too offensive, I added a question to it.

MC: When did the police contact you about Zhou Nan’s incident?

Fu Qiao: That night, I was doing experiments at school. Because I was very tired, I headed straight home after the experiment finished.

Fu Qiao: When the police contacted me, it was early morning. I was asleep, and didn’t get to pick up.

Fu Qiao: I only knew of Nannan’s incident after waking at 8AM and looking at my phone.

MC: Didn’t you say that Zhou Nan has never stayed out for the night? Didn’t you get in touch with her when she didn’t get back at night?

Fu Qiao: …

A flash of panic passed over Fu Qiao’s face, and he recovered his calm very quickly.

Fu Qiao: She had keys. If she got back late, she would open the door herself.

Fu Qiao: I originally thought that she would return at 2-3-o’clock – this was also a frequent occurrence.

MC: Is that so…

MC: Did you usually pick her up after she got off work?

Partners will typically do this, right?

Fu Qiao: I’ve brought it up before, but it’s too far to go back and forth. As a non-local, I’m not familiar with the north area, and the public safety there is bad, so Nannan didn’t let me go.

Fu Qiao: She said that she had a friend that lived near us. If she couldn’t make it to the last train, then she’d come back with her friend.

MC: If so… you’ve never gone to Xunye Bar?

Fu Qiao: I’ve never gone. I’ve also only heard Nannan casually bring up Xunye’s address.

Chen Hanzhang

MC: Mr. Fu, do you know this person?

I handed Chen Hanzhang’s photo to Fu Qiao. He just hastily swept his gaze over it.

Fu Qiao: I don’t know her. Who is she?

Zuo Ran: She’s called Chen Hanzhang. She went to Xunye that night, and she is also suspected of illegal drug trafficking.

Fu Qiao: Do you suspect that it was her who killed Nannan?

Zuo Ran: We only suspect her. We have no evidence, and we also can’t find a motive for her to kill Zhou Nan.

Fu Qiao: She doesn’t look like a good person, but I’ve never met her.

Fu Qiao kept his head lowered the whole time he was speaking, and he never looked at Chen Hanzhang’s photo again.

Zuo Ran: …

Drug History

MC: Do you know about how Zhou Nan has history with drugs?

Fu Qiao: Mhmm, I know about it. But it was very slight, and she went on withdrawal a long time ago.

Zuo Ran: After this matter, didn’t you try to convince Zhou Nan to change jobs?

Fu Qiao: I did… but her income would decrease if she changed jobs, and she wouldn’t be able to make enough.

Fu Qiao: It was me that was useless – I couldn’t help her split the responsibility…

INTERROGATION END

--

After flipping through the analysis record I made before, it seemed like we’d basically asked Fu Qiao all that we needed to ask.

MC: Mr. Fu, we’ve troubled you today…

MC: Eh? Mr. Fu, you grow out your nails? I believe that it’s rare for guys to grow out their nails.

Both of Fu Qiao’s pinky nails had been grown out. The other fingers all had their nails cut neatly.

Fu Qiao: Oh, for convenience.

Fu Qiao: Either for experiments or for daily life, there are always places to use one’s nails.

Fu Qiao: It’s not quite the same as when women grow out their nails.

MC: That’s true.

Fu Qiao: That… if there are new developments about Nannan’s cause of death, could you let me know?

MC: Sure. Then we’ll bid farewell.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

THAT’S RIGHT BITCH! It’s October and I am still watching and inexplicably blogging about Supernatural - a dinosaur of a television show that’s been on the air longer than most children I know have been alive. 

I know I’m An Old because I don’t think kids these days understand the struggle it was watching television before streaming. We had to wait for episodes. Hell, I don’t think kids these days even really have to wait for seasons. I mean, Voltron premiered on Netflix in 2016, capped off their seasons at 13 episodes a piece and, oh yeah - aired seasons 5 - 8  all in 2018. Was I mad about that? No of course not. Do I also say phrases like “kids these days? Yes, so who even knows if what I think is relevant anymore. 

Alright, so speaking of seasons, last time I looked at pilots and pilot seasons and how the streaming era is changing everything we know about starting a TV show. But once you’ve got your pilot down, now what? 

Not this kind of pilot. Also, based on the prerequisites for demon possession, we’re all agreed this co-pilot’s like, an alcoholic, right?

There’s a rule in TV (sort of) that the first six episodes (some might argue the first season entirely) should be a kind of rehash of the pilot. The pilot sets up your premise and once you’ve got your pilot down, your job as a TV writer is to re-establish that premise over and over again. You’re building your world, you’re writing it’s rules. You’re setting up a template, a formula for how your episodes are gonna play out. This helps your audience get to know the characters, get familiar with your world, get comfortable spending time with them. Essentially, you’re getting your audience to trust the show that they’re going to be tuning in to for at least the next 20-some-odd episodes. 

I’d also argue that this is important so that later, you can break that format later. I’m not saying you should break the trust your audience puts in you, and that’s probably a real fine line of distinction. But if you break your rules right, it can hit the audience with a big emotional sucker punch. Or, it can stand out as a real breakout, tentpole of an episode - I’m thinking specifically about Ghostfacers! In season 3, or Once More, With Feeling, from Buffy. Those episodes work, really work, because they deviate from the formula, but they only work because we know the formula so well.  And these aren’t big changes to the way episodes are done, they’re just shifted ever so slightly that they felt new again.. 

So what is the premise of the first four episodes Supernatural? What’s the formula they set up for the rest of the series? 

Brothers. I said it in my last post, I’ll say it again, Sam and Dean/Jensen Ackles and Jared Jared Padalecki are what makes this show. Full stop. I think we could have gotten 5 seasons out of a show starring two other dudes. I do not think this show could have gotten 15 seasons with two other dudes. So from the pilot through Phantom Traveler, we learn that Sam and Dean have a sh*tty home life - their mother was killed by some mysterious evil thing and their father raised them to be little demon-hunting child soldiers while they look for the killer. Oh yeah, and Sam’s girlfriend died the exact same way which we will never forget because Sam’s gonna have a dream about it almost every episode from here on out. We set up the tension between the brothers - that Sam got to go to college while Dean stayed with their dad like a good boi. We learn that everybody hates each other probably because they are deeply and unhealthily codependent love each other so damn much. 

Next we get the basic rundown of the season arc: 

Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days. The Winchester brothers are looking for him and by extension, looking for answers as to what killed their mom/Sam’s girlfriend. We also get the basic rundown of every episode: dad is a mysterious and elusive sonuvuabitch, so every episode they go about, say it with me now:

“The family business.” I would also accept “Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can,” but why can’t I find a gif for it?!? 

Backtracking on this but you know what else gets hecking established with the Winchesters? Sam is the cute one with the people skills and the puppy dog face, so you’d naturally assume that he’s the soft one. No. Not the case. Dean is the Sofffft Boi. The SOFTest boi. Dean wants Sam to talk about his feelings, Dean wants Sam to not keep things bottled up, Dean is the one who desperately wants to keep a hold of his family and also is just deeply broken and traumatized on the inside and oh no, I told myself I wouldn’t do this but I did it anyway. Sorry not sorry. This watch, I’m really picking up on the fact that Dean is, weirdly, the Mom Friend in this first season. Like, he’s basically a Trailer-Trash-Teen-Pregnancy Mom who’ll give you spaghettios five nights a week and a shot of whiskey so you’ll quit yer bitchin’ and go to sleep faster, but he’s the Mom nonetheless. Later in this season and in other seasons, I think you even see him do his dumb-baby-best filling in as the Mom when John went off the deep end. Anyway, I have a lot of feelings and we don’t have time to unpack all of that so I’ll just move on.

RUDE.

Next we set up our Supernatural Bag of Holding - what’s in it? What are the mystical artifacts they use to kill those evil sons of bitches? First up is The Car. Damn, I am not a cars girl, but that 67 Chevy, it does things to me. 

This car has some weird pavlovian trigger for me, it’s not NATURAL. 

The journal. 

John Winchester, you journal the way I imagine a psycho killer journals and I would just really appreciate it if you could be ANY MORE ORGANIZED THAN THIS.

The Trunk Full of Weapons - I love that in these first few episodes (and possibly the rest of the series???) they give this HELLA conspicuous look every time they open the trunk full of weapons. It’s hilarious EVERY TIME.

No, you’re not being obvious at ALL, guys.

The Fake ID’s - from credit cards to impersonating feds, these boys are not afraid to break the law to save some lives and I feel like that’s...that’s the theme of the show maybe? They’re here to save people and they’ll do what they have to to do that? In a world that clearly establishes a dark vs. light/good vs. evil dichotomy, the Winchester make it their job to live in a world of grey? Basically? 

Next on the checklist for this first season of Supernatural - it’s spoopy. *Spoop mileage may vary.* I said it last time, but I’ll say it again: this first season aired at 9:00pm at night. That means it’s primetime stuff for the 18 - 25 year old crowd, but they don’t want to risk some 13 year old watching it and getting too scared before bed. 9:00pm is X Files time slots, Fringe time slots. 9:00pm says you’re gonna get something a little more gruesome and gory and shocking than at 8pm. 8pm is for Friends. Vampire Diaries aired at 8pm its first season. 9pm is for the real adult content (but not too adult because the audience is still mostly children). 

SPOOP!

But yeah, let’s look at the real horror vibe that you get off of these first four episodes. We talked about La Llorona from the first episode - this is a legit ghost that they fight. The kids at the end that literally drag their mom to hell? Pretty spooky stuff. The Wendigo in episode 2 is a literal monster of the week and so for me personally, it’s not that scary, but it is a cannibal monster that eats human flesh. Dead in the Water has vibes from both Jaws and Friday the 13th. Everything from the lighting to the sound design let’s you know this is a horror show, or as horror as you can get on network television. Listen to the scenes just before somebody dies and you get a nice creepy “Come play with me” whisper coming out of the water. I’m a little spooked just thinking about it now. Yes I know I’m a chicken, and I’m OK WITH THAT. And if we go past my season 1 disc 1 into episode 5, Bloody Mary is STILL terrifying and I STILL watched that episode with half my face covered. That’s where I am these days. It’s 2020 and the world is a nightmare but imagining Bloody Mary creepin’ out in my mirror does not need to be a part of it. 

SHE F*CKIN CLIMBS OUT OF THE MIRROR GUYS! I DIDN’T KNOW SHE COULD DO THAT!!!

Then we get Phantom Traveler and our very first case of black-eyed-demonic possession. Watching this episode now, it’s like watching someone’s home movie of their first steps as a baby. They’ve never even done an exorcism before guys! They have to read the exorcism rite out of the journal! It’s so cute!!! Let’s not think too hard about how they got that full sized bottle of holy water past TSA in a post-9/11 world. And try to ignore how poorly these special effects have aged - the smoke from the demon possession?? OMG! THIS EFFECT! I’m pretty sure I could make that effect with my first ever graphic design software on my, like, 2009 mac book pro. So cute and soooo good! I’m gonna leave that CG plane alone, they’re doing their best. 

SO cute and SOOO good!

You want to know what my favorite established staple of Supernatural season 1 is? The extras. LOOKIT these guys - 

Wendigo you have Cory Monteith who later goes on to star in Glee. 

You have Alden Ehrenreich, Debatable Han Solo, doing a lot of face work with very little dialogue. 

You have Gina Holden who is in SO. MANY. Spooky-type things! My personal favs are Blood Ties and Harper’s Island, but she’s in Fringe, she’s in the SAW franchise, she’s in the Final Destination franchise, she was in some deleted scenes on an episode of Teen Wolf! I LOVE seeing Gina Holden, anywhere she pops up. 

And speaking of Harper’s Island, you’ve also got Callum Keith Rennie who played John Wakefield in Harper’s Island, a show that was A+ Great and I highly recommend if you like Agatha Christie and/or murder mysteries. 

Honestly, Rennie looks like he’s about to murder a bitch in this episode of Supernatural, it is not a stretch to believe he’s a psycho killer.

Dead in the Water you’ve got Amy Acker, a regular in Joss Whedon and Whedon-adjacent type shows.

Good LORD, this wardrobe was SO 2000′s WB and it PAINED me.

And finally in Phantom Traveler, you have Jaime Ray Newman who also shows up in a lot of the shows that I like to watch. She was in Eureka, she was in Midnight Texas, both kind of terrible shows that I love because they are terrible, but she was ALSO in Bates Motel and Veronica Mars, which are generally considered to be more quality, so there’s that. 

This still implies that they actually LIT scenes, which is a SURPRISE TO ME. 

Point is, seeing these actors in Supernatural back in the early 2000’s felt like I was seeing the start of their careers. That may or may not have been the case, but as a viewer it was exciting to see them pop up again in other things.

So what about TV now? Do we still use those first 6 (sometimes more) episodes to re-establish the premise? Well, it certainly hasn’t gone away. Look at any network show that still produces 22 - 24 episodes a season and you’ll still see that the pilot season just keeps re-iterating the premise established in the pilot episode, specifically in anything that’s procedural - that’s you’re monster/problem-of-the-week shows. Think sitcoms like Brooklyn 99 or Superstore or dramedies like Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist. The reason being that these shows play in the traditional model of television - on a network, once a week. They are not releasing episodes all at one time or relying on their audiences to stream a whole season in one sitting. These are shows that still assume that someone out there is going to tune in or stumble across their show one night while they’re surfing channels (lol) and need to be told, no matter what episode they’ve just turned on, what the premise of the show is. They need to be formulaic so that people can pick it up anywhere at any time.

But what about shows that don’t follow this traditional model? I mentioned in my last post that seasons are getting shorter and shorter, so when you’re writing a show that only has (8) episodes instead of 22, how much time do you really want to spend establishing the premise? Because of these short seasons, you’re also dealing with shows that are more serialized and less procedural than their predecessors - meaning, you’re dealing with a show that focuses on a season long story (think Game of Thrones or Stranger Things where each episode is an important chapter that you can’t skip) vs. a procedural (think the shows I mentioned above or any cop drama really) where each episode is it’s own contained story, neatly wrapped up at the end. These are shows where you can skip an episode and still know where you are in the show no matter where you start or stop watching. Supernatural is a little bit of both - procedural with their monsters of the week AND serialized with a season long arc. We’ll talk more on that in a later post. 

Not only are we getting shorter seasons, but we’re also dealing with shows that are not released over long periods of time. A few streaming channels, like Disney+ and HBO Max, make a deliberate point to slow-drip their seasons, but most streaming channels will release entire seasons in one shot. You don’t need to worry about your audience missing an episode because they have 24/7 access to all the episodes all at once. And for the most part, they’re designed to be binged. They start at full speed and they don’t slow down to keep driving you to the finale. 

Do I think the procedural is ever going to go away? No. As much talk as there is about dropping the cop drama from TV all together, I think audiences still love a good mystery series. And you can’t just think of procedurals as cop dramas either - a procedural also covers most if not all sitcoms. New Girl, Letterkenny, Parks and Rec, Superstore - these all have a premise that doesn't change from week to week. They may make tiny shifts away from what they set up in the pilot, but by and large, you know what you’re getting into any time you turn on an episode. I think we as an audience still like that kind of familiarity. We may be seeing a bigger swing towards more serialized content, but that doesn't mean that the procedural is dead and gone. 

So that’s what we’ve got for Supernatural - two dudes, driving around in a car full of spears and hand guns, killing bad guys. Some day, they may even find that father that’s missing. What could possibly go wrong? A lot. Stay tuned. 

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Nine

Read here on wattpad

Word count: 3.1k

Warning(s): Explicit language, domestic abuse, violence, racial slurring

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By January the band was gearing up for Europe, Tommy and Heather Locklear were working out a schedule their wedding planned for May, and everything else was...well...

The Cathouse is lively as always, Duff and Slash only adding to it's noise and liveliness as they throw back shot after shot.

"So," Slash starts to me, brushing his curly hair out of his face just enough to see me. "I've been thinking about Tans and Axl, right?"

"Okay." I nod, raising my brows a little.

"If they were to get together, not that it's gonna happen because he's a fuckin' pussy but if it does happen I have the perfect name for them." He tells me. "Xanax."

Duff and I furrow our brows a little and exchange looks.

"'An' as in Tansy, 'Ax' for Axl." He explains.

"What about the first 'X' at the beginning?" Duff asks, chuckling a little.

It's as if Duff has pissed all over Slash's dream.

"Oh, damnit." Slash realizes the blonde has a point. "Nevermind."

I give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and Duff laughs.

"Speaking of Tansy, you guys wouldn't happen to know where she's been the past week, would you?" I ask them and they look at each other.

"She's been hanging around Stevie and Izzy a lot, lately." Duff tells me. "Because Steven has weed and Izzy has junk."

"Izzy's been hanging out at my house with Nikki, lately." I tell him.

"We know, he said he saw you naked." Slash blurts and Duff lightly hits his shoulder.

"Well, he's like a ninja. I didn't know he was in the livingroom, Nikki didn't mention we had company over, I got out the shower and had to get my laundry out of the basket I left by the couch and there's Izzy. Just chilling there." I explain. "And I panicked a little and hit the freaking ground like I was being shot at and hid behind the couch until he agreed not to look so I could get my clothes basket."

I swear, getting to see me naked was like an unspoken right of passage. If you hung around Mötley Crüe, you were bound to see me naked at least once.

In Mobile, Alabama, after eating special brownies that—I had no idea were special until Steven spoke the words, "she ate like five of them, we're so fucked, Nikki's going to kill us" to Duff—I over did it apparently and couldn't get my legs to stop shaking so decided I would frolic around the hotel to get the jitters out...naked...with GN'R following after me like an episode of Scoobie-Doo.

They saw every bit of me that day. But I've always thought it made us closer.

"Hey!" The sound of a drunk guy slurring my way interrupts our conversation and I raise my brows.

"Yes?" I reply.

"You up for some fun tonight?!" He asks.

"No, thanks, I'm married." I politely respond, motioning to my ring.

"I didn't ask if you were fucking married. I asked if you wanna have some fun tonight." He argues.

"Look, man, she said she's married." Slash repeats what I said.

"If I wanted the opinion of a ape I would've asked!" He barks at him.

It takes me a moment to register what he meant by it, then it hits me.

Apparently it hits Duff at the same time, because he's lunging at the guy.

The stranger doesn't have time to react before Duff's punching him in the face so hard he falls down, but that isn't the last of it.

He grabs him by his collar, a completely different persona taking over him as he keeps his knuckles in a ball and gives blow after blow to the bastard until I intervene by the fifth hit.

"Duff!" I exclaim, grabbing his arm that's rearing his hand into the air, after trying to get his attention for the past ten seconds.

He takes heavy breaths, his victim's face busted and bleeding, before stumbling back, dropping the guy.

I feel like the entire club's eyes are on us.

Duff and Slash feel it, too, and Duff's grabbing at my hand as the three of us quickly make our way to the nearest exit.

Duff is one of the most level headed people I've ever met. It takes a lot to set him off, but when he is set off, it takes a while to get him calmed back down.

"Motherfucker!" Duff shouts, slamming the door of their apartment after he and I step inside.

Slash went to meet up with Steven and Tansy, leaving Duff and I alone...which is kind of the last thing I want at the moment.

"Who the fuck does that prick think he is?!" He snaps, slamming his keys on the counter.

"Duff." I say calmly as he rubs his face, trying to get control of himself. "Hey." My hand gently grasps at the hand that isn't bruising, and he let's out a deep breath. "It's just stupid bull shit, alright? People like that aren't worth losing yourself over. They'll get what's coming to them, okay?" I remind him and he sighs, his thumb beginning to rub at my hand, causing me to think about the thing that has yet to be addressed.

I find myself pulling away after the shock wears out, jolting back as if to avoid electrocution, looking at Duff with wide eyes.

"I--why did you do that?" I ask him, slightly panicked as if Nikki knows already.

He doesn't reply, just as startled by his actions as I am.

I don't give him time to reply.

"Goodnight, Duff." I say calmly, getting out of there as fast as I can.

I dart to my room and lock the door behind me, my mind and heart racing one thousand miles per hour.

Did he kiss me because I was the only girl there with him? Or because he's drunk and isn't thinking? Has he been wanting to kiss me but didn't want to disrespect me or Nikki by actually trying to do it?

Ding ding ding, we had a winner.

I let out a breath and rub my forehead, trying to get it out of my head.

He tastes like cigarettes and vodka which is a disgusting mixture but it's so Duff. It's a comforting taste.

It was a comforting kiss that, despite being so sudden and surprising, gave me a subconcious sense of peace and comfort, because it came from someone that had only ever given me peace and comfort.

A noise sounds from the closet, interrupting my thoughts, and I open the door and see Nikki slumped over, syringes, smack, and coke residue scattered about.

I clear a path through the drugs and discarded clothes, grabbing at his ankles and pulling him with all my might, out of the closet to attempt to get him to the bed.

When I get to the realization that I can't, I give up, grab a blanket from the bed and curl up next to him.

My hand carefully squeezes at his for a second before I pull it away.

I'm not even sure he remembers kissing me, he hasn't acted like it.

"Didn't you have plans with Nikki tonight?" He asks and I snap out of my thoughts, glancing at the clock to see it's 11:00pm.

"Are you good now?"

"Yeah." He replies. "I'm about to go find Steven and Slash."

"I'm gonna head home, then." I tell him, grabbing my car keys from the couch. "I'll see you later." I assure him. "Stay out of trouble." I add, stepping to the door, skipping on the hug I usually give him before we say "bye."

"No promises." He scoffs and I roll my eyes sarcastically.

"Love you." I say, opening the door.

"Love you, too." He calls back.

Alcohol changes how you go about things, it doesn't plant new intentions. And the way he kissed me let me know he'd thought about doing it for a long time...but I never would've known that had he not done it.

I light the last candle, our house looking like the meeting area for a seance once I turn all the lights off.

A romantic seance.

Nikki's suppose to be home any moment now, if he sticks to his schedule he's had the past couple weeks: wake up at 4:00pm, snort some blow to get his mind going, shower, get ready, leave for the night, get back in around 3:00am mumbling incoherently, babbling nonsense from having so much shit in his system, then pass out. And repeat.

But tonight is different, because he's been cutting back on heroin the past few days.

He hasn't told me he's cut back, but I can tell he has. He's probably preparing to kick it completely for Europe...I just hope he can stick to it.

Not that me waiting to give him a blowjob and have my back broken at three in the morning is much motivation for him to completely quit his problem, but I'm hoping it's an encouraging pat on the back.

I slip my robe off when I hear his Harley pull in, rushing to comb my hair out with my fingers.

The keys are in the door in another moment, fumbling to unlock it.

My heart pounds as my nerves tense up when he comes in, stumbling slightly, slamming the door behind him.

"H-Hey, babe." I say cautiously, testing the water of his mood.

"The fuck is that smell?" He asks me, tossing his keys on to the counter, causing me to jump slightly from the loud noise it makes.

"Uhh, th-the candles." I tell him.

"I can't fucking see." He complains harshly, taking his jacket off, kicking my heels out of his way on the way to our room.

I pull my robe back on, accepting that I showered and shaved earlier for nothing, before turning the lights on and blowing out every scented candle I lit around the house.

Following Nikki to our room, he's digging around in his drawer, glancing at me when I come in.

"I was waiting for you to come home." I tell him, twiddling my fingers.

"Yeah, I saw." He replies, not even looking at me.

"Did you?" I ask, doubt laced in my tone. "Really?"

"Yep." He states, pulling two packed up syringes out, making me feel a little sick at the sight. "I'm about to head back out." He informs me.

"What? Baby, you just got home. I wanted to spend some time together." I try to tell him, walking right behind him as he steps to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.

"Just fuck yourself, Viv. It's not my job to screw the life out of you anytime you fucking snap your fingers, alright?" He says before shutting the front door and I'm in shock from what he said.

I decide not to let him leave without getting an earful of it.

When I get outside, I'm stepping in front of Nikki's bike just before he starts to leave, and he groans out in frustration.

"I've been up since 8:00 in the morning, Nikki. I'm tired, too, you know? I don't necessarily feel like it either, but I shaved and showered and made myself look sexy and even burnt my nipple lighting all those freaking candles so I could surprise you and we could have a good time and what the hell do you do?! Come in with your pissy, asshole, unappreciative attitude. Do you know how many guys would kill to have their girlfriend or wife waiting naked for them when they get home, ready to do whatever the hell they want?" It's obvious my scolding has him feeling guilty, but he doesn't say a word. "But I guess that's not a big deal to you because you're use to naked girls throwing themselves at you all the time so..." I scoff out, shaking my head a little, keeping myself from crying. "I'll see you when you get back." I give up, waving my hand.

"It's one night, Viv. I don't know why you are so bent outta shape over it." He comments and I turn back around, glaring at him.

"It's not just one night. It's been two years of trying to do nice things for you and you can't even appreciate it because you're so taken over by the need to find your next fix as soon as you can." I explain to him.

"Like I don't do nice things for you?!" He gets defensive, getting off his bike, walking to me. "This fucking house you love so much?! That fucking car you drive?!"

"I never said you don't do nice things for me, I just--"

"What about the fucking ring on your finger?! You know how many girls would love to be married to Nikki Sixx and have the expensive house and luxury car?!"

I roll my jaw, raising a brow.

"I didn't ask for the fucking car, I didn't ask for the fucking house and I sure as hell never asked to be married to you!" I throw my ring somewhere in the driveway, storming back into the house to pack my shit up with him trailing behind me.

I start snatching my clothes out of the closet and onto the bed as he just stares at me.

"The fuck are you doing, Vivian?!" He barks.

"Leaving. You can get one of those other girls that would love to be married to Nikki Sixx--or at least think they fucking do--and they can have the expensive house and the luxury car." I snap, opening my top drawer, getting the clothes out of there, too.

He's suddenly grabbing my clothes and throwing them in the floor in an attempt to stop me, but it just pisses me off even more.

"Get the fuck out!" I demand, shaking, tears toppling over my lashes, my finger pointing at the door.

"No!" He argues. "You're not going anywhere and neither am I until you quit pitching your fucking fit!"

"God, I can't even leave without you ruining it, Nikki, you ruin every thing!" I scream out in aggravation.

"Then why the fuck are you still with me?!" He shouts back, coming closer to me. "If I'm so fucking bad then why the fuck aren't you gone?!"

"Because I love you" is what I want to say, and I can tell he wants me to say it, too.

But I don't.

"Because I don't have anywhere else to go and I don't have any money!" I lie to hurt him, and I can tell it makes a impact.

He looks like he could cry right now...but he gains what's left of his composure, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a wad of cash, throwing it across the room angrily, causing the bills to fly in different directions.

"Fetch." He orders, motioning to the money he threw, and I blackout for a few seconds, coming to after shooting pain rocks up my knuckles, my hand, and my arm, causing me to cry out.

Nikki's got blood coming from his nose, his eyes squeezing close, I'm assuming it's because he's trying to talk himself out of beating the shit out of me.

I broke my hand, and his nose.

Nikki and I sit in silence as Doc yells at us, pacing back and forth in our living room.

"You're grown adults, acting like fucking toddlers! When the hell is this gonna stop, huh?!" He throws his hands up, motioning to us.

"She fucking punched me!" Nikki outbursts, wincing as he holds his nose with an ice pack.

"Because you told me to 'fetch' like some cheap hooker!"

"I threw 4k at you, Vivian! I don't know if you can count but four-thousand dollars isn't fucking cheap!" He shouts at me.

"Neither were all those fucking candles I lit!"

"Alright, hey! Hey!" Doc claps loudly, screaming over us to break up our argument.

We both shut up, scowling straight ahead, refusing to admit either of us is wrong.

"I-I am at a loss at this point, guys." Doc goes on, sitting on the coffee table in front of us. "You're kids. You've been together five years. You're kids." He states lightly, raising his brows. "And you're fighting like you've been married for forty years and just want out. And I hate to say that because I know neither of you want out but you just don't know how to talk to each other when you get angry." He points out. "Nikki, you don't know how the fuck to treat her when you're on junk. Plain and simple. If you're on junk, you're a fucking asshole, especially to Vivian. I'm not saying get help, but you might wanna learn how to balance being fucked up but being respectful especially since you don't have a problem, right?" Doc sarcastically adds. "And, Vivian. Your first response to shit that rubs you the wrong way, is to just start swinging at people and blow things out of proportion and that's not right, either." He gets at me next, and my anger is immediately replaced with guilt. "I mean, look at each other." He tells us and we glance at each other, looking defeated by Doc's good points. "If the cops could see how you two treat each other sometimes, you'd both have cases of spousal abuse." He rubs his forehead. "Press is gonna talk, fans are gonna talk, we'll say it was a bike accident, you two ran into a fucking bush or something and that'll be that. But you two need some fucking help or something because I'm not going to Europe with you two acting like this, got it?"

"Yeah." I agree.

"Nikki?" Doc asks, looking at him pointedly.

"Got it." Nikki replies quietly.

"I mean I want you two to act like you did when you first got together because when I met you guys, you couldn't get enough of each other. Now she's having to babysit your sorry ass most of the time, and you're beating him like an ugly stepchild." Doc tells us.

We don't say a word.

"Now, let's get to the hospital so his nose doesn't heal like the fucking ugly duckling and your fingers don't look like busted carrots. His face is a quarter of our revenue, and your fingers need to be pretty so they can showcase that nice ring that needs to be sitting back on your finger as soon as possible."

Yes. Because God forbid Vivian and Nikki, or Tommy and Heather, or Vince and Sharise, or whoever the fuck, have an obviously imperfect marriage to the outside world.

Smile, pretend you're on your honeymoon and can't get enough of each other, and whatever you do: keep the wedding rings on.

Even at the times when you want to throw it in with the towel.

Don't fuck up an already fucked up thing because that's not what we do.

[gvbejvmes]

Drabble: Reflections

Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and R Genre: Slice of Life Relationships: Gabriel/Johnny, mentioned Gabriel/Jill Disclaimers: Some of Johnny’s dialogue comes from the man himself. 

Friday, February 28, Opening Day of Reflections

7am

“Gabe?” Nik’s voice echoed through the gallery. “I really hope you’re in here and someone didn’t break in.”

Using a creeper, he was laying on the floor of the gallery, installing rods to support one of his pieces.  It was an intricate installation piece and he was terrified that due to the nature of the base, the glass bits were going to weigh down the base, break, shatter all over the floor, and he was going to be a disgrace in the art world.

“I’m in the inner chamber!” He called out. When she had left the night before most of the temporary display walls he’d set up to separate the sections of his show hadn’t been completely installed yet. Now her gallery was one giant maze.

There was no response for a moment, and Gabe figured that she was trying to orient herself. “How do I get there?” She called out in response.

“What room are you in?” The thin rods were weaved inside of the base to blend in so they weren’t noticeable to the viewer. He wasn’t sure how many rods he was going to need, but he figured if he weaved in at least ten, it would be strong enough. 

“I think I’m in hell.”

Gabe groaned. “Yep, I’m changing the lighting in there. I knew it needed to be brighter.” He huffed out. “Either walk past the wedding rings or come in through the back and come through the looking glass.”

It was quiet so Gabe figured she was maneuvering through the exhibits and got distracted. He went back to weaving another rod through when suddenly a  hand was on his foot, and he startled so badly that he almost broke the damn thing he was trying to fix. “The fuck.” He snapped out as he was rolled out of his piece. “You break it, you buy it. And my shit isn’t cheap.”

Nik just raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you sleep at all last night or were you here the whole time?” She asked, even though he was pretty sure she knew the answer to that. 

“It just needs to be perfect.” He said as he sat up. “All my shows are personal but this one is…”

“A love letter. I know.” She told him, giving his knee a gentle pat. “Go home and sleep. I’ll fix the lighting for you.”

Gabe shook his head. “I need to get that done, and I need to put the hands in this piece and-”

Taking his hands, Nik pulled him to his feet. “I know, Gabe. I’ve seen the footprint you provided.” She said pushing him towards the back. “I have to set up for the cocktail portion of the evening, too. I’m perfectly capable of finishing the things up here. You need to sleep.”

“I still have-”

Nik shook her head. “I’ll call your kids on you.” She threatened. “All three of them.”

Gabe groaned. “And you’ll follow my directions exactly?” And he regretted the question as soon as he saw the look on Nik’s face. “Fine, fine. I’m going, I’m going.”

9:51am

He was lying face down on his bed, George and Gulliver asleep on either side of him while Scully lay on her bed, snoozing away when his phone went off. Still more asleep than awake, he blindly reached for his phone and answered it with a tired, “Uh-llo.”

“Briel? You never responded to my text. What time am I picking you up tonight?” 

Still more asleep than anything else, he let himself drift back towards sleep. He knew that voice so it was okay to fall back asleep.  That was a good voice, a trustworthy voice. “Mmhmm.”

“Let me guess. You were up all night doing finishing touches on your show and you’re just now sleeping.” The other man theorized. He really did know Gabe well.

Gabe snuggled his face deeper into his pillow as he listened to Johnny talk. “Got kicked out.” He slurred. His whole life he’d talked in his sleep, and offered out pure gibberish in response to questions when someone woke him up. Chances were that he wouldn’t even remember this conversation. It wouldn’t be the first time he had a full conversation with Johnny and didn’t remember a single word. It probably also wouldn’t be the last time.

There was a warm laugh. “Briel, are you awake or asleep?” His ex-husband asked him, knowing very well from first hand experience what he was like when he was asleep.

“Yes. The sirens call to me to lull me back to the place of dreams.”

Another laugh. “Briel, who are you on the phone with right now?”

“JJM.” He mumbled out, letting sleep wash over him, going back to his habit of referring to people by their initials. He’d done it a lot when he was younger, which was how the kids wound up with their nicknames of CJ and DJ.

There was no response at first. “Who is JJM?” And there was a strange hitch to the other man’s voice. 

“Jonathan James-Michaels.” Gabe responded like it was a stupid question.

It was quiet and Gabe was almost fully asleep again before: “What time am I getting you tonight?” He asked tentatively. 

“5:30.” 

“At your place?”

The phone felt really heavy in his hand. He was going to be non-responsive any minute now.

“At CJ’s. GB wants to see our pretty clothes.”

He never heard Johnny’s response; he was already fully asleep again.

11:15am

Gabe’s arm was lifted and a little warm body slithered underneath before Bella put her head on the same pillow that Gabe was using. His granddaughter usually ran warm, but she was warmer than usual. 

“Dad,” Cordelia touched his face until his eyes opened and he was actually awake and blinking up at his youngest child. “Dad, I’m going to the tailor to pick up your outfit for tonight. Bella’s sick so she’s going to sleep here with you while I go run errands.” She kept her hand on his face until she was sure that the words made sense to him.

Yawning, Gabe sat up and laid on his back, Bella immediately readjusting and snuggling onto his side for warmth and comfort. “W’a ‘ime issit?” He asked tiredly, an arm wrapping around Bella so she wouldn’t roll off the bed. He had no idea where the dogs wandered off to.

“A little after eleven.” His daughter told him. “But go back to sleep. I’ll wake you both up when it’s time to get ready.” She reassured him before slipping out of the room.

“Family should respect my vampirism.” He mumbled out incoherently.

“I res-ped.” Bella agreed before they both fell back asleep.

4:45pm

“I don’t know what to wear.” Gabe whined as he ransacked through his closet. He was already dressed in the slacks that Cordelia had picked up from the tailor, and wearing a light blue button-up that Juliet had picked out for him. 

“Dad, the outfit you already have on is more than fine.” Cordelia tried to soothe from where she was flopped on his bed, Bella half on his pillow and half on her mom’s lap.

Bella nodded. “G’ampa looks pretty.” She agreed.

“You’re stalling, which is totally adorable.”

He made a face at his daughter. “I’m not stalling. I’m just nervous about tonight.” He admitted, pulling himself away from his closet and sitting on the bed with the girls.

Cordy shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just a date, and you guys were married for like 10 years.” She said nonchalantly. 

Gabe blinked. “I meant about the show.” He said, giving her a weird look. 

“Oh. I don’t know why you’re nervous about that part. I would be more nervous about going on a date with my ex-husband.” 

He groaned. “Gee, thanks for that.”

5:30pm

“Why is he picking you up from here?” Cordelia asked as Gabe held onto Bella so she could put medicine in the three year old’s ears. She always tended to be slightly more agreeable when Gabe was involved in her medicine-giving, but only slightly.

Gabe shrugged. “I got a text when I was sleeping telling me he was, but apparently I was on the phone with him for five minutes when I was asleep so I probably told him to.” He admitted, petting Bella’s hair when she squirmed against him. “I probably figured I needed a chaperone.”

His daughter rolled her eyes as she scooped Bella away from him and started towards the back. “I don’t want to be your guys’ chaperone. Gross.” She murmured out. Cordy was half-way down the hallway to Bella’s room when there was a knock on the door. “Dad, could you get that? It’s probably your date!”

“Shut up.” Gabe grumbled out before doing as his daughter told him. He swung open the door, and then just stared at the man in the doorway. Now he knew why Juliet was so damn determined to get him in light blue; she wanted him to match her father’s eyes. “I feel like we’re fucking going to prom.” 

Johnny’s hands were stuffed into his pockets and when he looked at Gabe, really looked at him, Gabe found that he needed to hold onto the door frame for support. “You look better than going to prom.” His ex-husband murmured out, looking uncomfortable, like he didn’t know what to say or what to do in this given situation and then… “How are you feeling? You always used to get so nervous.”

A smile slid onto his features, all previous thoughts immediately dismissed. Years later and the other man still knew him better than anyone else in the world. “I still do.” He looked down at his feet, once again feeling like a teenage girl about to go to Prom with the Quarterback. “I’m feeling a lot calmer now.”

7:00pm

They’re sitting in the car outside of the gallery, and it’s taking everything in Gabe to not run away. This was probably the most nervous he’d been for a show in a very long time. When he first got out of prison, he’d opened every emotion he’d ever felt for other people to see, but lately he hadn’t been as raw, as open, as intimate with his art as he was in the beginning of his career. Hell, this is probably the most intimate and public he’d ever been.

“You’re terrified of what everyone’s going to think.” Johnny told him, staring out at the gallery, instead of looking over at Gabe. “What’s so different about this one?”

He ran a hand over his mouth as he thought about an answer that wouldn’t ruin the truth of what Johnny was about to walk into. When it came to his shows, Gabe liked to generally keep Johnny in the dark. His reactions to Gabe’s work was always one of the rare times where his features weren’t schooled, when his emotions showed all over his face. Those were his favorite reactions. “It’s more personal than usual.” He finally admitted. “My heart is spread out there on the walls. Every ounce of it.” 

“You’ve gone through a lot. You used to tell me that’s what made the best pieces.” His ex laid his hand over Gabe’s and gave it a squeeze. His hand lingered over Gabe’s for a couple of extra moments, and Gabe wanted to grab his hand back when he pulled away. “I’ve wanted to ask how you are after… everything. After Jill, but I’m guessing I’ll get my answer in there.”

Gabe couldn’t help but to close his eyes, his hand already feeling cold. “I’m… probably less broken up than I’m supposed to be. I feel like it was the right thing to do for me, for her, and that I should feel guilty about ending things after they got so serious, after I got her hopes up for a happy ending.” He swallowed and glanced over at Johnny, chewing on his lip as he did so. “It’s not just stuff about Jill in there.”

The other man swallowed and then took a deep breath before making eye contact with Gabe. “Whatever it is, I’m not going to be upset.” He promised. “Unless it’s my ass again.” 

Gabe’s laughter filled the car.

7:15pm

The nerves returned as Gabe and Johnny stepped into the gallery. These were his familiar pre-show jitters. The ideas he had in his head didn’t always translate to other people, which was the risk that came from being an artist. Opening night meant translating his mind onto a canvas of some kind. Not everyone would understand his vision, which was so fucking nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, he took Johnny’s hand and they walked into the gallery.

He’d taken over the entire gallery, something that Gabe was incredibly grateful to Nik for allowing. She said it helped her more than it helped him, but he was still grateful for her and everything she’d done for him. As soon as anyone walked through the front door, they were greeted by a white display wall. Mounted on the wall were 15 mirrors, each surrounded by iridescent painted metal, surrounding the varying sized round mirrors like a cage. A 6”x6” sign was on the far right corner: Inside the Mirror, 2019, metal on mirrored glass. Gabe watched as Johnny detached his hand from his and wandered along the path, his fingers hovering over the caged mirrors, as though he was doing his best not to touch them,.

Inside the Mirror was the beginning of the little maze that Gabe had created. If the person walked to the left, they were led to a small room that had a half-wall of blown-glass flames, back lit by lights to make the guest feel like they were standing in fire. A 6”x6” sign was on the far left corner: Red Hot, 2020, glass. 

It didn’t look like they were in hell any more. Nik had shifted the lights down so the room was bathed in what Gabe would only describe as campfire light. It felt like flames were lapping at their feet, but not like Lucifer was about to come around the corner any more.

On the display wall opposite the glass wall of flames, there were three paintings. The first painting was mascara painted on a faded out mirror.  The was a 6”x6” sign to the right of the painting: Feminine Vulnerability, 2019. It was a pair of woman’s legs spread open with a blank space instead of being biologically correct. A smirk slid onto his features as he watched Johnny stand in front of the the piece, as he’d designed it to be an optical illusion. From this angle, it looked like he was going down on a woman. He didn’t know why it amused him so much, but Johnny didn’t stay at that one for very long before moving onto the next piece. 

The sign to the right of this one read: Fading Sunrise, 2020. It was a naked woman’s body from the thighs to the neck drawn on canvas in charcoal. He had a feeling that if he had included her face in this piece, Jill would have killed him. The body was painted out in watercolors. Starting in a light yellow at the bottom of the thighs and moving up to a deep red at the neck. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he’d always thought of Jill in shades of orange and red. She was fire in human form. 

The third painting was on what used to be someone’s oak dinner table. A hundred different wedding rings were painted out in melted chrome. Some were embedded deeply into the wood, while other ones were just barely on the surface. This one had taken months for get right. The sign for this one read: Wooden Rings, 2019. Of all the pieces in this room, this piece was the one that had Johnny’s attention. He stood in front of it for what felt like a long time, his fingers tracing over the rings. Sometimes Johnny was worse than the kids when it came to his work; he needed to be reminded to touch with his eyes. Something about seeing him with this piece though… He didn’t have the heart to tell him not to touch.

“There’s more.” Gabe murmured out, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet atmosphere he’d created. “This room leads to a bigger room, but I don’t want you to see the middle room yet. I need you to go back the other way.” 

He didn’t know how to explain it, but Johnny didn’t look like he was listening to Gabe, like he was in the current moment. It was like he was hypnotized by Gabe’s work, which left him very proud. “Why?” The other man finally told him, even as he was wandering back the way they had just come. “Stop worrying.”

The room to the right was laid out similarly to the left room. Instead of flames, there was a wall of blue ocean waves made out of blown glass, back lit the same as the other room. The sign for this one read: Cool Blue, 2020. As an opposition to the piece in the other room, this one made the person feel like they were standing in water, like it was lapping gently at your feet. Seeing Johnny standing in the middle of this room made his stomach do little flip flops. The lighting brought out the blue in his eyes just right, which almost took Gabe’s breath away. God, that man was gorgeous.

On the opposite wall, there were three paintings, same as the other room. The first painting was done on a sheet of translucent blue glass. It was very similar to the first painting in the red room, except this time it was a pair of muscular male legs painted out in car oil. Like the other painting, it was an optical illusion making it appear as though the viewer was giving head. Seeing Johnny stand in front of it, gave Gabe a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It just looked… weird seeing him standing like that in front of his own legs. The small sign next to it read: Masculine Vulnerability, 2018. 

Thankfully Johnny didn’t stand in front of it for very long before moving onto the next painting. If Gabe was totally honest, this painting was probably his favorite of all the paintings he had on display. The plaque for this one read: Ocean Dreams, 2019. For once one of his paintings was actually on a traditional canvas. It was layer after layer of blue and white paint, giving an ocean effect. In the beginning he hadn’t actually known what he was doing, but when he realized what effect the layers of paint had, he kept going. It turned out quite good, if you were to ask him. Johnny’s fingers hovered over it, like he wanted to touch, but he behaved himself this time.

The third painting was done on an old wooden glass window with four panes. He’d acquired it last year during one of his wandering through antique shop adventures, but he’d been hanging onto it for months, not sure what to do with it. A few weeks ago it had hit him, and he’d worked on it feverishly until it turned into what his mind had wanted.  In each pane was hand drawn burned out divorce papers. He’d painted carefully onto the backside of the glass so that if someone touched the front, the paint wouldn’t smear or flake. The sign for this one read: Burning Regret, 2020.

Johnny stood in front of this one for a very long time, and when the meaning behind this piece, behind the show it him, it was like watching a light bulb go off over the other man’s head. “I…” He watched his ex-husband swallow. “What’s next?”

It took Gabe a stupidly long moment to realize that they were holding hands again. When had that happened? The only place left to go was the room in the middle - to the piece that Gabe had been working on in the morning. To be fair, there were three pieces in there, but Gabe was only really worried about one of them. “You can’t touch the piece in there.” He reminded Johnny, knowing the other man too well. “You’ll know the one I’m talking about when you see it.” He whispered out. “I didn’t do a weight test on it yet. Eventually it’s going to be interactive, but I wanted it to be ready for this show. There’s a lot of starch, and glue, and magic holding it up.” He gave his ex’s hand a squeeze. “You go in first.” 

The first piece in the room was his latest piece in the Mythology of Muse series, Hades & Persephone. It was glass painted into wood. Like all of the pieces in this series, the subjects were seen from behind, and they weren’t wearing anything clothing. This time it was two men, seen only from behind from the waist up. They’re holding hands, but their hands are burnt. One man was made to look like fire and ash while the other man was made to look like water with water lilies. The men balance each other out: fire and water, seemingly very different but necessary to the other to stay in check. Their bodies are tilted away from each other, but their heads are bent towards each other. 

Johnny stood in front of this piece for a very long time, and Gabe couldn’t help but to find himself wondering if Johnny understood what he was trying to say. As much as he loved his ex-husband, the man could be incredibly dense when Gabe’s art was about him. He never seemed to understand why Gabe found him so fascinating and why he was constantly a feature in his art. He hoped this time, he’d get it. Gabe thought it was pretty clear what the painting signified, but he was also the person who made it, so what did he know? 

The next piece in the room was a last minute addition. This was the piece he’d been obsessed with and made in the last week. He’d had inspiration after a conversation with Johnny and hadn’t been able to get the imagery they’d created during that conversation out of his head. It had been a couple of weeks ago, and Gabe had broken a mug. They’d stood in the kitchen of a house they’d designed together, but now belonged to Johnny. Blood had been pouring freely from Gabe’s hand while Johnny had stood between his legs, a cloth in hand as he tried to stop the bleeding. 

The sheer imagery of that moment, nothing longer than a few minutes, had bounced around Gabe’s head for days before he finally figured out a way to bring it to life. It had been his obsession this whole week. This was the piece Gabe had been the most nervous about. Every ounce of who he was and what he wanted to tell Johnny was poured out into this piece. 

It was an art installation piece, and there was a small stand with the plaque displaying the name: String of Fate. It was a sculpture of two hands made out of glass, and it looked as though they were balancing on nothing but red string. 

One hand was made out of white glass and the other hand was made of black glass. The black hand was holding the white hand, forming imagery of yin and yang. It went along with his theme of two things balancing each other out. The white hand had a cut in the middle and red string poured out of it like blood. The string wrapped around both hands and the string twisted around and around in circles forming a stand that held the two hands up. The metal rods he’d been weaving into the string that morning seemed to be holding all right, which sent a wave of relief over him.

Unlike his other pieces, Johnny barely looked at this one before he was turning away from it. For a moment Gabe was terrified that the other man hated it, but then he saw his face. His face was flushed and tears were on his face. Before Gabe could process what was happening, Johnny’s hands were on his face and he was kissing him.

It was like coming home after a long time. The nerves were melting away. They still had a ton of sh!t to talk about and work through, but all that mattered in the given moment was that Johnny was kissing him. 

When Johnny pulled away, all Gabe could think to do was wipe the wetness away from his ex-husband’s face as the other man gently cupped Gabe’s jaw. “This is my love letter to you.” Gabe managed out when he was able to say words again. “I take it that you like it?” 

Johnny laughed. “Yes, I love it.” And his lips were on his again. “I love it.” He repeated, his hands moving to straighten Gabe’s shirt. “And everyone else will too, but not as much as I do.” 

And that was all Gabe needed to hear for the stupid smile to slid onto his features. That was the only critic that Gabe ever cared about anyway.

“There’s another piece.” He murmured out, glancing back at Through the Looking Glass, an interactive piece that guests needed to literally walk through to get to the party in the other part of the gallery.

His ex nodded, and tugged Gabe against him. Suddenly Gabe forgot what they were talking about. 

9:30pm

The party was in full swing, and Gabe had long since been separated from Johnny. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t know where the other man was; he’d been able to catch his eyes from across the room all night. No, now came Gabe’s least favorite part, where he was being passed around from person to person. Weirdly enough, it reminded him of prison - that feeling of too many people in too small of a space. 

“Gabriel,” The art critic from the Times brought Gabe back into the present. “There seems to be an ongoing theme of duality in your pieces this evening. Is there a reason why you chose to call this show Reflections?”

He took a sip of champagne, if only to buy himself some additional time to think of his response. Why did these guys always assume that he had some sort of hidden meaning and philosophy behind his work? Thankfully over the years, he’d mostly gotten good at throwing random shit out there that the reporters tended to buy. 

“The duality theme is in reference to me and my exploration of my sexuality and what I wanted out of life. In general, every piece is a study of my own self-reflection. The past two and a half years have been about me figuring out who I am, what I want, and where my heart lies. Sure, there are mirrors. I’ve always enjoyed using mirrors as a canvas, but really all of this is a reflection of who I’ve become as a person.” And Jesus fvck. He needed to stop drinking soon. He always waxed poetic when he was buzzed and drunk.

The art critic ate up Gabe’s words and Gabe glanced around to see where Johnny had wandered off to. However, the next question had Gabe’s head whipping back to the critic. “Your break-up with D.A. Michaels was pretty public. Divorce tends to be messy when both parties are in the limelight. The political world and the art world are two very different scenes, but it was a pretty public breakup by New York standards nonetheless.”

Gabe didn’t know where the reporter was going with this, but he found himself finishing his drink and nodding anyway. “Yes, but we handled it maturely.” If anyone called one party losing himself in bottles and going to Hawaii with his legal secretary while the other got very very high at an artist’s retreat and then burning pictures from said Hawaii trip mature.

“I can see that.” The reporter said slowly, and Gabe just knew he was going to hate the next words out of the other man’s mouth. “Does your ex-husband usually come to all your shows? Or only when they’re about him?”

And suddenly Gabe wished he hadn’t finished his drink. What was it that Johnny had said when Juliet found him and Johnny hiding near String of Fate earlier kissing and wanted to know what that made them? “I won’t be answering any questions about Jay- D.A. Michaels at this time.”

10:15pm

“Dad!” Delilah looped her arms around her neck, her blonde hair smacking into his face. Yep, someone had definitely been dipping into the free booze. Dusty trailed behind her, obviously having been playing her chaperone all night. “There you are! I can’t believe you made all that stuff!” She leaned into him, and Gabe just laughed and gave his daughter a hug. “It’s so shiny!” 

“I think someone should be cutting you off soon.” He said with a laugh before turning his attention over to his cousin. To be fair, he wasn’t sure what his cousin was going to think about this show, especially given the subject matter. “What did you think of the show?”

His cousin shook his head. “I gotta say, I don’t entirely get it, but it’s intense.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the art or about Johnny. “Jill was going to come, but she’s sick. I just wanted to let you know that she’s not boycotting the show or anything.” He shrugged. “Although she’d probably be pissed seeing naked drawings of herself up there.”

Gabe took a sip of his fresh glass of champagne. He’d actually wondered if she was going to come tonight, but he wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t. She never had understood his art or his obsession with the human form. “Well, you’re the only other person in this room who knows what she looks like naked.” He said shrugging, as always not understanding what the big deal was with nudity. It was totally natural, why did people get so weird about it?

Dusty snorted as Delilah wandered off again after mumbling something that sounded a lot like ‘awkward’. “The pieces are dramatic like they were right after your divorce, but even more so.” And Gabe wasn’t entirely sure what his cousin was talking about until he tilted his head in Johnny’s direction. “Don’t you think it’s a little too soon after your break-up?” And Gabe must have made a face because his cousin rolled his eyes. “You’ve never been subtle when it comes to him. Besides, I saw you guys holding hands earlier. You have a weird thing about holding hands. What was it that you told me once? It’s one of the most intimate things two people can do?” 

Gabe found himself blushing, but he didn’t break eye contact with his cousin. “It’s like someone pressed pause on an old cassette tape. It’s a little warped, but it still picks up where it left off.” He told him, his gaze searching across the room to find Johnny again. “Excuse me.”

10:30pm

His back was pressed against one of the walls in the gallery, the light from the ocean room the only light. All he knew was that it was dark enough in the room that no one would find them, unless they were really looking for them. There were lips on his neck, a leg wedged between his, and a hand on his hip. For his part, he had one arm wrapped around Johnny’s neck and the other one on his ass.

“Think anyone will notice if we run away?” And at this point he’d had too many glasses of champagne and just wanted to be away from all the people.  

His ex was saying something, but Gabe wasn’t paying that much attention since he was kissing him, pulling back only to say one word before kissing him again. He was in sensory overload. All he could smell was Johnny, all he could feel was Johnny, and all he could taste was Johnny. In the back of his mind, he found himself wondering if he could taste the half a pack of cigarettes he’d smoked prior to Johnny picking him up. 

“Come home.” And Johnny wasn’t kissing him any more, but they were sharing the same air. They were so close that all Gabe needed to do was tilt his head up just right to kiss him again. The other man’s words caught Gabe off-guard. Home. That was such a foreign concept to him at this point. It was strange to think that after these years, Johnny still thought of the house as theirs. “Just for tonight, just so I can keep kissing you. Say yes and I’ll stop dragging you away from your party.”

Maybe it was the emotions of the day, or maybe it was the alcohol, but Gabe couldn’t imagine giving him any other answer than the word that poured easily out of his lips. “Okay.” And his mouth was on his again. “Okay.”

11:05pm

“Seriously?” Juliet groaned as she got a good look at Gabe who’d slipped out of the back part of the gallery before Johnny did. “What are you guys? Teenagers?” She wasn’t faring any better than Delilah in terms of dipping into the free booze and her shoes were long since abandoned somewhere. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

Her hands straightened out Gabe’s shirt. “I really don’t want to know what you guys were doing in there.” She murmured out before trying to tuck the tail of Gabe’s shirt back in. “But you have a hickey on your neck.”

“I do not.” He said with a half laugh, twisting his head to see if he could see what she was talking about. There was a small flash of purple, and he groaned. “Okay, I do. I’m going to kill him.”

Juliet laughed. “It’s good to see you happy, Papa Bear.” She said, hugging him tightly. “Both of you.”

He sighed. “Jules, we still have a lot to work through.” He tried to tell her, but his step-daughter just laughed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll check on your dogs tomorrow.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.” He called after her as she moved through the crowd of people for another drink.

1:38am

Stumbling into the bedroom, he toed his shoes off and dropped his jacket on the floor before flopping face-first, ass-up onto the bed. Johnny had taken Felony outside, and between the booze and his weird-ass pre-show sleep schedule, he was fucking exhausted. Blindly he reached out for Johnny’s pillow and buried his face into the fabric, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent. He was halfway asleep when the bed dipped and there were hands on his hips. 

“Take your pants off before you fall asleep, Briel.” He was being manhandled onto his back, and if it was anyone else, Gabe probably would have fought them on it, but it was Johnny and he trusted him. Johnny straddled his legs and unbuttoned his pants for him as Gabe laid there, watching him. “Really? You’re not going to help me at all?”

Gabe shook his head, sliding his hands to Johnny’s ass and pulling him down on top of him. “Uh uh.” He said, hugging his ex to him, nuzzling at his neck. “Shouldn’t have drank so much. Wasted a good opportunity.” He slid his hands under the back of Johnny’s shirt to pull him closer to him.

“This isn’t the last time you’re sleeping here.” Johnny said with a laugh before freezing and pulling back to look at Gabe. “It isn’t, right?”

Gabe rolled them over so he was straddling Johnny’s stomach. “Not even close to the last time.” He murmured out before kissing him. 

They were both too buzzed for it to lead anywhere else, but if there was one thing Gabe had always liked, it was kissing Johnny.

4:45am 

“Briel.” The bed dipped and Felony yelped from where she had been curled up next to Gabe’s hip as he slept. She jumped off the bed at the intrusion and wandered out of the room. 

“The rabbits have escaped the compound, babe. I need to find them.” He mumbled out, trying to stay asleep. “I can’t go to school yet.”

Laughing, Johnny pushed him into a sitting position, despite Gabe’s groans of protest. “Wake up.” He slid behind Gabe, leaning against the headboard and pulling Gabe against his chest. Kissing the side of Gabe’s jaw, he smacked his thigh with a newspaper. “I have today’s Times.” 

Now Gabe was awake. “I don’t want to read it.” He whined out, burying his face against Johnny’s chest. “I don’t want to know what he thinks of the show. He hated it. I’m sure he hated it.”

Ignoring him, Johnny flipped through the paper until he found the section he was looking for, and then pulled Arts and Design out so both he and Gabe could see the article. “It’s tradition.” He said, which was why he had a paper copy and not a digital copy. “Now shush and let me read to you.”

Unable to look at the page himself, he closed his eyes and let Johnny read the article to him. “The Duality of Reflection: Marchette Gallery reopens with the hottest show in town.” Johnny nudged him. “That doesn’t sound bad so far.”

Gabe groaned, and opened his eyes. “Keep reading.” He whined out.

“There’s a sense of quiet upon walking into the Marchette Gallery. The gallery has been sectioned off into four main rooms, which is Gabriel James’ style - transporting the viewer into the dreamscape that is his mind. The lighting is low lit, forcing calm over anyone who enters the gallery.

“The first room is nothing but a white wall with a series of mirrors mounted onto it. The mirrors set the stage for the other rooms in the show. It’s at this point where the guest gets to choose their own path. If they venture off to the left, they find themselves in a red-themed room. Despite the harsh shades of red, the room exudes femininity, mixed in with James’ signature style of sprinkling vulgarity and crudeness into his pieces.”

“Ugh.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Ever since the penis tree, suddenly my style is vulgar.” He whined out.

Johnny laughed, the sound and motion making Gabe’s body vibrate. “Briel, you have paintings up in this show that make it look like people are rounding third.” He pointed out, and Gabe didn’t have to turn around to know that the other man was smirking at him. “Anyway, where was I?”

“I have a vulgar style.” Gabe prompted, settling back against his ex again.

There was a kiss pressed against his shoulder before the reading continued. “According to James,” there was a nudge at his side as though to point out that the critic was now quoting him. “‘It’s always bothered me that soft, light colors are associated with women and femininity. Women are strong, powerful and beautiful. To me I’ve always associated women with fire: beautiful, but if you don’t touch it carefully, it’ll burn you alive.’”

Johnny laughed. “How drunk were you when they finally found you?” He asked, the paper shaking in his hands.

Gabe flipped him off. “Do I need to take over reading or are you going to do it?” He asked, half-turning his head to look at Johnny.

“If the guest goes to the right, they find themselves in a blue-themed room. Everything is soft and cast in shades of light blue. In spite of the soft colors, it’s very obvious that this room represents masculinity. The pieces in this room all have a theme, the jewel of this room being the overly textured Ocean Dreams,”

The sound that escaped Gabe’s mouth wasn’t entirely human. “Overly textured???? It’s just the right amount of fucking texture.” He hissed out, but Johnny ignored him and kept on reading.

“The pieces in the main room are the reasons for coming to see Reflections. ‘The middle room is the equivalent to my soul.’ James said in explanation to why the most striking pieces are the ones tucked away in the middle of the show. ‘These pieces are the most personal pieces I’ve ever created. As much as I overshare when it comes to my personal life, I like to keep some emotions bottled up and hidden. I finally came to a point in my life where I realized how stupid that was. I’m not ashamed of how I feel, and I need to share my feelings with the world.’“

Johnny stopped reading for a moment, and Gabe turned his head up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Keep reading.” He breathed out. “I need to know what he thinks of the other pieces.”

“The latest installation in the Mythology of Muse series is by far James’ best work in the series. The only other piece in the series that features a portrayal of James himself is Apollo & Artemis. James has said in interviews before that he doesn’t like including himself in his art so when he does, the pieces carry a deeper meaning than the ones without him in it. There’s a sense of awe that comes from seeing an artist included in their art - especially an artist like Gabriel James.”

Gabe closed his eyes, not wanting to see the paper any more. “I don’t know what he thinks about String of Fate. You liked it; that’s enough. I don’t need to know.” He said, almost nonsensically. 

Another kiss on his shoulder. “Yes, you do.” Johnny said before straightening the paper out again. “If you need one reason to see Reflections, go only to see String of Fate. Though all the pieces in Reflections are well-thought out and beautiful in their own right, String of Fate is James’ masterpiece. When art historians talk about James in the future, String of Fate will be the piece most associated to James. This will be the piece art students study.”

He couldn’t breathe. His eyes were open again, and somehow Gabe’s hands were clinging to Johnny’s arms. When had he even grabbed his arms?

“Reflections will be on display through the end of March at the Marchette Gallery. Can’t make it before April? Don’t worry. String of Fate and Hades & Persephone will be on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art where Gabriel James will be the artist in residence throughout the summer season.”

Johnny hit Gabriel with the paper. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be at the MET this summer!” He accused.

Shaking his head, Gabe turned his head to look at Johnny. “I didn’t know.” He breathed out, looking at him in complete surprise. “Pants!” He scrambled out of the bed. “Where are my pants at?”

“The hamper.” His ex told him, before flushing as he realized what a married thing that had been to do. Gabe didn’t live there any more, but it seemed like Johnny had forgotten when he’d tossed both their pants in there. The simple gesture shouldn’t have made a grin appear on Gabe’s features, but it did none-the-less. “But I put your phone and wallet on the dresser where you usually, uh, used to put it.”

With shaking hands, Gabe unlocked his phone and scrolled through his texts, looking for the one from his agent, Sully. It felt like the air had been punched out of him as he read the text out loud. “Congratulations, G! We’ve gotten more than a dozen offers on your pieces, and a few museums that would like to purchase the rights to Ocean Dreams and Fading Sunrise for both display purposes and to print reprints for sale. We also received a generous offer from the MET for Artist in Residence. I know how you feel about the MET and your relationship with them so I told them yes, pending a contract review. I know you’re probably celebrating so I’ll call you on Monday. Congrats, again!”

He set the phone back down on the dresser and in a daze walked back over to the bed. “I... they... I...” Once again he was experiencing sensory overload. Not knowing how to form words, he instead crawled onto Johnny’s lap, straddling his thighs. Only knowing one way to express the sheer amount of emotions that were washing over him right now, he pressed his lips against Johnny’s, kissing him as hard as he could until he couldn’t breathe any more. Then he buried his face into the crook of his neck as he struggled to catch his breath. And was he crying? Fuck, he was crying. 

“I told you they were going to love it.” His ex-husband soothed, his hands trailing gently up and down Gabe’s back. “Not as much as I did, but I told you they were going to love it.”

He nodded against the other man’s neck, still unable to talk. Maybe it was the sheer amount of emotions put into the show, or from the stress of reading the review, or the lack of normal sleep he’d gotten over the past couple of days, but within minutes he was asleep, still clinging to his ex-husband like he was the only thing keeping him anchored to the world. And maybe in this current moment in time, he was.

[ofreligion]

12/13/19, 10:00pm: hey 12/13/19, 11:29pm: can we talk about this? 12/14/19, 12:47am: wow that fire was crazy, right? 12/14/19, 3:01pm: pls come home, mel, where are you? 12/14/19, 11:22pm: this isn’t funny. melanie luciana rivera, what the fuck is going on? 12/15/19, 7:59pm: where are you?

task one: the interrogation.

cc: @covingtonhqs​, @brcknboy​, @fiilledwithfire​, @voidgriff​, @ofconstellctions​, @dcnatellas​, @flightsrsk​, @gvldenfleece​, @cagcdbirds​,

“ms. glickman. why do you have a fish with you right now?”

michal looked down at her lap, where a small rectangular tank sat. on top, sat a black cover with a handle, and inside sat an off-white colored catfish with light brown spots, no bigger than three or four inches. “this is dog, he’s my emotional support fish. i can show you his certification if you need to see it, i have it right here in my-.”

“that won’t be necessary, ms. glickman. we can go ahead and just begin the questions.”

she nodded, placing her hands gently on either side of the tank.

can you tell me, to the best of your memory, what happened on the night of december 13, 2019?

"well, you know, i woke up in the morning and got out of bed, i checked my phone, went to the bathr-”

“the night of december 13, ms.glickman, not the entire day.”

“oh, right, sorry, yes. well,” she said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and swallowing the spit that was collecting in her mouth before looking up at the man sitting across from her. eye contact, her mom had told her, if you want to show that you’re telling the truth, you need to maintain eye contact. “melanie left our apartment to go set up at the estate at like 8:00? 8:15? maybe somewhere in the middle, i can’t remember exactly, but i know that she was gone by 8:23 because that’s when i left my room to go get some leftover queso from the fridge. anyway, i ate the queso, then went to go get ready, got dressed, and left my apartment to go pick up cordelia.” she stopped for a moment, as dog hit his tail against the plastic. she looked down at the tank with a small smile, as if to say thanks for the encouragement, before looking up at the detective and continuing.

“so anyway, what was i saying? oh, yes, right, cordelia. cordelia underhill, she’s really cool, sometimes i wonder why she’s friends with me. anyway, i show up at her place, she gets in my car, and we get super stoned, like ridiculously bake-. oh, wait, can you get me in trouble for that? never mind. but we got to the party at about 9:15ish. i mostly hung out with my friend miles, honestly. he was wasted, it was hilarious, but then again, maybe i just found it funny because i was hi-.”

she coughed, the investigator didn’t look amused.

“right, so, anything else that happened that night, um...sometime later on, cordelia told me she was leaving to go hook up with our friend, maverick, and our ex-friend, donatella, was not happy about that. i think she was eavesdropping or something. anyway, her and maverick used to date in high school, and so it was like this whole thing and she threw a drink on cordelia blah blah blah. anyway, i just, like, had to remove myself from that situation. so i went to go talk to victoria, who i’m not dating, but like sometimes we act like we’re dating? it’s really confusing, i’m not entirely sure what’s going on there, but we talked for a bit and we kissed a bit and then she got weird about everything and left. she told me the other day that she didn’t really like melanie that much, so that might be why she didn’t want to talk about her. and yeah, that’s pretty much it. can i have a glass of water?”

did you see anything unusual that night? was anyone acting out of the ordinary?

she took a sip from her newly acquired glass of water before responding. “well, hemlock’s not exactly an ordinary place. and, for that matter, covington isn’t really an ordinary school. like, you’re talking to me and i’m holding a catfish, that’s weird, let’s not deny that.”

she paused for a moment to let her words bounce off the walls of the room and into the investigator’s ears. the police chief was there too, but she refused to acknowledge him. she didn’t trust police.

after what she deemed to be an appropriate amount of time, she spoke again. “but, as far as things that you may consider to be ‘unusual,’ my friend wolfgang seemed a bit weird. i don’t think they like parties, though, so that can be easily explained. my roommate, griffin, didn’t spend much of the day at home, but her and melanie aren’t on the best of terms right now ever since melanie revealed one of griffin’s biggest secrets to me, that’s why i’m upset at melanie, by the way, so that’s not that weird either. oh! i did go to the bathroom at one point and there was a girl in there crying. el...el...ella, i think her name is. weird girl, i see her outside of my apartment sometimes. i gave her my handkerchief so that she didn’t have to waste paper tissues anymore, and we kind of talked for a bit? i don’t know, i don’t think it was a conversation, it was more just words that were coming out of my mouth. but anyway, she still has my handkerchief. i hope she gives it back.”

can you tell me more about your relationship with melanie?

“i’ve been friends with cordelia since diapers. i’ve just always known her, you know? we shared basically everything with each other and our friend groups centered around whoever else we were vibing with at the time. so, in high school, i dated this boy, richard braxton. we started dating in junior year-”

“ms. glickman, what does this have to do with melanie?”

“hold, please, i’m getting there. so anyway, dick and i were dating, donatella, the drink thrower from earlier, i’m still not over that, was dating dick’s brother, maverick, the one that cordelia hooked up with on friday, and cordelia was dating melanie. that’s how i really got to know her, through cordelia. we were all a squad of some sorts. but mel and cordy and dick and i broke up at the end of senior year, so things were sort of weird, but melanie and i decided to live together freshman year. and it just sort of worked. and so we’ve lived together every year since. and now we live with griffin too, and we had a fourth roommate who dropped out in the middle of the semester. and yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

do you have any reason to believe that someone would want to hurt melanie?

“no,” she said plainly, before taking another sip of water.

the investigator waited a moment before speaking again. “care to elaborate?”

she shook her head. the detective and police chief made eye contact with each other before michal spoke again.

“well, melanie’s just, like, melanie, you know? sometimes, you get mad at her, but it’s never for long and things always come around eventually. or at least, they used to. but now she won’t come home and she won’t answer my texts and i’m really worried about her. you know, the last thing i said to her before the party that night was ‘i don’t like the person you’ve become, melanie, i don’t even recognize her,’ and then i slammed my door shut. that’s not how i want to leave things with her, it’s just not.”

do you have any questions about how the case will proceed?

she thought for a moment, pursing her lips and gently running her fingers across the lid on the top of the tank. “will i be home in time for hanukkah?”

[thecampbellfam]

Jasper’s Birth Story

I knew there was the possibility of Jasper being born past his due date but I’ll admit that I expected that he’d be born early like Wesley was. Much to our surprise, our due date came and went with not a single sign of labour. Jasper must have known that some life things would come up and we’d need those extra 5 days to be fully settled for his arrival. 

On Monday, February 25th, I finally had my first contraction at around 10:30am. It was a relief to know that my body remembered how to go into labour. My midwife, Jen, called shortly after to discuss induction as I was nearing 41 weeks. My midwives allow a woman to go to 42 weeks pregnant to allow time for natural labour to happen. After that point an induction would need to happen. My midwives apparently needed a week to schedule the induction, which was why Jen was calling. On the phone I told her I’d been having some contractions for the last 45 minutes. We agreed that if labour didn’t progress that we’d talk about when to induce at my pre-scheduled appointment on Wednesday, February 27th. For the next few hours I stayed on my feet hoping that it would speed up labour and encourage baby to move down. I tidied the house, made lunch, worked on some jars, and I was even planning to make cookies. At 1:15pm I let my Doula, Keri, know that early labour had begun. She asked a few questions via text and then called so she could hear my voice. Contractions were fairly sporadic and without much rhythm at that point. I was leaking discharge but had no bloody show yet so we agreed that she’d be on standby until I needed support. I also let Keri know that my least favourite midwife at the practice (Jen) was on-call that day. I let Keri know this just in case I needed a bit of extra space or help in that situation if Jen was the midwife at the delivery. 

Nic had been working in the morning to finish up a jobsite and run some work related errands. I had texted him a few times that morning to ask how his day was going, but didn’t mention that I was in early labour. I asked him to text me when he was done his errands because “I needed him to pick-up something from the store.” Once he called, I admitted that I was in early labour and that he should head home. He arrived home at 2:15pm which was when I texted my friend, Serena, to let her know that I was in early labour. Serena was planning to be at the birth, as she had been at Wesley’s too and is an excellent friend and support to both Nic and I. She was at school until 6:30pm so wasn’t sure that she’d make it in time if the birth happened quickly. At 3:00pm my contractions were still sporadic but hadn’t stopped coming. They ranged from every 2 minutes to every 11 minutes, lasting 30-60+ seconds. However, there was still no rhythm to the contractions. By this point, I was exhausted. Nic’s mom, Erin, came over for a quick visit right as I was getting ready for a nap. I didn’t want her to know that I was in early labour so I had to sit for a half hour having regular contractions while pretending that everything was okay. As soon as she left, I laid down for a little bit. 

By 5:00pm my contractions were still sporadic and I was low on energy. Sitting down on the toilet to pee was excruciating. Nic made us dinner and I ate a tiny bit. At 7:00pm the contractions started to increase in intensity and I had a little bit of bloody show. Contractions were between 35-50 seconds and every 3.5-7 minutes (but mostly every 6-7 minutes). Keri called and reminded me to rest as she could tell that I was getting tired. Serena said she was on her way over. I was starting to feel defeated and wondered if I should just go to bed to rest or if I should continue walking around to encourage labour to become active. At 7:30pm the midwife, Jen, who had spoken with me in the morning called to apologize for her earlier phone call. She had been unclear with me about what the next steps for induction were and felt badly about that. I let her know that the contractions I’d mentioned in the morning had not stopped and that I may be having the baby soon without the induction. 

At 8:00pm, I laid down in our bed while Nic put Wesley to bed. Serena came over and laid down beside me to see how I was doing. Over the course of the next half hour the contractions, even while laying down, were increasing in intensity. Every second contraction was excruciating. At 8:30pm I got up to get a snack. The contractions suddenly got really intense and I promptly vomited twice. Serena used a handheld massager and counter pressure on my back to help me cope with the contractions. By 9:15pm the contractions were very close together. Keri offered to come over and give us some support, which we accepted. It was at this point that we called the midwives to let them know that everything was progressing. Within 15 minutes we realized it was time to leave for the hospital immediately. We packed up the last minute items and loaded everything into the car, including a barf bowl for me, and were on the road to the hospital at 9:39pm. Keri had just arrived at the house and said she’d follow us. Serena did the same. 

We arrived at the hospital at 10:05pm. Nic dropped me off by the front doors and I slowly made my way into the hospital, while having regular contractions. I briefly thought about checking myself in and registering but decided against it as I was all alone and the emergency room looked packed. I made my way to the elevators at which point Keri met me and we made our way upstairs. I pressed the button for the wrong floor but a kind woman in the elevator gently told me that I needed the 3rd floor. ;) I made my way to triage, laid in the bed, and then had a massive vomit session after some extremely painful contractions. Nic and Serena joined us, and then were sent back downstairs to check me in. Keri stayed by my side, ready to catch vomit and support me as needed. Nic and Serena rejoined us quickly after and helped give me support through contractions as I had a few tests done.  

At 10:37pm I was checked. My midwife team was a student named Carly and the midwife that I’m not a huge fan of, Jen. Carly was the main one doing the checks and administering care. Carrie did a vaginal check and seemed surprised. I thought by her expression that she was going to tell me that I wasn’t dilated enough. She wanted Jen to check me too to confirm that she had the right information. To my surprise I was 8cm (almost 9!) with bulging waters. Definitely active labour! I was told to make my way to the delivery room down the hall, so I waddled over there with fluid leaking out of me. Once in the delivery room, contractions remained intense and frequent. It was all hands on deck whenever I had a contraction. Counter pressure on my back was necessary. I was told to pee and it was again excruciating to try and sit. I was able to stand for a few contractions before I asked to lay down again. Keri and Serena told me to try being on all fours. They brought in a yoga ball which I leaned over at the top of the bed. This is where I remained for the rest of the labour. 

At 11:32pm I started to push naturally. After a minute or two of pushing, Carly let me know that my waters still hadn’t broken. She gave me two options: 1. Continue to push and see if my waters would break naturally (which could make for a long time of pushing). 2. Manually break the waters (though there was a risk of infection if there was meconium in the waters). On the next push I bore down so hard that my waters exploded EVERYWHERE. After that came a moment of laughter at the explosion of my waters (and at me for stating the obvious: “My waters broke!”). I continued to push hard with each contraction as the pressure was intense and I wanted that baby out. I continued to make everyone laugh as I started to self-motivated myself by saying: “I can do this. I can do this.” I was pushing so hard and feeling baby move down very quickly. I was told to slow down, which I thought was because of tearing. I later learned that it was because they were worried that baby would fall out if I pushed any harder. I soon pushed baby’s head come out. One of his shoulders got stuck and Carly helped to guide his shoulder out and then he just fell out into her arms. 

At 11:41pm on February 25th baby Jasper was born! He was a surprisingly huge 10 pounds, 5 ounces, 21.5 inches long with a full head of hair. I had some second degree internal tearing that my midwife stitched up. Jasper had a raspy breathing sound so we were in the recovery room for a while. The nurse really wanted us to move to the maternity floor but our midwives insisted on staying until Jasper’s breathing was deemed “normal.” Turns out the hospital was full and there were a TON of babies being born, so they were really needing our delivery room ASAP. 

Nic had to go get our bag and pay for parking right around the time that we were cleared to be moved to the maternity floor. Our nurse helped me gather our things and wheel me and baby up to the maternity floor. We were in our (shared) room by 2:30am. I felt so bad for the other family in our room as our nurse wasn’t particularly quiet at giving us instructions for the evening. Nic met us in our room soon after we got there. I took a few minutes to wash my face and put on an adult diaper and pajamas before cozying into bed with Jasper around 3am. I barely got any sleep that night but was feeling energized as I was high on adrenaline. 

At 6am a nurse came in to give Jasper his firth bath and do some final checks on Jasper and I. Then she gave us the okay to be discharged. Nic went and got the car seat, we did the car seat check and loaded up the car before hitting the road at 7:45am. I let my sister know that baby was born if she wanted to come and take photos of Wesley meeting him. She enthusiastically agreed but needed a bit of time to get to our house. So we slowly made our way home, stopping for Starbucks, McDonalds breakfast and gas along the way. We made it home just as Wesley was waking up for the day. A whirlwind 12 hours but so worth it! 

Welcome to the world, Jasper Thomas! 

[bee-kathony]

FOUR YEARS - YEAR TWO | “January 5th, 2015″

The First Year

January 5th, 2015

On our one year anniversary, we had a small party at Lallybroch, it was rather laid back since it was the day after Hogmanay. I loved being with Jamie and his family, joining in with their family traditions. Finally… I felt like I had a place to call home — a person to call home.

In the few days that Jamie and I had been engaged, my heart hadn’t come down off of cloud nine. Every time I saw the ring sparkle in the sunlight or felt it knick against my sweater as I pulled it over my head, I found myself smiling like some giddy schoolgirl. If you asked me last year what I had been expecting for 2014… it would not have been a brain tumor, chemo and a fiancé by the end of it.

I was a different person than I was a year ago, my outlook on life was completely different. More than anything I cherished each day and tried to soak up every moment. Every kiss, every touch… every laugh that escaped my body.

There’s a quote I love, “How wonderful it is that we laugh because our bodies cannot contain the joy.” My joy had been a feeling that hadn’t existed in me for so long but with Jamie by my side and my body healing… laughing was my favorite thing and I couldn’t get enough of it.

I was laughing now as Jamie pulled up outside of the gym at 11:00pm on a Monday night. “Jamie, what on earth are we doing here, surely you didn’t drag me here to watch you work out?” Opening the car door, I walked around the other side and hooked my arm through Jamies, nuzzling against him to get warm in the cold January weather.

“Of course I’m no’ goin’ to work out at this hour, I’m no’ crazy, Sassenach.” He kissed the top of my head and led us to the entrance of the gym.

“It’s closed, how are we supposed to get in?” I asked but my question was quickly answered as Jamie pulled out a set of keys. “Ahh, friends in high places.”

He attempted a wink and unlocked the door, “Lasses first,” he held the door open for me and followed me into the dark lobby.

“Will you please tell me what we’re doing here at this hour? I would much rather be in bed with you,” I turned around and placed a firm kiss to his mouth, sighing against his body as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Oh I ken ye would, mo nighean donn. But I’ve got a wee surprise for ye,” his cheeks blushed a deep red and he turned, pulling us towards the men’s bathroom.

“Jamie!” I laughed, “You’ve got to be kidding me, you utter arse!”

His laugh echoed around the empty tiled bathroom as he switched on the lights. “I wanted to bring ye back here… back to where we first met, mo cridhe.” Jamie brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “I ken ’tis just a bathroom, a smelly one at that,” he sniffed and we both grimaced, “but it’s the place where I met the love of my life. And where our story began.”

I arched my brow, waiting for him to do something more that would explain our presence here in the middle of the night. Surely we could have visited during the day. Jamie released my hand and walked over to the shower area and turned one of them on, hot.

“Sassenach,” he smirked and came to stand before me, his hands on my hips. “Will ye join me for a wee shower?” He kissed my neck, “That first time I didna get to do to ye what I really wanted.”

Breathless I pressed against his body, “Oh… and what was that?”

“Well, first of all. I wasna wearing any clothes,” he chuckled and together we pulled off his sweats and boxers and then removed his shirt.

“Much better,” I agreed and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. “I recall that you were standing in the shower, Mr. Fraser.”

“Aye, ye’ve a bonny memory, Sassenach.” He walked forward and took a step under the water and I shivered as I watched it pour over his auburn curls and down across his skin.

“And the curtain was pulled over you,” I whispered and as he pulled the curtain to cover himself, I started to remove my layers. First my hat and scarf, followed by my coat and pajamas. “Then I chose this shower and pulled back the curtain,” I said over the rushing water and put my hand to the curtain and slowly pulled it back.

It was half a second later that Jamie had me in his arms, joined with him under the warm water. “I’ve got ye this time, Claire. I willna let ye fall.” He smiled and placed both his hands over my head, kissing the deep scar that ran over my skull and under the short curly hair.

“I love you, Jamie Fraser.” My hands slid across his back, over the scars — pressing against the story that covered his body.

“And I love you soon-to-be Mrs. Fraser,” Jamie placed one more kiss against my head — over the story of my pain, of my survival.

The water was warm and made it rather slippery as Jamie’s hands slid over my body but eventually he guided himself into me, lifting my legs to wrap around his waist. Holding me with my back to the shower wall, he thrust home, gently at first and then with a quick rhythm.

Our mouths pressed together, fevered and lips chapped. Since our first time on Christmas Eve, I had wanted him almost every second of every day. It was as if something had been released in me, a desire to know him and to have him know me completely.

Gasping, I came around his cock and leaned my head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Soon he followed into the abyss, his hands holding my arse and he brought us both down to the floor of the shower.

“My legs are like jello, Sassenach.” He laughed and I kissed him, savoring the taste of whisky on his tongue.

“Then I’ve done my job well, Fraser.” I rubbed our noses together and we sat there for awhile longer, letting the water pour over us.

++++++

“Can we maybe not go home just yet?” I wrapped my scarf around my neck once again and shook my short hair free of the water. “Annie will be asleep, she won’t miss us.”

Jamie smiled and kissed my cheek, “Aye, what did ye have in mind?”

“I thought we could just take a drive,” I think people still have some of their Christmas lights up.” Jamie helped me button up my coat and we made sure all the lights were off before we left the gym.

“Who gave you the keys anyways? And what exactly did you tell them?” I laughed, imagining Jamie having a conversation with the owner about how he wanted to bring his fiancée to the gym bathroom and make love to her.

“I ken the owner,” he smirked, “of course. Rupert Mackenzie, he’s a… cousin, of sorts.”

“Why am I just finding out about this?” He opened my car door and I slid in. Jamie walked to the other side and slid in, starting the car and turning up the heat.

“Well, he’s really my uncles cousin and ye havena been to the gym in about a year ye lazy oaf,” he playfully poked my side. “There’s a lot of things ye dinna ken about me.”

I reached for his hand and squeezed it, “I’m sorry, Jamie.”

Pulling my hand to rest over his heart, Jamie looked into my eyes, “Sassenach, this last year was — well it was verra difficult. But I swore to ye that I would love ye and stay by yer side. Have I kept that promise?”

I felt tears stinging my eyes, “Yes, you have, Jamie. Of course you have.” I leaned across the  seat and kissed him. “I can’t help but feel selfish every time I find out new stuff about you… like I didn’t try hard enough to ask you or pay attention.” I let my head fall against his shoulder.

“Claire, we have plenty of time for that, the important thing is that yer healing, besides,” he ran his hand over my back, “there’s lots of stuff about me that isna verra interesting.”

I pulled my head back to look at him, “That is a crock of shit, Jamie. You’re very interesting… at least to me. Will you tell me more?”

Jamie turned the radio on low, already tuned to the Christmas station that was still playing ever after the holidays. “Aye, I’ll tell ye all the embarrassing stuff ye want to know.”

As he pulled out of the gym parking lot, I thought of questions to ask him, silly things, important things… anything that would let me know more of Jamie Fraser.

“Okay,” I intertwined my hand with his that wasn’t on the steering wheel, “Tell me something embarrassing that happened to you at school.”

“Ye really want to know what I was like as a daft kid?” He laughed.

“Aye, I do.” I smirked.

“It’ll have to be the time I wore a kilt to school…” His cheeks already started to turn bright red.

“No, Jamie… don’t tell me -“ I started to laugh.

“Yes.” He laughed as well, “I was just a lad and I guess my kilt wasna on properly, it was school picture day ye ken and my Mam told me I must wear the kilt. So I did but as soon as it came time for the picture to be taken…” he looked over at me, “it came loose and fell to the ground!”

“Oh my God, I can just picture a wee Jamie with his tighty whiteys and a puddle of tartan around his feet.” I wiped at tears from under my eyes. “What a sight.”

“Ye ken I have a kilt at home, Sassenach? Ye may no’ have to imagine.” Jamie slid his hand over my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Oh… and will you be wearing those tighty whiteys?” The fire was already building back up in my stomach.

“Och, no. Of course no, I’m a true Scotsman.” Jamie smirked and pressed his hand in between my thighs. “Do ye want to go home now?”

“Hmmm, drive around for a little bit longer and then we’ll go home and I’ll make you put on that kilt.” I squirmed and spread my legs further apart so his hand could tuck in between them.

For the rest of the drive, my mind was focused on Jamie’s hand — my complete undoing. He never touched me where I wanted but by the time we pulled up outside of our home, I was the first to exit the car.

“Eager lass,” He smiled and locked the car. I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the building.

“Come on lad, let’s see those buns.” We both laughed, intoxicated still from our late night gym shenanigans.

[loadingluke]

Day of stage one RFF phalloplasty

Recovery days 1 and 2

FRIDAY 1/2

5:18am: I woke up 2 minutes before the alarm. Maddy and I woke up about the same time, I gave her a hug and we got ready for the day.

5:25am: I had a shower, my last shower before surgery. I washed myself with some antibacterial cleanser and brushed my teeth.

5:47am: Mum and Maddy had some coffee and tea, and I had nothing. We had a little bit of a chat before surgery.

6:03am: we left the house and headed to the hospital. We were all a little in shock by how bright it was. The sun was up when we woke up at 5:20! No daylight savings and just being a little more tropical I guess. There were heaps of people out and walking their dogs.

6:46am: we made it to the surgery check in counter- we got a little lost! Just waiting in line to check in. It was mainly done online so it shouldn’t take too long.

6:55am: everything is all sorted. I paid for my excess and now I’m just waiting for the nurse.

7:18am: I went in for my questions. Mum and Maddy waited outside. Then we went to the bay area and I changed out of my clothes and into my gown. Dr Goossen came in and went over everything again, so everyone knew what was going to be happening. He said he’d ring mum once i was out to keep her up to date.

7:32am: I was wheeled down into the anaesthetic room and met my anaesthetist, Dr Booth. He went over my history again and put an IV in my hand. I was wheeled into theatre, but due to some issue the surgery was delayed. I was given something to relax me while we waited to get the go ahead. I’m not sure how long I was waiting for or when the op actually started because of that, but I believe it was about half an hour? (edit: I found out later that it actually was an hour and a half, it definitely didn’t feel like that) The nurses were really nice, we talked about game of thrones, trashy TV and Harry Potter. By pure coincidence, thinking out loud by Ed Sheeran was playing- the same song that was playing when I was going under for my top surgery!

~5:20pm: I came to in recovery. I wasn’t in too much pain, my arm was all wrapped up and there was a lot of padding around the phallus. I felt surprisingly good. I had a button to press for fentanyl if I needed it. They did the doppler on the phallus to check blood supply, and I could hear that it was nice and strong. Hans and Scott came down to see how I was going and I got to actually see it....and I cried a little. Not my finest moment and probably to do with the meds, I was just so happy that It’s THERE! My pain was sitting at about a 3/10, and it was mainly sore on my butt incisions and my groin incision on the right side. I could wiggle my fingers well. My hand was a little cold so the nurse wrapped the gallows in a warm blanket to warm them up a bit- worked a treat! I was taken to my room.

~7:20pm: I got to my room, mum and Maddy were there. I was able to chat to them for a bit. I wasn’t allowed to eat anything but I had a little bit of water.

Overnight I had some routine obs done every hour. This involved my blood pressure, temperature and pulse being taken, a doppler on my phallus to check blood flow, wiggling my fingers and checking blood perfusion and finally my pain out of 10. Surprisingly, even with all of that every hour, I still had a pretty good sleep! My pain never got higher than a 5/10. My arm didn’t bother me too much either which is good. It was really weird sometimes. It felt like my arm was in a different position to where it actually was, for example in my head I thought it was lying across my chest when really it was in the sling hanging up. I would sleep pretty much from when the nurse left until she came back again.

I’ve got quite a few bits and bobs coming out of me, this is the setup we’ve got going on: My right arm is up and in a sling. I have a lot of padding around my groin, including a drain from my abdomen. There’s a drain coming out of my phallus and a catheter in my new urethra to keep it open, as well as one in my current urethra for voiding. In my left arm I have two IVs- one with my saline and fentanyl and one spare. I’m on oxygen for the time being as well. I have to wear compression socks and pumps on my legs as well to prevent swelling . A lot is happening and going on lol. My night was just sleeping and having my obs done.

SATURDAY 2/2

8:40 am: Hans came in with another urologist to take a look at how I was healing. He said I will probably get the drain out of the phallus on Sunday if it continues with how it has been healing which is good. He is happy with how the blood supply is going. He said the nerve hookup went well and that I should have pretty good sensation once the nerves grow back. We discussed the incisions behind the bum and I asked if they were stapled like how it’s done in the UK. Huzzah, sutured! I thought they would be but it was comforting all the same. The last thing I’d want would be to have staples removed from below my butt. He said that depending on who was around on Sunday I may be allowed to get out of bed which would be amazing. Fingers crossed.

9:00am: catering came by and I was given some breakfast. I had some toast and jam, and some orange juice.

I was also moved to be in right position as I couldn’t reach my breakfast properly. Two nurses moved me further up the bed so I was in a more comfortable position. First they laid the bed flat then slid a red-silk piece of material underneath me by getting me to roll onto my side and sliding the material underneath my butt. Then I rolled back onto my back, they pulled the material through so it was properly underneath me and then used it to pull me up the bed. I wasn’t strong enough in my legs to push myself up the bed.

9:20am: I had some blood taken. The guy who was doing it seemed a little confused as to why a 22 year old man was here all the way from Melbourne. I just went with it lol.

~9:30 am a nurse came in and have me hot towels for sponge bath. She left me to my own devices and wiped down face and body as that was all I could reach. It was refreshing. The nurse said she would change sheets later, probably tomorrow (Sunday) and I didn’t really think anything of it. Relaxed for a while and waited for Maddy, mum and a friend from school who happened to be in Brisbane to come and visit.

11:30 - just as my visitors arrived, two nurses came in and were confused as to why my sheets hadn’t been changed earlier and offered to do it for me. It was a similar process to how they move me further up the bed earlier with the silk. I rolled onto my side, they removed the old sheets and tucked the new ones under my butt. I then rolled onto my other side so they could pull the sheets through. They also replaced the absorbent sheet underneath me as I was oozing from my incisions a bit (perfectly normal but a little gross).

I had some time with my girlfriend, Mum and a friend from school. We hung out and had a bit of a chat which was nice. I felt quite awake and alert and was able to talk quite freely. They stayed until about 1:00pm, and also came back later at about 4:00pm. I had a nap in between. Throughout the whole day I also continued having hourly checks from the nurses.

SUNDAY 3/2

Overnight Saturday was similar to the first night but I was more restless so I didn’t sleep as well. It was very warm overnight, i has the fan on but my legs were still quite sweaty and itchy as a result of the combination of compression socks and the pumps on my legs as well as my leg hair. It was very itchy and hard to sleep because it kept tickling.

~8am on Sunday I had antibiotics and after that I had a sudden wave of nausea and felt like I would throw up. I told the nurse and she gave me a bag right away and I just allowed the wave to pass. I didn’t end up throwing up but I did come close to doing so. I was given some anti-nausea medication intravenously and that helped a lot.

~9:30am I asked if I could have my sheets changed as I felt really sweaty and clammy. It was pretty busy though so I had to wait for the nurses to be free. At about 10am Hans’ registrar came in and had a look at the phallus. There was minimal swelling and it was looking good so he removed the small drain from it. I couldn’t feel it. Once it was removed there was a little bit of bleeding coming out of the tip, but not much at all. He said everything was looking good. I video called some friends in Melbourne and then called Maddy to see what they were up to today.

~11:30am, a nurse came in to change over my sheets and give me a sponge bath. Boy, it was worth the wait! She wiped down my legs and changed my compression socks over, and then changed my sheets. It made me feel so much better, but did tire me out a bit. Maddy and Mum came over to visit me, and I had some fruit. Since Maddy is leaving Monday she got to stay for the day. We watched some TV together, but I was very exhausted so a lot of the time was spent with me asleep and her holding my hand (I love you for that Maddy, sorry I was so boring xx)

~3:30pm: Hans called me to see how I was traveling. He said I seemed to be doing well and said my blood work came back normal. He said he’d be in Monday morning to check up on me, and that I should be able to get out of bed then! How exciting!

~6pm Mum came back and her and Maddy helped get me some dinner. I had some decaf tea and juice, and that definitely helped give me a little more strength. I’ve got some fruit next to me that I can pick at overnight if I’m feeling peckish.

~6:30pm mum and Maddy left. Dr Ingram came down to check on me and he was also happy with how it was all going. He said he would touch base over the next few days and to let him know if I have any questions.

7:13pm: my last hourly check! The past 48 hours have been absolutely exhausting, mainly because I had to be woken up every hour for my check ups! Now that it’s been 48 hours I can drop down to checks every 2 hours. Doesn’t sound like much but I’m very keen for that.

9:27pm: I had the second spare cannula removed from my hand- it was just getting annoying at this point. My IVs also were falling off due to the tape, so a nurse has given me a little glove to keep them in place, and it’s worked a treat.

10:03pm: I’ve just finished off these notes and I’ll post them ASAP. All in all, pain has stayed consistent at about 3-4/10. Still have an IV and my arm in the sling. Still have my fentanyl button and oxygen. Legs are still in the pumps. I still have a catheter but that should come out tomorrow, along with my abdominal drain.

The catheter in the phallus will stay there, along with all the padding around it and my arm until I leave the hospital. I’m feeling a little more mobile, I can move my legs a little and scoot up if I’m too low on the bed, but that’s all the movement I’ve really been allowed to do for now. I’m gonna sleep now and will update in the morning hopefully when I’m allowed out of bed!

Thanks for all the kind words and support and I hope this has been helpful/interesting 😄

[fanfictionandmore]

The Dueling Professor | Gellert Grindelwald

Chapter Tow - Feathers and Claws 

Sapphire's POV:

     The sound of my alarm clock went off, and I slowly shut it off. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stretched before I got out of bed. I was excited and nervous about my classes today; I really hoped my professors were nice. I washed my face, combed my hair, and brushed my teeth after I used the bathroom. Then I put on all of the jewelry I wear before I changed into my uniform. 

     Once I was dressed I made sure all of my books were in my school bag. I wasn't sure which classes I'd have, so I just put all of them in my bag. It was a little heavy, but I could manage. I stepped out of my dorm and walked down the stone steps that lead into the common room. Their were a few people sitting on the black couch and chairs just talking and trying to get awake.

     I headed out of the portrait hole and figured I'd go straight to the Great Hall for breakfast. I wasn't too hungry, especially since I ate a lot last night for dinner. But I really needed some coffee to wake up properly. There were a few students already seated and eating break when I walked through the large double doors, but most of them were Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. I took a seat at the Slytherin table and yawned slightly before a steaming cup of coffee appeared out of nowhere.

     'At least house elves know exactly what you need for breakfast.' I thought inside of my head as I took a sip of the black liquid. As soon as I drank the last drop, it automatically refilled. 'Thank Merlin for magic!' I thought as half of the school started filling the Great Hall. After my second cup of coffee I actually decided to eat something, and I settled for a bowl of cereal.

     "Hey, could you pass the milk?" A girl's voice asked, and I glanced towards my left to see a first year staring at me with big green eyes. "Sure." I replied as I handed her the milk. "Thanks." She replied with a small smile. "You're welcome." I said before the owls came flying down with the morning mail. Some students received the morning newspaper, and others got letters from their parents.

     I didn't get anything though, but I wasn't surprised. I never got any mail when I went to Ilvermorny either. As I ate my cereal and drank my coffee, I suddenly felt like someone was watching me. I looked around and found that the blond haired boy that talked to me last night was staring at me, and it made me really uncomfortable. 'Stop staring at me.' I said inside of my head, even though I knew he couldn't hear me. 

     I just chose to ignore him and glance up at the staff table. Professor Snape was talking to professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore was just watching all of us with a sparkle in his eyes. There's no doubting that he was proud of every single one of us, even the first years who haven't really gotten the chance to prove themselves yet. Then I noticed another blond boy staring at me; the professor with the spiked up hair was watching me as well. 'Come on, I'm not that interesting.' I said inside of my head. 

     I looked down at my cereal bowl and finished up with my breakfast. "Here are your class schedules. I hope none of you will have a tendency to be late... you don't want to be the reason Slytherin doesn't win the house cup this year." Snape's deep baritone said to all of us as he handed out sheets of paper. I looked at mind and tried my hardest to memorize the times of my classes.

«» Monday & Wednesday «»

9:00am ~ 11:00am - Advanced Double Potions: Professor Snape

12:00pm ~ 1:00pm - Lunch

1:10pm ~ 3:00pm - Herbology: Professor Sprout

3:10pm ~ 5:00pm - Advanced Magical Art: Professor Doyle

6:00pm ~ 7:00pm - Dinner

«» Tuesday & Thursday «»

9:00am ~ 10:25am - Transfiguration: Professor McGonagall

10:30am ~ 11:50am - Astrology: Professor Barnabas

12:00pm ~ 1:00pm - Lunch

2:00pm - 4:00pm - Defence Against Dark Arts

6:00pm ~ 7:00pm - Dinner

«» Friday «»

10:00am ~ 11:00am - Advanced Charms: Professor Flitwick

1:30pm ~ 3:00pm - Advanced Alchemy: Professor Wells

3:10pm ~ 5:50pm: Dueling: Professor Grindelwald

     After looking over my schedule, I got up from the table and walked out of the Great Hall. I figured a little walk would do me good before it was time to go to my first class. 'At least you have your head of house first.' I said inside of my head. I walked out of the front doors and let the fresh air fill my lungs. I wondered how many other students actually took Friday classes, because it was optional I doubt if many did.

     'I bet those classes are gonna be small.' I said inside of my head as I took in my surroundings. The grounds really did look beautiful. After a few minutes I ended up heading back inside and made my way towards the dungeons for potions class. I stopped at the classroom door and opened it; I walked right in and picked out a desk to sit at. After I settled in, I opened my school bag and pulled out my book, notebook, quills, and ink.

     I was the first one there, which wasn't surprising. I didn't mind being early, especially since I got to pick out the seat I wanted. A few minutes went by before a couple more students walked into the room. That's when I realized that Slytherin and Ravenclaw had this class together. A girl with curly red hair and hazel eyes sat down next to me. 

     "I hope you don't mind me sitting next to you." She said with a shy smile. To my surprise, she was a Ravenclaw. "No, it's fine." I replied with a small smile. "Thanks." She replied. "No problem." I said as I ran a hand through my shoulder length, dark brown hair. Before long, the classroom was packed full of students, and I was starting to wonder where professor Snape was.

     As if on cue, the door burst open to reveal our teacher. He quickly, yet gracefully walked through the maze of desks and reached the front of the room. "Good morning, class. I assume that you're all fairly bright individuals for coming this far up in the ranks." He started as he gave us a brief summary of what was expected from us this year. He also took roll call. Once he was finished, we dove right into a lecture on poisons and antidotes. 

     I was taking notes, and I thanked Merlin that the quills I bought didn't make any scratching noises as I wrote. During the second half of the class, we all had to brew a simple antidote potion. "My name is Erin... by the way." The red haired girl said, taking me out of my thoughts. "My name is Sapphire." I replied, glancing up from my book. "That's a cool name." She said, and I thanked her.

     I followed the directions the text book specified, and was finished way before anyone else was. I rose my hand high in the air for professors Snape to see. "Yes? What is it?" His deep voice said. "I'm finished, professor." I said, which caught everyone's attention immediately. "Well... let's see if you brewed the potion right, shall we?" He said as he snapped the book he was reading shut. He stood up from his desk and walked towards where I was standing to examine my work.

     One of his brows arched as he peered into the steaming cauldron in front of us. He wafted the potion's scent up towards his hawk like nose before checking to see if it was the right shade of blue. "Very good, Miss Vander. Ten points to Slytherin for making a perfect healing potion in record time." He said with a proud look in his black eyes. It made me feel good knowing that I made my professor proud, especially since he's my head of house. I filled a vial for him to test further, and I cleaned up afterwards. 

     Professor Snape allowed me to get a head start on tonight's homework since I finished making the potion so quickly. Most of the classroom was still staring at me in shock. After a while a few other students finished their potions as well, and Erin was amongst them. "You're very quick and efficient. I like that." She said with a smile as she sat down next to me and started on the homework as well. "Thanks." I replied with an awkward little laugh. The bell rang, and everyone hurriedly gathered their stuff. 

     "Calm down, don't worry. You may stay after class if you haven't finished your potions yet." Snape's bombing voice said over the chaos. Once my books and stuff was put away into my bag I left the classroom and went straight to the common room. I needed to take a few books out of my bag, so my shoulder wouldn't fall off. Then I finished up my potions homework while I listened to some music. After I was finished with that, I decided to write my parents a letter.

     I figured I should tell them that I got sorted into Slytherin and stuff. As I made my way to the owlery, I heard someone calling my name. I turned around to find Erin running after me, so I stopped so she could catch up. "Hey, I didn't think you were going to stop." She said, catching her breath. "What's up?" I asked her curiously with furrowed brows. "Some of my friends and I were going to hangout in the front lawn. I was wondering if you wanted to join us." She said. 

     "Sure, I'll join you after I send this letter off." I replied. "Okay. See you in a few minutes." She said before she ran off towards the Ravenclaw common room. I walked out the front doors and made my way to the owlery, which smelled of owl droppings. I looked around at the selection of owls, and spotted a beautiful barn owl. I cautiously approached the bird and gently petted her soft feathers. She hooted softly before I handed her the letter. 

     She clamped her beak down on one of the edges, and took off through one of the openings on the tower. 'I wonder why Erin wants me to hangout with her friends.' I thought inside of my head as I made my way down the stone steps. After a few moments, I finally reached the front yard and spotted a group of Ravenclaws sitting in the grass. "There she is!" I heard one of them say, and Erin waved me over to where they were. As I got closer I noticed that they were a group of two boys and three girls. 

     "So, this is the Ilvermorny transfer? I'm Tarrant, by the way." One of the boys said as he stood up and held out a hand for me to shake. "I'm Sapphire." I replied with a small smile. Erin introduced me to her friends, and I ended up sitting down on the ground with them. They asked me questions about Ilvermorny, which didn't come as a surprise. Then Erin bragged about professor Snape's praise over my potion today in class. 

     "That's rare for him to complement someone on their potion making, even if you are a Slytherin." Tarrant said, and the others agreed with him. Before long it was lunch time, and we split up to sit at our separate tables. I filled my plate with food and drank a cold glass of water with my meal. At first, I thought lunch was going to be peaceful, until a voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to see the bling haired boy looking at me with his blueish green eyes. 

     "I heard that you impressed Snape with your potion skills today." He said as he sat down in front of me. "Yeah... I guess I did." I replied. I honestly just think professor Snape was shocked how fast I brewed the potion without screwing up. "I guess Slytherin was right for you after all." He replied with a slight smirk on his face. "I guess." I replied, shrugging my shoulders. 

     "The name is Malfoy by the way... Draco Malfoy." He said as he held out his hand for me to shake, and I reluctantly shook it. "Nice to meet you. I assume you already know my name." I replied, and he nodded to let me know he did. We sat in silence for a while before he opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off. "Draco, come down here with us." A girl with black hair and blue eyes said angrily. "Sorry, perhaps we can talk later?" He said as he stood up. "Sure, whatever." I replied. I continued eating my lunch in peace. I was excited to see what my other classes had in store for me.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ A/N: Thanks for reading!!

[musingsofanewbienurse]

Ali

Ali arrived during my night shift at around 3am. She wasn’t my patient but I was passing by her bay as she was getting settled in. She was shouting at the nurse and HCA because there wasn’t a table at her bed (having just moved to a new ward we don’t have all the equipment and supplies just yet, patient tables included).

“Good luck with her,” I muttered to the nurse sardonically as she winced as another outraged shriek came from her newest patient.

The next night I was in said bay and Ali was still there. She had had a stroke just over a year ago and was almost completely paralysed but had been admitted due to an infection.

“Don’t worry she’s been discharged, you’ll just be waiting for an ambulance crew to take her home,” the day nurse told me during handover. “She’s been a nightmare all day. I don’t know how her husband puts up with her.”

At 11:00pm Ali was still there and there was no way of telling when the ambulance crew would arrive. Crews work through a list and there’s no estimated time of arrival given; if you’re lucky you get a 10 minute warning. I’ve had patients transferred at 3am, so it really can happen at anytime. I was very aware that she hadn’t been turned or had her skin checked since I had started my shift four hours earlier (though she had moved herself from one position to another in this time) so myself and the HCA I was working with went to her bedside, pillow in hand so we could reposition her.

I admit I didn’t have high hopes, one glance at her skin chart showed that Ali had been declining repositionings and skin checks all day, but I’m a glutton for verbal abuse so went for it.

Unsurprisingly, Ali wasn’t a fan of my suggestion that we place a pillow under one side, yelling that she had been bedbound for the past year and had never had any ‘bloody pillows’ put under her. My offer of giving her pain relief because she was in agony was shot down in seconds because she ‘doesn’t take any damn pills’, as was me offering to make her a drink as she didn’t drink water when she mentioned how thirsty she was.

By this point I could feel myself starting to lose my patience, and I was infinitely empathetic to the nurse who had had Ali for her whole shift. Nothing I said or tried to do was good enough for her, every response met with a scathing remark or curse. In situations like that I (and I’m sure many other nurses) have to restrain myself from shaking the patient and asking whether they know that the service they’re receiving is completely free, and more importantly, that the people they’re being horrid to are real life human beings, not emotionless machines.

In the same breath of telling me she didn’t want a ‘bloody drink’ Ali also said she hadn’t had anything to drink since 2pm when her stuff was packed up and she was told that an ambulance crew had been booked for her. In that instant, even though the selfish part of me, the part of me that had just had four new patients arrive that needed admitting on to the system and would much rather deal with them, knew that I couldn’t leave Ali.

I asked her whether there was anything she did want to drink, and again when she tried to shrug me off.

“I can only drink out of my cup, it’s been packed away. It has a straw as part of the lid. My juice is in my bag too.”

I told Ali I could get them out and ready for her.

“What about the ambulance crew?”

“They can wait till you’ve had something to drink, and more importantly, what if they don’t arrive for a few more hours?”

The pain in Ali's spine meant she needed to be sat completely upright, pillows supporting her so she didn’t fall back. After pouring her drink I made sure she was ready before I moved the bed, getting her to talk me through how to place the pillows and moving the table so it was in the right place for her to get her cup.

It doesn’t sound like much, in fact, it’s nothing really, but for Ali it must have been something.

“I split my drink four times today,” she told me as she reached for her cup, her hand unsteady, showing weakness for the first time since meeting her instead of lashing out. Her right hand was completely useless, and her left was also incredibly weak. I asked whether she wanted me to hold her cup to which she said no. I didn’t push it, instead placing my hands underneath her cup so that if she dropped it, I would catch it before it could soak her.

Whilst with her she told me about her sons, two boys in their twenties. The pride in her eyes as she spoke about her youngest, having just started at university to study IT and business, shone through.

“We’re not an academic family,” she told me. “But he’s always worked so hard.”

But then the heartwarming chat turned sombre.

Ali told me about her husband, how they had been together for 30 years. How since she had gotten ill, since her condition had gotten worse, he had changed.

She told me about how controlling he was. How he said horrible things to her on a daily basis now.

He wished they’d never met.

That she’d ruined his life.

She was being incontinent on purpose.

That he hoped she’d die whilst in hospital.

When I asked she declined that he’d ever done anything physical. A safeguarding referral was already in place, and the community social team were working on finding her alternative accommodation, but unfortunately, she had to return home.

Her story broke my heart, I could see how broken down she had become.

“I haven’t looked in a mirror for a year,” she told me, unable to look at the woman staring back at her. It all made sense, why she was so angry and scared with the world. She lashed out to protect herself; anyone else in her shoes would do the same.

When the ambulance crew did come (thankfully at half 11 rather than 3 in the morning) Ali took my hand and squeezed it as tightly as she could. It had been a half hour chat and an offer of a cheese sandwich and a drink but I could see just how much it had meant to her. And that, knowing that I had been able to make a difference, no matter how small, reminded me of exactly why I do this job.

Now this day nurse wasn’t uncaring, she wasn’t a bad person in the slightest, and I definitely am no better than her, but our workloads were incredibly different. She had had a bay and a half of patients to care for, that’s nine people. In the final hour of her shift she had discharged three. The night shift was (surprisingly) better staffed and I had a bay of six beds (safe staff levels state that it should be one nurse to every six patients), and only two of them were occupied when I arrived. My other patient had left by 9pm and the four ladies brought up at half 10 were all independent and weren’t poorly, which allowed me to focus on Ali in a way that others hadn’t been able to.

It gave me a chance to get to know her, the extra time allowed me to speak to her properly and ask how she wanted me to care for her, rather than use a one size fits all in terms of moving and handling techniques. I was able to listen to her when she spoke about her sons, I didn’t have to interrupt or rush her along to complete a million other jobs. And that showed Ali that I was there for her, it allowed her to trust me and open up about the darker parts of her life, something she wouldn’t have been able to talk about for god knows how long.

Not everyone has a story like Ali’s (fortunately), not every patient that passes through is needing someone to hold their hand but some do (more than we’d like to think), but more and more of these opportunities to bond with our patients are being lost. Nurses (and other healthcare staff) are being pushed to and beyond our limits. If I actually have six patients (rather than nine or sometimes more) it’s nothing short of a miracle (at time of writing this, this is my first shift in over a week where I have been assigned a singular bay). It makes it hard to actually get to know my patients, when I have such a mammoth list of tasks to complete in such a short space of time, and the first thing to go is the time spent at the patient’s bedside, getting to know them and seeing them as a human rather than a list of jobs.

I spent a lot of time thinking about Ali when she left, and the others who like Ali who I haven’t had time to get to know because I have a workload of two people. People don’t realise what it’s like, how pushed to the breaking point wards are becoming.

More and more pressure is being placed on the importance of person-centred care. Half the nursing competencies are centred on them, but in the real world, we aren’t able to carry them out; and with the way the nursing crisis is going, those moments are unfortunately, going to be far and few between.