#oof i spent so long just arranging this one. and i still left stuff out lmao maybe a part 4? who knows

[mikesbasementbeets]

Surface Things 3: Puzzle Tales

[thecandywrites]

Jewel Of The North Part 2

So in case you missed it Part 1. Again, many thanks to @monstersandmaw​ for sharing the concept of ice orcs with me and letting me run WILD with it. I’m having so much fun with this. 

Ok, so Zara Kingsley, top left, top right- Doug Kizzo and just under him is supposedly “Wolf Eye” which is a brand of whiskey I made up just for this story. Fun fact- there is actually a high end brand of whiskey called “Wolves” and they sell whiskey the way designer limited edition sneaker/tennis shoes are sold ($150 a bottle and you have to “register” to even get on a list before they’ll send you a bottle, *sigh* rich people, but I am not a rich person in real life which would explain why in every fantasy story I write, I can change that about my character) anyway, I didn’t know was even a thing until after I wrote this and as a point of curiosity, I double checked to see if Wolf Eye whiskey was a thing so I didn’t have to worry about copyright (Which is why names are Like That in this story) And that beautiful plate of seafood is what I envisioned a “king’s platter” would look like vs. A fisherman’s stew which is the picture right above the little girl who I’ve chosen to represent Sakura in this story and we have the lovely Taylor in the bottom left. 

Now let’s go shall we? Off to the Arctic Tundra!

Jewel of the North 

Part 2 

You woke up earlier than you thought you would, mostly because you were still in your Great Lakes time zone. So what was 10am to your body, it was 7am there. You crept out of bed and snuck into the bathroom to brush your teeth and your hair and put a bra on under your pajamas and then as quietly as you could, unpacked your gifts for Taylor and her family and arranged everything on the table as you quickly made a pot of coffee and some toast for your pre-breakfast and the smell of coffee was what roused Taylor and Greg at about 8:30.

“Good morning.” You greeted them warmly as they were both still obviously groggy but both happily shuffled over to the coffee pot to drink their coffee.  

“What’s all this?” Greg asked as he looked at his table which was almost overflowing. 

“Presents, Taylor told me to bring seeds.” You answered. 

“Did you...like...clean out a greenhouse?” Greg chuckled as he looked at the sheer amount and variety you brought. 

“Mmm...more like 5 but that’s not important besides I got to a lot of them just as they were closing out for the season so I got a bunch of it for mere pennies on the dollar and it was just a matter of being in the right place at the right time with money in your pocket.” You giggled with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I don’t do anything small or by half.” You shrugged before you handed him a wrapped present. 

“Oof, that’s heavy.” He realized as he took it from you. “You didn’t have to get me anything...oh my gods, you got me Kraken!” He practically squealed when he opened it and pretended to cry as he hugged the gallon jug. 

“My precious.”  He impersonated Gollum as he pet it which cracked you and Taylor up before you handed her- her own gift as she gasped and tried not to squeal too loudly as she unwrapped a bottle of raspberry peach Grand Marnier. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She practically bounced in her spot, hugging the jug too before she leaned over and hugged you too. 

“Alcohol is so stinking expensive up here it’s ridiculous, thank you so much for bringing this.” Taylor thanked you. 

“Yes, it’s very generous of you, thank you.” Greg mirrored. 

“You’re welcome.” You beamed. 

“You know, we really shouldn’t keep all these seeds for ourselves. We should gift these at the festival. That way all the clans can benefit from this.” Greg realized. 

“I was thinking the exact same thing, I told her that last night when she told me about them.” Taylor nodded in agreement. 

“You got a box we can put it all in for now?” You asked before Taylor grabbed the biggest box she had and the three of you packed the seeds away before you grabbed your other crate that had all the seasonings in it. 

“There’s more?” Greg laughed. 

“Well yeah, Taylor said the local grocery stores are pretty limited on spices so I brought enough of everything that it should last you until we see each other again.” You shrugged. 

“It’s like you brought a spice store with you.” Taylor swooned as she opened some of them and sniffed them before Greg did the same, both of them grinning at the scents in their noses. 

“French toast for breakfast?” You suggested. 

“Hell yeah,” Greg immediately agreed before you and Taylor began to make breakfast before the scents of breakfast woke the kids up. 

“Good morning guys!” You greeted them cheerfully as they stopped and stared at the stranger in the kitchen. 

“This is Zara, she’s a friend of ours so you can call her Auntie Zara and she’s going to be staying with us for about a week.” Taylor introduced you. 

“And I’m really grateful you guys opened your home up so I could stay with you, so I brought you guys presents.” You told them which made all of them gasp in excitement. 

“So, you must be Katie, the sensible older sister.” You asked as you pulled out the presents that had their names on them. 

“Lovely to make your acquaintance Katie,” you greeted her formally as you handed her the wrapped gift. Because tweens always loved it when you treated them like little adults. 

“And you must be Matthew.” You deduced as you handed Taylor’s son his gift before you got on your knees so you could be eye to eye with the toddler. 

“Is your name Jamie?” You asked as Jamie hid his face behind his mother’s leg as Greg and Taylor laughed at his bashfulness. 

“Do you think you could take this gift from me Jamie?” You asked as you held it out to him before he took it and ran away. 

“You got me a race car!” Matthew exclaimed and promptly high fived you as Katie’s jaw dropped at her present. 

“Your mom said it was ok to give you girl pampering stuff, so there’s a few face masks, some nail polish. Fancy hand lotion, a few bath bombs and stuff.” You explained as you pointed everything out before Katie happily enveloped you in a hug. 

“Thank you so much.” Katie thanked you gratefully. 

“You’re welcome sweetie.” You grinned just as Jaimie squealed in delight at his new toy and came running in and nearly knocked you over giving you a hug which got you to cackle laughing so you were left to sit on the kitchen floor while Jamie hugged you before he left to go play with his toy as Matt was already racing his car around the house before the family finally got to sit down to breakfast as the kids got to know you better by asking questions about you and your family and where you lived as you showed them pictures of your own kids and how you were a widow now and what you did for living and your horses and pets and things as Jamie happily ate his breakfast from your lap and stared at you adoringly and practically inhaled half your breakfast which you didn’t mind one bit.  As long as babies ate well, they should thrive and you remembered how your own son Xander was practically a bottomless pit. 

Then the calls started to come in on Greg’s and Taylor’s cell phones, all asking if you were there yet. 

“Yup, Noah flew her in yesterday.” You heard them both say as their phones then started to blow up from texts. 

“Uh, babe…” Taylor looked at her husband in a meaningful look that bordered on concern because word had spread like wildfire as they showed each other their screens, the same people texting both of them, but mostly Taylor because they were hoping she would give better answers than simple yes or no’s that Greg was giving. Except to his brother Doug, who Greg was giving him just about everything that you were sharing with his kids as Doug was already claiming “dibs” to the others. 

“Want to go out to dinner?” Greg offered. 

“Sure.” You nodded. 

“In town there’s really only a few restaurants, Eska’s which is a mom and pop- grandma’s food in a tavern, the bar- Kesuk’s.” Taylor began to list off. 

“Is it the place that has the ‘kitchen sink nachos’?” You asked. 

“Yes.” Taylor beamed. “And it’s not a “dive bar” but it is very much the local watering hole. Now there is a “dive bar” and that is Goose’s. I wouldn’t go to the bathroom there but we will get takeout from there because they make the best double cheeseburger while White’s has the best wings.” Taylor explained. 

“But Swanson’s has the best steaks, but it’s a bit pricey, it’s right next to Gold Horn’s which is the biggest and nicest fishing and hunting retreat around.” Greg explained. 

“And one of the nicest butcher shops because most of the hunters can’t take all that meat home.” Taylor added. 

“Anyway, the locals around here will go to Swanson’s for weddings, anniversaries, birthdays and stuff, pretty special occasions.” Greg continued before they continued to list off all the places around to eat before you decided on Eska’s because it sounded like the ‘safest’ option and spent the afternoon getting ready while you happily walk Katie through your ‘routine’ of getting ready as you, with Taylor and Greg’s permission helped her get dressed up too and put some simple makeup on her as her new ‘auntie’ and by dinner your nerves were already a little frayed because Taylor told you that you were meeting ‘the family’ meaning not only hers but Greg’s too and you had picked up on the hint of Greg talking about his brother and his accomplishments and such and you gave Taylor a meaningful look to which she looked back apologetically. 

If you were honest, you were used to it. If your friend’s mates had failed trying to flirt with you or whatever, often you were ‘introduced’ to so many brothers, friends and especially brother in laws. 

You got to dinner and the ‘family’ was already there, waiting for the table to get ready while ‘Doug’ was running late getting ready and there had to be 20 people there, all of them there to meet which you didn’t mind as you did your best to meet and greet everyone before the table was ready and Taylor had you sit at the end of the table as Greg and Taylor made sure that the seat across from you was Doug’s seat and you asked Katie to sit next to you so you wouldn’t be all alone since there was an empty seat next to Doug’s seat because he liked to “stretch out” as you met Greg’s parents and Taylor’s parents and got got catch up because Glenda, Taylor’s mom had missed your mom and to see pictures of your mom on her horse with your kids made them all happy as they got to know you a little as you kept an eye on the door, waiting for ‘Doug’ before an older woman came in with the cutest little girl you had ever seen in your life then a familiar face came in behind them. 

Noah. 

You instantly blew out a breath of relief at seeing him before a relieved and happy smile plastered itself on your face and you noticed they were walking by you and Noah seemed to see you shortly after you saw him as he soon mirrored your smile as he seemed equally excited to see you. 

“Hey Stranger.” You greeted. 

“Hey, fancy meeting you here, this is my daughter Sakura, this is my mom, Summer.” He introduced. 

“But you can call me Nana Hun.” She warmly smiled at you as you shook her hand. 

“Lovely to meet you Nana, and it’s so lovely to meet you Miss Sakura.” You excitedly greeted them as you crouched down to take a knee so you could be eye level with Sakura, she couldn't be much older than 5 and your heart ached at the thought of her losing her mom so, so young and how hard that must have been for her but you didn't want to bring it up because you didn't want that to be upsetting. 

“You should be really proud of your Daddy, he did such a great job flying me here yesterday.” You praised to Sakura.  

“He’s the best pilot ever!” She agreed which got you and Summer to laugh as Noah chuckled bashfully at the praise. Goodness was she precious. 

“I agree!” You confirmed with a very exaggerated head nod. 

“So you’re Paradise?” She asked in awed wonder as she stared at you. 

“Uh...oh, are you talking about how I look like a paradise orc?” You asked as you ran your hand over your skin of your exposed arm and she nodded before you nodded in confirmation. 

“My Grandma’s tea leaves told her that my daddy would be meeting Paradise yesterday.” She proudly informed you as you could see Noah turn a deep sapphire as his smile turned slightly nervous as he gave his mother the side eye. 

“Your Grandma reads tea leaves? Mine does too! Only the way my Grandma does it, I think she reads them wrong because they tell her things like my son was ‘a ball’, which, to be honest when I was pregnant with him, I looked like I swallowed a ball and when he was six months old he was almost as wide as he was tall and very, very round because he was a fantastic eater and he’s still practically a bottomless pit but he’s turned out pretty normal so far, he doesn’t ‘bounce’ too much.” You shrugged with an easy grin which got Sakura to giggle at the joke which got you to laugh as Noah and Summer chuckled too. 

“But that was really cool that your Grandma’s tea leaves told her that I was coming,” You nodded solemnly. “Did they tell her anything else?” You whispered as you leaned forward as she smiled and giggled and nodded. 

“Can you tell me?” You asked hopefully as she looked up to Nana for permission before Nana nodded her permission as well- completely ignoring Noah who looked particularly terrified at the notion and was shaking his head subtly to his mother and his daughter ‘no’ but it was like they couldn’t see him before she came up and put her hands over your ear. 

“They said that you were the best mom ever.” Sakura whispered and your heart melted and you almost wanted to cry. 

“Well I try, really hard, every day- to be the best one I can be so that’s true.” You confirmed. “And you know what? I tend to adopt every kid that’s around me, so if you see me and if you need or want anything at all, you just let me know ok? And I’m not offering that just to be nice, I mean it. I don’t offer anything unless I’m prepared to be taken up on it. I’m only here for like a week and a half but while I’m here if I’m needed somewhere to either help your dad on the plane or help watch you, I’ll happily do it ok?” You generously offered because you just instantly adored this child and could tell she was just a sweetheart and you just...loved her. The way your love surged for your children when you got to hold them for the first time, that same love was surging for her. Something about her found every heart string you had and pulled on them and made them into a bow and you would happily wrap yourself around her little delicate fingers as you just stayed there smiling at each other before Doug cleared his throat which made you turn your head away to see Greg next to what you assumed was his brother who was dressed really nicely as they both smiled expectantly at you. 

“Hi, be with you in a minute.” You greeted them with a polite smile before you turned back to Sakura. 

“Now, you go enjoy your dinner ok Sakura?” You urged her before she launched herself into your arms before you gladly caught her and hugged her, grateful you had taken a knee so you weren’t knocked backwards. 

“How did you know I loved hugs?” You cooed as you hugged her tight and rubbed her back and just held her until she let go first because you knew that some kids just needed a good long hug and you didn’t care if you were making Greg and Doug and everyone else wait, all that mattered was Sakura and the poor baby just needed a hug. 

When Sakura finally pulled away she was smiling and her eyes were just a little glassy from unshed tears before you reached into your purse and got her a tissue and your business card. 

“This is my cell phone number. You call this, and if I’m working when you call, just leave a message and I’ll call you back as fast as I can and if I’m not working when you call, I’ll pick up ok? I’ll always pick up.” You offered and it only felt odd as an afterthought that you just met this child and you were kicked so hard and so high into mom gear that you would already go to the moon and back and bend over backwards for her but it felt like the right thing to do and the best thing you could do for her. 

“Thank you.” She thanked you graciously. 

“You’re welcome Sweetheart.” You cooed to her as you squeezed her little hands in yours before you reluctantly let them go because Greg cleared his throat again before Noah took the hint and ushered his family to sit in the booth directly behind where you would be sitting. Which was nice that they were so close as you stood to your full height. 

“Thank you so much for your patience. I’m Zara Kingsley, the LMT from the Great Lakes.” You introduced yourself to the man who had a familial resemblance to Greg as you politely shook his hand from across the table. He was handsome, that usual olive green skin, gold amber eyes, jet black hair, he was obviously younger by the way he styled his hair and his hipster- black t-shirt, black blazer, skinny jean look and the way he proudly carried himself, his chest puffed out all proud, like a peacock showing off his plumage. You could tell he knew he was one of the most handsome men in the room and his ego was too big for the place. You knew from Greg that he was practically a decade younger than you too. His ex wife had been one of the prettiest women in the Arctic Tundra but they divorced after five years and two kids because they both were having affairs. 

“Does every kid treat you like a visiting Disney Princess?” He asked pleasantly which got you to chuckle. 

“Yes, very much so, which I don’t mind at all.” You shrugged. 

“Well it’s understandable, with a name like Kingsley, it’s kind of a given you should be treated like royalty everywhere you go.” Doug flattered and you heard Noah cough a ‘damn’ behind you like he had just gotten hit in the gut and even you had to admit that was a pretty smooth line. Although it wasn’t the first time you heard that. 

“Thanks,” you nodded. Oh gods. This was going to be the longest dinner ever. He was just going to spit game at you all night and you just wanted to turn around and invite yourself to dinner with Sakura and her family as you slipped back into your seat because you were not about wait for Doug here to come around the table to pull out your chair because you were pretty sure he’d try to sneak a peek into your cleavage as he would try to too. The game was on and you were in no mood to be chased by Doug. 

Noah though, no he could chase you like the silver fox he was because he was just barely getting a few gray hairs on the sides of his head  and it made him all kinds of distinguished and made you all hot and bothered and you could already fantasize his head between your legs, with your thighs resting on his broad shoulders- your powerful thighs clamping around his ears as his tongue…

Oh, that’s right, Doug was talking to you. Damn it. 

“I’m sorry what was that?” You asked as you tried hard to refocus on Doug and what he was saying, thankfully the restaurant had gotten louder since Doug sat down directly across from you and started talking and it was kind of hard to hear him anyway. 

“I asked how you’re liking the Frozen Tundra.” He repeated. 

“Oh it’s wonderful. It’s gorgeous and the people are lovely, very kind and generous and welcoming.” You grinned politely as the waitress came over. 

“What can I get you to drink?” She asked you. 

“Anything sweet and fruity?” You asked hopefully. 

“Lethal too or just light?” She questioned. 

“Ooh, lethal.” You couldn’t help but giggle because you would need it to persevere Doug’s advances as Doug started to grin a little wolfishly. Ha! Like he had a chance of scoring with you tonight. 

“For sweet and fruity and lethal you have two choices, cloud berry punch or purple peach punch.” 

“Purple peach.” You ordered. 

“Half or full?” She asked. 

“What’s the difference?” You asked curiously. 

“A half is served in a tumbler. A full is served in a mason jar and has an order limit of three.” She answered. 

“Oh yeah, my kind of drink, a full please and thank you.” You ordered gleefully. 

“Do you want your usual Doug?” She asked moving onto him. 

“Actually could I get a glass of Wolf Eye?” He asked and you nearly snorted a laugh and covered it up with a cough. May the gods grant you patience to deal with this pretentious asshole. While Wolf Eye was a decent whiskey, it was only popular because celebrities thought it was awesome and the bottle was *couture*. Just like any other designer name brand. 

“Do you like whisky?” He asked. 

“I do.” You nodded. 

“Could I also get her a glass too?” He asked. 

“Sure.” She nodded before she got everyone else’s drink order. 

“Wolf Eye is one of the better whiskies.” You appraised. 

“Have you ever had it before?” He asked. 

“Yes I have. My sister Blossom is a whiskey geek/ whiskey snob, my sister Blossom’s husband is a whiskey geek/snob too and my own parents and my brother are all beer snobs while my baby sister Anya is a bartender and she gave me a shot of it once. Usually it’s too rich for my blood to order it though.” You confessed. Even though you had three bottles of it at home from your wealthier clients. 

“What about you? Is there any kind of alcohol you’re really into?” He asked.

“It doesn’t really compare to Wolf Eye.” You answered as you realized you probably looked bashful, when really, you were dreading being judged. 

Every guy- without fail who got you a glass of Wolf Eye were trying to show you how fancy and couture they were- thinking that because you were jewel orc- you somehow should have very refined, expensive tastes. When in reality, you didn’t. Honestly once those guys heard what you loved- they thought less of you. Or the guys who found out what you liked and weren’t pretentious assholes somehow felt that because you didn’t have “refined” tastes in wine or other booze, that that spilled over into your taste of men which couldn’t be farther from the truth. You were picky as hell when it came to men. 

Although if you were honest, you loved your clichés- the bubble gum pop music, sweet fruity wine and cocktails and peppermint mochas and sappy romance novels and romantic comedy movies and you would preferably have all of those at the same time while in the comfort of a bathtub with a bath bomb fizzing away. But that was a world away from this. 

“Oh don’t feel bad, you like what you like.” He reassured you but you laughed that laugh that said ‘oh you don’t know what you’re really asking’. 

“No I insist, I promise not to judge you based on your answer.” He vowed and you didn’t believe him one bit. 

“Ok. So, honestly, in my family- food wise, I’m the queen because I love to cook and I cook really well and my brand of hospitality is you are not allowed to leave my house hungry but drink wise, I’m like the black sheep of the family because I love flavored alcohol, the kind of liquor that’s low on the proof and mostly flavoring, so flavored moonshines and flavored rums and vodkas and especially liqueurs and things like that. The cheap ones that you just pour into some juice and it’s instantly a fruity cocktail. That’s my speed. Sweet and fruity.” You shrugged as the waitress came back and gave you your drinks as you graciously took the glass that had whiskey in it and sniffed it and swished it around the way your sisters always did before you took a tentative sip. 

Yup. It was whiskey. Could you tell the difference between a scotch, a whiskey or a bourbon? Nope. Could you tell the difference between a $20 bottle of whiskey or a $70 whiskey, hell to the nope. The only thing you noticed was if it burned or was smooth or not. You knew that all scotches were whiskeys but not all whiskeys were scotches and that was the extent of your knowledge. Honestly if this glass was full of peach whiskey you’d probably like it better. But you knew how to be a gracious recipient of a gift. And you had your manners to keep. 

“Very good.” You praised, pretending you knew what the fuck you were drinking as he took a sip and practically moaned and for some reason, that noise coming from him was making you want to gag and one look at Katie who frowned at him was nearly causing you to burst into laughter. Even she could smell his bullshit, which to you was hilarious and part of the reason you wanted her close. Having someone like a niece or a sister or the best ones - a mother or a grandmother, or someone close to whoever you were paired with tended to keep whoever it was- in line- and would keep them from asking inappropriate questions or delving into inappropriate topics of conversation. It was a strategy you learned to employ often in these circumstances. 

“So Greg told me that you’re divorced.” You put to him. 

“I am divorced and I have two kids, two boys, Doug Jr. who we just call Jr. and Kent, Jr is 5 and Kent is three.” He answered. 

“Aw, they must be adorable, where are they?” You asked. 

“They’re with their mom tonight.” He answered. 

“Oh, well I would have loved to meet them, I love kids, I also have two of my own, Xander and Skylar, but they’re a bit older, Xander is 9 and Skylar is 7.” You answered before you pulled out your phone and showed him as he showed you his kids. 

“And Greg said you have joint custody of your boys?” You asked. 

“Yup, they get to spend the week with their mom and the weekend with me.” He answered. “And their mother is about to remarry so the bitch won’t bleed me dry with alimony and child support for too much longer now.” He groused and you took a measured deep breath in to keep your face neutral as you heard Summer murmur into her drink. ‘Lucky woman’ and somehow you got the distinct impression that his ex-wife was lucky to have divorced him and to have gotten alimony and child support and just seeing Doug and after knowing him for a whole 2 seconds- you could agree with that sentiment. You could just sense that he was a narcissistic asshole. And your late husband had been one of those and there was no way in hell you were ever doing that again. 

“But I understand you don’t have that problem because you’re a widow. Obviously a young one.” He returned as you could tell he was trying to age you. 

“Yup, that’s true, my late husband Andrew was in an accident at work about two years ago, but I’m not that young. I’m 35.” You answered and he paused. Greg had told him early thirties, you were mid thirties. You looked great for mid thirties but that was practically middle aged and you only had what- another 5 years of child bearing age left in you? Not that long. But you were supposed to be a rich widow who worked in some kind of spa and had married into a rich family and drop dead gorgeous, he could work with that. 

“Wow you really good for your thirties. How long have you been dating since then?” He asked. 

“I haven’t really been dating much or for very long, just in the last couple of months actually. I wanted to give myself and the rest of my family time to grieve properly and not rush into anything that not only I wasn’t ready for but that my kids weren’t ready for and it wasn’t until a couple of months ago that they let me know that they were ok with me trying to date again because they are the most important people in my life and I’m really picky about who I let around my kids too. So I can understand why you didn’t want to bring your kids to meet me.” You answered as Greg was kicking himself for not bringing his kids because obviously you connected to kids and if his kids would behave long enough and well enough you could have bonded to his kids and made him a shoe in and this could have been a done deal already. 

“So, Greg told me that you work in the fishing industry.” You prompted him. 

“I do, I’m a sales executive for First Star, which ships all kinds of seafood all over the world.” He answered proudly. “And the pay is really good and there’s always sales incentives and I get bonuses often.” He grinned smugly as he fingered his heavy gold chain necklace around his neck and he put on way too much cologne. It was almost burning your nose and making your eyes water a little.  

“Wow, do you have a business card?” You nodded, pretending to be impressed before he very proudly pulled out his wallet and you could see from his billfold that he must have had at least a thousand dollars on him. He was flexing for your benefit and judging by his gold rings and gold banded tusks and just the general decked out nature of his attire. He was definitely showing off for you as he handed you a brand new business card. It was fancy but...not as fancy or as nice as yours. 

“Very nice. Remind me to call you before I leave so I can buy a case or two of crab and ship it home and have my mom put it in my deep freeze freezer.” You urged him. 

“Oh, you won’t have to buy them, I’ll happily gift you whatever you want.” He generously offered. 

“Aw, that’s very generous of you. Thank you.” You thanked him even though the way he said that you were pretty sure he had another "payment" in mind but this was polite company and Katie was right next to you and you didn't want to expose her to what you assumed was that particular side of her uncle just yet but if he exposed himself that was on him. 

“So being a sales rep does your income base itself on how good the fishermen’s catches are or is it pretty stable, like no matter what they catch, you’re bringing home a salary?” You questioned thoughtfully. 

“Oh it’s a salaried position and it’s all year long, unlike the fisherman who only run on the boats for a fishing season, like the different kinds of crab have their seasons and the different kinds of seafood all have their own seasons.” He answered. “Or even the pilots who only fly during the spring summer and fall, which is only like a three month window up here and have to live off of that all year long.” He answered as he cast a look past you to see Noah who was pretending to enjoy his own beer instead of eavesdropping. 

Oh this son of a bitch had to go for the low blow of putting others down to build himself up. Ok. Honestly you were grateful he was telling on himself like that. 

“So are we ready to order?” The waitress asked as she came over, after having gotten Noah’s order already and you were following along with the menu and you already decided that you wanted the same thing because it sounded amazing. 

“Yes can I have the King’s platter?” Doug ordered. 

“It’s a huge platter, we could share it.” Doug offered to you. 

“Oh, no thanks, can I just get the fisherman’s special with the seafood stew?” You requested sweetly. 

“Sure thing.” She nodded as she wrote that down and continued to get everyone’s meal. 

“So I understand you’re a masseuse?” He asked excitedly once the waitress left. 

“No. I’m a licensed massage therapist, LMT for short.” You gently corrected. 

“What’s the difference?” He frowned. 

“A masseuse uses “massage” as their cover for being a prostitute, which honestly if you’re going to be in the oldest profession, just be honest about it and don’t call it massage. Which, again, if you chose to do that,  I don’t judge, I have strippers as clients because they take self care to a whole new level and everything they get from me is a tax write off for them so it’s a win win. However, a licensed massage therapist actually went to massage school and has a license to practice massage just like a doctor has a license to practice medicine and we are held accountable to a board or in my case- to the state medical board just like any other nurse and doctor and an LMT never gives happy endings or has sex with clients in any way shape or form.” You answered with a proud smile. 

“Oh,” Doug nodded and even you could see he was trying to hide his disappointment. 

“So, are you able to make any kind of real money off of massage or is this just a hobby for you?” He asked and you were ready to dump this overpriced whiskey in his face, but that would be alcohol abuse and an insult to the whiskey itself. 

“Well massage has been a passion of mine since I was a kid, so you could call it a hobby that turned into a career. But I’m more interested in what constitutes as “real money” in your opinion.” You posed curiously. 

“Anything more than forty or fifty thousand a year.” He patronized. 

“I take it you make more than 50 thousand a year then.” You deduced as you overheard Noah whisper to his mother. ‘I barely make ‘real money’ then.’ 

“Oh I make a few times that. I make about two hundred thousand a year.” He bragged. 

“Yeah I can see you’re wearing most of it.” You appraised and Noah snorted his beer and nearly choked on it trying to cover up his laugh because your unimpressed tone was giving him life as you heard a hissed ‘yes’ from Noah. 

“You’re one of the lucky ones then. I make about the same. A little over 200 thousand a year actually.” You answered evenly like it was no big deal. 

“What? H-how?” Doug frowned in shock.

“Well I have four businesses, all four of them are solely in my name and I own all four outright and none of them have any debt while each of them have their own assets, so my massage business which makes me about a hundred- to a hundred and twenty five thousand dollars a year, my esthetician business which makes me another fifty to sixty thousand dollars a year and then the sales of my massage products, essential oils and esthetician products, skin care line, makeup, all that goods stuff to round it out with another thirty five to fifty thousand dollars a year and the fourth business is the shareholder for all three businesses and I only have to work about thirty to thirty five hours a week in total to do it too and I only work about 9 to 10 months a year.” You beamed proudly as Doug’s eyebrows practically went up into his hairline as you heard Noah murmur a ‘damn’ which you imagined was muffled because he must have said it into his fist behind you. 

“W-why?” Doug stuttered as he struggled to wrap his head around all that.  

“Well,  when my husband was alive, he made about a hundred and twenty five thousand dollars a year and when he died, I turned all four of those businesses which at the time were the side businesses I had to earn my own spending money into my full time career to replace his income when he died because you see I specialize in…” You began as you brought out your business card and listed everything off from the back and added to the additional certifications that weren’t on the card.  

“Not bad for a “hobby” huh?” You asked with a smug grin as you heard Noah practically whistle lowly behind you and clap ever so softly and you would have given anything for a mirror to see his face, hoping he was at least impressed. 

“Uh, nope, not bad at all.” Doug had to admit. 

“So if you got remarried and the man you married could provide you with his income that would either equal or surpass your own would you still continue to work or would you scale back? Retire?” Doug asked thoughtfully. 

“It depends.” You answered simply.  

“On?” Doug prodded. 

“It would depend on the circumstances and the person.” You specified. 

“Such as?” 

“Well, I’ve been very lucky in that I have the four thriving businesses and because I have a very good and very expansive client base where I live and I fill a niche that very few others can fill in my area and because I live just 20 to 30 minutes outside of few major cities because I’m centrally located in the country in between all of them and I work out of my own private space at my home and the home I work out of is my dream home, it’s a home that my late husband and myself designed together and it’s awesome and the only way I’m moving is if I find a home that’s even better than the one I have and that criteria is pretty extensive plus I’m very well supported and well known and have a reputation that I regularly bank on every year and speaking of support, I have my parents who live right next door and my in-laws live only 15 minutes away and all of them are very involved in my children’s lives. So honestly, I’m not gonna move unless I find circumstances even better than the ones I already have and the person I would be moving for can give me things that I don’t already have which is basically at this point- unconditional love, respect, recognition, dignity, sympathy, empathy, kindness, understanding and freedom to keep my independence that I already have so that if I so choose I could basically start my businesses over again in a new area.” You specified. 

“So...what is your criteria for a potential mate?” Doug asked, hoping that you would list off things that he could try to shoot for. 

“Well, whoever I choose to marry- he can’t drink to excess, he can’t do drugs, he can’t have a bad temper, he can not yell or scream at me or my children, he can’t be abusive in any way shape or form or I will kick him to the curb faster than lightning strikes but he doesn’t have to make as much as I do or make more than me or whatever. If he had a job that he was passionate about and he loved it as much as breathing which, for me, that’s what my career represents to me, I do what I do because I love it, it’s what I was put on this planet to do and I’m really good at it and to a degree, it’s a skill I can practice anywhere as long as I have a pool of clientele to pull from so there’s some flexibility there.” You mused and you saw Doug nod along with your train of thought so at least it was making sense to him. 

“But for me to give it all up for someone and be absolutely dependent on my partner for everything- probably isn’t going to happen because there is inherently a power dynamic that I’ve been on the losing side of in my past marriage. Because my husband had a great job with fantastic health insurance and other benefits and shouldered all the financial responsibility of the family which had its perks because that freed up my time to pursue what I wanted to and he could afford to send me to school to get all these licenses and certifications. But because he made all the money, he felt he had the right to demand whatever he wanted in return and he had a say so on how I spent the money he gave me to care for- as he put it- “his house” and “his vehicles” and such because he’s the one that paid for it all and he was a controlling narcissist. Now, was he all bad? No, he was a fantastic father and he was decent enough as a husband in that he didn’t beat me, didn’t drink to excess, didn’t smoke, didn’t gamble, didn’t do drugs, didn’t cheat on me and didn’t scream at me or cuss me out in front of the kids but I couldn’t get a credit card in my name without him knowing and he tracked me on my phone everywhere I went and if I wanted anything “extra” I had to “earn it”, like a child earns extra screen time for doing their chores kind of thing. It was all about a power dynamic and if I didn’t support him in everything he said, he got after me for not being “a good submissive wife” or “a team player”. And after 13 years of that, I’m done. I’ve had more than enough of that and I will be damned if I ever let that happen to me again. I’m not interested in that dynamic at all. No matter what side of it I find myself on.” You specified as Doug just stared at you, a bit guiltily as he was rather speechless and blushing profusely like you had just pulled his pants down and exposed him and you didn’t feel any guilt for it either and the look on Katie’s face told you that you hit the nail on the head and were preaching truth and her smile of adoration and awe was priceless.  

“I have clients that easily double, triple, quadruple even- my own salary because they’re doctors or surgeons or executives or whatever. But they’re the kind of men who feel emasculated when a woman they’re with earns anything because their income is what they base their own masculinity on which is a very dangerous and stupid thing to do in my opinion. And while these men may be really good at earning an income, that’s all they’re good at. Otherwise they’re shitty husbands and fathers. They feel that because they earn so much money that they don’t have to help out at all around their own homes. Heaven forbid they change poopy diapers, do any dishes or laundry or especially scrub a toilet and if they do any of those things, by the gods they will piss and moan and gripe and complain forever and feel “owed” that they did more than their “share”, which is bullshit. They would rather hire someone else to do any or all of that because they feel that’s beneath them as manly, masculine men and feel that a wife’s only job is to stay in their home, raise their kids and clean their house and look flawless while doing so and feel that the only support they need to give her is financial. Which, in my opinion is complete and utter fucking bullshit.”  You explained as you watched Doug’s frown get deeper and deeper the more you talked as you heard Noah hum in agreement to that sentiment. 

“So... you’re basically just looking for a Mr. Mom?” Doug asked and you could tell by his tone he was offended and incensed just saying those words. 

“To a degree, yes. But what I’m really looking for- is a partner who will view and treat me as an equal instead of a lesser or a supporting cast member while they’re the star of the show. Right now I do everything all by myself because I have to and I will continue to do so for as long as I need to because my children need me to be their everything. If I’m going to enter into any kind of romantic relationship, I would look for someone who’s willing to put in work. Someone who will happily and willingly pick up slack and support me as much as I support them. Someone who will work to gain not just my respect and admiration but my children’s respect and admiration as well and it doesn’t matter how much I like or even love a guy, if my kids are uncomfortable around him or just plain don’t like him. I’m not going to force the relationship onto them. Now there have been a couple of guys who my children really clicked with but I didn’t because they were either immature or had other issues and I’m pretty sure the only reason why my kids liked them is because these guys never told them ‘no’ and bought them whatever they asked for which is no way to raise children. There’s ways of telling them no and explaining your reasons why you’re telling them no without belittling them, hurting their feelings, implying they’re stupid or annoying for asking.” You explained as you heard Noah murmur an ‘Amen’ from behind you and instantly you saw all the hope and lust in Doug’s eyes die because he realized that this wasn’t going to work out for him just as dinner came. 

Conversation dissolved into idle chit chat while he practically wolfed his food down as quickly as he could and drank his whiskey and excused himself and quickly paid the waitress for his meal and only his meal and begrudgingly- your wolf eye whiskey too, saying he had work to do at home and you were so grateful when he left and so relieved when you peeked over your shoulder to see Noah still there, finishing up his dinner as Katie got up to go to the bathroom, leaving you alone at the end of the table as Sakura and Summer went to the bathroom too. 

“Do you like whiskey?” You asked him hopefully as you leaned backward in your chair towards him. 

“Yeah,” he confirmed. 

“You ok drinking after me?” You put to him. 

“Yup.” He nodded before you took your glass of Wolf Eye and put in on his table. 

“The whiskey’s good, I just can’t enjoy it knowing a pretentious asshole bought it for me, but I don’t think you’ll have that issue enjoying it yourself. Enjoy.” You beamed at him which got him to laugh. 

“Cheers.” He offered before you got your own drink and clinked it with his. 

“Cheers.” You mirrored. Even though dinner didn’t go as planned, you got to share a drink with Noah and that was more than you hoped for before Sakura and Summer came back. 

“Nana, I forgot my bow.” Sakura realized as she reached up to find that the bow she had been wearing in her hair was gone. 

“I can go back to the bathroom and help you look for it.” You happily offered before she took your hand and led you back to the bathroom as you grabbed your purse too. 

“Are you going to date Mr. Kizzo?” She asked you as you went into each stall, looking for her bow. 

“No, absolutely not, he is not the man for me.” You shook your head adamantly. 

“Oh good, his boys are mean.” She pouted. 

“Have they been mean to you?” You asked as your protective urges surged again. 

“They play really rough and they knocked me down and they didn’t even say sorry!” She complained and you gasped in horror. 

“No! How rude! Well if we ever go anywhere together and they’re there, point them out to me and I’ll protect you.” You insisted before you found her bow sitting on top of the toilet paper dispenser in the last stall before you quickly sprayed some sanitizer on it before you had her take a seat in one of the chairs in the bathroom so you could brush her hair and get it looking gorgeous again because you kept a little brush in your purse. 

“My Daddy likes you.” She blurted as you brushed her hair out. 

“Aw, I like your Daddy too, he’s a really good guy, he’s sweet and caring and protective and I can tell he loves you a lot and he works really hard to take care of you.” You praised as you smiled happily at her in the mirror. 

“He cries a lot.” She revealed. 

“Well I cry a lot too,” you nodded. 

“He cries because he misses my mama,” she added.

“Well, I can understand that because your Daddy and I both lost our marriage mates and we miss them sometimes and the happier we were with them and the more we loved them, the more we miss them and the more it hurts to lose them. Do you cry a lot too because you miss your mama?” You asked gently as she nodded. 

“I’m so sorry you lost your mama sweetie, I can’t imagine how much that must hurt.” You sympathized with her before she got out of the chair and reached her arms up before you readily picked her up and held her tight as she started crying before you took the seat in the chair and just held her as she cried on your shoulder and you just held her and rocked her gently and comforted her before Nana came into the bathroom. 

“What happened?” Nana asked. 

“I was brushing her hair and she told me her daddy cries because he misses her mama and I completely sympathize.” You told her as you did your best to keep your composure but you were failing spectacularly because you were an empath, her pain felt like your own as Summer pulled up another chair from the nursing mother’s area as she shot Noah a quick text just as Taylor came in looking for you and seeing how Sakura was crying in your arms, she instantly knew what was going on. 

“Noah and Anarra, or ‘Neena’ as she was better known as- were basically Frozen Tundra’s sweethearts. Neena still is greatly missed, she took care of a lot of the older ones whose kids have moved away or are on the coast making their money on the fishing vessels and when she got sick, everyone rallied around her but...by the time she started showing signs she was sick- it was too late. None of us have been the same since she passed away. Noah puts on a pretty strong face but he’s probably the most fragile.” Nana revealed as you nodded in understanding as Taylor nodded along too. 

Taylor had told you about “Neena” because Taylor and Neena were best friends and you didn’t put it together until just now that Anarra and Neena were one and the same which would explain why you and her had gotten so close so quickly because you had bonded over your losses as Sakura’s cries turned into whimpers and sniffles as you just held her and pet her head and her hair and held her and rocked her as she curled up in your lap and happily soaked up all your affections as you kissed the crown of her head affectionately as she clung to you as Nana and Taylor filled you in on the situation. 

“Neena had brain cancer. One day she was fine, the next, she had such strange symptoms and doctors around here are rare and expensive and by the time we found it, it was too late, there wasn’t anything we could do. She barely had enough time to make some videos for Sakura. She died holding her.” Taylor said as she nodded towards Sakura in your arms as you wrapped your arms tighter around Sakura as your heart effectively broke in your chest. 

“Her last words were how much she loved her and Noah.” Nena added as you passed around your thing of tissues because you were crying your makeup off. 

“My husband’s last words to me were a ‘honey do’ list, which was- ‘do the dishes, do the laundry, clean the bathroom and to brush my damn cats’ who he hated and I’m so grateful they outlived him, I know that sounds awful but they love me more than he ever did and he wasn’t dead a week before I went to the local shelter and adopted a dog for each member of my family and another cat so that there’s three cats and three dogs and we were renting from his parents at the time and before it was only because I bore them their only grandchildren that I got the ‘privilege’ of having the two cats before. And they didn’t dare argue with a new angry widow about ‘protection’ dogs for their only grandkids and didn’t want me moving away into a new place just to get them animals while we waited for our house to be built.” You revealed. 

“Did he at least have life insurance?” Nana asked which made you nod emphatically. 

“Yeah Andy wasn’t an idiot or heartless, he had a life insurance policy through work and a private one as well and because it was an accidental death at work, it paid out even more and his parents had a life insurance policy on him too that they handed over to me because they had the good sense to have life insurance policies on me and him so that if anything ever happened to the both of us, they could raise our kids comfortably and at the time, I was working for another outfit and even I had my own life insurance policy on him so we’re all set, the house is paid off, all debt is paid off, all the vehicles are paid off, I own everything outright. Other than utilities and of course food and insurance, which I can easily take care of myself, we’re ok.” You answered. 

“Did Neena have any kind of life insurance?” You asked and Taylor and Nana both shook their heads no. 

“No, Noah barely had enough money at the time to cover the funeral. When she died in the fall, at least he didn’t have to work and could stay home with Sakura and he already knew how to take care of himself and her because Neena was always caring for others, which he was very proud of her for doing and he supported that. He was always helping her to help others because so many ice orc men have moved away chasing “better lives” anywhere other than here and ice orc women are left to either do the same or stay behind and have to deal with the others who come up here, either looking for gold or fish or lumber or other resources and it used to be every summer solstice that all the tribes would get together and alliances were maintained and marriages made but all the young people are rejecting those practices because they feel they don’t have a place in the modern world. Our ways are dying, our languages are dying and Neena was one of the few women who embraced the old ways and was teaching all the kids the native languages. And when she died, a lot of the same older ones reached out to Noah and helped him with what they could and unfortunately after Neena died, some of the older ones she took care of followed, but they left Sakura everything because Neena was like a daughter to them and because she took care of them, all they could do is leave her what they could leave behind and when Neena died, that left Sakura as heir in her mother’s place, but she’s a child. She’s had so many men come back to claim what they felt was their birthright, which is mostly land at this point but thankfully the courts upheld Sakura’s rights as heir since their parent’s had the good sense to get it writing with the local lawyer who fights for the clan’s rights.” Nana explained. 

“That’s...that’s a coincidence, I know exactly how that feels.” You nodded. 

“How?” Nana asked as she tilted her head. 

“When Andy died, I was really close to several older clients as well, I got to work on them when they were at retirement age and came into my work and when their health declined, I stayed with them because they were close friends and I wanted their last moments to be in peace and as pain free as possible. They didn’t have any family to take care of them either and I endeared myself to them enough so that when I lost Andy, they all individually entailed everything they had to me too because I was their favorite person and they wanted to make sure I wouldn’t financially suffer because of my husband dying. Within six months of losing Andy, I lost almost all of them within a span of only three months. So the nine months that followed Andy’s death were just...the worst. But then to meet with dozens of lawyers and get check after check, after check, and deeds and titles and property and vehicles, I was so...numb. It didn’t mean anything to me, but man did I sure learn a lot very quickly about how to handle my newfound fortune. But the worst of it was the vultures circling because it felt like the minute I inherited all that money and property myself, suddenly every vulture of a guy somehow found me and circled me like wolves. Cause I was this “hot young desperate lonely widow” who didn’t know how to handle that much fortune and here were all these ‘knights in shining armor’ coming to “help me out” and “be there for me”. It was ridiculous, as if I couldn’t see right through them and what made it even worse was the way Andy died at work, it was a freak accident that killed not just him but five others. So the company he worked for sued the company who built the crystal grower because this was a known and very well documented issue. And the company used my picture because I was ‘the prettiest of the widows’ in the news and in the courts and they won and I got the lion’s share of the settlement because I was the one who was the public face of it and because I was the public face of it, I had organization after organization reach out to me to try to help me out too and by that point I had 5 very good lawyers and a private investigator in my pocket who were more than eager to be at my disposal. So I know exactly what it’s like to be an unwitting heiress. It’s really, really hard, thank the gods my in-laws are so great with money because they’ve been helping me structure it and organize it and keep it all and make it work for me.” You revealed lowly. 

“Could you teach Noah and Sakura any of those lessons?” Nana asked hopefully. 

“I would be more than happy to, I feel I need to at this point.” You admitted. 

“Because no one else around here knows what to do or how to help. Even now Noah’s dad Ukluk works as guide at Gold Horn and pilots his own bush plane for the hunters but it doesn’t pay as well as others, Noah’s brother Nago works for the postal service but he and his family are in June Neau. And now even Neena’s parents are no spring chickens. I know they would really appreciate it if they knew you could protect Sakura and Noah with what you know.” Nana insisted. 

“Consider it done,” you agreed. 

“So are you ever gonna get married again?” Sakura finally spoke up. 

“I would like to.” You answered honestly. 

“What are you looking for?” She asked. 

“I just want to be with someone who makes me happy and loves me for me and loves my kids as their own too who won’t hurt us but will protect us.” You answered. 

“What if they already have kids?” She asked. 

“Then I would hope that their kids would like me too, I do love being a mom, it’s the best job on the planet in my opinion and if those kids would let me love them as much as I love my own- even better and if my kids and those kids could get along, oh man, I’d be so so so happy. You see it doesn’t matter he’s rich or poor or whatever, money doesn’t matter to me. Who and what kind of person they are and how they treat others- that’s all that matters to me.” 

“And if they happen to be well endowed enough so that when...” Taylor double clicked her teeth. “Happens, you can’t walk straight after...” She hinted which made Nana raspberry her laugh. 

“That’s a bonus.” You readily agreed which made you start to laugh through your tears which made them do the same. 

“Well Noah’s you know,” Taylor implied as she clicked her teeth and winked which got you and Nana to start busting out laughing. 

“He’s what aunt Tay-tay?” Sakura asked as she turned to look at Taylor.

“Handsome, he’s very handsome.” You quickly supplied which earned you a solemn nod and an appreciate grin from Nana. 

“Ok, no more tears, let’s get cleaned up.” Nana insisted which prompted you to gently get Sakura off your lap so you could rinse the rest of your makeup off in the sink before all four of you left the bathroom to see Noah looking particularly worried. 

“Everything ok Pumpkin?” He asked his daughter. 

“Yup, we were telling Paradise about Mama.” Sakura told him. Every trace of sadness now gone as a happy smile plastered itself on her face. 

“And she brushed my hair and braided my hair and held me and comforted me and everything, can she come over to our house to watch me?” She asked. 

“If she wants to.” Noah answered. 

“I would love to, just give me the address, I’ll be there any day you need me there, free of charge.” You immediately offered. 

“Work an extra long day tomorrow Daddy, I want to watch my movies with her.” Sakura insisted which got Nana to snicker a laugh. 

“Uh,” Noah stuttered. 

“I can do tomorrow.” You immediately agreed. 

“You could have Taylor and her kids come too, because usually Taylor watches her on Tuesdays.” Nana added. 

“We’d love to.” Taylor immediately agreed as well. 

“So it’s a date. What time should I be over?” 

“He leaves early, like six in the morning.” Nana informed you. 

“Won’t be a problem. I’ll be there at like 5:30 then.” You insisted. 

“I won’t be there that early, I’m going to sleep in until a decent hour and come by later but we’ll drive by and show you where Noah lives and you could walk there if you wanted to because he’s like a ten minute walk away, five if you run because normally, she spends the night so that I don’t have to get up that early.” Taylor added. 

“But my body is still on Great Lakes Time Zone so 5:30 am here is only 8:30 am to me which is a normal time for me to wake up. So it’s not a problem at all.” You reassured Nana and Noah. 

“Ok, thank you, very much.” Noah nodded as he avoided Nana’s smug grin that screamed ‘I told you so’. 

“Well good night then, sweet dreams guys, I’ll see you in the morning.” You offered as Taylor tugged on your arm as Katie peeked her head back into the restaurant and gestured for you and her mom to hurry up. 

“What about my bill?” You asked her. 

“He got it.” Taylor answered as he gestured to Noah. 

“Aw, thank you for dinner!” You thanked him as she had to take your hand and pull you out of the restaurant.

“I really love Paradise.” Sakura said dreamily as she watched you go. 

“Well she is lovely.” Noah admitted as he got his box of leftovers and got out of the booth. 

“She likes you back, she told me so.” Sakura informed her Dad as she took his hand in one of hers and continued to hold your business card like a beloved photograph. 

“Oh yeah?” Noah returned, pleasantly surprised to hear that. 

“And she’s an heiress like me and she promised that she would teach me what she knows about it.” Sakura revealed. 

“Really?” Noah turned to look at his mom to either confirm or deny that. 

“Oh yeah, she knows how to deal with not just foxes but wolves and vultures too. The gods sent us the perfect person to help. And I have a feeling she won’t leave until everything is well taken care of and we will be hearing from her and seeing her very often from now on.” Nana predicted. 

“How?” Noah asked. 

“Just wait and see.” Nana simply grinned. 

[mosylufanfic]

A Year and a Day

This is for the Killervibe Week Theme Arranged Marriage! (oof I love me an arranged marriage fic)

A Year and a Day

The party broke up early, as these things went. Generally handfast parties went into the wee hours of the morning, but the second moon had barely risen by the time people started drifting out of the town hall and back to their houses.

Of course, Cisco thought, looking across the room at his bride, this wasn't your normal handfasting.

Caitlin Snow had taken his hand and recited the vows without any dramatics, but also without any enthusiasm, and when the ceremony was over, she'd dropped it and turned away. She'd spent pretty much the entire party with her crew, and the whole table had deflected any attempts on the part of the colonists to get to know them.

Great.

Usually handfast parties were a welcome for the new colonist, a chance for them to meet and bond with the people who would be their lifelong neighbors if all went well. But this one had made it clear she only intended to stick around long enough to qualify for permanent citizenship, and then she'd be back on her ship and breaking atmo the first chance she got.

Of course, he'd see her again after that. She was half-owner of the ship that loomed in the moonlight on the edge of town. Now that it was owned by a colonial citizen, it was automatically registered to the colony and would be making runs for them. But it would come back only a few times a year, and he had his doubts she'd seek him out.

They just had to get through the handfast year first.

"Thanks for doing this," Barry said at his side.

He grabbed a bun as the tray went past and bit into it with only a hint of savagery. "You asked," he said through the mouthful of bun.

And Barry had asked him, even though he'd handfasted twice already, because Captain Tannhauser had flatly refused the idea of sacrificing her first mate for the entire year, so Cisco would be making some trips on the Snowfall. He was one of the few people in the colony who could be spared for a week or a month at a time as the ship sailed the lightyears between systems.

"Hey, you'll get to see some of the galaxy," Barry said.

Cisco looked out at the window at the ship. "Yeah," he muttered. "In a tin can."

He'd never left the Trappist colonies, never been to the Kepler system or the Teegarden system or even back to the Terran system, which everyone still called home even if they'd never seen it. Yeah, he might have wondered what was out there, but he had a life here. And he liked it.

"It's just a year," Barry said.

"I know," he replied and let out a sigh. "I know."

He left Barry and went walking over to the table where his bride sat. Caitlin Snow, part-owner, first mate, and ship’s medic of the Snowfall, a year older than him, and in the eyes of the Terran government, his wife. 

Unless they screwed up and managed to get this marriage nullified before the year was out. Then she'd lose her citizenship and the colony would have to pay not only all the fees and taxes for a new, unattached colonist, but also late fines. And after the past few years, they didn't have that kind of money. Not to mention they'd lose access to the Snowfall and have to start hiring out cargo haulers from the inner systems again, at twice the rate the Snowfall charged.

"Hey," he said, and the crew turned to look at him. He cleared his throat. "Long day, right? You want to, uh, to go get settled in?"

They all stared at him for a moment, and he thought, Shit, I didn't threaten to ravish her! I just want to show her my house! You know? Where she's going to live for the next year?

Then the captain nodded sharply.  "We should get started loading her up. The McGee settlement on Trappist-e expects us by tomorrow evening."

"Yep," Cisco said. "Everything's out on the dock, labeled and ready for you."

The captain nodded again, her face rather cold. As if that had been a signal, the crew got to their feet and started filing out. A few of them touched Caitlin's shoulder and one pretty, dark-skinned woman squeezed her hand. Cisco noted that she squeezed back. A friend? A lover? Would she even tell him?

Finally, it was only the captain and Caitlin standing there, face-to-expressionless-face.

"Clear skies, Caitlin," the captain said.

"Smooth landings, Mom," Caitlin said.

The captain nodded one last time and walked out the door, following the rest of her crew. Caitlin reached down and picked up a plain black rucksack, slinging it over her shoulder. "Where are we going?" she said.

"Uh, my house," Cisco said, gesturing vaguely. "That way down the street."

She marched out the door, turning her face away from the crew walking up the street toward the Snowfall. 

He fell into step with her. Normally, he'd be pointing things out - that's the botany center, that's the recreation center, there's the greenhouses, there's the library, there’s the clinic where you’ll work . . . but she didn't seem interested. The silence fell between them and until he found himself blurting, "That's your mom?"

"What?"

"Captain Tannhauser. You called her Mom."

"Yes," she said. "You didn't know that?"

He'd missed it somehow. Of course, Barry had made all the arrangements, Cisco just had to show up. "Well, you have different last names."

"Snow was my dad's name."

"Are you two always so - " He broke off.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Are we always so what?"

"I mean, it's a pretty big day, and she's leaving the planet. Like, now. You're not going to see her for a couple of weeks, easy. But you acted like you were saying goodbye to a co-worker you didn't like that much."

"We're not given to histrionics," she said.

He was so busy gaping at her that he almost missed his own house. "Oh, whoa, whoa, hey! This is me. Right here. My house."

She swiveled and backtracked the couple of steps she'd taken past his front door. He tapped the button and the door swished open. He spread his arms. "Home sweet home."

She stepped inside and looked around.

It wasn't a big house. It wasn't like the ones he read about in old books from Earth, or the year-old holomovies they got out here. Those houses with glimmering smartglass walls and floating beds, 'bot maids and house computers that anticipated your every need. But it was his. He'd painted the walls, built the furniture, woven the rugs on the floors. 

But she'd been so many places. Seen so much. And she was looking around his house without any expression whatsoever.

"So it's - so this is the front room," he said. "Couch, there, very comfy for afternoon naps. That wall over there is where I project stuff. Holos and files and whatever." He reached in his pocket and tossed his comm on the glass-covered table. "This is the charging table. Hooked up to the solars on the roof but it's got a good battery. Kitchen right over there. My chiller. Not big, I know, but I get a lot of fresh ingredients, seasonal, so I don't need much storage. Uh. You like to cook?"

She blinked. Said, "I don't know how."

She didn't know how to cook?

"Okay," he said. "Well." He turned away from the kitchen. "So here are the other rooms. My lab, first, here." He patted the first door on the right.

"Your lab?"

"I build things. It's kind of - it's my deal. I build things. It's a mess right now so I'm not going to give you the tour.  You can check it out later if you want, I'm not precious. Just don't mess with anything or I'll have to go all Bluebeard on you."

She looked at him blankly.

"It's this story - okay. Never mind." Clearly she didn't share his taste for antiquated Terran mythology. "Okay, so, bathroom here. I cleared off a shelf for you to put your - " He eyed her rucksack. Did she have anything in it? "- your, you know, bathroom stuff."

She ignored the shelf in favor of staring at the shower stall. Maybe it was too small for her. He cleared his throat. "This time of year we get more hot water because the pipes are all laid along the roofs and they get the sun on the way in. But during the rainy season, we're all limited to ten minutes because otherwise it's cold showers for half the town."

She nodded. 

"Right," he said. "Okay, so to continue your tour - " He led the way out of the bathroom and to the door directly across the hall. He hit the button. "This one here is my bedroom. Tada."

She walked in, setting her pack on the bed.

"Whoa! Hey, what are you doing?"

"Getting unpacked," she said. She frowned at the bed and unzipped her bag.

"No! No. Oh my god. You're not sleeping here." 

She turned her frown on him. "You said it was your bedroom."

"Yeah, mine! Not yours. You don't have to share with me." He stepped back and pointed at the last door. "There. That's your room. There."

She picked up her rucksack again, following him to the door as he opened it for her. She didn't make any move to go in. "This is where I'll sleep?"

"Yeah. It's all ready for you, sheets on the bed and everything." He gestured as he spoke. "Uh, you got your charging table here, some shelves, right, put whatever you want. The closet, obviously, hah. The window opens if you like to sleep with some night air. I oiled the latches." 

The room was the same size as his lab and his own bedroom. But it looked plain and small, suddenly.

"You can do whatever you want to it while you're here," he said quickly. “Paint, pictures - Allegra got really into weaving, and like textiles? She had literal tapestries up. It was wild. She took them all with her when she moved out."

"Who's Allegra?"

"My last handfast. You might have met her tonight."

"You've been married before?"

"It's not a marriage," he said. "It's a handfast. This isn't forever." He stepped back. "I'll let you get settled in."

--

This house was huge.

Caitlin set her rucksack in the center of the bed and stared at it for a moment. Then she shifted it to the end of the bed and sat. She let out a squeak as springs creaked and the mattress sagged under her. Unprepared, she almost brained herself on the wall before springing back up. 

There was no storage under the bed, or above the bed. Not like her snug berth on the Snowfall. Just shelves and hooks. Clearly everything was just supposed to sit out in the open. Loose. Not secured at all.

She desperately wanted cabinets, doors to swing shut and latch. Some way to fold the furniture up into the walls. If you had things just out like this, they'd all go flying if you had bank hard to avoid an asteroid. If there was a rough re-entry, you could come back and everything you owned could be all over the floor if you hadn't secured it properly.

No asteroids, no re-entries. She was on land. Nothing was going anywhere.

She nudged the table next to the bed with her foot, and it scooted across the floor.

It wasn't even bolted down. 

A comm, he said. You can charge your comm here.

She didn't have one. She'd never needed one. The Snowfall had a PA system. You just found the nearest terminal and  called out for whoever you needed. They would come find you. It never took more than ten minutes, even if they were on the other end of the ship. Sometimes she carried one of the ships' comms when they'd made planetside and she was out in the port city to shop for supplies or explore. But it wasn't hers. 

She felt lost, in freefall. She'd lived her whole life on that ship. Slept every night, after she could sleep on her own, in the berth tucked up against the engines, their low basso hum the only lullaby she'd ever needed.

He'd asked if she liked to cook and it was as if her brain shorted out. She enjoyed preparing the ship's meals, when her turn came up on the rota, but it was all dehydrated, freeze-dried, powdered items that she put together, from recipes that had been meticulously planned. 

He'd talked about fresh ingredients. She didn't know how to cook with those. Fresh fruits and vegetables were a rare treat, reserved for Rosh Hashanah or when they got a bonus for bringing the cargo in early. And actual meat like they'd had on the tables at the party? Not reconstituted protein, but honest-to-Terra meat? The idea of cooking with that struck terror into her heart.

She must have looked like a total rube, gaping at the water shower. She'd seen water showers in movies. Read about them in books. But water was too heavy to carry more than what they needed for drinking or rehydration. She'd used sonics all her life. She couldn't picture getting clean by pouring water all over herself.

She went over to the window and flattened her hands against the glass. There was a latch. It opened, Cisco had said. Oh, no, no, no. Having a window was going to be bad enough, all that land out there, so wide open she thought she might float away through it. No, she wouldn't be opening this window at night. Or possibly ever.

There was a low, familiar rumble, and Caitlin pressed her hands hard to the glass. The Snowfall rose above the houses, her bow already tilting up. Her stern glowed with the blaze of the engines.

Caitlin had seen her like this before, times when the port authority made them change docks. But she was always lifting up and coming down again a little ways away, and Caitlin could walk over and join her again. Mostly, she was onboard, feeling the pressure of G's mounting, pushing her into her seat in the cockpit as they lifted up into the blue sky and watched it turn black and fill with stars as they broke atmo.

 It seemed to hover for a moment, and then it lifted away, pushing up into the atmosphere, getting smaller and smaller.

Gone.

Something bubbled up in her throat, and she pressed her hands to her mouth. Instead of vomit, tears poured down over her hands as she watched her ship, her home, her family disappear.

Don't be stupid, she told herself fiercely. Don't be such a child. You knew this would happen. They'll be back. You'll see her again.

But the tears wouldn't stop.

Over the hiccuping gasps of her breath, she heard a light knock. She shook her head but couldn't make herself say anything.

"Caitlin?" he called. "Everything okay?"

Go away, she thought, but an especially loud hiccup of a sob escaped instead.

The door swished and his footsteps echoed on the floorboards. Not the familiar thunk-thunk of boots on a deck, but a sound of bare feet on wood. "Caitlin?"

She turned her face to the window. "I'm not crying."

"Sure," he said. "That's why there aren't tears all over your face."

She dragged her sleeve over her face. "Please go away."

"God," he said. "You're acting like fucking Persephone kidnapped by Hades."

"Who?"

"It's this old - you know what, never mind. I mean, you're acting like this is the end of the world. It's not that bad here, okay? I mean, I like it."

Startled, she lifted her head. Tears still dripped off her chin.

He stood in the middle of her room, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. "So we're not a full planet yet, we don't have cities or operas or - I don't know, whatever it is you're used to. But it's nice here! You see those mountains? I fucking love those mountains, okay? Prettiest place in the galaxy and you can quote me on that. The ocean's an hour away by speeder and in a month or two it'll be warm enough to go swimming and sailing. The people are great. We have an ice cream parlor! We make ice cream now. There's, there's - it's not that bad, all right?"

She stared at him. "It's not about being here," she said. "It's about not being there." She pointed up to the star-filled sky that had swallowed her ship. "It's about my ship flying away and I'm not on it." The tears started up again and she turned her face away.

He was silent for so long she thought he'd left. But then the soft scuff of footsteps warned that he was coming closer, and two strong arms came around her. "Oh my god," he muttered. "Oh my god, I'm such a jerk. I'm sorry. Shhh. You're okay. You're okay. Let it out. You'll feel better."

She never cried in front of people. She hated it. But for some reason, she dropped her head to his shoulder and sobbed as he stroked her hair, crooning softly.

Her head ached and her face felt sticky by the time she'd cried herself out.

"Better?" he said, taking her shoulders and looking her in the face.

He'd been right. She nodded, wiping her face on her sleeve again. 

He let out his breath. "I'm sorry I was such an asshole right now. I thought you were crying because you hated it here."

"Your planet's okay," she said. "It looks nice. It wasn't that."

He fished in his pocket and offered her a handkerchief. She blew her nose and mopped her face, then tried to give it back.

"No," he said blandly, "you can keep it. That's okay. I've got others."

She managed a smile and tucked it in her pocket. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just - the Snowfall left. And I was here. And I couldn't - "

"Yeah," he said, with a depth of understanding in his voice. "You're homesick, aren't you?"

She felt her lip wobble again, dangerously. "I've never been off my ship," she said.

"Never?"

She waved her hand impatiently. "I've walked on land," she said. "I'm not that much of a space baby. I just - even if I was at a hotel or something, I always knew she was close, and I was going back soon. But she's gone."

He reached out and undid the latch, swinging the window open. He leaned on the sill, looking out at the stars. "How old were you when you started flying?"

"Neonatal," she said, looking at the window, all open to the elements. Cool air washed around them, smelling sweet and green.

It took him a moment. "You were born on that ship?"

"My dad was the ship's medic. My mom was the first mate. They fell in love. They bought out the last captain when I was five and renamed her.” She edged closer to the window, cautiously. She failed to fall out. “When my dad died a few years ago, I inherited his shares. I know it looks like a tin can to you, but to me, it's home."

He winced and looked out at the stars. "Why did you agree to this?"

She studied his position and copied it, bracing her elbows on the sill next to him and propped her chin in her hand. He felt sturdy and warm at her side. If all that openness out there tried to swallow her, he would catch her. "Do you know how docking fees work?"

"Huh? No . . . "

"Every time we make planetfall, we pay a fee to the port authority. They give discounts based on the owners' citizenship. But nomads pay full price. Always. Everywhere."

"Nomads?"

"Ships whose owners have no citizenship. We used to be registered to the Starlabs station off Mars,  but - "

"Yeah, we heard about that disaster, even out here. Why didn't you apply for refugee status on some nice planet?"

"We would have had to stay wherever we applied. We couldn't have flown. So we flew as nomads. But that wasn't working."

"So you handfasted with me to avoid the taxes?"

She groaned. Why had she expected a rockfoot to understand any of this? A colonial rockfoot, too; everybody knew what they were like. "We have to figure those fees in anytime we bid for a job, and nomads bid for all our jobs. If we bid too high, we don't get the job, of course not. But if we bid too low, we don't make a profit."

"And that would be terrible."

"Don't give your utopian colonial attitude. We need to buy fuel and supplies. We need to pay the crew a fair wage. We need to perform maintenance so we pass annual inspections or guess what? It's another fee. My mom and I aren't some greedy fatcat ship owners like you see in the holos, cackling over our piles of money. We're in the red. All the way down. Drowning in red."

He took that in. "So you - could you lose the ship?"

"If we'd had another month like the last six, we would've."

He was quiet for a moment. "So that's why you wanted citizenship. And the cargo runs that Barry was guaranteeing." 

Caitlin sighed, remembering her own indignation at that list of runs, half of which were colony-to-colony in the Trappist system. Not to mention the stipulation that they'd carry any colonist where they needed to go. We're not planet-hoppers, she'd snarled to her mother. And we're not a passenger ship!

Her mother had snapped back, For the next year, we'll do it with a smile, because those runs are a sure thing.

She said, "Colonial ships pay the lowest fees anywhere, and they don't pay any fees between colonies in the same system.. But we barely had the spare change to pay our crew for this last run. We couldn't buy into a colony."

"Most people can't," he said. "And you know, we pay a lot of money to the inner systems for unattached colonists, too. That's why almost everybody who was born here has done at least a couple of handfasts to bring new blood in. We couldn't afford to expand, otherwise."

She turned her head to look at him. "How many people have you married so they could come here?"

"Two," he said. "Chester Runk and Allegra Garcia. You'll see them around town.  And again, it's not a marriage. Marriage is . . . it's different. It's forever. Handfasting is just one year. And people here aren't really going to treat us like a married couple. We're more like roommates. Or a mentorship."

"Is that why you didn't want me in your bedroom?" She'd felt strangely insulted by that. She wasn't a virginal princess or anything. She'd had port lovers, and one short-timer on the ship who'd spent most of his off-time in her bunk in between Proxima Centauri-B and Teegarden's-C. "You're not allowed to sleep with your handfast?"

He laughed and - blushed? It was hard to tell in the moonlight. 0"No, nothing like that. A lot of handfasts sleep together during their year, and there's a handfast baby every now and then. It's just - I didn't want you to feel like it was required."

"Did you sleep with your other handfasts?"

"Ah - " He scratched his eyebrow. "With Chester. But Allegra was more like my little sister. I am attracted to women, but I wasn't into her like that."

Hmmmm. He'd been very quick to make that clear, hadn't he?

He reached out and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She felt herself go still, holding his gaze. "Look," he said in a low voice. "This is new and strange for both of us. Did you know I've never been off this planet?"

She felt her eyes widen. "Never?"

He shook his head. "Not even once. You want the truth, I'm kind of terrified of going into space."

"Don't be. It's beautiful. Wait until you see it."

He smiled at her and it was a completely different smile than the ones he'd aimed her way all day. Those had been bright and shiny, pasted on. This one seemed to come from all the way inside him, beaming out at her like sunlight.  "Okay," he said. "You can show me. But for the next year, the longest we can be apart is seventy-one hours.”

She nodded. She’d read the contract closely. If they hit seventy-two, the Terran government would nullify the contract. “I know. I’d lose my citizenship.”

“And then you lose your ship and the colony loses a shit-ton of money we can't afford. It's disastrous for both of us. All of us, if you think about it. We're in this together. So let's try to do this together, okay?"

A ship couldn't fly if the crew was all at cross-purposes. She nodded. "Okay. Together."

He straightened up. "Get some sleep, okay? You're getting the grand tour of the town tomorrow, and we're totally having ice cream."

It made her smile. "I'll hold to you that."

He smiled back and started for the door.

Something prompted her to call out, "Cisco?"

He paused. "Mmm?"

"You said that marriages were different than handfasts."

"Yeah," he said. "Handfasts are about convenience, and growing the community. Marriages are about love. Partnership. They're forever."

"Does a handfast ever turn into a marriage?"

"It's happened," he said. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged and turned away from him to close the window. "I was just curious."

FINIS

[gimmesumsuga]

BTS Reaction - their pregnant s/o is insecure

Warnings: Taehyung’s gets a little smutty, but other than that this is pure fluff! 

... Also, these are really fucking long.  Apologies.  

Seokjin

“Shove over.”  You give a gentle push to Jin’s shoulder, frowning at the way he’s leisurely spread himself over the entirety of the couch with little to no consideration of where you’re supposed to sit.  Half asleep already he prises one eye open to peer up at you, a lazy smile pulling at his full lips.  “C’mon,” you prompt again, huffing, “My back’s killing me.”   Pregnancy is a joy; that’s for certain.  With each week that rushes by you swear your joints become less and less able to withstand the wear and tear of everyday life, and now, having spent twenty minutes at the kitchen sink having washed up this evening’s dirty plates, it’s protesting more than ever.   “I told you you should’ve let me do them,” Jin sighs, sitting himself up and straightening out a crick in his neck as you dig your fingertips into the flesh at either side of your spine, trying to massage away the pain.   “Maybe.”  You arrange the sofa pillows into an arrangement that appears more inviting, scowling further at how difficult your growing bump makes even the most simple of things - like bending over.  You’re a little scared about how big you’re going to get, actually; you’ve still got eight weeks left till your due date and as far as you’re concerned you’re already the size of a house. “A more chivalrous man might’ve just insisted he do it, you know.” “I cooked dinner!” he exclaims, feigning an indignant expression that only manages to last until you roll your eyes at him, cracking into a smile once more.  “And you know there’s no arguing with you at the moment.” “I’ll give you that,” you concede, turning on the spot in readiness to ease yourself down into the cushions but halting when Jin gives a gentle tug on your hand, pulling you towards his end of the sofa.   “C’mere,” he beckons, “I’m comfier anyway.”  Smiling, you allow your husband to slowly ease your aching body onto his lap.  He’s warm and he’s solid against your back, and it feels so good to finally sit down with Jin’s arms wrapped around you, the feel of his breath on your neck. You shift your weight and he ‘oofs’ as you feel the meat of his thigh move underneath you, rolling against the bone.   “Careful; you’re not so light these days,” he chortles teasingly, placing a kiss on your shoulder through the soft fabric of your sweater.   Jin clearly thinks nothing of his comment, and deep down you know he doesn’t really mean it - he’s just being him, playful Jin - but when you’ve already been feeling a little insecure about the ever increasing mass of your stomach his words really hit home.  You fall silent as the two of you sit watching mindless television, one of Jin’s hands absentmindedly stroking your bump up and down, but after a couple of minutes he seems to realise something’s wrong, resting his chin on your shoulder and peering up at you. “Are you ok?” he asks softly, passing a tender touch over your side, “Is it really hurting that bad?” “No,” you answer him quickly.   You wouldn’t want him to start thinking there was actually something wrong with you; he’s been protective enough whilst you’ve been pregnant as it is.  “Am I… do I really feel that much heavier?” you blurt out when he insists on continuing to look at you with those big brown eyes of his.  His expression becomes one of horror once he realises that you actually thought he was being serious. “Baby, no, I was only joking!”  he assures you, grabbing a hold of one of your hands and lacing your fingers together as he places a softest of kisses against your cheek, “There’s barely a difference, I promise.”  Jin smiles apologetically on pulling back and when you give him a timid, answering smile in return, mollified, his smile grows, handsome face aglow. “In fact,” he continues, “I think you could do with fattening up a little more.  How about I make us some dessert, hm?  I’ll even wash up this time, ok?”

Yoongi 

Fuck it, it’s no use.  Your skinny-fit jeans have finally given up the fight.   You knew this day would come eventually.  It was inevitable that your growing baby bump would one day refuse to be stuffed into the denim confines of your favourite jeans, but you hadn’t really expected it to come so soon.  You’re barely out of your first trimester and yet it seems to you as though you’ve almost doubled in size over the past three weeks; your abdomen far too round now to pass it off as just a particularly bad case of bloat nor hide it under baggy t-shirts.   It’s not as though you’re not happy to be pregnant - no, that’s not it.  This baby is well and truly wanted, the product of almost six months of much enjoyed trying, but… it’s just… You’ve always struggled with your weight.  The first time you’d fit into these jeans was a triumph, well earned after so many hours spent jogging away the wee hours of the morning that you’d have much rather spent curled up in bed with your comatose boyfriend and the gentle sound of his snores.  And now… Now it feels as though it’s all been for nothing.  All that those pounds you lost are going to slowly creep back on no matter how you may try, and whilst you know it’s a necessary evil that you have to face you still can’t help but panic at the prospect that you might not be able to lose them again afterwards.   “You almost ready?” Yoongi calls from where he’s laid back amongst your bedsheets, too busy scrolling through his phone to notice how watery your eyes have become in the mirror’s reflection.  “Joon’s been waiting ten minutes already.”  Pressing your lips together tight and holding your breath you suck your stomach in, giving one last tug on the waistband of your jeans to see if you can make the button and hole meet.  They don’t, of course, and it’s with a great huff of air that you finally let the breath you’d been holding go, groaning aloud.   “Fucks sake!” you exclaim in frustration, giving up and stomping towards your closet in hopes of finding something that might still fit your ever expanding form, so busy holding back tears that you’re unaware of the quizzical look Yoongi is sending your way. “Who spat in your cereal this morning?” he asks, amused, watching you riffle through your clothes so roughly that several pieces fall to the bottom of the closet, cast aside.   “Nothing fucking fits me anymore,” you spit back, and out of the corner of your eye you note the way Yoongi’s eyebrows rise marginally, surprised by the venom lacing your tone, “At this rate I’ll be going to lunch in my fucking pyjamas.”  The bedsheets rustle behind you as Yoongi sits up and shuffles forward to sit at the end of the bed nearest you, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.   “We’ll go get you some new stuff after, then, ok?”  No, it’s not ok, god damn it!  You don’t want new stuff - bigger stuff - you just want - “It’s not a big de-” “It is a big deal!” you interrupt, your raised voice cutting off the end of his sentence.  You throw down the pants you were holding as you spin on your heels to face him, all the tears you’d been holding back spilling over.  “I don’t /want/ to go buy bigger clothes.   I don’t want to get bigger at all!”  Hiding your face you begin to cry heavily into your palms, stood amongst the piles of discarded clothing that litter the floor. You’re just so upset and frustrated and embarrassed to have him see you acting this way over something so ridiculous, especially when Yoongi is always so collected and stoic about everything.  Everyone puts on weight while they’re pregnant, for heaven’s sake, so why are you making such a big deal out of this?   The unattractive sobs and sniffles that you’re expelling sound particularly obnoxious when stood within such a space that’s usually so calm and tranquil, and yet you can’t seem to make them stop; so preoccupied with your insecurities that you don’t even realise that Yoongi’s gotten up off of the bed and walked over until he’s stood right in front of you and placing his gentle hands onto each of your arms, pulling you towards him and shushing you quietly.  Willingly, you fall into his arms and bury your head in the crook of his neck to cry it all out, your arms looped loosely around his slim hips and his around your waist, rubbing gently at your shuddering back. You’ll blame this all on your hormones later on, but you both know it’s not just that. “You’re going to get bigger, sweetheart, neither of us can help that,” Yoongi tells you softly once your sobs have settled down into a subdued snivelling, placing a kiss on the top of your head, “But I promise you, you’re going to look more beautiful than ever.”  You nod into his shoulder, trying so hard to believe the sweet things he says.  You never do for long, really, but as long as you have Yoongi around to patiently repeat them you really hope you might start believing his reassurances one day.   Reluctantly you disentangle yourself from his arms, smiling sheepishly at him from under your lashes as Yoongi smiles back, his dark eyes full of tenderness.  You’re confused when he suddenly reaches for your hair, and as he pulls the hairband from your ponytail to let your hair fall loosely around your shoulders with no explanation that bafflement only grows, especially as then proceeds to hitch up the hem of your top to get at the button of your jeans.   You watch on as he threads the band through the buttonhole and swiftly ties it with his long, dexterous fingers, letting out an ‘oh’ of understanding when he then stretches it across the gap your waistband can no longer close to meet the button waiting on the other side to provide you with just an extra inch or so to work with.  It might well be a crude solution to the problem but it’s certainly effective, and when Yoongi pulls down your top with a satisfied nod you can’t even tell that that’s what he’s done.   You knew there was a reason you loved him. “There.”  His smile is just wide enough for you to see his gums at the corners and you can’t help but smile back at the sight of them, your warm heart full of gratitude.  “Can we go now?”

Hoseok This is starting to get difficult.   With one great, heaving sigh, you set about the task of rolling yourself from one side to the other in bed, trying to keep your knees together like the midwife told you to so as to try and avoid aggravating your already aching pelvis.  It’s easier said than done, though, especially with the blankets on top of you and a humongous baby bump in the way.  Why do you even have to lie on your side anyway?  You’ve never liked sleeping like that. Rebelliously, you pause halfway to lie on your back as you so often used to, tipping your head forward off of the pillow to peer down at the shape of your domed abdomen under the pale pink duvet with a frown.  Not only is the damned thing ugly but it’s also very inconvenient, and it’s with another groan that you recommence your thrashing, having soon realised that the reason they tell you not to lie on your back is because it feels like everything shifts so far up under your ribs that you can no longer breathe. God, pregnancy is a joy.   Why did no one ever warn you about these parts? Probably because the human race would end up as an endangered species if they did, you figure.   Why would anyway willingly chose to render themselves no more elegant nor mobile than a beached whale between the sheets?   The sight of your boyfriend laying flat out on his back next to you greets you when you finally make it onto your right side, slightly out of breath.  He’s infuriatingly dead to the world as he so often is while you’re wide awake and staring at your bedroom walls, trying in vain to fall back to sleep after what’s probably the millionth time that your bladder has disturbed your much-needed rest.   At least he’s something pretty to look at, even with his mouth hanging open slightly as it is.  The strands of his blonde bangs are spread haphazardly across his forehead and over one closed eye, the nostrils of his finely sculpted nose flaring ever so slightly with the soft snores that escape him on every inhale.  He’s lucky you’re feeling generous tonight; mollified by his handsome face.  You’ve kicked him in the shin on more than one occasion for having the gall to flaunt the soundness of his sleep when lying next to you.   The little girl inside you kicks as though she’s volunteering to do the job for you and it makes you smile, one hand tenderly stroking your tummy until a sharp shooting pain from the hip on which you’re lying makes you groan, grimacing as it fades away into a dull ache that won’t shift no matter how you try to adjust yourself, tipping yourself this way and that.   “Fucks sake,” you huff aloud, too frustrated to worry about whether it might wake the sleeping beauty next to you, and it’s with a continuous string of curses that you set about rolling back onto the side were on before, repeating the ordeal all over again.  Halfway there, you warn your bump, “You better be worth it, sunshine.”   You eventually make it back onto your left side, more hot and bothered than other, and it’s as you begin to flap the blankets about, wafting cold air onto your legs that you hear Hoseok stir behind you.  There’s a yawn and then the sound of him wetting lips, and you can only imagine the enviable ease with which he tosses himself onto his side to yawn once more against the back of your neck, one slender arm hooking over your ever-expanding waist.   “You awake?” he asks sleepily and rolling your eyes at the mirror which faces you, you reply, “When am I not?”  He hums in acknowledgement, clearly too groggy to form proper sentences yet, but at least he tries to comfort you by rubbing his face between your shoulder blades and planting kisses through your pyjama top, too - for all the good it does.  “I hate being this big,” you announce after a moment, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth.   The confused little ‘hm?’ and the way Hoseok jumps when you speak again is enough to tell you that he’d fallen back to sleep in the brief reprieve in your conversation, but when you carry on complaining you feel him rouse further behind you, lifting  himself up onto one elbow to peer down at you as best he can in the dark of your room.   “I feel like a beached whale, floundering about like this.  It’s gross.  I’m gross.”   “Hey, stop that,” your boyfriend chastises gently, soothing your aching hip with the light pressure he applies to the area with the pads of his fingertips, massaging away the pain, “You’re not gross.”  You turn your head on the pillow, twisting your neck to look up at him with one sceptical eyebrow raised.  “You’re not,” he insists, tutting his tongue against his teeth at you disapprovingly.   “I beg to differ.”   “Anyway,” he continues, refusing to acknowledge any further derogatory statements about yourself that you may make, “There’s only three weeks left to suffer through, and then all of this will have been worth it.”   You hum back in reluctant agreement, deep down knowing that he’s right but in too much discomfort right now to want to admit it. Hoseok’s soft touch disappears for a second, and you’re about to inquire as to what the hell he thinks he’s doing when he unceremoniously pulling back all the covers before you then realise he’s attempting to help you.  Brandishing one of his pillows, he ever so gently coaxes your uppermost leg up into the air by just a couple of inches and then wedges that pillow into the space he’s made between your knees, smiling sweetly as he settles your leg back down.   “Any better?”   “A little,” you admit, wriggling into the mattress, and on realising that it’s still not /quite/ right Hoseok then sacrifices his last remaining pillow to wedge it under your calf, helping to keep your pelvis straight.   “Now?” He chuckles softly at your replying moan of contentment and the way in which you smile into your pillow, lying back down next to you with nary a complaint that he no longer has anything soft on which to rest his head.  His body is warm and comforting as he snuggles up again behind you, pulling the duvet over you both, and it doesn’t take long after that for you to start to drift off, your eyelids drooping, thoughts quietening - “Hobi… Hobi - I need to pee.”

Namjoon

Are you supposed to look this big already?  Surely this can’t be right? This is a daily occurrence now; you standing in front of the mirror, whinging and whining about how much bigger your stomach seems to be getting day by day.  You’ll grimace at your bloated abdomen, poking and prodding it like some alien thing, and it’s stood in the bathroom doing this that Namjoon finds you one day after he gets home from work, sticking your stomach out and groaning aloud at your reflection. He pulls you away from the mirror with both a tut and a sigh, drawing you into a kiss so sweet that you’re almost able to forget what you’d been worrying about entirely for the few precious seconds that it lasts. “I’ve got you something,” he smiles as he releases you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he reaches into his shoulder bag to retrieve whatever surprise he has in store.   “A peach?”  You take the fruit he so eagerly presents to you, a bemused smile on your face as you turn it over in your hands to feel its soft fuzz beneath your fingertips.  It’s not exactly what you’d expected; you’ve had a real craving for chocolate covered raisins just lately, and you’d not been shy about expressing it.   “Look!”  Namjoon takes the peach back from you and holds it directly in front of the slight paunch you’ve developed, his eyes sparkling with wonderment, “He’s this big already! Isn’t that crazy?!”  Lifting your top up slightly to compare, you can’t help but laugh at how delirious with excitement he is as he peers up at you from where he’d stooped down low to get a closer view, holding the peach side by side with your modest bump. You have to admit; it doesn’t look so bad now you have something to compare it to. The size of your stomach doesn’t seem all that disproportionate to sweet fruit he’s holding, providing some much-needed reassurance that the weight that you’ve gained so far is all baby rather than anything else. “You’ve been on that pregnancy app again, haven’t you?” you tease playfully, your heart swelling with affection as Namjoon places a gentle kiss to your stomach and then straightens up looking mildly embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning pink.     “Maybe.”  He shrugs his shoulders, playing innocent, and then promptly drops the peach he’d been tossing between each hand with a ‘whoops!’, bruising its tender flesh. It doesn’t come as a surprise to you that Namjoon is keeping tabs on how big your little one is supposedly getting.  He’s been way more into this pregnancy than you have right from the very beginning, reading up on absolutely  everything he could get his hands on that’s even remotely related to pregnancy or childbirth from the very moment you’d even started to try.  He was so hyped up during the first ultrasound scan that you’d almost had to threaten him with a timeout if he couldn’t better contain his excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet so rapidly that it’d almost looked as though he was vibrating with joy.   He’s the same when your twenty-week ultrasound comes around, too, still relentless in his enthusiasm even when you discover you’re expecting a little girl rather than the boy Namjoon had been so convinced you were carrying.  He brings home a banana that week and moulds it to the curve of your stomach before he’s even said hello, laughing when you snatch it away and eat it before he has the chance to let it drop.  There’s still a stain on the carpet from where last week’s overripe mango had come to a sticky end and you’d rather not add banana mush to it if you can help it. Week after week this continues, your stomach growing in line with the fresh produce Namjoon presents to you without fail every Tuesday evening.  From grapefruit to cauliflower and then from eggplant to pineapple you progressively swell, and whilst you may still suffer from the odd nagging voice of insecurity now and then when you sneak a peek at the number on the scales, somehow your husband’s little ritual has become a strange sort of comfort; until the size of the items he’s bringing home with him start to look far larger than the passageway their human counterpart growing inside of you is supposedly meant to come out of, that is.   It’s with nervous laughter and a churning stomach that you fake a smile for the photograph Namjoon takes of you holding a pumpkin next to your bump when you reach ‘full term’ at thirty-seven weeks, trying to remind yourself that although she might be that size she most definitely won’t be that shape.  God help you if she is.  Later that night, whilst Namjoon’s sleeping soundly beside you without a care in the world, you say a silent prayer in hopes that your little girl might decide to heed her eviction notice sooner rather than later to spare you the sight of whatever vegetable she’s supposed to be the size of a week on from now.  You might back out of this whole thing entirely if you do.   You’re too distracted by your contractions to realise when Namjoon sneaks something into your hospital bags before driving you to the hospital in labour not two days later, nor do you notice that he seems to struggle with the weight of them.  In fact, it isn’t until your little girl has arrived and is snuggled skin-to-skin against your chest, a blanket over you both, that you become aware that you had a stowaway in amongst your luggage at all.   As Namjoon pulls a fully grown watermelon from your bags, grinning like an idiot, you burst into a fit of laughter so hard that you’re crying by the end of it, tugging on his shirt to pull him into an eager kiss whilst happy tears run freely down your face. “I goddamn love you, you know that?”

Jimin “Baby?” You lift your face out of the pillow you’ve had clutched to your chest for the first time in what feels like hours when you hear Jimin’s sweet voice calling out to you. It’s louder the next time, coming closer, and it’s with a sense of urgency that you sit up and wipe at your face with the too-long sleeves of your cardigan to try and erase any sign of the tears you’ve just shed.   You don’t want him to know that you’ve been crying; not over something as stupid as this, and not when you know this is an issue he himself already struggles with.  He doesn’t need your baggage on top of his own to cope with, as busy and over-worked as he is.   “I’m in here,” you call back as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, relieved to hear that your voice is far more steady than both your hands or your heart.  You feel ridiculous for letting yourself get so upset over something so minor - so inevitable - especially when you didn’t even know the two women you’d overheard debating whether or not you were pregnant, or rather just fat as the taller of them had suspected.   Maybe you wouldn’t have been so affected if it weren’t for you already feeling so insecure about the changes your body is going through.  You’d expected the growing stomach - that much is a given when it comes to having a baby, you know that - but what you hadn’t anticipated was the extra weight your body seems to be eagerly piling on in every other area, too; your cheeks, your arms, your thighs, your bum.  You’re not even halfway through the pregnancy… how are you supposed to cope with whatever the next five months have to bring when you already look and feel as grotesque as this?   “Ya, I’m exhausted!” Jimin announces as he enters your shared bedroom, a heaving sigh following his words, “This new choreo is insane!”  The bed sags behind you, bed creaking in protest as he flops himself down onto it with another sigh.  “How was your day, baby?  Did you go get that crib you wanted?”  You feel his fingertips brushing gently against your hip and you clear your throat in readiness to speak, reassured that the fall of your hair is obscuring any view that Jimin might get of your tear-stained face. “Um, no, not yet,” you reply, dabbing the end of your nose on your cardigan.  It still seems to want to insist on running even now when your eyes are dry and it’s with a ragged sniff that you continue to make excuses, avoiding Jimin’s eyes. “I tried walking to the store but then my hips started aching too much so I just came home.”  You feel him sit up behind you, the flat of his palm coming to rest on your thigh.  “Sorry,” you add a second later, pursing your lips together when he starts to push your hair back from your face to better see you.   “Why didn’t you get a cab?  You should’ve-”  Jimin abruptly stops speaking at the very first glimpse he gets of your red-rimmed eyes and your downtrodden expression, quickly coming to sit at your side and taking both of your hands in his, pulling them into his lap despite the weak smile you offer.  “Baby what’s wrong?” he asks softly, his brows furrowing.  He looks so absolutely sincere in his concern for you that it very nearly breaks your heart to make him worry so over something as superficial as this.   “I’m just being stupid,” you tell him dismissively but Jimin persists nonetheless, shuffling even closer and relinquishing one of your hands to turn your face back towards him with a singular finger on your chin, his eyes searching yours when you meet them.  Knowing he won’t let it go, you take a deep breath.  “I… I’m getting fat, aren’t I?”   If you were in a better mood you might find the way his eyes suddenly widen almost comical, but as it is all you can do is summon a rather half-hearted smile to your lips as you look down at your lap, ashamed.   “But…” Jimin pauses, and you can tell he’s searching for the right words lest he risk upsetting you even further by saying the wrong thing - it’s happened quite a lot lately, as hormonal as you are.  “You’re pregnant, baby, you-” “Fat and pregnant,” you interrupt, wincing as your tone comes out far sharper than you’d intended it to.  Jimin falls silent next to you but his thumb continues it’s slow rub back and forth over the back of your hand until the moment that your shoulders sag, breath shuddering as you exhale an apology.  He pulls you over into his lap, then, wrapping his arms around you as you press your face to the side of his, a fresh stream of tears escaping you.   “I don’t know what’s brought this on,” he begins quietly, one hand rubbing soothingly up and down your back and turning his head to seek out your lips, pressing them to his in a very wet kiss that he lets linger when it’s done, his forehead resting on yours, “But I promise you, you are not fat, ok?” “But-” “No, no buts,” he says, breath warm on your face, “Look at me, baby.”  Your head gives a slight shake, no, your lips and eyes pressed tight as you try to force your sobs back down.  “Look at me,” he reiterates, and this time it’s not a request; it’s a demand, one you know better than to ignore.  Pulling your eyes open you’re met with the sight of Jimin’s right in front of your own, staring right back at you, and for some reason you don’t quite understand looking into their depths seems to bring you an almost immediate sense of comfort - a dark abyss full of love that you can lose yourself in just for a little while.   “I don’t like it when you speak so badly of yourself.”  You nod into the hands that now cradle your face, briefly closing your eyes when he kisses you again, plush bottom lip soft against your own.  “You’re beautiful, ok?  And even if you weren’t I’d still love you just the same.  Fat or thin - with scars or stretch marks or whatever else life wants to throw our way.” “You promise?” you ask breathily, huffing a laugh at the way Jimin rolls his eyes dramatically at you, leaning back just a little way.   “I promise,” he replies, brushing his thumb over the small, fragile smile that’s now curving the corner of your mouth and smiling back, pleased that he’s been able to lift your mood if only slightly.  “I love you, baby.  Both of you,” Jimin adds, glancing down fondly at the small swell stomach that rests above your skirt, and you whisper the words back to him as he ever so gently passes his hand over the little life growing inside of you.

Taehyung 

It’s a pretty good indicator that it’s been far too long since the last time you and Tae had sex when watching even the briefest of R-rated scenes in a movie has you pressing your thighs together and squirming in your seat, flushed from head to toe with want.   It’s a really inconvenient time for it to happen, too, but how were you supposed to know that watching Deadpool around all the other boys would turn out to be such a bad idea?  You’ve seen it before, for Christ’s sake - you knew about the sex scenes - but they’d never affected you quite like this the first time.   “Tae,” you whisper, trying not to disturb anyone else, “I think I’m gonna head to bed.”  Your boyfriend’s eyes round on you, the dancing lights from the television shining back at you in their reflection.   “You ok?” he whispers back just as softly, one hand automatically reaching out to cradle the swell of your pregnant stomach underneath the heavy blanket which covers you both.   Even before you were pregnant Taehyung had always been a sweetheart - had always cared for you every want and need - but now you’re carrying his child this need to protect and pamper you seems to have increased tenfold.  Nothing is ever too much, no ask too big, and honestly?  You adore how unfailingly attentive he is.     “I’m fine,” you assure him with a smile, placing your hand over the top of his, “Just tired.”  It might well be a lie but it’s not as though it’s a very big one.  You are fine, just a little… frustrated is all.   “Ok,” he smiles back, placing a kiss on your cheek before helping you rise from the sofa with a gentle push to the base of your spine.  He waves cutely as you wish the rest of the group goodnight, and it’s with a soft sigh that you leave him behind and retreat to the bedroom that Taehyung and you share whenever you stay over at the dorm.  You’ve had your own place for a long time now but for practicalities sake it still makes sense for him to have a bed here, too, and it’s under those blankets that you slip after ridding yourself of your clothes, sighing with pleasure as your too-warm skin makes contact with the cool, crisp sheets.   You seem to be running hot all the time lately, and though you know it’s a perfectly normal side-effect of being pregnant you feel as though arousal is exacerbating it tonight.  It's heating your blood inside your veins and quickening your breath, your body responding far quicker than normal to the images you summon behind your eyelids; Taehyung’s long fingers mapping out every inch of your skin, the press of his lips to the inside of your thighs, wide, dark eyes peering up - God, sometimes you hate being pregnant!  Not only does your bump make it almost impossible for you to touch yourself for longer than a couple of minutes at a time without your arm aching, it's also the reason that Taehyung isn't in here with you in the first place.  Ever since you’ve started to grow larger you've felt far too self-conscious to allow Tae to see you naked, nevermind touch you the way you so desperately miss, and it's with a groan of frustration that you try to remember how good it'd felt the last time you'd taken him between your thighs.   “Tae… please,” you whine softly, turning your face into the pillow, but when a familiar voice unexpectedly answers you your eyes fly open wide, your busy hand falling still.   “Something wrong?” he questions quietly from where he's stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes heavy-lidded as he takes in the flush across your chest and cheeks and smirking when you scramble to sit up, pulling the blankets up to your neck.   “O-oh, nothing!” you sputter out whilst your cheeks are busy blazing, your darting eyes unable to meet his gaze for more than a split second at a time for fear that you'll burst right into flame.  Fuck, you're so embarrassed.  “I was just… I-" “If you needed some attention, angel, all you had to do is say so.”  Lips curving into a smile that's almost predatory, Taehyung mounts the on his hands and knees, ridding himself of his loose shirt in one shift motion before crawling towards you, the muscles in his shoulders rolling as he moves.    “Oh, oh, no, Tae, you don't have to-" He cuts off your breathless words with a fierce kiss, dragging your lips to meet his the moment he can reach so far as to cradle the back of your hand in one of his generous palms and your heart, which had already been pounding so furiously in your chest, starts to gallop even faster when his tongue licks its way into your mouth, stealing the gasps of pleasure right out of your lungs.  As you kiss he pulls the blanket out of your clutches and it casts aside to reveal your naked form, wasting no time in taking one of your swollen breasts into his palm to brush the pad of his thumb over the pink, stiffened nipple in the centre.  

“What’re you doing?” Tae murmurs lustily, chasing after your mouth as you start to turn your face away to grope, eyes closed, for the sheets in order to swiftly cover yourself back up, far too insecure about the changes that pregnancy has forced upon your body to ever want to sit so openly in front of him.  

“I just…” you mumble as you open your eyes to look back into his, wishing he didn’t look so hurt and confused when you gently push his hand away and shuffle across to the other side of the bed, pulling the sheets with you.  “You don’t have to… feel like you have to, just ‘cus I was… I know I don’t look… like I did before.”   You can’t meet his gaze as you speak.  You’re too embarrassed, too self-aware, and though you try to distract yourself by picking at a stray strand of fraying fabric you still can’t ignore the way he has you throbbing between your legs from just a simple kiss.  

“What are you talking about?”  You look up again as you feel Taehyung approach once more, and now his expression is softer as he takes your hand, holding it in his fist and pulling it against his chest.  “Angel, is that why you’ve been keeping yourself away from me so much lately?  You think I don’t want you?” 

“Why would you?” you question back, your mouth twisting as you bite the corner your lip with worry, “Look at me.”  Taehyung actually laughs at that, letting your hand drop and then waiting for a tiny, hesitant nod of consent before pulling the blankets from you once more.  

“Exactly, angel.  Look at you.”  As soon as you’re revealed Taehyung’s eyes start greedily drinking you in, running up and down the length of your body and then back again, and by the time he’s done, lying himself down to lay at your side, his gaze has darkened with lust once more and you’re blushing extra hard when he reaches out to run his hand along the curve of your waist and swollen abdomen, tickling as he goes.  “I promise you, I’ve never wanted you more.  All these months, having to watch you grow nice and thick and juicy when you won’t let me get my hands on you; god, it’s been torture.” 

“… You like it?”  you ask breathlessly, barely daring to hope that Taehyung is actually being truthful about his desires.  He actually likes you this way? 

Taehyung takes a hold of your hand as he leans in closer to rest his forehead against yours, his pupils so wide and deep you could happily get lost inside of them.   “I love it,” he purrs throatily, pressing your palm to the crotch of his pants to feel how aroused he is underneath, and when you squeeze at the bulge he’s led you to Taehyung groans noisily past his bitten lip, tipping his head back.  “Fuck.”  Rapidly, he begins to remove his pants, tearing at his belt.  “Get comfy, angel.  We’re not leaving this bed till we’ve made up for every single bit of lost time.”

Jungkook “You wanna play?”  Jungkook offers when his avatar falls to the virtual ground, killed off for the fifth time in a row without even managing a single shot at the opposing team.  He’s so thoroughly pissed off by this point that he doesn’t even bother to shout and curse at the screen anymore, simply thrusts the ps4 controller your way with a dark look on his face, the sharp angle of his jaw clenched impossibly tight.   Your boyfriend might well be a sweet bunny of a boy for almost 24 hours of the day, but when he’s losing at his most favourite game a decidedly different side of Jungkook comes out to play; one that’s competitive, sullen, and more than a little bit bratty.  He’s fun to play with like this - amusing torment and tease if only for the explosively passionate reaction it usually gleans - but these days you’re not really fit to be thrown around as you often used to be after such games, what with being eight months pregnant and all.   In fact, now you think about it, you’re pretty sure it was during one of those furious forays of tangled limbs that the little boy kicking inside you now was conceived.   “Have you seen my sausage fingers lately, Jeon?” you snort, pushing the controller back his way with a laugh at your own expense.  The last time you’d tried to play your fingers had been too damn puffy to even hit the buttons properly and you’d ended up bursting into a hormonal fit of tears at your own incompetence - one that wasn’t helped by Jungkook laughing his ass off at you until he realised too late just how upset you were.  “Even your camper ass plays better than me these days.”   Jungkook’s stern expression morphs into something decidedly smug looking despite the insult you’d thrown his way, his lips stretched into a smirk and one dark eyebrow raised.   “What’s that?” he asks, cupping one hand around the back of his ear as though he hadn’t heard you, “Are you finally admitting that I, Jeon Jungkook, am the better player?”   It’s surprising that your eyes don’t roll straight out of your head with how exaggeratedly your gaze rises to the ceiling and then drops back down again to see the shit-eating grin still plastered across his face.  He’s lucky that it’s too much effort for you to want to move from the corner of the sofa in which you’ve wedged yourself, otherwise the boy would be getting a sharp slap to one of his ridiculously meaty thighs for being such a cheeky little shit.   “You fucking wish.”   “Hey, language,” he warns, his eyes twinkling with mischief when he glances over at you in the process of quitting the game and grabbing the tv remote to change the channel, “He can hear you in there, you know.”  Silent, and with your tongue poking out of your mouth in defiance, you offer Jungkook your middle finger instead, and when he bursts into a fit of laughter, his chest shaking with the force of it, you can’t help but crack a smile.   Honestly though, how much bigger can you really get?   You’d think that what with only having a few weeks left your stomach’s rate of growth would’ve tailed off slightly, but no.  It just seems to be getting bigger and bigger, swelling exponentially, and at this rate you’re starting to think that opting for the sunroof method of extraction might be a safer bet than trying to squeeze Jungkook’s apparently monstrous offspring out of your vagina - not that you have much choice in the matter.  What will be will be.   “Seriously though, if I get much bigger you’re gonna have to start rolling me around everywhere,” you say as Jungkook puts on an episode of a sitcom you’ve both probably watched about a million times before yet continue to love, shuffling up next to you and slipping his hand behind the small of your back to curl around your waist, sniggering at your little joke.  And yeah, you may have said it for comedic value, but there’s a very real part of you that’s starting to get a little freaked out at just how big everywhere is getting.   Feeling a little insecure, you place your hand on Jungkook’s thigh and squeeze to get his attention, worrying your lip.   “Babe?” “Mmhm?” “You’re still gonna love me if I carry on looking like the Michelin man even after the baby’s here, right?”   Finally, Jungkook drags his eyes away from the screen, looking to you with confusion in his eyes.   “Who the fuck’s the Michelin man?”  You roll your eyes once more, huffing with frustration.   “Just answer the question, jackass,” you snap, intending to move your hand out of Jungkook’s lap but finding yourself unable to when he takes it in one of his, lacing your fingers together.  Jungkook is silent for a moment or two after that, and during that time he looks back at you so intensely that you swear he’s able to see right through you; straight through your bolshy facade to the fragile, insecure young woman that lies underneath.   Smiling softly, he leans in close to kiss you, encasing your bottom lip between each of his own.   “Of course I would.  I always have, haven’t I?” he grins, flashing you rogueish wink that makes your heart flutter girlishly in your chest.  Satisfied by the blush he sees colouring your cheeks, Jungkook releases your hand and makes a grab for the packet of pretzels sat on the coffee table.  He tears the bag open as he slumps back into the sofa cushions next to you and promptly dives in without even pausing for breath, shovelling them into his mouth so fast that you’re unsure how he manages not to choke.   “I take it you’re not about to offer me any of those, then?” you ask tersely as he rapidly demolishes the entire bag before your very eyes.   “Weren’t you just complaining about putting on too much weight?”  he retorts, smirking back at you and then shouting his displeasure when you abruptly snatch the bag out of his hands, thumping him on the arm for good measure. “Carry on teasing the hormonal pregnant woman, Jungkook,” you taunt around a mouthful of pretzel, a grin on your face, “See how far it gets you.”

[sansofhumor]

title: hey, kid, you’ve goat this rating: pg? characters: sans, papyrus, frisk, asgore tags: sanscentric, referenced character death, AU, death and grief

notes: this is uhhhhhh, raw and not edited bc i die, boy. super self-indulgent. no questons asked. where’s asriel?? chara?? no one knows don’t ask me!! here it is on Ao3! ((for content warnings: the character death isn’t for any of the listed characters, and isn’t described, but the fallout is... basically the whole fic.)

sans hesitates after stepping in the building, glancing around haphazardly. there's a cashier to his left, and walls of clothing in every direction except for in front of him, which has uh, watches? he looks up but the signs aren't very informative. womens, mens, housewares. aren't all these clothes technically house-wears? heh.

"Hello! Do you--uh, do you need help?" The cashier stutters when he turns to face them, but makes a remarkable effort at keeping the surprise off his face and smiling.

((readmore for mobile))

"uh, looking for a suit, or something." he shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets.

"Let me get you some help!" The cashier speaks into a headset and then tells sans someone will be right there. he shrugs. that's fine. suppose it'd be easier to let someone who might know what they're doing take the reins.

in a matter of moments, another employee comes racing down the aisle stuttering to a stop before him. it's not very busy in the store but they look stressed anyways. despite that, they're smiling. they introduce themselves.

"How can I help you today?"

"just looking for a suit jacket. black. uh cheap?" he says, tacking that last bit on as an afterthought.

"Hmm. Well we aren't going to have a very big selection, but let's look in our clearance!" They lead the way and sans awkwardly follows, into the racks of clothes. They stop in front of a small selection and sans tilts his head looking at what's on offer.

"Do you know your size?"

"uh, round?" he says, looking down at himself then back up at them.

"Try this one?"  

he does. the arms are long, but it hangs alright.

"Hmm, that's a regular, so we're looking for a 40, 42 short." They mumble, picking another jacket. this one is grey. he shrugs into it easily enough. it's still a little long,  but better.

"heh, something wrong?" he asks and the associate winces.

"You need black, you said?"

"yeah, uh. special occasion."

"We don't have much here, there's the grey. Darker grey. Blue. We have some sixty percent off stuff?" They nervously shuffle their feet. he takes a look at the tag. Forty five dollars and it's 90% off.

"eh, sure."

sans takes a look at the jackets, but they're all navys and tans. the associate looks mildly embarrassed, still clutching the slightly too long, dark grey jacket.

"That's all we have, uh, in that price range… do-- when do you need the jacket?”

sans looks at his wrist. it’s bare. he shrugs. “sooner the better.”

“Yeah, the earliest we’re going to get some more markdowns is in a few days. Uhm, and all we have is this--the dark grey. And the black in a smaller size.” They awkwardly shuffle again, gripping the jacket.

“yeah, see, it’s for a uh funeral. gotta be black.” he reaches out and tilts the sleeve so it catches the fluorescent lighting, “or white i guess.”

They start shaking their head immediately, reluctantly informing him they don’t carry white outside of prom season.

“Uhm, I don’t know if this is the first store you tried. Uhm, but the only other place I can think to try is a thrift store--”

“well,” sans shrugs, “i’m actually. late. already.”

the human boggles.

“Oh, I’m--” they frown, “We can-- gosh we don’t have any coupons or anything out. Uhm, you can always return it later? If you’re only going to use it once, I mean. We’ll take it back, no problem.”

“sounds like work,” he breathes. and work? it’s just not like him. she’d understand. “she wouldn’t recognize me in a suit anyways.”

“Oh,” the human glances at him before looking away, “Uh. I--”

“welp. i’ll get outta your hair then.”

“Wait--” sans waits. “Uhm, I just. You look like you’re going through a rough time? Are you uhm, gonna be okay?”

in general, or right now? because, as long as he, you know, doesn’t think about it, he’s fine. he looks at their face. oh, they’re asking-- “it’s fine, i’ve got a shortcut. no breakdowns while driving for me, at least none of the emotional kind, heh.” he sees them whisper ‘breakdowns’. they look like they want to laugh but not offend him. they wrestle the urge down.

“Okay.” they look down at the coat again. “I think… I think whatever you show up in will be okay. She-- she’ll understand.”

sans wishes they’d laughed instead.

“you’re right, tori never let me get her goat anyways, knew i was always kidding around.” he waits just a second before he remembers this person won’t get the joke. he sighs.

“Well. I hope you uh…” they frown hard for a moment. he waits patiently. it’s what he does. “I hope you have... I hope your day is--” they look like they are about to quit. he smiles. well, he’s always smiling. “I hope your spirits lift soon! It’s a shame to see them so … depressed?”

he gives the joke a second of breathing room. the human’s face slowly morphs into one of unrestrained horror. he starts chuckling, then laughing, his breath leaving him in a woosh of amusement. “heh, gotta say, kid, that was a real rib tickler.” they breath a sigh of relief. “you gotta future in amateur comedy, if this sales thing don’t work out. anyways, i’ll leave you to it, kid. thanks for giving me a chuckle, you really made someone’s day.”

“Uh, bye, then!” they give a wave. he walks into the dressing room. he’s gone when they check in on him.

monster funerals are pretty cool. monsters turn to dust when they die, so the most integral part of the ceremony is spreading dust on their most loved things. normally a monster will have a small ceremony, with their surviving family and their close friends spreading the dust on a favorite book, or instrument. maybe, the dust would get split between those who had been closest to the fallen. however, when someone who touched the souls of almost every monster living falls down, the arrangements are a bit different.

Toriel hadn’t been a small monster. but still, her dust doesn’t amount to much. the urnful of ash doesn’t look like it should be all that’s left of the boss monster. it looks small, dainty almost, and though Toriel had never been ungainly, dainty wasn’t a word sans would use to describe her. regal maybe.

there is a line, a procession before him, of monsters. some with various knicknacks gripped in their limbs, some with nothing. all of them there to honor Toriel. she had loved the people in her community and she had touched so many lives and all those souls want closure. some hold precious memories-- “Toriel gave me this recipe while planning for the PTA bake sale, she said it was for her favorite pie”--and they receive a sprinkle of dust, so toriel’s essence can live on in those happier times. some only have the memories in their head, but they still want to be there, to offer their sympathies.

the urn grows deeper as it is emptied of toriel’s dust. if sans were prone to feeling bitter, if he could muster up the effort, he might be tempted to feel bitter about this. tori’s dust being spread so thin, across so many monsters. by rights, tori’s kid should be the one who gets to lay tori’s dust where they want. Tori’s kid, and maybe Asgore, her ex husband, depending on how she felt before she fell. but her dust was spread thin the way her love never was, and if he thinks about it, this is really what tori would have wanted. this ritual, spread across so many, is something to give the monsters in the community hope. to keep their will up even when a pillar has fallen.

besides, why should he get upset over this? it’s not like he wants any of her dust for himself. he has nothing to spread it over, no mementos or sentiments he can hold onto. just a door and some jokes they spent hours and hours on. the soft memory of her braying laughter, the noise of his bones knock knocking against wood. he hadn’t settled in her life, and he’d made sure she couldn’t settle in his.

though, the way his soul feels, he was maybe not too successful at the latter.

he stands at the edge of the gathering until everyone has filed away. he sees a couple monsters he knows-- the neighborhood watchdogs, the school’s coach and science teacher. he sees his brother as well. he sees them all come and go until only asgore remains. he stays until asgore leaves as well, returning to the quaint and tidy house toriel had lived in. he makes his way to the tree they’d stood under. the tree hadn’t meant anything special to toriel, but he isn’t going to interrupt what remains of her family with his tired jokes.

he raps his knuckles against the tree. “knock knock.”

nobody answers.

“hopper.”

“hopper happy on the other side.”

he waits and knocks again.

“knock knock…. baaa….. can’t you tell yourself? i’ve gotten your goat!” inspired, he follows that up quickly with another one. “knock knock… goat… what goat, can’t you see i’m kidding around?” he chuckles.

then he knocks again.

“knock knock…. your leaf….. you’re leafing me bonely, pal.”

and finally: “knock knock. i’ll fish…. i’ll fish you a lot.”

he sighs and thunks his head against the tree trunk. well, that’s as much of a eulogy as he is going to make. kind of went off on a tangent there. welp.

there’s another knocking sound, but this one doesn’t come from him.

“who’s there?” he answers the call obligingly. he’s informed that there’s an interrupting drop bear waiting at his door. “interrupting drop bear who--” a kid tumbles into his arms from the branches above. they’re lucky he’s magical.

“oof, there you are, kiddo. was wondering where you were hiding. oh, you’re wondering why i was late? i had problems with a suitor.” they look at him questioningly. “couldn’t find a suitable jacket.” they look at his worn hoodie and nod their head in agreement. he chuckles and sets them on the ground. “‘sides, better later than never, am i right?” they only shrug.

“well, come on, time to get you inside and fed. it’s getting late.” they take his hand, and he forces himself not to pull away. he walks them up to the door of toriel’s cottage home and knocks, two quick raps out of habit.

“I’ll be just a minute, who’s there?” that’s asgore.

“i’ll be just a minute.”

“Oh, I’ll be just a minute who?” Asgore asks, opening the door, a tired smile on his face. he probably only answered that way because he recognizes sans voice.

“i’ll be just a minute is you,remember?  i’m sans. this is frisk.” he winks. “hey, ‘gorey. goat your kid.”

Asgore blinks, smile trembling a moment before pulling himself back together.

“Ahh, yes… my, hmm. Frisk, I had been wondering where you were at. Thank you, for bringing them home safely, Sans.”

“no prob, i’ll just get outta your way now, then--”

“Nonsense, please, let me invite you in for a cup of tea. I’m sure Frisk would appreciate the company.” as would i, he doesn’t add, but sans can read it on his face well enough. of course asgore doesn’t want to be alone right now. well... sans isn’t very good company right now.

“nah, it’ll just go straight through me, you know that.” he huffs a laugh.

“If you are quite certain, there are some leftovers in the kitchen, still.”

“well, if ya add food into the equation, guess i’m a variable after all.” asgore does not look like he gets the joke. sans won’t explain it.

the dinner is an awkward affair. there’s the remains of a snail casserole, heated up by fire magic. Frisk is sitting next to him, asgore is seated at the head of the table, though not the side that toriel would’ve taken. asgore made tea for them all anyway, and sans drinks it. it’s floral, and it dissipates like all magic food.

“She had a Last Will and Testament notarized,” asgore announces, not quite out of the blue.

“that requires some, uh, foresight.” he comments. asgore glances at him and shuffles his cutlery around.

“We’re reading it tomorrow, in the morning at the courthouse.”

“prompt, sounds good.” he doesn’t know why asgore would be telling him this. he looks at asgore’s face, catches his eyeline, follows it to the kid. “ah,” he says.

“Ah?”

“you need a kidsitter?” he asks. frisk wrinkles their nose at him. they’re not a-- “yeah yeah you’re not a baby, did i call you one?” he winks and frisk pouts. “i don’t have plans, i can make sure your kid is flat as a pancake by the time you come back.”

he’s not really sure why anyone thinks he’s responsible enough for kid duty. toriel had asked him quite a lot. well, he supposes frisk makes it easy most of the time. sure they get into tight spots, but they aren’t nearly the hellion papyrus was at that age.

“That’s not-- actually. Yes, that would work out fine, I believe. Would you like to stay the night then, so you do not have to make the trip twice over?” asgore is incredibly good at looking pleading and open and soft.

“eh, gotta text papyrus. he might want a sleepover with his favorite human too. you willing to host that?” he asks. he, uh, doesn’t really want to spend the night under tori’s roof when he knows that he won’t stumble upon her laughing in her kitchen or reading in the armchair by the fireplace. unfortunately, his brother is really cool and everyone knows that.

“I’d be delighted to have your brother here. He’d be welcome.”

he texts papyrus. papyrus would REALLY, REALLY LOVE TO HAVE A “SLEEP” OVER AT THE HUMAN’S, SANS! BECAUSE I AM SUCH A GOOD AND PREPARED FRIEND, I WILL BRING ALL THE NECESSARY EQUIPMENT. SPAGHETTI, PUZZLES, A VACUUM!  

his brother really lightens the mood when he arrives. bearing puzzles and tupperware containers of food--and dragging a vacuum he insists on using before the night is up--he forcefully injects smiles and optimism into the small gathering. gosh. sans brother is just so cool.

asgore gets along well with Papyrus, he makes a pretty good foil for sans’ excitable brother. still, he bows out of the party games early, thanking them both for offering to keep an eye on the kid the next day.

sans watches the kid and papyrus giggling together over their puzzle game. they keep trying to entice him to join them but he’s content with dozing on the couch.  they rouse him enough to tell him they're ready for bed, looking at him expectantly.

“hmm, you're right it is getting late. ‘night, then.” he rolls over, mostly to hide his amused face.

“SANS!”

he snickers, catches himself, and turns it into a loud snore.

the kid tugs at his jacket as papyrus yells some more. he keeps pretending. the tugs on his jacket stop, and papyrus goes quiet. sans gets suspicious.

“ONE. TWO. THREE!” there’s a rush of movement and then the kiddo is landing in him. he lets out a whoof of air as they settle on him.

“ah, nice of you to drop in.” they giggle. papyrus, who is still holding their arms where he helped soften their landing, scoffs. “oh, you wanted a bedtime story before catching some shut-eye?”

“OF COURSE WE DO SANS! IT’S TRADITION!”

“well, can’t say no to tradition, i guess. settle in.”

papyrus squeezes onto the couch next to them, and sans begins the story with “once upon a time".

the next morning sans wakes to the sound of people getting ready for the day. none of them are being quiet about it, all of them used to him sleeping through anything. he’d actually had a decent amount of sleep though, and as such his mind is reluctantly drawn to wakefulness.

the house smells like breakfast spaghetti, so papyrus must’ve convinced asgore to let him in the kitchen already. asgore’s deep voice was commenting on something something sauce, so he is also in the kitchen. that leaves…

he opens his eyes and meets frisk’s. they grin at him, steady. he returns the smile.

“morning, kiddo. youre up already? heh, yeah we all know who the lazy bones here is.” he sits up and notices that the kid is dressed in a jumper instead of the pajamas they fell asleep last night.

“ready to chill today?” he asks.

they pout at him, smile melting off their face. he raises the ridge above his eye sockets. they just shrug and tug on his sleeve again.

“alright, time for breakfast, then.” he lets himself be pulled up and dragged to the table where papyrus has already set everything out.

“oh, neat, bro, spaghetticakes. my favorite!”

“SANS, YOU SAID MY SPAGHETTI CASSEROLE WAS YOUR FAVORITE?”

“yeah, bro, if you make it, it’s my favorite.”

“AWWW, A GENUINE COMPLIMENT!” papyrus takes a moment out of his busy routine to skip over to sans and give due affection. sans soaks it up like a sponge, albeit a lazy one

“so, getting ready for that willing?” sans asks asgore, who is busy pushing his breakfast around his plate.

“Ah, yes. That. That is. I have received word that Frisk should be present, so it turns out your supervision will not be necessary. I am sorry for inconveniencing you and your brother.”

“doesn’t seem like the kid wants to go.”

“Be that as it may.” asgore starts, and then let’s go, as if it explains everything.

“why not just, you know, let the kid hang out here. no need to drag ‘em with you.”

“It’s very important they attend.” he sighs, resigned. “If sparing them this would benefit them in the long run, I would do so.” he admits. “Again, I apologize for inconveniencing you.”

sans shrugs at the kid. he tried.

“OH. NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE! THOUGH IT DOES SEEM MEAN TO HAVE GOTTEN FRISK’S HOPES TO HANG OUT WITH A COOL SKELETON LIKE ME UP AND THEN NOT FOLLOW THROUGH ON THAT PROMISE…. PERHAPS WE CAN STILL ‘HANG’ AFTER YOUR COURT THING?”

frisk nods excitedly. they want ice cream.

“I do have something to attend after the meeting. I was planning on taking Frisk, but if you’d still like to watch them?”

“OF COURSE!”

“Would it be too much trouble to accompany us to the reading then? That way no one will have to make this trip twice.”

sans narrows his eye-sockets. “was really planning on, uh, taking it easy today.”

“NONSENSE SANS. YOU TAKE IT EASY EVERYDAY. WE’LL JOIN YOU.”

well. now papyrus would just carry him there if he tried to stay behind.

asgore prefers wearing those tropical shirts with the obnoxious patterns and dad shorts. today he’s wearing a suit. sans wonders where toriel was hiding an asgore sized suit-- why she was hiding an asgore sized suit-- or if asgore had brought it with him and hung it somewhere in toriel’s closet. the guest room closet, perhaps, but still toriel’s.

sans would be wearing that suit jacket if he’d ever gotten around to buying it. as it is, he’s dressed in his dirty blue hoodie. everyone else in the room is wearing clean, somber colors. except papyrus of course, in his bright scarf.

he doesn’t mind. he’s too busy passing notes to frisk, who is on the verge of tears. he wants to be mad at asgore. but he looks on the verge of tears as well. the kid opens the note. it’s a poorly drawn caricature of the human reading the legalese of toriel’s will. it startles a chuckle out of the kid.

“The house will be donated to the Monster Wellness Association, under conditions that they use it in line with their mission statement, stipulations on page 8.”

Frisk tenses again and sans wants to grab their hand and take ‘em to get ice cream right now! all this was doing was making the kid realize how much of their mother they were losing at once. not just toriel herself, but the kitchen she cooked in, the fireplace, the cozy room sans had “helped" paint (there was one skeletal handprint underneath the even coat).  

“All of my worldly belongings are bequeathed to my child, Frisk. Frisk may part and parcel them how they choose, though I ask them to consider donating what they do not wish to keep or give to friends to a reputable charity.”

the kid’s breath starts to hitch. sans doesnt know how to help. he has a feeling silly notes wont cut it his time. instead he puts his hand out, and isnt surprised when the kid grips it shakily.

“Concerning Frisk, as I am their only gaurdian and there is no next of kin to take on that role, I will offer my intentions here.” asgore shuts his eyes. ouch, that’s rough, buddy. maybe calling frisk his kid was a little premature. but what else was sans supposed assume? though asgore and toriel had broken up years ago, sans just thought. you know. asgore would, uh. Inherit the kid?

“Though, perhaps unexpected, I believe this the best course of action for everyone involved. I would like to name C. Sans guardian of my child, Frisk.”

because asgore actually had kid, heh, raising experience and toriel had known him for-- wait. What?

“what was that?”

frisk looks at him with wide eyes.

Papyrus looks at him with wide eyes.

“WOWIE BROTHER! DOES THIS MAKE ME AN UNCLE?”

even he knows it would be a dick move to shortcut the hell out of there. the kid still has his hand so he can’t anways, unless he wants a hitchhiker. he does glare in asgore’s direction.  asgore avoids his eyeline. coward.

well. perhaps sans shouldn't be throwing stones.

he keeps his peace so the rest of tori’s will can be read. quietly biding his time, trying to catch asgore’s eyes, avoiding the kid’s.  he still doesn’t take away his hand, and the kid hasn’t let go, but he doesn’t think that reassures either of them.

once the place nearly clears out, sans stands and corners the officiator. asgore seems to have a similar idea.

“OH! FRISK WHY DON’T WE LOOK FOR ICE CREAM. OUTSIDE. WHERE ICE CREAM IS?”

papyrus meets sans’ eyes for half a second. long enough for sans to feel properly chastised and encouraged, like papyrus had found time to lecture and give him a pep talk all within a glance. a pepyrus talk. Heh.

once theyre both gone, he faces the front of the room.

“so you knew about this, ‘gorey?” there’s a question mark, but it isn’t really a question.

“I could not find the right time to bring it up. Toriel had, ah, discussed it with me before. I thought she was planning to have this conversation with you, and it was not my place to intercede and yet…” he trails off.

“you want the kid, don’t you?”

“I do, of course. And will take them in if you find you're not ready to take the responsibility.”

“thought you’d put up more of a fight,”

the boss monster squares his shoulders and faces sans, for real. his stare flinty, stern.

“Do not mistake me, Sans. You are my friend, but if I thought for a second you would do wrong by Toriel’s memory, we would already be in a courtroom.” his eyes soften just a bit, “As it is, that would leave Frisk in a precarious position, and I would not wish to do that when there are other, less drastic means.”

sans hummed, shrugging his shoulders under his jacket. “youre hoping i back out so theres no fuss or muss, eh?”

“You,” asgore scratches his nose, caught out. “You are not known for taking on such responsibility, by your own admission, my friend.”

“hmn,” sans acknowledges his point, “so i, uh, what, refuse custody and the kid gets to go home to your place?”

“Well,” the human interrupts, “Frisk would be temporarily placed in child services, as you are the only officially named next of kin. They’d go down the list-- perhaps your brother, since he is your next of kin-- evaluating each person’s qualifications as guardian. It could take quite a while before Mr. Dreemur is considered, though I’m sure it could be expedited.”

sans narrows his eye sockets, “whattabout what the kid wants, eh? you’d just ship ‘em off with strangers when there’s plenty of monsters they know who’d be willin’ to take ‘em in?”

the human shrugs, “Not me, personally. It’s the system.”

“The process would not take long at all,” asgore says, “It would be quite quick after I submit my application.”

“why was tori so deadset on me havin the kid anyways,”

“I’m afraid it is more that she didn't want me to have them. She was still quite mad at me, despite how she pretended at aloofness.”

sans considered. “why wouldnt she want you to step in, ‘gorey? youre not terrible, whatever your differences. she never had a problem with frisk spending time with you.”

Asgore’s mouth flattened, as did his ears. “Her arguments were… several. I suppose. I am often quite busy, caring full time for frisk would require careful scheduling. I also live quite a distance away, and moving would most likely require frisk to change school zones. They are not unimportant issues but also not something I cannot overcome.”

“yeah, thats what i figured too, but if that were it, tori would've still listed you as an option… something you ain’t telling me?”

sans carefully examines asgore’s face. the tightening of his jaw, the wrinkle between his brows. considers toriel, what she would say about her and asgores lives, when they were together.

he used to be so reliable, she said.

sans would argue that asgore is still reliable. busy, yes. he is the official monster delegate, wielding almost unparalleled political power of course he’s busy. but even as such he always makes time for frisk, his duties, his friends, his hobbies. though sans can see the weight of it on him, he also knows asgore would not let it interfere with frisk’s care.

but then he stopped being reliable for toriel. made decisions about their lives he didn’t consult her about. and when she did try to talk to him about it, he nodded and listened and was sad and contrite but did not bend. it became something toriel could not-- didn’t want to--overcome. so she left.

“what if frisk doesn't want to switch schools?”

“I don’t foresee it being difficult to persuade them of the advantages of a different school district. They aren't a troublesome child.”

“‘course not. hey, why don't we ask them?”

“What?” asgores eyebrows climb up his worried forehead.

“yeah, seems like something they should have a say in, ya’know.” he walks to the door as asgore stumbles over his words.

“You do not think-- all of this stress they are already under-- I understand the importance of--”

and he pulls the door open, a skeleton and a child tumbling into the room when they didn’t scramble back fast enough. sans raises an orbital ridge at his brother. papyrus pops back up and dusts off his body.

“WHY FRISK… IT LOOKS LIKE THE ICE CREAM IS NOT HERE??”

sans shakes his head and looks down at frisk. “whaddaya say, kiddo?”

frisk looks up at him, nervously, before glancing at asgore. the big guy just waves a little, smiling softly. he really does just want the best for frisk, he just has a tendency to make decisions first and cry about them later.

“hey, ‘sall right, buddy, it’s not a decision you have to make now, alright? we can have another sleepover and talk about it in the morning.”

frisk nods, cautiously standing up, reaching for Papyrus’s hand. they go get icecream.

despite the will it still takes awhile for toriel’s wishes to go through with finalization. this mostly means sans is spending a lot of nights on toriel's couch while waiting for frisk’s decision. finally the deed for the house changes names and sans gets the notification.

frisk is still a child, there's no way they know what they will have wished they'd kept and what to give away. still, sans has no part in this process, and he's slowly realizing asgore doesn't quite have a say either.  

“I can have the important things moved to my home, or a storage facility for Frisk to go through when they are feeling up to it. I can have a list of charities by tomorrow as well, for the rest of it.”

“they gave us time, no one is gonna kick us out because frisk hasn't sorted through everything.” sans feels the need to say, since frisk is still in their room.

“I would not throw away anything of sentimental value.” asgore seems offended.

“didn't say so, buddy, just think that maybe frisk should have a say instead of dealing with whatever we think is important instead.”

asgore's nostrils flare, but his shoulders slump and he nods his head. “We shouldn't tarry, however kind the MWA are being.”

sans thinks that the MWA will let them stay as long as they need, but he doesn't press the issue. he decides he should ask the kid how they want to go about this. he kind of doesn't want to deal with it. but if frisk doesn't make their decision, asgore will and though sans isn't the sentimental type he can tell frisk is. what if they throw away a pie tin, and in twenty years frisk will have a break down because they dont have their mother's pie tin to make their mother's favorite pie?

well, maybe he's over thinking this.

he knocks on their bedroom door, then lets himself in.

frisk is a lump on the floor, not even under any blankets. sans steps into the room.

“what's up, kiddo?” they turn to look at him, and their face is miserable. yeah, hearing that it was time to pack up and divide what was left of your mother's life would do that to you.

“you don't have to do it on your own, kiddo. you’ll have all the help you can want.”  frisk wipes under their eyes hastily, though they aren't crying. “i can call pap, he’ll be down to help with everything. he can bring undyne--she probably won't suplex anything if you ask her.”

frisk’s smile is wobbly.

“asgore has got a place set up to help store everything you want, you don't have to worry about space.” frisk hiccups softly, surprising themselves and sans cant help but chuckle at their surprised expression.

he takes the opportunity to shuffle closer and pat their back reassuringly. humans are so weird, with their flesh and trapped air bubbles and reflexively convulsive muscles.

when they calm down, frisk tugs his sleeve enough to get his attention. he inhales a bit sharp. they smile at him hopefully.

“...yeah, you got me, too.” their smile grows.  he gets an idea, and lets himself drop on them. he hears them make a noise of surprise. “oh no,” he says, “looks like you really got me, you're too strong.”

frisk is giggling, pretending to shove him away with their small hands. “i can't escape, your gravitational pull is just too strong,” he leans more weight onto them, carefully. frisk is laughing now, breathless as they flail their limbs, pushing at his loose jacket and his rough bones. with a jolt they finally collapse, and they both fall flat.

he laughs, and waits until they focus on him again, their cheeks and eyes red, but not from stifling tears anymore. “hey, kiddo.” frisk hums in acknowledgment. “looks like your stuck with me, huh.”

their hand finds his again.

he finds he's starting to mind it less.

the kid is looking indecisive at the trash. sans is leaning against the counter. he's sure that toriel would have asked frisk to take the garbage bag to the curb as one of their chores before-- well. and now the kid is frozen, sad eyes staring at the garbage can with something heavy crawling across their back.

sans doesn't know what it's like, longing so deeply for something. sometimes, he's not sure he really knows what feeling anything is like anymore.

there's nothing more that sans wants than to leave frisk to have this moment alone. but he'd already promised the kid that they were stuck with him, and it's not like he is going to make himself useful by actually packing up tori’s--now the kid’s--belongings. so he stays, and watches frisk's shoulders stiffen with decision.

they take out the trash.

it's one more thing they're saying goodbye to.

a lot of the furniture has been parceled between the friends gathered to help frisk. undyne had snagged quite a few kitchen appliances, asgore had been surprised and touched when frisk gave him toriel's bookshelves and her treasured chairiel.

there were quite a few things frisk was donating as well, both to a monster shelter--a lot of toriel's non-perishable foodstuffs and blankets--and to the mwa group moving in.

some other things were for asgore's storage system, to be considered another day--toriel’s clothes, her stacks of books, the teaching supplies.

frisk seems reluctant to actually keep anything for themselves, despite sans insisting that they can keep every item in the house. not like asgore cant afford that much storage. there's a lot that frisk lingers over, but hesitates to grab. a book of snail facts that frisk rubs a finger over before placing it in a box headed for asgore's house.

sans, despite everything else, knows the importance of bedtime stories and he knicks the tome when noone is looking.

and now frisk is getting teary eyed over the trash can. sans doesn't want to psychoanalyze that, but it's not like he can stop himself from reading the tense lines in their body.

he hops up onto the kitchen counter, the movement familiar enough to him. he knocks into the knife block, and frisk’s eyes snap to him. their gaze slides over to the knives, contemplating.

they drag a new box to the counter and reach towards the cabinets, ignoring the knives.

“oh, you think since i'm up here i'm game to help you?” he leans back, resting against the backsplash, short enough that the cabinets dont bother him.

they shake their head and rattle the box insistently and sans relents.

“‘k. but only ‘cause youre even shorter than me.” and instead of reaching up to hand the mugs in the cupboard to the kid, he just turns their soul blue and lifts them up to the cabinets.

they laugh, delighted, and plop the box on sans' lap, before getting down to business.

frisk isn't going about this methodically, though they are being thorough. it probably doesn't help that the rest of their friends are disorganized themselves, each deciding to tack different areas. mostly this means that frisk has already helped undyne and papyrus pack up a lot of the dishes and pots and pie tins--frisk didn't keep any for themselves, but gave Papyrus everything from the casserole dish to the smallest tart round. sans doesnt know why, his brother doesn't really bake and always looks quizzical when sans offers a quiche on the rare occasion sans gives him a night off from dinner duty--but there are still coffee mugs since undyne has too many already and Papyrus doesn't really drink things that can't be put into a normal glass.

frisk carefully pulls these down and hands them to sans, who dutifully wraps them in newspaper and places them into the box. toriel had a lot of mugs, a lot of funny ones and collectible ones. he huffs a laugh at i like you a latte as he wraps the papers around it.

frisk laughs as well, and hands him another, this one saying this is some with a picture of a koala and a tea bag. that one is very good.

another mug, another joke. “that's what.” -she is particularly clever and sans can see it delighting the part of toriel who loved teaching.

frisk gestures to be let down and as soon as their feet touch the tile they take off to another cabinet, digging through the contents before running back to sans and the box.

sans wraps up a salt shaker and tilts his head and the ceramic battery sculpture paired with it. frisk huffs and shakes some pepper out of the batter and sans is positively delighted.

“a salt and battery!” sans laughs, doubling over on the counter, “that one really--” he tries to catch a breath between his chuckling, “that one really packs a punch, kid!”

frisk helps sans off the counter when he gets over his laughing fit, and gathers a few more punny kitchenware for the box before giving it back to sans.

“alright, where do’ya want this one?” he follows frisk's direction and sets the box down, deliberately separate from but still related to Papyrus’ stack of boxes.

“oh--” he, uh, he doesn't know what to say now.

frisk looks at him, expression determined.

“IS THIS ONE MY BROTHER'S THEN?”

Papyrus swoops in and snags the box from between them.

“ah, pap--”

“YES, SANS?” Papyrus looks guilelessly at sans, cradling the box. frisk is nervously biting their lip. okay. yeah, this isn't the hill he's going to die on. he can just. put them in a drawer somewhere and not look at them, or something. no need to get worked up about this. ‘s not like his kitchen is already going to be filled up with tori's left behinds.

“there's uh, ceramics in there. so.”

“OF COURSE I WILL BE CAREFUL WITH THEM, SANS! THAT'S WHY I AM CARRYING THEM. I AM THE BEST AT CARRYING THINGS. I CARRY YOU ALL THE TIME!”

“you're right.”

Papyrus spins on his heel and marches out the door like he's afraid sans is going to unpack the box if he isn't fast enough. sans sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

most of the house is packed up now. undyne os clattering somewhere throwing junk in a box to be donated probably. asgore is marking things to be put in storage.

a touch nudges his hand, and sans looks down to see the kid looking at him from beneath their fringe.  the kitchen is clear enough for frisk, the kid is content that anything left can be claimed by their friends or given away now that they've gotten sans to accept the box.

sans lets his hand turn so he can catch frisk's fingers. “alright, what's next?”

frisk tightens the hold and leads him down the hall, to toriel's room. sans feels his grin take a nervous shade, but. he said he'd be there for the kid, he can't run away now.

frisk’s grip is too tight.

the door creaks open and sans is led inside. the lights are off and the kid does not turn them on, so neither does sans. they tug him over to a desk where they finally let go of his hand. he’s in it too far to leave now, so he puts his hands in his pockets while the kid carefully goes through the desk drawers.

tori’s room is quaint, tidy. like he would expect from her, if he had to guess. her bed is tucked in a corner, taking up more room than a standard but less than a king, the covers smoothed and well made but not like a perfectionist did them up. there is a chest and a dresser. everything is unassuming.

frisk closes a drawer with care so sans takes his cue and refocuses his attention on them.

they are holding out a book.

“oh, kiddo…”

oh, kiddo indeed. they hold out the book insistently. sans does not take it. they insist again. sans dodges.

“c’mon that’s, kid… it’s-- that’s uh,” he runs out of words.

they pull back the book just to flip it open, searching for a page to show him. he doesn’t want to see it. they show him anyways. it’s just a simple planner, a teacher’s agenda. days divided into squares with notes written in the corners. almost like a journal. there’s an entry circled and sans can’t help but read it.

Why did the skeleton want a friend? …. Because she was feeling BONELY!

frisk closes the book and offers it again like a question. sans shakes his head.

“i just…” it’s too much, he doesn’t say. he’s been doing good at not thinking about it. he’s been doing really good and avoiding the thoughts and memories and expecting her braying laughter after he tells a joke and finding its absence instead.

he spent so much time trying to minimize the damage. he can remember the first time he stopped and realized this was going to hurt, when it ended and known he’d been in too deep to stop it from hurting at all because toriel had made it so hard to just not care but he had been preparing himself for the inevitability that she’d get tired of him, or offended? or that he’d mess something up like he always does and she’d be out of his life, because the only good thing he ever managed to keep was Papyrus and that was inexplicably in spite of everything sans ever did.

this was so much worse than he was expecting.

all that effort and now everywhere he turns there’s a space that isn’t empty but doesn’t have potential anymore. his next words don’t have the potential to make toriel laugh, anymore. the spaces between his fingers no longer have the potential to get chalky with flour. he’ll never be able to tell tori that, yeah, this time he’d tag along as a pta chaperone for a fieldtrip, make some prime parents from hell jokes, yeah? all this time keeping himself a couple feet withdrawn, content to whilst away the maybes and somedays and now all he has to show for it is a sad kid and a journal telling him how lonely tori was.

he wasn’t much good for anything, but he’d had a chance to be a good friend. now that, like everything else, was gone.

he can’t meet the kid’s eyes. he knows he has some kinda responsibility here but. he’ll mess it up anyways, won’t he? he already is. he actually already has. he’s surprised Papyrus isn’t more messed up than he lets on.

he’s through the bedroom door almost before he’s made a decision, but he doesn’t step into the hallway of toriel’s house. instead he steps onto the clashing carpet of his and his bro’s second floor, the door behind him clicking shut. he stands there for a moment.

he guesses that it was time for the punchline to hit. it took such a long while, of course it was sure to be a knockout.

there’s nothing left to do, but slip into his room and clock out for the day.

he gets away with it for longer than he expected, honestly. and the wake up is far gentler than he expects.

“SANS?”

papyrus finally knocks on his door. it’s been… sans squints at the dark of his ceiling. well, it can’t have been too long, none of his bosses have called him, at least.

“SANS… MAY I COME IN?”

sans shifts his head to peak out at the door frame. everything’s dark so he’d be able to see if the frame was on. it’s not. he looks back at the ceiling. he hears Papyrus shifting as he waits for an invitation. sans knows he should say something but he can’t bring himself to. Papyrus finally settles against the door, sans can hear him slide down against it.

“I HAVE FINISHED PUTTING AWAY… EVERYTHING. EVEN THE MUGS. I ASKED IF YOU WANTED THEM ANYWHERE SPECIFIC BUT… YOU DIDN’T ANSWER. SO I PUT THEM IN THE CUPBOARD! THE ONE YOU CAN REACH. I HOPE THAT IS OKAY.”

that’s considerate of him.  sans should say so.

“I WILL TAKE YOUR SILENCE AS THE RINGING ENDORSEMENT I AM SURE IT IS. THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS NOT DISCOURAGED BY YOUR CONTINUED SILENCE AT ALL.”

sans stays silent.

“OF COURSE… IF YOU WERE TO BREAK YOUR SILENCE BY. PERHAPS. SPEAKING TO ME. OR EVEN MAKING SOME SORT OF SOUND ACKNOWLEDGING THAT YOU ARE, IN FACT, ALIVE IN THERE, IT WOULD NOT BE REMISS.”

that makes sans blink. oh right. yeah. right. he pushes himself up. he should say something but. but that still feels like too much. like if he said something it might. it might start something he can’t stop. he pats around for his phone.

he digs it out of one of his pockets. it’s still got a charge--thank you alphys--and it’s set to silent. there are some missed notifications but he ignores them to pull up papyrus’ contact. he composes a message. short, sweet, to the point: im awake

he hears the buzz of Papyrus’ phone.  

“OH-- OH GOOD. GOOD.”

his voice sounds shaky, relief in every octave. good going sans, brother of the year, there.

“FINALLY YOU BREAK YOUR LAZY STREAK! CONGRATULATIONS, BROTHER, YOU ARE ONE STEP CLOSER TO BREAKING YOUR SELF IMPOSED ISOLATION AND REUNITING WITH SOCIETY. I’M VERY PROUD OF YOU.”  the thing is, Papyrus doesn’t even sound sarcastic, because he is very proud of sans.

“YOU MISSED UNDYNE SUPLEXING ASGORE AFTER YOU. LEFT.” Papyrus offers in the silence sans let grow. “SHE KEPT TRYING TO SNEAK UP ON HIM AFTER THE FURNITURE WAS CLEARED.  ALPHYS HAS PICTURES. PROBABLY.”

“FRISK SPENT THE NIGHT TO HELP UNDYNE AND ALPHYS, WHICH THEY COULD DO BECAUSE THEY ARE ON A TEMPORARY BREAK FROM SCHOOL AND AS SUCH DOES NOT NEED TO GET UP EARLY AND BE CAREFULLY DELIVERED TO THE CAMPUS AS IS CUSTOMARY FOR A HUMAN THEIR AGE.”

despite everything, sans can tell Papyrus is trying to lead up to something. sans still cannot find his voice, but his brother is doing his best and what would sans be if he didn’t try, too? he rolls carefully onto the floor.

“I HAVE CONSIDERATELY RESEARCHED THE RULES AND REGULATIONS OF FRISK’S SCHOOL SYSTEM, AS A SELFLESS BOON BECAUSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS NOT ONLY THOUGHTFUL AND GENEROUS, HE IS PREPARED! IT WAS NOT BECAUSE I WAS TRYING TO DISTRACT MYSELF FROM. THINGS.”

sans stumbles in his fumbling steps to stand.

“I AM NOT SURE YOU ARE AWARE, BROTHER, BUT THERE ARE TWO SETS OF HOURS, REFLECTING EACH OTHER. THIS MEANS THERE IS A SEVEN IN THE MORNING AS WELL AS THE EVENING.  THOUGH THIS IS AN HOUR I SEE VERY OFTEN, AS A RESPONSIBLE MEMBER OF SOCIETY WITH A DEDICATION TO HIS JOB, IT IS ONE I KNOW YOU ARE UNACCUSTOMED TO ENTERTAINING. REGARDLESS… THIS IS THE HOUR  FRISK MUST BE UP TO START GETTING READY FOR THEIR SCHOOLING, IF THEY ARE TO MAKE IT ON TIME.”

Papyrus’ voice trills, the way it does when he starts up his monologues, settling into his speech. sans can almost see the way his hands gesticulate, gloves underlining the points in his words.

“AND OF COURSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL RELISH THE CHANCE TO TAKE OUR TINY HUMAN FRIEND TO SCHOOL ON THE WAY TO HIS IMPORTANT JOB! HOWEVER THERE ARE TIMES WHEN I MUST BE UP MUCH EARLIER THAN EVEN SEVEN IN THE MORNING, AND FRISK CANNOT BE EXPECTED TO MAKE THE LONG AND POTENTIALLY PERILOUS PATH THEMSELVES… “

here his hand would flutter, nervously, as if conjuring the next set of words he has to speak.

“AND, THOUGH APPARENTLY BREAKS ARE MANDATORY AND MUST BE TAKEN DESPITE A HEALTHY WORK ETHIC--” Papyrus audibly stops himself from going on a tangent. “--THERE IS NOT ONE LONG ENOUGH AT THE RIGHT TIME TO PICK THEM UP AFTER SCHOOL.”

“AND. THOUGH MY COOKING IS UNPARALLELED AND FILLED WITH PASSION, HUMANS NEED MORE THAN MAGIC TO KEEP THEIR GROSS HUMAN BITS RUNNING PROPERLY. AND HUMANS NEED A LOT OF SOCIAL INTERACTION, ESPECIALLY CHILDREN, IN THE FORM OF SUPERVISED ‘PLAY DATES' WHICH ARE NOT COVERED IN THE DATING MANUAL! “

“AND THERE IS A THING CALLED PTA? AND ONE MUST JOIN THE PTA IN ORDER TO FULFILL OPTIMUM GUARDIAN POTENTIAL AND THE GREAT PAPYRUS JUST DOES NOT HAVE TIME TO ATTEND EXTRA CURRICULAR ACTIVITIES IF THEY DO NOT OCCUR BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 5PM AND 4AM, WHICH THE SCHOOL ASSURES ME THEY DO NOT! I CANNOT BELI--”

sans opens the door and Papyrus tumbles backward, falling onto the floor with a noise of surprise.

“what's a matter, bro? all this worrying is making you fall down.” the weight of the sentence hits sans all at once. “i mean, fall over-- uh, that's, sorry, that one was awful.”

“NYEH HEH HEH, SANS!” Papyrus laughs from the floor, giving sans a faint sense of unreality. Papyrus laughing at a terrible joke while sans looks down at him. things have been weird lately.

“stop laughing, bro, we really gotta get your funny bone checked out.”

“FORGIVE ME IF I ENJOY JAPES THAT REQUIRE A LITTLE MORE BACKBONE THAN YOU LIKE TO MAKE!”

sans shakes his head. this is one of those times he would choose to smile if he had a choice. his brother is really the best. even if his brother is working himself up for some reason.

“what’re you really upset about?” sans asks, letting his shoulder lean against the doorframe.

“I AM NOT UPSET! I JUST. WANT TO SUPPORT YOU IN THE THINGS YOU DECIDE TO DO.”

“support me?” sans crosses his arms. Papyrus gives him an incredulous look, like sans is the one acting topsy turvy today.

“I KNOW YOUR MEMORY GETS WEIRD WHEN YOU HAVE ONE OF THESE SAD NAPS. BUT YOU CANNOT FORGET YOUR COMMITMENT TO FRISK WHILE THEY CHOOSE IN WHICH DIRECTION THE REST OF THEIR LIFE WILL GO!”

“that’s exaggerating just a bit, bro.”

“YOU AND I BOTH KNOW IT IS NOT!”

sans shrugs. then sighs. “i think… i already messed this up.”

“BUT NOT IRREPARABLY, BROTHER. MISS TORI-- THE HOUSE IS PACKED UP NOW, AND FRISK CANNOT STAY THERE ANY LONGER. ASGORE HAS BUSINESS TO ATTEND TO, AND YOU ARE THEIR LEGAL GUARDIAN FOR NOW! SO THEY WILL BE RETURNING HERE. YOU CAN APOLOGIZE!” papyrus squints up at sans. “OR MAYBE PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED, BUT RESOLVE TO DO BETTER IN THE FUTURE!”

“ouch,”

“I’M ONLY SAYING THE TRUTH. YOU’RE VERY AVOIDANT. BUT EITHER WAY, I AM HERE TO SUPPORT YOU. OR. I WANT TO BE HERE TO SUPPORT YOU.”

“things would… have to change a lot, huh.”

Papyrus is not a monster that enjoys hiding his feelings, and so it’s very easy for sans to see the concern and doubt in his brother’s face as Papyrus leans back and stares up at him.  his brother radiates openness, an easy ear to listen to him, if either of them had ears.

“heh, have to start scheduling my naps again, huh.”

“YOU MAY HAVE TO EVEN QUIT ONE OF YOUR JOBS TO FIT THEM ALL IN!” papyrus is way too excited by that.

“yeah, heh.” he swallows. they can afford for him to drop a job or two, but doing so makes sans uneasy. sure he’d have more time off, Papyrus doesn’t need sans to provide a cushion anymore, and it’s been a long, long time since sans has needed to “figure something out” when bills started piling up in the mail.

“what if they decide to stay?” he asks, hunching inwards.

“THEN THESE CHANGES MAY BE PERMANENT FOR US! I CAN SUBMIT CHANGES TO MY AVAILABLE HOURS, SO YOU DO NOT HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING BY YOURSELF. AGAIN.”

“you love your job.”

“I WOULDN’T BE QUITTING SANS! IN FACT, I HAVE A SUSPICION THAT MY BOSS WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE IT IF I STOPPED CLOCKING IN ON THE WEEKENDS.”  Papyrus shakes his head wryly.

“okay, yeah, maybe you should stop doin that.” he crosses his arms and hisses air through his teeth. “i want to argue that you shouldn’t have to step in when i can’t uh, can’t do something myself, or by myself. but you’re being frustratingly good at cutting off my points of argument.”

“THANK YOU! I HAVE BEEN PRACTICING. YOU’RE VERY GOOD AT DEFLECTING AND I NEEDED TO STRENGTHEN MY OFFENSE IN RETALIATION.”

“you shouldn’t have to do that, i should just be able to talk about this without getting, heh, rattled.”

“AND WE ARE BACK TO THE LOWEST TIER OF HUMOR. BROTHER. ALL MY LIFE, YOU HAVE BEEN HELPING ME! ALONE! AND I WOULD BE DOING YOU A DISSERVICE IF I INSISTED I NEEDED TO ‘PAY YOU BACK’ FOR ALL THE YEARS YOU SUPPORTED ME. BUT, I WOULD LIKE THE CHANCE TO HELP YOU, TOO. I WOULD LIKE THE CHANCE TO DO THINGS. WITH YOU. AND FEEL LIKE I AM HELPING.”

“AND, I THINK I WOULD LIKE TO ‘PAY IT FORWARD’. I LIKE FRISK VERY MUCH, AND IF THEY CHOSE TO STAY WITH YOU--WITH US--THEN I THINK I WOULD LIKE LEARNING HOW TO TAKE CARE OF THEM AS WELL. I WOULD LIKE TO BE THERE FOR THEM, THE WAY YOU WERE THERE FOR ME.”  he doesn’t need to say “the way no one was there for you,” but sans can read it off his face easy enough.

he must make some sort of expression, because Papyrus finally sits up, kneeling so he can glare into sans’ face.

“YOU ARE THINKING ‘but Papyrus, I was terrible at raising you when I, myself, was a child and had no idea what I was doing’ BUT YOU ARE WRONG. AS PROOF: LOOK AT ME, I AM EXCELLING AT LIFE!” Papyrus gestures at the whole of himself, smiling broadly. sans laughs half-heartedly.

“you are pretty great, bro. but you deserved a better life than what i could give you. frisk deserves a better one, too. and they had tori-- uh. they had tori. there’s no way i can live up to her. i don’t know why she named me anyways, unless it was a joke.” it’s a joke sans would laugh at, too, in any other situation.

“SANS.” Papyrus actually puts his hands on sans’ shoulders and gives him a shake, the frustration welling up in him. “I DO NOT KNOW HOW MANY DIFFERENT WAYS THAT I CAN PUT IT. BUT! YOU! DID THE BEST THAT YOU COULD! AND YOU WILL DO THE BEST THAT YOU CAN IF FRISK DECIDES TO STAY WITH US! I KNOW YOU ENJOY PRETENDING TO BE LAZY AND ACTING LIKE YOU DON’T EXPEND ANY EFFORT. BUT SOMETIMES IT SEEMS LIKE YOU BELIEVE IT, AND I CANNOT STAND THAT.”

“YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE PERFECT, YOU’RE GOOD ENOUGH SANS! TORIEL CHOSE YOU, INSTEAD OF ANYONE ELSE, BECAUSE SHE KNEW THIS! AND SHE HAD EYES! SHE COULD SEE HOW MUCH EFFORT YOU PUT INTO FRISK, EVEN AS JUST A FAMILY FRIEND! IT WAS NOT A JOKE. YOUR LIFE ISN’T A JOKE, SANS. YOU’RE MUCH BETTER AT THINGS THAN YOU THINK YOU ARE, AND IF YOU CANNOT BELIEVE IT, THEN I WILL BE RIGHT HERE TO CONTINUE TELLING YOU.”

‘“aw, geeze, pap.”

“AND,” Papyrus looks to the side, shifty eyed, “IF YOU CANNOT BELIEVE ME--”

“hey, no, pap--”

“YOU SHOULD READ THIS.” Papyrus pulls out the same book that startled sans into running away in the first place. it’s plain cover unassuming in papyrus’ gloved palm.

“Papyrus…”

“YOU DO NOT HAVE TO KEEP IT, BUT YOU SHOULD READ IT. WHEN YOU CAN. SANS, I KNOW TORIEL MEANT A LOT TO YOU. THOUGH YOU TRY TO HIDE IT? FOR SOME REASON? I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY, BUT IT’S VERY HARD TO PRETEND YOU DO NOT LIKE HER WHEN YOU ACTUALLY PICK UP THE PHONE WHEN SHE CALLS, OR DITCH YOUR EVENING NAP TO SLEEP ON HER COUCH AND EAT HER FOOD OR-- OH,”

Papyrus stops in the middle of his rant. sans’ shoulders are shaking. sans doesn’t know when that started, this whole conversation makes him want to crawl back into the depression on his mattress.

“I’M SORRY.” Papyrus sets the journal down. “I FORGOT, I’M SORRY.” he carefully puts his arms around sans’ shoulders, like any pressure will make crush sans. after a second, papyrus pulls sans closer, and makes the loose cradle into a real hug. “IT’S OKAY, SANS, IT REALLY IS.”

sans’ face is pressed against the fabric of Papyrus’ shoulder. Papyrus’ arms are locked around sans like, like something sturdy and lasting. something safe. and despite that cold feeling in his chest, the ice that crawls up his spine when he stops to think about anything, the purple karma that drips from his hands when he looks at them. despite everything, in this one moment, he thinks maybe Papyrus is right. maybe it’s okay.

sans, for the first time in, stars, years, starts to cry.

it’s not that sans is trying to ignore the apology he owes, or that he’s trying to prove Papyrus right. it’s just that he needs to figure himself out, and do it in a very compressed time. so while Papyrus puts together a quick lunch, and takes the kid out (for more icecream) and comes back with increasingly exasperated but still supportive side-eyes and pointed remarks about the living room and emotional depth, sans hides in the basement.

there’s a photo album sans keeps there, with some other things that he likes to avoid direct contact with. he hasn’t actually opened the album in years, but he can’t just throw it away. even if just because it’s not only his, but papyrus’ too. what if twenty years in the future, indeed.

sans knows he has issues. he can even trace why he acts like that for a good number of those issues. he didn’t have the chance to be a picky eater as a kid, so now he’s just a garbage disposal. he got in the habit of scrimping so he could make the bills, and even though he’s got a safety net now, it’s a habit he’s unwilling to break.

some of them are harder for him to place--he like making people laugh, to the point that he knows he can be obnoxious or will have to work harder at being taken serious. maybe making jokes is easier than honest emotional labor (true). maybe making people laugh is the fastest way to take control of a situation (true)--but he can conjure up a guess or two.  

sometimes, he just. doesn’t know, and thinking about it doesn’t really help--sometimes he’ll order something online, only to get it twice even though he’s pretty sure he only got it once. he only ordered one of them, he should return the second, but he’s always so certain it’ll take care of itself. why would it take care of itself? it’s not like his purchases and bank account get reset after a week--so he doesn’t think about it.

so. grieving. it’s not something he has practice with, not for lack of opportunity. it’s why he has a photo album collecting dust in his basement. it’s why even Papyrus doesn’t say much about their past when anyone inquires about the skeleton brothers. it’s why he’s avoiding the child of a deer friend.

oh, she would’ve like that one.

but he was right, earlier. papyrus deserved a better life than the one sans managed to cobble together, no matter what papyrus has to say about it now. and frisk also deserves better than a bag of bones too bitter, too scared to figure out how to open up a little.

he was also right, in that frisk should still get to choose.

“SANS?” papyrus calls down the basement stairs.

“yeah?”

“TIME FOR DINNER?”

“are you asking me?”

“OF COURSE NOT, I AM ANNOUNCING THAT IT IS TIME FOR DINNER! FRISK IS SETTING THE TABLE, PLEASE COME UP, I DO NOT WANT OUR MEAL TO GET COLD!”

sans smiles from the dinner table, winking at frisk when they turn to set a plate down and sees him.

“bro, we’re waiting on you now.”

Papyrus whirls around at the sound of sans’ voice, eyebrows comically raised for someone who has been living with sans their whole lives. he gathers himself expertly and stomps his foot, seamlessly falling back into their familiar, comfortable roles.

“SANS YOU LAZYBONES! YOU COULD HAVE WALKED UP THE STAIRS!”

“but i didn’t wanna miss your spescapula cooking!”

“SANS! YOU KNOW MY COOKING IS WORTH MORE THAN AN EASY PUN!”

“you’re right bro, didn’t mean to punsult you.”

“THAT WAS EVEN WORSE!!”

“you’re smiling anyways.” sans settles back into his chair.

“I AM! AND! I HATE IT!”

there’s a clatter of utensils, as frisk kneels on their seat to serve themself, and sans takes the serving spoon from frisk’s hands before papyrus can, motioning them to push their plate closer. “don’t worry kid, i got you.”

frisk doesn’t hesitate to let him dump a spoonful of mash potatoes on their plate, and doesn’t object when sans’ grin turns mischievous. he adds another spoonful, and another. and another. and another.

“SANS!”

“what, you gonna deny the kid a well balanced dinner?” he asks. frisk looks delighted at the slightly leaning tower of potatoes stuck to their plate. Papyrus’ shriek of frustration makes something loosen in sans’ rib cage.

frisk is a good, even tempered kiddo. there’s no comparing them to papyrus at that age. but the guilt that settles behind his jaw when he thinks of them is the same sort that fills him up with he thinks about his brother’s babybone era.

the kid is staying in Papyrus’ room for the moment, and sans lingers in the doorway. only a little bit creepily. he grips the book in his hand. maybe this is a bad idea. sans should just let frisk get to sleep. they got a lot going on, he doesn’t need to interrupt them.

he takes a step back towards the staircase. then sidles back to the door. he’s let things go long enough already, though. it doesn’t matter how unruffled the kid acts, sans knows they feel bad about how he acted back at tori’s. and whether they already have forgiven him or not, he needs to let them know it’s not their fault. that he’s the one who is sorry and needs to make up for it.

it reminds him sharply, of being young and confused but determined, facing the door papyrus insisted on slamming in his face because SHUTTING A DOOR IS A PHYSICAL PUNCTUATION MARK SANS, AND THIS ONE IS AN EXCLAMATION!  and having no idea what went wrong or how to fix it, but knowing he couldn’t let this one lie.

the door opens.

“ah, sorry, i--ah geeze really?” frisk looks tiredly up at him. okay, so he forgot they could see his shadow under the door frame. that’s only mildly embarassing.

“did you… want a bedtime story?” he asks. they step away from the door. “yeah, course i have time, kiddo. i wouldn’t offer if there was anything i’d rather be doin.”

he follows them inside, and though he can tell they are trying to be even keeled, the speed they use to jump back into Papyrus’ bed makes it clear they’re excited about this.  he follows at a more sedate pace, thinking over his decision. he could always dig out Fluffy Bunny instead, that’s a classic. but, that wouldn’t mean the same thing. he’s gotta show his hand.

“alright,” he says, settling himself onto the bed with frisk. “let me know if you want a different book, but i thought you might like this one.” he pulls turns the cover so frisk can see.

“99 snail facts.” a sharp noise escapes frisk, but they don’t protest. sans lets himself smooth their hair over before opening the book.

“number 99, snails have tongues covered in hundreds of little teeth. okay, that’s, terrifying.” frisk laughs. “yeah i guess it works like a chainsaw? or a file. look here’s a diagram.” he flips the book to show frisk, who nods at the picture. “figure a, the radula, with rows of teeth. wow, didn’t know snails were so rad. number 98, snails are part of a group called gastropod molluscs that means, uh, soft stomach foot-- hey, i resemble that remark, heh.”

he pages through the book with frisk, and if either of them get misty eyed about it. well, at least they can wipe each other’s tears.  he pats frisk’s head one last time, before hopping off the bed and turning out the light for them to sleep.

papyrus is waiting for him downstairs, still settled on the couch. he turns to stare as sans makes his way over, scooting to the side so sans can flop onto the couch. sans’ face still has residue on it from story, and he scrubs it against the couch fibres. Papyrus doesn’t protest.

“what’s it, paps?” he mumbles into the cushion.

“FIRST, I’M PROUD OF YOU FOR OPENING UP TO FRISK!”

“thanks?”

“SECOND: IS EMOTIONALLY HEAVY READING MATERIAL THE THEME WITH YOU RECENTLY?”

“oh,” papyrus is holding the album. “didn’t think you’d find that so fast.”

“IT WAS ON THE TABLE. YOU DIDN’T EVEN HIDE IT IN A JOKE BOOK. I MEAN, IF YOU AREN’T READY AFTER ALL--”

“nah, pap, if i weren’t ready, it’d still be collecting dust downstairs.”

“... ARE YOU SURE?”

sans sits up and turns to face papyrus. his brother looks nervous, with an undercurrent of excitement and worry. this is something sans should’ve done a long time ago. instead of dwelling on the guilt he lets himself fall against his brother’s side, grabbing for the photo album. Papyrus gives it to him, and he opens the cover.

there’s an oval frame, and in that frame is a washed out photo of papyrus’ baby face, mouth open in what sans’ is sure was a ear-piercing shriek. there’s a blurry skeletal hand in the frame, like the suddenness of papyrus’ yell made someone jerk across the camera. below the portrait papyrus 19XX? is written sans’ handwriting. he tilts the page towards papyrus, who reaches out and flips it.

“WHO’S THAT?”

sans runs a finger across the old photo. something sharp twists behind his sternum, the same thing as always. the thing that makes him want to throw away all these mementos and forget they ever mattered to him because if he doesn’t, he’s afraid his soul is going to shatter. but he’s been hiding for way too long now.

maybe it’s time sans admits he deserves something better, too. he looks at papyrus’ curious face. he taps his finger against the photo.

“that was the royal scientist.”

“WHAT’S A ROYAL SCIENTIST AND WHY ARE THEY IN OUR PHOTO ALBUM?”

“oh yeah, the dreemur family used to be, like, filthy rich back in the day. so everyone would call ‘em the monster nation’s royal family. pretty sure they were actually a royal family at some point. anyway, he got that nickname ‘cause the dreemurs liked sponsoring his pet projects.”

for some reason, with papyrus’ bones digging into his side, sans felt the prickling sensation of ice start melting off his back. Papyrus passes him a ceramic mug as he settles into the story.

tomorrow the kid might decide they’re better off living with asgore. or they might decide they like living with sans and papyrus better. sans might freak out again, or he might be able to wait until he’s not gonna scar the kid for life again. either way, he’s making sure they know they’ve got options, and that he (and papyrus and asgore and all their friends) are behind them 100 percent.

but until then, he’s got this. his brother, these photos, a mug with a lame pun, and the warm feeling that he might actually be doing something right for once.

[tertiaryembarrassment]

Unexpected (Pt.8) - Paul Lahote x Reader

I’m so sorry about the long wait! I’ve been very busy and tbh just didn’t want to write that much but I pushed through another chapter and hope it can live up to your expectations! Strap in loves under the cut cause this one’s 4388 words long oof

@bookluver01 @mrs-hemmings96 @glimmering-darling-dolly @eleganttravelercloud @vxidnik @wandering–in–fangorn @fangirlbitch02 @steggy4ever @the-main-pumpkin @alphakelsey @thisgirlisahufflepuff @delnquents @my-current-fandom-is @tlittlet @lime-001 @newtycuty

              “Which do you like better, Y/N, the peach or the cream?” Emily faces you, elbows perched on the table, waving two cloth napkins before you, one in a light pink colour, the other, a tasteful off-white. You’re sitting together at her kitchen table, a place you’ve made many visits to in the past weeks since you’d met the rest of the pack. The tabletop is blanketed in a thick layer of bridal magazines, wedding advertisements, craft ideas and, of course, napkin options.

              “Cream,” you say, finally, leaning back in your chair. For a woman with only a month left before her wedding, Emily was massively unprepared. The two of you had spent many of your last few (increasingly frequent) visits together making last-minute decisions on everything from cake decorations to photographers.

              She nods finally, turning both napkins over in her hands to examine them again herself. “I agree.” Finally, she blows out a long breath, setting the napkins on the table and running her free hands through her hair, an exasperated look overtaking her cheerful demeanor. “I am so glad to have you here, Y/N. Seriously. I have no idea what I’d do without you.”

              You laugh, leafing through a magazine on wedding dresses. “Well, for starters, you might have peach napkins.”

              She snorts, a playful swat to your shoulder. “I mean it! There aren’t many people around here I can share this kind of stuff with – the boys aren’t any help, and Leah…”

              “She’s Leah?” You guess.

              “Exactly,” She sighs. Although Leah has softened up on since that first night on the beach, lifting her near-radio silence to talk with you from time to time, your conversations were still scarce, and nowhere near as friendly as they had once been. If this is how she responds to Paul’s imprint on you, you can’t imagine how much worse it must have been with Sam and Emily. You and Paul are merely her friends – Emily is her family. “Have you heard from her recently?”

              You shake your head. “Only a bit. We haven’t seen each other one on one in weeks,” you answer, letting your gaze drop from Emily’s to examine the tablecloth of magazine cutouts and wedding decorations. There’s been a question perched on your lips since the moment you met Paul, since he imprinted, since this all began. Your voice, quiet, you let yourself speak it to the only person who knows the answer. “Does it get easier?”

              Sighing, Emily lets the napkins fall into her lap, twirling them in her fingers, chewing on the question. “Yes and no,” she begins, and you feel your heart drop with her uncertainty. “Just know… she isn’t mad at you, just like I don’t believe she was ever mad at me. Neither of us could help what happened, and she knows that as well as we do. But she’s hurt – the nature of the wolf can be like that sometimes, I think. The shift is a great gift, but also a great burden. One I fear may be heavier for Leah than the others. Give it time. She’ll come back to you.”

              Pressing your lips into a line, you nod in understanding. Give it time was the advice you’d gotten again and again, every member of the pack assuring you that it wasn’t your fault, she’d get over it, you’d both be okay in the end… and maybe this was true, but it didn’t make the waiting any easier.

              You shake your head, banishing your own lamenting from it. Huffing a breath, you run your hands down your face, leaving a forced smile in their wake. “Oof, okay. We have work to do.” You turn your attention back to the table.

              As you set to thumbing through various articles, pointing out floral arrangements and chattering on about the adorable little bakery that did the cake for your cousin’s wedding, last year, and how you were certain they could make something work on the short notice – did she want cake? Because you’d seen some people opt for cupcakes instead, and you thought maybe that would be cute too…

              Emily leans in, an eye running over your face, seeing right through the calm expression you’d sewn on. That was the thing about Emily – she didn’t need a telepathic spiritual wolf-link with you to always know what you were thinking. She also knew when to keep her mouth shut. And she does, swallowing her worry, nodding along to your rambling about the bakery in Forks.

              The afternoon crawls by like this, two friends hunched over a mountain of marriage memorabilia, jotting ideas down in notebooks and making desperate phone calls to vendors. After a few hours, the two of you are broken from your stupor by the sound of footsteps as they make their way towards Emily’s front door.

              It swings open without a knock – not uncommon, for this house, as most of it’s usual guests feel comfortable enough just barging in – to reveal Sam and Paul, laughing as they enter, deep in some conversation regarding a joke Seth had apparently told them earlier. Emily raises her head, resting her chin in her hands as she leans over the mess on the table.

              “Hey, babe,” she says, smiling as she earns a kiss of greeting from Sam. He straightens to stand behind her chair, placing a hand on her shoulder and massaging it. Her hand reaches up to meet his, fingers wrapping gingerly around his touch. “Hi, Paul.”

              He nods his hello back to her, then turns to you. “Hey, Y/N.”

              A smile creeps across your lips at the sight of him, his frame towering above you from your place on the chair. “Hey, Paul.”

              “How’s the planning going?” Sam says, and you tear your gaze from Paul’s beaming face to address him. He’s looking down at Emily, who returns his gentle expression with one of exasperation, apparently fatigued by the long afternoon of phone calls and appointment booking.

              “Exhausting,” she moans, taking his hand from her shoulder and pressing her lips to his knuckles. Laughing, she adds, “We should just get eloped.”

              He lets out a low chuckle, but shakes his head at her idea, which everyone understood to be only half a joke. “It might be a little late for that – everyone’s already been invited.”

              She groans, letting the frustrated noise melt into a laugh as Sam throws muscular arms around her in a warm embrace before settling down in the chair beside her. She smiles, a thumb on his chin, pulling his face closer to hers as she whispers something like, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

              You suddenly realize how long you’ve been staring at them, watching your two friends in awe as they move in harmony, fitting together like matching pieces in a puzzle. Averting your eyes, you let them land on Paul, who you find is doing the same thing. His lips break into a grin, and he shields his mouth with his hand so the two lovebirds can’t see his words.

              Wanna give them a minute? He mouths.

              You nod, simply pushing out your chair and standing from your place at the table, grateful both for the escape from the room and a reason to stretch your aching legs.

              “Y/N and I are gonna talk a walk,” he says, addressing Emily and Sam, who are too busy mumbling to one another about various wedding plans to acknowledge him. “Try not to miss us too much,” he tacks on, motioning for you to follow as he makes his way out the open front door into the warm sun.

              A giggle slips past your lips as you trail behind him, passing by the to-be spouses, who nod their goodbyes before turning their attentions back to the other. Out the door you step, welcoming the warmth of the early summer evening as it blankets your skin. You fall into step beside Paul, the two of you making your way down the porch steps to the road, walking in unison along the path.

              He sticks his hand deep in his pockets, leaning back on his heels. A beat of silence passes, and you can almost hear the cogs in his mind turning, searching for something to talk about. You decide not to help him out – it can be amusing to see what he comes up with.

              “How did your thesis defense go?” Is what he comes up with.

              You suck in a breath, thinking of the paper you’d turned in a few weeks ago now. “Well, I think,” you start. “It was very nerve-wracking, I was worried I wouldn’t have enough to say, but once they started asking questions, I almost couldn’t get myself to stop.” You let out a laugh, relaxing your shoulders. Paul had that effect on you – you could never be tense around him.

              “Probably helps knowing that all that stuff you’re talking about is actually out there, huh?” He jokes, poking a finger into his chest. “Mythology’s not all hypotheticals and fairytales. Some of us are flesh and blood.”

              “Flesh and blood and hot air,” you retort, throwing your head back in laughter at his feigned wounded expression. More seriously, you finish, “It does help, actually. So, I guess I have you to thank for my Undergrad.”

              He dips in an exaggerated bow, tipping an imaginary hat at you. “You’re very welcome.”

              You laugh again, shaking your head in unconvincing disapproval. He rights himself and the two of you continue down the path, the sky settling into an orange-pink hue on the horizon, sun slowly falling below the treetops.

              “Have you decided yet if you’re going to go for your Master’s?” Paul asks after a moment.

              Your lip curls inward and you feel yourself instinctively bite down on it, contemplating your answer. “I’m not sure,” you say finally. “I might take a break first. Two more years – university has already been so expensive.”

              He nods, tearing his eyes from you for the first time since you’d left the house to examine the sky. “Makes sense. I mean, you’ve got a whole life ahead of you. Why rush, right?”

              Your eyes flicker to him. His jaw straight and sharp, lips just parted as he breathes in warm fresh air, arms extended behind him in a wide stretch as his joints comply in a series of satisfying cracks and pops. His warm skin almost glows in this light, you think, and suddenly he’s turning to you with big brown eyes.

              “What?” He says.

              You shake your head. “Nothing.”

              There’s another moment of silence where two sets of eyes settle on the ground, examining two pairs of shoes as two pairs of legs make their way down one long path. A blush heats your cheeks, and you furrow your brow in an effort to banish it, wondering what you had done to warrant it in the first place anyway.

              It is you who speaks first this time. “Are you looking forward to the wedding?” You say, hooking a thumb over your shoulder to where you left Sam and Emily’s house a few blocks away.

              Paul smiles, nods, tearing his eyes from his feet to meet yours again. Your heart skips for a moment, but you ignore it, focusing on his words. “Very. It’s been a long time coming – I can’t believe they even waited this long to tie the knot.”

              “They’re so happy,” you say, softly, thinking of the two of them sitting at the kitchen table, so enthralled by the mere sight of each other it was like you and Paul just disappeared. “It’s like they’re perfect for each other.”

              Paul lets out a low chuckle, but it’s dipped in sadness as it reaches your ears. “They are pretty perfect together.” He says. He turns to you suddenly, placing a hand on your arm to stop you in your tracks. You comply, confusion evident in your eyes as you meet his gaze, intense and kind. “Hey, so, I know I’m gonna be the best man and all – but, when all that stuff is over, I was wondering, I guess, if this isn’t weird to ask beforehand – do you wanna… save me a dance?”

              The heat returns to your cheeks, this time without question as to why. His expression so earnest, genuine, you can’t bring yourself to point out that this isn’t 19th century England – Sam and Emily weren’t going to have dance cards at their wedding for the ladies to fill with the names of potential suitors, and yours certainly wouldn’t be so full that he would have to claim one weeks ahead of time anyway. Instead, you smile, biting your lip to avoid laughing at his sweet gesture. Although you would mean it as a compliment, you’d rather not chance whether he would accept it as one. “I’d me more than happy to, Paul.”

              Again, he straightens, standing to his full height, a mountain of a man, and you both continue down the path together. You feel the ghost of his hand at the small of your back and he mutters under his breath, “I’m glad.”

--

              “Y/N!”

              The call comes from somewhere across the open field, white chairs arranged in neat rows on bright green grass. A crowd mills around the lawn, folks clad in buttoned shirts and floral dresses announcing the occasion as they chatter, awaiting the top of the hour when they’ll take their seats for the ceremony. It takes a moment for you to locate the voice that calls your name, until you spot a tall, muscular man in a black suit jogging towards you.

              “Paul!” You smile in greeting, tossing your arms around him when he reaches you. He returns the hug, almost lifting you from the ground as he pulls away – he’d been a wolf for years now and still hardly understood his own strength.

              His hands linger on your arms, and he leans back as he takes in your appearance for the day, an obvious disparity between your everyday attire and this one. “You look incredible,” he says.

              You suck in a breath, letting a smile ease across your lips. “Thank you,” you return, glancing down at the dress you’d chosen for the big day, patterned with blossoming white bouquets and deep brown branches, and run a hand over your hair. You’d tried your best to tame it, trying to emulate the more stylish women you’d seen around town with a sort of soft, subtle curl to it. Upon failure, you’d opted for one of those ‘intentionally messy’ looks, braiding your unruly locks back into a low ponytail. “I could say the same for you. You clean up nice.”

              He beams at this, tugging on his necktie and raising one brow. “I do, don’t I?”

              You laugh, gesturing behind him to a group of boys in matching suits, shouting and elbowing one another in what you’ve come to recognize as their classic fashion. “The whole pack does. I can’t believe Sam got all of you in suits.”

              “It wasn’t easy,” laments another voice from behind you, and you feel a strong arm wrap around your shoulder in a brotherly side-hug, the sort of protective motion that was not uncommon from Sam, who you recognize as you turn to meet his eyes. “Thanks so much for coming, Y/N. It means a lot to Emily and I.”

              “Thank you for inviting me!” You retort, leaning into the hug before he pulls away. “Congratulations are in order, I suppose.”

              He smiles widely, his eyes as bright as you’d ever seen them. Sam was not an unhappy man by any means of the word, but nothing made him light up quite like Emily. “Crazy, right? I can’t believe I got her to agree to marry me.”

              “Don’t be stupid, you’re a total catch, man!” Says Paul, who claps his friend on the back.

              You nod in agreement. “Paul’s right. You’re both very lucky to have found each other.”

              Sam lets out a subtle laugh, checking his wristwatch from under the sleeve of his tuxedo. “Oh, man. We should probably get everyone to take their places, it’s almost two o’clock.”

              Paul’s smile fades, replaced with an expression of determination. His best man duties, you’d gathered over the last few weeks of planning, were something he did not take lightly. His friend’s happiness was very important to him, and, although he could be a bit silly, you found it quite endearing. “Let’s hop to it then.” He swings around, cupping his hands around his mouth to address the group of rowdy boys behind him. “Hey! Places, guys. Em will be here in a few minutes. Get everybody sitting down!” He nods back to Sam, who offers a smile and a squeeze on your arm before jogging away to take his place at the altar, leaving you and Paul alone. He turns to you. “You gonna be okay alone?”

              You laugh, a hand on his arm. “I think I’ll manage,” you say. He doesn’t respond, only looking at you with raised eyebrows, as if awaiting your okay. You wave your hands towards him, shooing him away. “Go! You have things to do!”

              With that, another grin passes over his lips, and he turns, disappearing into the crowd. Suddenly aware of yourself, you scan the crowd for familiar faces, coming up empty. The whole wolf pack stands at attention beside Sam, and you know Leah must be with Emily, begrudgingly clad in a bridesmaid gown. Other than that, you notice, you cannot recognize a face.

              Nonetheless, heeding the boy’s request, you take a seat near the edge of a middle row, so as not to take the reserved seats of close family and friends. It isn’t long before the other guests follow suit, settling into their chairs, checking watches, wondering when the bride will arrive. After a moment, the seat beside you is occupied by a tall, lithe young man, light brown skin and a mass of curly hair atop his head. You’ve hardly taken notice of him when he speaks.

              “Andrew,” he says, extending his hand towards you. His blue collared shirt is unbuttoned two from the top, neckline dipping lower than one would expect. You return the gesture, shaking his hand in yours.

              “Y/N.” You answer, turning back to the stage.

              He continues. “How do you know the bride and groom?”

              “Old friend of the Clearwaters,” you say, pointing across the way to Sue, one of the few faces in the crowd you knew, and a middle-aged man you don’t recognize. “Newer friend of the Uley-Youngs.”

              He nods, apparently satisfied by your answer. A hand on his chest, he speaks again, answering a question you didn’t ask. “I’ve known Sam since we were kids. Grew up down the street from each other.”

              You offer a polite nod, willing the ceremony to start. Conversation with strangers was not your favorite pastime at the best of times, and this man, although he’d been polite thus far, kept a wandering eye on you so closely you couldn’t help but feel your skin crawl beneath it.

              “You look lovely, by the way.” He says, twirling the sleeve of your dress gently around his finger.

              You pull your shoulder from his reach as subtly as you can, offering a quiet “Thank you,” in response. Awkwardly, you feel your eyes scan the stage, unsure of what you’re searching for before you find it – always a welcome sight, the smiling eyes of a tall, muscular, shapeshifter boy. You widen your gaze at Paul, furrowing your brow, flicking your eyes from him to Andrew, back to him. You hope the message is understood.

              It appears to be, as Andrew chats away about nothing in particular, wondering if this is how he handles all his conversations, a constant stream of words without letting his partner interject their own word edgewise, as Paul narrows his eyes and mouths four words in your direction. This guy bothering you?

              A silent laugh escapes you, and you try to disguise it as a quick breath, as Andrew begins to explain to you his utter disdain for modern social media culture – though you’re not sure how he travelled to such an unrelated topic so quickly – and you return Paul’s message with your own: Help!

              Determination setting on his brow, he’s about to step off the stand when a soft melody plays from a set of speakers somewhere behind you. The crowd takes the cue to settle down, conversations fading into the background as the guests await the sight of the bride. Even Andrew stops mid-sentence, lamenting about his hatred for selfies or something or other, as the sweet sound of violin fills the breeze.

              Paul backs into place beside the other boys, another glance in your direction to make sure you’re alright. You nod, thankful for the music for stopping the conversation, and offer a thumbs-up to calm his obvious nerves. He straightens, apparently satisfied.

              The bridesmaids enter first, a few faces you don’t recognize, and Leah, smiling as widely as she can, given the circumstances, which, for her, is tight-lipped but genuine. She looks beautiful, short hair tied back in a fancy updo, rings of black hair falling from the style to frame her face. Her dress is soft, light and pink, so long it drags along the grass on the ground, ruffled straps framing her shoulders, revealing toned arms beneath. It’s the first time you’ve every seen her look like this, and, you admit, it took you a moment to even recognize her.

              Finally, the crowd rises, instructed by a woman in long robes at the front, in preparation for the bride. The music swells, awaiting Emily, long moments ticking by before she appears.

              You try hard to remember a time when you’ve seen a woman look more beautiful, or smile wider, than Emily does now. You can’t. Her look of excitement rivals any you’ve ever seen, beaming with joy so brightly you fear she might blind her guests. Her long, white dress is strapless, a curved heart-shaped neckline over her breast covered in soft lace. The skirt flows like water behind her, helped on by the breeze, layers of fabric dancing behind her as she approaches the altar, slowly, timed with the music. Her hands clasp a bursting bouquet of white flowers, bright green leaves and lavender – just as she imagined during the planning, you remember.

              When she reaches the altar, Leah accepts the flowers from her hands, and she places then instead in Sam’s open palms, entwining their fingers together. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen two people look at one another the way these two do. It a love you’ve never quite seen before; unlike movies, where the love is fast and harsh and forceful, this is soft, quiet and clear, two people sharing something the rest of the word can’t possibly understand. So natural, it seems strange to think that they ever lived without one another. Two halves.

              The rest of the ceremony passes in a daze, your heart full to bursting with happiness for your new friends and their union. The officiator shares stories of love, what it means and how the couple can pledge themselves to one another. They share vows, promising support, love, and companionship to the other in sickness and in health, and you feel tears forming in your eyes as Sam says the final words of his speech, and the officiator speaks again.

              “Sam, you may now kiss your bride,” she smiles.

              There isn’t a moment of hesitation before his arms are around her, fingers curling in her hair as she cups his face, lips dancing on one another as if they’ve been waiting for nothing else for months. Cheers erupt from the crowd, friends and family whooping and hollering as the couple breaks apart, turning to address their guests, and Sam raises his hand, still entwined in Emily’s, above his head in a victorious salute.

              Paul cups his hands around his lips, letting out a long, high-pitched howl at the sight of his best friend and his new wife. The rest of the pack follows suit, the boys clapping one another on the back and howling like the wolves only they knew each other to be. Even you, from your spot in the crowd, can’t help but join in, a long howl whistling past your lips as you lock your eyes on Paul. He picks you out of the crowd immediately, a broad smile splitting across his face at the recognition of your howl.

              The party is led out by the bride and groom, hands clasped together as they’re followed by their friends, each boy offering an arm to a bridesmaid. Paul tosses a wink in your direction as he passes you down the aisle, Leah’s hand wrapped half-heartedly around his arm. They disappear after a moment, piling into cars to head to their next location, for picture-taking and reception preparation as you find yourself once again without a friendly face in the vicinity, and cringe at the voice over your shoulder.

              “I assume I’ll see you at the reception?” Andrew says, his voice deep in an effort to sound… coy? You nod politely, lips pressed together in a thin line without word. “Maybe you’ll save me a dance, then?”

              You once again, like so many times in the past few weeks find yourself without words, wondering how to respond to such a comment. You must act fast, you think, as your silence will eventually become unbearably awkward, even more so than this interaction already has been. The ‘no’ you want to respond with gets lost somewhere in your stuttering, instead opting for a quiet “Sure thing,” and a swing on your heel, down the aisle and through the crowd, hoping to lose him before he can respond. A long breath of relief escapes your lungs as a moment later you’re leaning against a tree, surrounded by strangers, at the realization that Andrew hasn’t followed you. Perhaps come the reception, you can hope that he won’t notice you. Another quick glance through the crowd and a tall, lithe figure with dark curly hair catches your eye, waving an awkward goodbye as he elbows his way through the mass of people, and something tells you that won’t be likely.

[soysaucevictim]

Busy, busy, busy... also this post is hella long.

-

Aug. 20

I woke up around 8AM today.

I was picked up by a new/different transport service than before. Got out there in a rush, because I didn’t get up at an ideal time.

Since I was earlier to the facility and bored before group, I decided to go into the TV Room and continue sorting the VHS cassettes. Felt productive, but worked up a little sweat going up and down.

Seeking Safety went alright. I did the DD afterwards, 30 raised leg push-ups with EC... twice. I mis-remembered it as 15/15, not alternating. Pffft. :P

Then I got a chance to replace my cell. Here’s to hoping it won’t be a giant headache. But it was a thing in the anxiety BG noise to deal with, and this was needed.

Got home, did some dishes, made dinner (a bit cranky, but I’m just tired), BS’D, and did the rest of my exercise.

First, Day 10 of the PO!C. 200 overhead punches, done in one go. I alternated sides with each rep. I started feeling it by the last ~50-100 reps.

Second, Day 10 of the CoSC. 2x40″ calf raise holds. Only rested ~10″. Doable, despite being overtired.

Last, Day 10 of the 30DoY. Nice upright/standing sequence. Love the tree pose, but I did get some awkward tension in my left ankle doing them. Might not’ve been as attentive of form for that, but still, good work!

-

Aug. 21

I got up a bit after noon.

Did a bit of the usual stuff, overate and was groggy for a few hours. Was roped into playing more rummy with the family. (I won twice and grandma won once... wasn’t Dad’s day, it would seem.)

I then did my exercise.

First, today’s DD. 20 pop-up tripods with EC. Very fatiguing, especially the last half, taking a bit of digging deep to get through that! Ooof. :P

Second, Day 11 of the PO!C. 240 punches, bounce-switching every 20, and done in one go. Fun and breezy.

Third, Day 11 of the CoSC. 110 calf raises, split into 2x55. I believe I had to rest ~20″ in between. Doable, but tougher than throwing those punches!

Last, Day 11 of the 30DoY. Okay. I liked MOST of this sequence. Except TWO of the exercises. One being that hollow hold, because I never much cared for ‘em (neck strain). The OTHER was that SHOULDER STAND. Okay. The BIGGEST issue was space negotiation during the transitions (and the position of my computer, in relation to my body).

I knew I would have to do those with wall assist (did it one foot on wall at full extension). I have never done a handstand/etc before.

See how MOST of the positions have the legs splayed out at or near full extension (like that hollow hold)? That meant my upperbody was pretty damn far away from the wall. So I had to waste like 5-10″ just getting up to one.

And then I had to scramble toward getting to the fullest expression I could in ~5 more seconds. Which is hairy because you have to also mind how much pressure your head/neck is getting, during the 5-10″ left of the interval. It’s something I honestly don’t feel comfortable rushing to get into and out of. (Hell - it’s the reason I kinda swore off doing plows anymore.) orz

Now you have to lose ~5″ to getting down and extending into corpse pose. Which as a resting pose really feels hard to appreciate for only 10-15″, before repeating the sequence. :I

Now, If I COULD drop into said shoulder stand anywhere - a lot of that wouldn’t be an issue. Well, I’m glad I’ll only a have to do that one one more time in this program. And I think it’ll be way easier to negotiate from/to that knee hug before/afterwards.

-

Aug. 22

I woke up a bit before 7:30AM, today.

Got to the facility and worked on a composition sketch for a new project, I’m working on. Also spent some time doodling some of that Kefka art I recently posted. That and I listened to music, leading up to my WRAP Group - which went well enough.

I then did the DD (and a bit of socialization), before leaving the facility. 40 raised leg circles, with EC. I did this one while I was out at the facility again. Glad I remembered correctly how many to do - because that was tough! :U

Had a minor confusion about home-bound transit - but that smoothed out pretty quick.

Got home, updated a transportation reservation for next week (tripping over my words because tired), made some business arrangements, gave the ears some TLC, before a small-ish break (with the usual stuff).

I also did the rest of my exercise, kinda late.

First, Day 12 of the PO!C. 240 overhead punches, done in one go. I decided to go for 120/120 today - and oof. Last 20-40 reps on each side did get pretty intense!

Second, Day 12 of the CoSC. 2x40″ calf raise holds. I basically paused 3-10″ between sets. Manageable.

Last, Day 12 of the 30DoY. 10′ meditation. Since I got a lot of things done today - I felt a bit less fidgety.

-

Aug. 23

I woke up a bit after 11AM.

Did some more arrangements, poked the usual stuff, and did today’s DD (since today’s an active rest day, it’s the only exercise stuff I’m doing). 40 bridges with EC. This was very doable, but it did get more challenging near the end!

I then did some dishes, made some dinner, watched some Devilman Crybaby, while running some maintenance on my computer.

I needed to fix an issue involving my tablet settings- cursor disappearing on me intermittently. Blew a gasket until I figured what happened. Short of it, I think it was problems with Windows Ink.

But given I was frazzled and it was getting late. I didn’t get much else done.

-

Aug. 24

I woke up a bit after 10AM.

One of the first things I got done was today’s exercises.

First, today’s DD. 40 plank rotations with EC. This was pretty intense, had a few moments where my center was a bit off. But I managed to keep it for the whole duration. :P

Second, Day 13 of the PO!C. 260 punches, done in one go. I hop-switched at every 20 punches. Very fun and doable.

Third, Day 13 of the CoSC. 120 calf raises, split into 2x60. Rested probably ~20” in between. A bit tough, but doable.

Last, Day 13 of the 30DoY. The sequence was alright, I just don’t think my head was properly in the game. Got my cues a bit mixed up and only managed to get in a few seconds for the dancer pose on right foot (non-dominant side) - struggled to get my center stable enough to hold the expression very long today. Ah well, that’s how it is sometimes.

Spent some time with the usual, afterwards, before getting a commission done. Will be posting that when I get the green light.

-

Aug. 25

I woke up a bit before noon.

First, today’s DD. 2′ leg extensions (donkey kicks) with EC. I counted 83 reps by the time was up, and this was a fun exercise to do! :D

Second, Day 14 of the PO!C. 260 overhead punches, done in one go. I alternated with each punch and it did get pretty tough!

Third, Day 14 of the CoSC. 2x50″ calf raise holds. I rested about 10″ and this was pretty breezy still.

Last, Day 14 of the 30DoY. Oof, I had to make a few mods here. I think tiring my arms out from those overheads probably made things more challenging. I did the first upward dog proper - but after that I changed them out for cobras. Both push-up planks were sloppy - had to do the latter on my knees. Might have to do my punches AFTER plank-ish days like this one.

I then spent some time making some final touches/revisions on that commission (which I also just posted.) I did one pass through editing down the footage of me drawing it, too.

Remainder of night was spent on the usual.

-

Aug. 26

I woke up a bit before 11AM.

Did a second and final pass through video editing, before posting that footage today.

I then did my exercises for the day.

First, today’s DD. 1′ bicep extensions with EC. I'm going to count 74 reps, may've done more but unsure if that was an over-count. Anyways - another fun exercise!

Second, Day 15 of the PO!C. 300 punches, done in one go, bounce-switching at every 20.

Third, Day 15 of the CoSC. 130 calf raises, split into 2x65. Was getting to feel that - but it wasn’t too bad.

(After a break and a shower...)

Last, Day 15 of the 30DoY. 10′ meditation. Not a lot to say about this other than I believe it was pretty calming.

I kinda went to bed a bit later than usual - I felt compelled to share with pops a few history/political things. Glad though, that he was receptive and curious about said subjects (even if we jumped from Iran, to China, to Helen Keller and Woodrow Wilson... of all things.)

-

Aug. 27

I woke up a bit before 7:30AM.

Got to the facility, did the DD right away. 2′ palm strikes with EC. I got in 93 reps in the duration. The only thing that really hampered my pace was using my mp3 player as a timer, but it was no less fun! :D

Group went well enough. And I spent the rest of my time there doing some sketches and socializing (though, I admit I just didn’t get enough sleep and might not have been as great in communicating some stuff).

Once I got home and after I was able to put an order in for a bokken. Katana Week, here I come! (Well, after I’m done with current arrangements and the excitement is real!)

I was also roped into playing some cards. Dad won both games, which fair, since he didn’t win any the last time we played. Pffft!

I then spent a few on the usual, before getting in the rest of my exercise.

First, Day 16 of the PO!C. 300 overhead punches, split into 3x100. Rested ~20″ in between and alternated with each rep. A bit challenging, given my energy levels, but doable!

Second, Day 16 of the CoSC. 2x50″ calf raise holds. Rested only about 10″ again. Still very manageable.

Last, Day 16 of the 30DoY. I liked a good chunk of today’s sequence and felt generally good about my flow between each exercise (I loved the O, boat, and half lord of the fishes poses)! I did however pull a hamstring doing that single leg bridge variation - mostly because I felt to  shift the planted foots position while up. But I took care with the remaining exercises, sneaking a few moments to massage it when I could. I think we’re good!

-

Aug. 28

I woke up around 11AM, today. I got my exercise in pretty early, too.

First, today’s DD. 40 modified scissors with EC. I rather like this version of scissors - feels better in the hips and generally more fun!

Second, Day 17 of the PO!C. 340 punches, in one go, bounce-switching kind of inconsistently due to lack of focus (20-40, I believe.) Nevertheless, a perennial favorite!

Third, Day 17 of the CoSC. 140 calf raises, split into 2x70. Still very manageable work!

Last, Day 17 of the 30DoY. I appreciated that this was a gentler practice, today. I did mod that upward dog into a cobra because I kinda wanted to keep it chill. But all in all - I enjoyed myself a lot! =w=

The only other particularly productive things I got done were cancelling a reservation), doing dishes, and making dinner for the family.

Other than that - yeah. Same old business.

-

Aug. 29

I woke up around the same time as yesterday..

I determined that I would not be able to get to the facility, but did reschedule that appointment. Going to have to figure out my transportation stuff while some forms get dealt with. :/

After much of the usual, I did my exercise.

First, today’s DD. 2′ elbow clicks with EC. I counted 142 reps for the duration, but after the ~100 mark, elbows stopped being able to consistently make contact. The willpower game was real, but it was still fun!

Second, Day 18 of the PO!C. 340 overhead punches, split into 160+180.

Third, Day 18 of the CoSC. 2x1′ calf raise holds. I only dropped for ~5″ to reset the timer today. Very manageable!

Last, Day 18 of the 30DoY. 10′ meditation. My mind wandered to commission-related stuff. But I did try to stay focused on sensation of breath throughout the session.

I think I’m going to draw today, barring further distractions.

(Okay... I need to actually post this damn thing already.)

[nikkxb]

What Money Can Buy

Inuyasha Pairing: KogKag Rating: Mature Prompt: @iinuyashaa said “Kouga’s like a wholesome sugar daddy” and it was a downward spiral from there. Coffee Shop AU for AU Yeah August. Author’s Note: Listen, if you squint, you can see the coffee shop part of the au, promise.

The black credit card had been burning a hole in her pocket all week. Every time she opened her wallet, it caught her eye. Hard not to considering how out of place it was. Still, even with the compromise they came to, she shied away from it and either used her own debit card or the little bit of cash she had each time she paid.

Kagome wasn’t certain how long it was going to take before the sight of that black sliver didn’t shock her or if she would ever get used to it. The entire idea was completely foreign, but her protests hadn’t worked and he continued reminding her of the crazy arrangement she made, so she simply ignored it instead.

Until now. Apparently, Kouga really didn’t like her not using his card and he had the uncanny ability to call at the worst possible times.

“Kagome,” he said as her coffee order was called, his voice a mix of affection and exasperation, “I gave you the card so you can use it.”

“Yeah, but I have it covered.”

Miroku handed her the drink when she neared the counter, his raised eyebrow indicating that he knew exactly the conversation she was having on the phone. No privacy anywhere.

“The schedule’s posted,” he said, glancing at the new customers that just walked in. “Tell Kouga hi for me.”

Cup of coffee and lemon scone in one hand, phone to her ear in the other, Kagome didn’t hesitate to escape the noise of the cafe and slip into the back. Her eyes went to the bulletin board just as she realized the silence coming from the other end of the line.

“Kouga?”

“I’m here,” he said, something warm curling in her stomach at the adoration still in his tone. “How’s your schedule look for next week?”

Damn the man for asking about the one thing she didn’t want to tell him.

“It’s…alright.”

Her pause had been too noticeable.

“How many hours?”

She blew out a breath. “Eighteen.”

The beat of silence that came after that told her all she needed to know: her streak of ignoring the shiny new card in her wallet was about to end.

“Kouga, I’m fine, I prom—”

“We made a deal, right?” Concern started to thread through the other emotions in his voice, but she focused on the affection instead. “I agreed that I won’t pay your bills, you agreed to let me pay for everything else.”

“I haven’t needed to buy—”

“And we also agreed that food doesn’t count as a bill,” he continued, confirming her suspicions. He knew she paid for her coffee. “Nor do clothes or dinners with friends or the new book you’ve had your eye on for three weeks.”

“Kouga—”

“Use the card, beautiful.” Wise of him not to let her speak, especially paired with that pet name that sent her stomach fluttering, and they’d been dating long enough for him to utilize the knowledge effectively. “Go shopping, get your groceries, meet Sango for drinks, and have fun. Please. Use the card.”

“Kouga, I told you the slow season was coming up—”

“If you don’t use that card, I’m going to shop for you.”

She froze, knowing Kouga just won. The last time he’d purchased something for her, she came home to a box containing shoes more expensive than her rent and a jewelry set that could have supplied lunch to a small army. Considering he hadn’t even touched clothes, Kagome couldn’t take the risk of him dropping a fortune in retaliation and stocking that in her closet.

And then expect her wear said fortune.

“I love you,” he said softly, breaking through the mental struggle she was experiencing.

“I love you, too.”

“Have fun today. See you tonight.”

Kagome stared at her phone, running through the conversation again in her head. Her thumb moved and she tapped Sango’s name before putting the phone to her ear.

It appeared that she was going shopping.

*

She was heading toward the line at the bookstore when Sango showed up. Kagome hadn’t intended to start there, but one look at the store amidst a sea of clothes and expenses, she knew it would be easier. A book was simple. Small and easy, something she would have afforded herself and something she knew without a doubt he would have gifted her with.

So with book in one hand and wallet in the other, Kagome made her way to the register before she was interrupted by Sango.

“He finally get to you?” her friend asked with obvious amusement.

“He threatened to go shopping for me himself if I didn’t start using his card.”

Her complaint was received with a laugh.

“You’re not supposed to be on his side,” Kagome spouted in annoyance. “What happened to being strong, independent women?”

“Strong, independent women get to be strong, independent women because they’re smart, Kagome,” Sango shot back easily. “So when a strong, independent woman falls in love with a strong, handsome man who’s so in love with her, he wants to give her the world—and just so happens to make enough money to do so—said strong, independent woman thanks her lucky stars and accepts her new sugar daddy.”

“Don’t call him that!” she hissed, looking around at anyone who might have heard. “He doesn’t have to give me his money to give me the world. He doesn’t have to give me money at all.”

Sango’s response was interrupted by the line moving and one of the cashiers calling for Kagome, so she took the interruption and placed her book on the counter. Her fingers stuttered over the black card, not even able to touch it, before she shook her head and—

Use the card, beautiful.

Kagome didn’t blink as she passed over the thick, black credit card, finished out her transaction, and tucked the card and receipt in her wallet. Sango was waiting for her and if she focused on that, she could grab the bag and get going and be out of the bookstore and into the mall before she finally realized what she actually did.

“Oh my God, I have a sugar daddy.”

“Now she’s getting it,” Sango cheered, bumping her shoulder into Kagome’s.

“I’m a total slut.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Sango, I have a sugar daddy.”

“And you fell in love with him before you knew how much money he had.”

“But—“

“Kagome.”

That hard tone had her gaze shooting up.

“Are you with Kouga because of his money?”

Kagome shook her head.

“If Kouga was just as broke as you, would you leave him?”

She shook her head again.

“Are you using Kouga?”

Another shake, this one with wide eyes, but Sango continued before she could speak.

“Then stop.”

Standing there in the middle of the mall, Kagome reflected over their relationship and how it progressed over the last year since he first came into the coffee shop she worked at. How he continued coming in to talk to her, how he finally asked her out for lunch, and then how he nurtured a relationship between the two of them before she finally fell in love.

“Do you think he gets something out of buying stuff for me?” Kagome blurted out.

“Probably,” Sango shrugged. “I would be surprised if he didn’t, but I think it’s more to do with taking care of you than some type of power trip.”

“So me not using his card,” she paused, not quite certain what she thought of her own realization, “is like an insult?”

Sango’s eyes softened and she leaned in. “I can’t answer that, Kagome. You have to ask him. But you said you needed some new bras, right?”

Oof, good hit. Kagome was wearing her last good one and that was saying something considering it was holding on by a thread.

Sango read her expression correctly. “Let’s go get you some bras. You can rationalize it later when you remember what Kouga gets out of you buying lingerie.”

*

Shopping turned out to be a good idea.

First, Kouga noticed. Ten minutes after she left the bookstore, he sent her a text containing a single, red heart. After she left the lingerie shop, his text told her he was taking her out that evening on a date paired with that knowing eyes emoji. Sango took one look at “date” and made sure she found a new dress to go with her sexy underwear. And after the dress, she stumbled upon a few clothing essentials and Kagome spent more in one afternoon than she could remember spending in months, but each purchase was rewarded with sweet words from Kouga. It made the whole thing easy to swallow.

Second, she really did need the clothes. Well, maybe not everything she bought, but the underwear, definitely. And nice fitting jeans were hard to find, especially when they were on sale — which they were. And comfortable shorts that didn’t show off her butt cheeks almost didn’t exist anymore, but she found a few pairs anyway. So with all of that, Kagome ended up with more clothing than she had been anticipating, but it was all clothing she would wear.

Exception to the dress. Not many places would she wear that, but she was getting use out of it on their date and it was nice to have a nice gown in her closet in case something like this happened again.

And it was a wonderful date. Kouga took her to a really nice restaurant where he was dressed in a button down with no tie and good-fitting slacks that showed off the length of his legs. He always looked good no matter what he wore, but in her new dress and heels, Kagome almost felt like she finally fit next to him.

She still preferred him in jeans and a tee hanging out at the park. Their casual dates were where she fell in love with him and she wouldn’t trade them for all the nice champagne in the world.

But Kouga loved taking her out, showing her off to anyone they saw. He asked about her shopping and what she got, Sango and how she was doing with her upcoming summer classes, even about work and life and Kagome’s other friends and reminding her all over again why she loved him. Even with his ridiculous amount of money.

It was only on their way to his home when Kagome finally plucked up the courage to ask him the question she’d been wondering for days.

“Kouga, why do you want me to spend your money?”

“Because I like taking care of you,” he answered immediately.

“Yeah, but you already take care of me.”

He tore his eyes away from the road for a split second to study her. “Not in the same way.”

“But I don’t need you to,” she said, trying to sort through her own thoughts. “I don’t need all of this. The dress is nice, but completely unnecessary if I get to be with you.”

The came to a stop in front of a red light and Kouga took the opportunity to reach out and squeeze her hand. “It’s necessary to me.”

She jerked, but he continued talking.

“Let me explain.” He squeezed her hand again. “No, you don’t need any of this. You are more than capable of surviving on your own and you were doing a damn good job of it before I met you. I don’t want to take that from you, Kagome, because I know how important it is to you.”

So far, so good; he was making sense and still acknowledging her pride.

“You’re a giving person. I’ve never seen someone hand out their heart to so many people in so many ways. You remember the day I finally talked to you? I watched you pull out your own wallet to paid for a little girl to get a cookie because she just so happened to walk in from the rain.”

“Every child deserves a cookie when they’re scared and looking for their mother,” she protested quietly.

His face broke out in an immediate, large smile. “See? You’re still doing it now.” Kouga turned back to the road as the light turned green. “Kagome, you give and give and give all the time. I look at you and all I want to do is give back.”

“You already give back.”

“Not enough.”

“Kouga,” she stressed, “it is enough.”

He was quiet, a frown starting to furrow his eyebrows and she let him have the moment to think. “It’s enough for you because you’re happy with me, something I’m damned lucky for and always will be. But it’s not enough for me, not when there’s so much more I can give you.”

Sango’s words echoed in Kagome’s ear.

“And since you’re so stubborn and won’t let me take care of you the way I really want to,” he continued, his tone turning teasing, “I do it this way. You want to pay your bills? I understand and respect that. But a shopping spree? Nice clothes and pretty dresses and good books you’re going to read and the peace of mind that you’ll have all of that even when you have slow hours at work? That is what I want to give you.”

She never thought of it that way, not in the sense of what Kouga was feeling. After being on the receiving end of pity masked as care far too many times, Kagome learned to refuse help she didn’t earn. But if giving her a credit card made Kouga feel at ease, that made it a little different.

Only one question left to ask and it was one she really wanted the answer to, but she wasn’t sure it was an answer she wanted to face.

“Was it insulting when I didn’t use your card?”

His silence said everything.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t mean it, Kagome,” he interrupted softly, “and I didn’t tell you for a reason.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t think it was fair to guilt you into doing something you really didn’t want to do.”

Her heart warmed with affection for this man. “Is that why you kept calling me when you noticed I wasn’t using it?”

“Part of it,” he grinned, “but mostly because I really enjoy seeing just how stubborn you can be.”

“I still bought way too much today,” she said. “Some of it has got to be taken back—”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Kouga squeezed her hand again. “I’ll rip the tags off and steal your receipts if I have to, but you’re not returning anything after I finally got you to spoil yourself.”

That tugged at her heart even more, a small smile growing on her lips as she realized just how much it meant to him.

Still, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. “I still feel weird.”

“I know and I think you’ll feel weird for a while.” Kouga pulled into the driveway to his home, parking in the garage before turning to face her. “But thank you for doing it, anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

He looked at her in the dim lights of his garage, his eyes dancing over her face and then down her dress. His grin turned dirty and Kagome’s cheeks instantly heated as she remembered what the grin was for. “Please tell me you’re wearing your new lingerie. I’ve been dying to see what you bought all day.”

“You think I bought them for you?” she asked, feigning propriety in order to hide the sudden bout of bashfulness.

“I know you did.” He undid his seatbelt and slid out of the car and Kagome knew better than to open her door before he got to it. Some things, she was learning, meant a lot to him and Kouga really wanted to take care of her in his own way.

He helped her out of the car, pulling her up and into his body as he let his hands slide down the silk covering her sides before they settled on her hips. “This dress looks fantastic.”

“Sango helped me pick it out,” she answered, sliding her arms up and around his neck.

“I’ll have to thank her.” He crowded her against the car door. “But first, I need to see what you have on under here.”

“Nothing special,” she lied.

His eyes were knowing as he leaned down and touched his lips to hers. Her heels made kissing him easier, a simple tilt of her neck as she pressed her body against his, welcoming the slide of his tongue.

“Do you work tomorrow?” he murmured in her ear as he nipped the sensitive skin of her neck.

“No,” she breathed.

“Good.” His tongue slid down her neck and he sucked gently on the curve of her shoulder. “You can spend the day showing me everything you bought.”

“Is this going to become a thing?” she asked, desperately focusing on the feel of his mouth rather than the reminder of her day. “A fashion show every time I use your card?”

Something in her voice must have tipped him off because he pulled back, his eyes finding hers and searching out answers to questions he didn’t ask. He didn’t need to; his concern was etched over his face.

“Does it really bother you?”

She swallowed, forcing herself to meet his gaze, consider his feelings, swallow her pride, and be truthful about her day. “At first, yes. But after talking to you, I think…I think I feel a little better.”

The silence stretched as he watched her, but then he must have found whatever he had been looking for and a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “If you’re really struggling, I don’t mind shopping for you.”

“Oh no,” she returned immediately, already picturing the monstrosities she’d come home to. “Please don’t. I’ll be fine with this.”

“Good.” Kouga kissed her again, then pulled her away from the car. “Now come on — it’s about time I really appreciate some of your purchases.”

I know the focus about the credit card sounds like ridiculous consumerism, but if you guys ever get the chance to hold a black American Express card, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve had a few come through my register when I worked at a bookstore in college and oh man, you know something’s different the instant it touches your fingers. It’s insane.

Also, thanks to anon, smutty second chapter here!

[fbwzoo]

I’m super curious, how did you decide you wanted the pets you have? My first exotic pet (a turtle) was basically brought in by my dad bc he’s has no impulse control but after reserching that pets care I decided I liked caring for hands-off animals who needed varied diets. (Also turtles make horrible impulse buys kids don’t do what my dad did lol)

I’m glad the turtle ended up working well for you! Definitely not a good impulse purchase, oof. And uhhh I ramble a ton, so this turned out really long. So I’ll put the long stories under a read more and the tl;dr version is:

Hedgehogs - wanted small animal pet to be my very own, but wasn’t interested in small rodents at the time. Hedgehogs were new & interesting, and I stuck with them because I loved their personalities & that for the most part, they just snuggle with you while you read, watch TV, etc.

Hermit crabs - commonly neglected pet, which I’m a sucker for. My mentality was “well, I can provide better than like 95% of people”. I’ve stuck with them because I love to feed them & they’re amusing to watch…and I’m going to keep ending up with them bc I can still provide better than like 95% of people so I have a hard time saying no.

Ball python - commonly neglected pet & I’ve always wanted to get into reptiles since my mom wouldn’t let me before. Got Charis specifically because previous owner was my roomie’s cousin & horribly neglected her.

Cats - I love cats & wanted more since losing family cat when I was 19. Fell in love with Ebony specifically at wildlife rehab & got her as soon as I had a full-time job secured (I literally called from the parking lot to give the news & arrange to go get her). Ditto chose us bc we’re suckers!

If you want to read more of my ramblings, look under the cut! :)

I got into hedgehogs because when I turned 18, my mom agreed to let me get my own pet that would be just mine (as the dog/cat were family pets). Couldn’t be a reptile, I wasn’t terribly interested in fish, and it had to be fairly small - she ruled out rabbits & ferrets. So I was looking at hamsters, mice, rats, etc. I wasn’t very interested in hamsters, mice, & other small rodents at the time, so kept looking. I found out about hedgehogs and was fascinated. So I ended up getting my Lily! I didn’t do nearly enough research before I got her, unfortunately, but luckily she was forgiving of my mistakes & I spent the first year I had her getting things fixed & doing my best to spoil her. I still love hedgehogs because they’re fairly chill and don’t absolutely need tons of hands-on handling time, but they’re still good for bundling in a blanket and snuggling with you while you read, watch TV, etc. 

When I moved out, I hadn’t had a hedgehog for several years by that point & was desperate to have them again. So I ended up in contact with a rescue in the KC area - who I ended up befriending, and now he’s my bf (and his husband is my partner too)!! ♥ I got Bindi and Pancake both from him & he also has my Bassy boy too.

For the hermit crabs, I read an article about them sometime in college, about how they’re all taken from the wild & about the shell shortage in the wild. It went into a bit of detail about how their needs are often unknown or overlooked as well…and I was hooked. I’m a sucker for commonly neglected animals! I did some more reading & decided I wanted to rescue hermit crabs eventually. I ended up getting the chance shortly afterwards because I was talking (infodumping) to a classmate about what hermit crabs need & it turned out she had two that she wasn’t providing all this stuff for. She wasn’t really interested in improving things & offered them to me. When I posted about it on FB, a neighbor who only had one left after losing the second offered me theirs as well. So I spent 2 weeks in a flurry setting up a 40g tank & brought home my first three crabs! 3.5 years later……a 130g tank of 19, and a 55g tank of 5. Sigh. XD I still like having hermit crabs because again, they’re hands-off & I love feeding them! They have a massively varied diet and that’s my biggest interest within my animal interest. Plus they’re fun to watch because they’re dorks.

Charis, my ball python, I got because I wanted a ball python for a few years, again due to the commonly-neglected type thing. They’re so common in the pet trade that people don’t always do enough research, and there’s so much misinformation out there on how big of enclosures to give them & that they “don’t need enrichment”, which is bullshit. My roommate’s cousin had Charis & was NOT taking care of her at all. Seriously - she was in a 20g tank with one open hide, one water bowl, no heat, and no light. Prior to that he was keeping her in a PILLOWCASE for at least a month because he didn’t have a tank set up for her. She has scars on her because when he first got her at a couple years old, he didn’t know better & she had access to a heat bulb in her tank - which of course she wrapped around & got burned. It was just a mess and I’m so glad she’s safe with me now (though she lives at my partners’ house bc of apartment rules). Once I’m living in a bigger place where snakes aren’t banned, I would like to rescue another ball python & perhaps some other snake species as well! It’ll depend on how much room I have to work with though, and it’ll be slow due to wanting to purchase good sized cages prior to getting the sneks.

The cats…Idk, I love kitties! I missed having a cat around after we lost our family cat when I was around 19, I think. I was still around them a lot from petsitting & working at Wildside. I fell in love with Ebony at Wildside & told the rehabber there for years that she was mine & I was taking her home someday. She was quiet, but loved when someone would come over & give her attention, and liked to climb up on your shoulders to purr in your ear & lick your cheek. So literally the day that I was offered a full-time job at my workplace here, I called Wildside from the parking lot & asked if I could still have her & made plans to drive up & get her at the end of the month.

Ditto….well, she chose us because we’re suckers. XD Gotta feed the poor skinny stray cat…and pet it…and shit, she’s friendly….oh look she came straight into the living room….crap she’s really lovey and adorable and oops, she’s ours now.

[upstartpoodle]

The Cornish Way (Chapter 4)

Rating: G

Pairing: George x Elizabeth, Francis x Demelza (background), Caroline x Dwight (background), Verity x Blamey (background)

Summary: The fourth chapter of my coffee shop AU, in which in which Elizabeth takes George to the beach, cream teas are bought and their relationship progresses.

Previous chapter

“Oh very well, you win” Elizabeth sighed at the large oncoming tractor that had been sitting defiantly in the middle of the little lane leading up to Rowantree Farm, waiting for her and the two other cars behind her to give in and back up into the closest passing place so that it could continue on its journey. Though she loved her home county with all her heart, the one thing she had never much liked about it was the inevitable standoffs one always found oneself in should they need to drive along any of the narrow roads that made up a large part of the countryside. She had grown used to it over the years, of course—she had once got stuck behind a fifteen-minute standoff between two overly stubborn tractor drivers, which had been frustrating to say the least—but it didn’t mean that she enjoyed the prospect any more than she had as a nervous young girl learning to drive for the first time. Just that she was better at dealing with it.

She backed carefully into the passing place that she had driven by a little way back, much to the chagrin of the people behind her, who then had to follow suit, and allowed the tractor to trundle slowly past. Even with her own car pressed almost right into the high hedge at the side of the road, it was a tight squeeze, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but wince as it passed by far too close for comfort. Once it was gone, she gingerly manoeuvred the car out of the passing place and back out into the road, hoping that she wouldn’t have to do that again for some time, though she realised all too well that she was being optimistic to the point of wishful thinking on that score. 

She and George had spent a fair amount of the first week of his holiday in each other’s company, having now shared several lunches and pleasant afternoons together. The day before, however, she had suggested that they do something a little different. Now that the summer was here, she was keen to take advantage of the good weather in the time before the kids broke up from school to go down to the beach and paint a few seascapes, and she had asked George if he would like to come with her for the day. He had agreed, and so they had made arrangements for her to pick him up from the farm the next morning.

Well, made arrangements was perhaps not the right phrase, she considered as she turned left into the drive leading up to the farmhouse and cottage, watching in amusement as one of the farm’s sheepdogs came bounding up to the car to greet it. George had protested, not wanting to feel as if he were imposing on her by making her go out of her way to pick him up, but Elizabeth’s greater experience with driving along the narrow lanes of rural Cornwall had effectively settled the matter.

The dog followed her as she pulled into the drive of the holiday cottage beside George’s sleek black car, and as soon as she had stepped out of the door, she was beset by an excitedly barking whirl of hair. She laughed in delight, stroking the collie’s thick, soft fur as its tail wagged frantically and it strained to lick her face.

“Oh I’m sorry, miss! Bessie, down!”

The dog barked in consternation but complied nevertheless, tail still wagging furiously, and Elizabeth glanced up to see a young man who she knew by sight as Jim Carter rushing towards her with an apologetic look on his kind face. He bent down and took hold of the dog, apparently named Bessie, patting her gently on the head.

“Sorry about that, miss,” he said again. “Bessie’s super friendly but she wants to say hello to everyone she meets. She can give some people a bit of a fright.”

“Oh it’s alright—I don’t mind,” laughed Elizabeth. She adored all animals but she loved dogs especially—she had always wanted a dog as a child but her mother hadn’t wanted a puppy messing up her nice clean house. “Can I?”

“Oh, of course” said Jim, and Elizabeth reached out to scratch Bessie behind the ear. She was a lovely dog—all bright blue eyes and fine, soft fur patched with black and white.

“Aren’t you beautiful? Yes, yes you are!”

“Having fun there?”

Elizabeth jumped at the sound of the voice and turned around to see George standing in the open doorway of the cottage, leaning casually against the frame with a soft, affectionate smile on his face. He was looking very handsome, she noticed, dressed in a pair of thin, dark jeans, a crisp white shirt and a tan jacket which nicely complemented his neat blond hair. Her eyes couldn’t help but travel up and down his form, coming to rest on the long line of his throat where it was exposed by the open collar of his shirt, and she blushed slightly.

“Oh yes,” she replied with a teasing grin. “I think I’ll just take Bessie to the beach instead.”

Both George and Jim chuckled at that.

“Usurped by a dog—oof!”

Elizabeth burst out laughing. Bessie, having just spotted George, had chosen that exact moment to turn her enthusiasm on him, and had practically tried to leap into his arms.

They set of awhile afterwards, the car followed all the way down the drive by a disappointed Bessie and a slightly harassed-looking Jim, who managed to catch her just before she left the farm entirely. Luckily, no more tractors appeared to force them back into any passing places, and from there on the journey went fairly smoothly.

“Where exactly did you have in mind?” George asked curiously as thy turned onto a main road, heading south, and it occurred to Elizabeth that, though she had suggested a trip to the beach, she hadn’t specified which one.

“I was thinking Nampara Cove,” she said, tapping out a soft rhythm on the steering wheel as she drove. “Not a lot of people go there since it’s not too easy to get to compared to some of the larger beaches, so it’s always pretty quiet. I thought we could have a picnic.”

“You can go to Nampara Cove now?,” replied George with a slight frown. “I thought it was Poldark land.”

“Oh it was. Ross sold it all when he moved to America so it’s all public access now. People tend to go to Hendrawna for their days out though since it’s bigger.”

“And because it’s easier to get to?,” said George, and she noticed there was a hint of apprehension in his tone as he spoke. “How difficult is Nampara Cove to get down to?”

“Oh not very difficult really,” replied Elizabeth airily, keen to put his worries at rest. “The path down from the cliffs is just a bit steep and rough in some places. It’s not a problem unless you’ve got a pushchair or a wheelchair, but a lot of people don’t want the bother of getting down there and then back up again when they could go to somewhere that’s a bit quicker to get to. And besides, Hendrawna’s closer to the teashop so people tend to gather there in hordes.”

“There’s a teashop?”

“Oh yes. They do cream teas there, and earl grey as well, so that should keep you happy!”

George chuckled. He had confessed to her after lunch in the coffee shop in Truro that he had always been more of a tea drinker himself, at which point she had correctly guessed his favourite blend on the first attempt. She had been insisting that she’d make sure he’d get his cup of earl grey at some point in the holiday ever since.

“I’m sure I shan’t need tea for that” he said with a gentle, sincere smile, and Elizabeth ducked her head slightly to disguise the shy grin that was beginning to creep over her features.

A short while later, they pulled into the little carpark beside the viewing point on the clifftops above Nampara Cove. It was a glorious day, the sun bright, the sky cloudless and the sea below a deep, rich blue. As Elizabeth stepped out of the car, she took in a deep breath of fresh, salty air, the wind whipping through her curls, carrying the calls of seabirds up from the rocks beneath them to the cliff path. George followed suit, glancing around him, eyes squinted against the glare of the sun.

“Could you carry the picnic stuff?,” she called to him, moving to open the boot of her car. “I need to get my equipment.”

“Your equipment?”

“Yes, my climbing equipment,” Elizabeth couldn’t quite resist teasing him as he followed her to the back of the car. “I lied about the path. We’re going to have to abseil down.”

George let out a soft huff of laughter as she pulled the boot open, handing him the hamper and blankets.

“No, I meant my easel and stuff,” she said, taking out the item in question and tucking it under her arm. “It’s not a very big one but it’s a bit awkward to carry when I’ve got a lot of other stuff.”

They headed carefully down the cliff path, Elizabeth leading at the front and George cautiously picking his way over the gritty, rocky ground behind her. Eventually, they reached the beach itself—a long, curved, sheltered strip of land which was, to her surprise, completely abandoned save for themselves. Elizabeth smiled as she stepped onto the soft yellow sand at the beach’s edge, turning back to watch as George joined her. His usually neat hair had been ruffled by the wind on the way down and was sticking up in all directions. His cheeks flushed with a soft pink and his blue eyes bright, she thought the look suited him very well.

At Elizabeth’s direction, he laid out the picnic blanket on a dry patch of sand in the middle of the beach and they both sat down, enjoying the gentle, cool breeze now that they were sheltered by the cliffs and the soft lull of the waves lapping gently against wet sand. Once they were settled, they dived straight into the picnic, enjoying the food that Elizabeth had prepared, laughing and chatting about nothing in particular. Then, once that was finished, Elizabeth set up her easel and paints, taking out a sheet of watercolour paper and sticking it methodically to the board with masking tape, and began to sketch out a rough outline of the view before her.

“You’re very quiet” she commented after a while, just as she was beginning to mix up a soft, light blue for the sky on her palette.

“Oh, I thought you’d want to concentrate on the painting,” she heard George reply from beside her, and she turned to look at him where he was laying on his side, head propped up on his hand and watching her mix her colours with interest. “Do you…?”

“Oh, I do these all the time,” Elizabeth replied with a nonchalant shrug, moving to apply the colour to the paper she had coated with water just moments beforehand. With a long, broad stroke, she watched in satisfaction as the colour bled freely from the brush and across the page. “They’re just quick little things so I’m fine talking and painting at the same time.”

Her practised hand filled in the sky quickly and easily, and she mixed a newer, darker shade on the palette, replacing her large, square-headed brush with a small, thin, pointed one to add some darker highlights to the edges.

“So, do you sell all of these?” George asked, his eyes following the process as she dabbed off some of the excess water with a tissue to create a slight mottling effect.

“Yes, usually,” she replied. “You can actually make a fair bit of money on things like this if you’re smart enough about it. I’ve got an online shop where I sell all my prints so I get money from them there, but there’s a big market for art cards and postcards and all those sorts of things, especially in somewhere like Cornwall during the big tourist seasons, so I can often get them sold in those forms in visitor centres and places like that as souvenirs. Tourists like that—Cornish places painted by Cornish artists and all that. And of course that helps promote my art as well, so it becomes more visible for anyone who might want to request a big commission.”

George nodded thoughtfully, his eyes following her brushstrokes as she moved onto the beach at the bottom of the picture, filling in the space with a soft ochre.

“And do you always use these kinds of paints for them or…?”

“Oh, yes I tend to use watercolours when I’m out and about,” Elizabeth replied, blending in a soft blue grey into the point where the sand met the sea. “You don’t really need a lot of extra stuff like you do with oils and they’re easier to get off than acrylics so they’re quite easy to bring with me to places like this—and they dry pretty quickly as well so that’s a bonus. They’re my favourite medium to take about with me if I want a colour picture. I mean, I suppose you can get stuff like watercolour pencils and markers and everything now and they’re very easy to carry around with you but I’ve tried them and they’re just not the same.”

“Really? How come?”

She paused to think about how to word her answer, her brush now picking out patterns as she drew long, undulating strokes along the paper, filling in the shimmering blue of the waves. The paint bled, leaving feathery little lines in the white of the blank spaces, but she did nothing to stop them, allowing them to create the effect of the frothing white heads of the waves as they rolled in over the sand.

“I think it’s to do with how you apply them on the canvas,” she said pensively, adding a darker blue to the edges of the shapes created by the larger brush, highlighting the white. “You usually add the water afterwards with pencils or markers, but even if you put the water on first and then draw over it, you’ve still got more control over the shapes you’re making. When you paint with watercolours rather than draw with them, you need a lot of water to get the right colours and consistency so they really flow and spread and blend on the page, and because of that they sort of create patterns and shapes on their own. You really have to work alongside the paints rather than just using them, if you see what I mean, and, well, I guess that some artists don’t like that so much but it’s always been something that appeals to me.”

She cut herself off, her cheeks reddening slightly as she realised just how much she was yammering on about something he probably wasn’t very interested in. When she turned to look at him, however, he was wearing an expression of open fascination on his face, his bright blue eyes alert and curious. All of a sudden, her attention was pulled away from the painting entirely, and all she could focus on was him—the soft look in his eyes, the way the light played across his skin, the stray lock of hair that had fallen across his brow, unsettled by the wind. Before she could stop herself, she had reached out and brushed it away from his face, fingertips ghosting over the soft strands and trailing down over the arch of his cheekbone. He stilled at the touch, his eyes wide, but he did not pull away.

“Your painting will dry out” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“It’s nothing I can’t fix” murmured Elizabeth, and with that, she leaned down and kissed him.

His lips were soft as they parted underneath her own in a quiet gasp. It didn’t take long for him to respond, however, the hand that wasn’t propping himself up coming up to cup the back of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt his fingertips stroke gently along the sensitive skin below her hairline, and she shifted closer to him, eyelids fluttering closed. Her own hand moved to cradle his cheek, her thumb stroking a soothing rhythm over the smooth skin, and he sighed into her mouth as she slipped her fingers into his soft hair, titling his head back and pressing herself flush against him.

Eventually, they both had to come up for air, and they broke apart, breathing heavily. George glanced up at her through his long lashes, lips parted, suddenly shy. His cheeks were dusted with pink, gaze soft and a little dazed and, with an affectionate smile creeping over her face, she couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him again, all else forgotten in favour of the feel of his silky hair and soft skin and his lips moving gently against hers.

As it turned out, George had been quite correct in predicting that her painting would dry out—not that that surprised her. It was hardly a disaster, however, and she managed to complete it well enough, filling in the highlights and shadows and details, and finally painting in two little dark blue figures along the shoreline in the distance once the rest of it had finished drying. Turning back to George as she peeled the masking tape from the edges of the paper and pulled it away from the easel, she noticed that she noticed that the fascination on his face had returned, coupled by a look which could only be described as admiration.

“I don’t understand how you can do that,” he confessed upon seeing her questioning look. “How you can go from nothing to something like that in such a short space of time.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but beam at the praise. It was always nice to hear her work complimented, of course, but coming from him it just sounded so sincere and genuine that she couldn’t be anything but delighted by it.

“Would you like to have a go?”

George huffed in amusement, raising an incredulous eyebrow at her.

“Well, if you want me to waste your paper,” he said wryly. “I’m afraid I’ve never had much of an artistic touch.”

Elizabeth tutted.

“I’m sure you underestimate yourself,” she replied, moving over to allow him to sit in front of the easel. “And besides, it’s never too late to learn. Here, I’ll show you.”

It turned out that, though it was clear that fine art didn’t come particularly naturally to him, George was not nearly as bad as artist as he thought himself to be. He had a good eye for detail and colour, even if he lacked the knowledge and experience to express them on paper. He did struggle a little with the blending and the larger, broader strokes, although she suspected tat had something to do with the arm she had wound around his waist, pressing close against his back as she reached over to gently guide his hand over the page. Both their efforts began to deteriorate from there, distracted from the painting in favour of pressing soft little kisses to each other’s lips, nestled close against one another, and were abandoned entirely when, with Elizabeth laughing into the skin of his neck, George threw up his hands and painted two large stickmen over the half-finished image.

“Well I’m not sure how successful that was” he chuckled, leaning back against her as she tightened her arms around him.

“Oh I don’t know,” said Elizabeth with a grin, pressing a soft, whispering kiss to his temple. “I thought it worked out quite well for both of us.”

“Well now for the moment of truth. Will it be jam first or cream?”

“I would never commit such Devonian heresy.”

Elizabeth laughed into her teacup at George’s wry reply, watching as he very pointedly spread a neat layer of jam over each half of his scone, followed by the cream. After a little while spent curled up on the beach, enjoying the sun and the sand and the feel of their bodies pressed against one another, they had decided to walk up to the teashop along from Hendrawna Beach and buy some cream teas. George had insisted that he pay, pointing out that it was only fair as she had both driven them there and provided the picnic and, unable to come up with a suitable argument to contradict him, she had given in and let him. Now they were sat at one of the small wooden tables in the outside seating area, under the shade of a large parasol, with two large, fruity scones each and a pot of earl grey shared between them, a cool breeze from the sea carrying the chatter of sunbathers up from the beach.

“Well that’s a good job,” she said with a soft chuckle. “You might have been dragged right back over the Tamar if you’d been spotted doing things the Devon way.”

“Heaven forbid.”

Elizabeth grinned at him, applying the jam and cream to her own scones in suitably Cornish fashion and watching as he poured himself some tea, adding a dash of milk to the cup and swirling it into the mix with his spoon. He suddenly looked a little shy, she couldn’t help but notice, and she wondered why.

“Thank you for today,” he said quietly. “I had a lovely time and…well…I don’t think I would have enjoyed this holiday nearly so much if we hadn’t met.”

Elizabeth felt a pleasant warmth in her chest at his words, her smile soft and gentle as she reached out and took his hand in hers, her thumb stroking rhythmically over his knuckles.

“I’m glad that we met too.”

He ducked his head shyly, a smile of his own curving on his lips. She couldn’t help but find the action rather endearing, and she squeezed his hand affectionately before she withdrew, picking up her teacup and lifting it into the air.

“To the Cornish way” she said with a glint of mischief in her eye.

George laughed lightly, lifting up his own cup so that its rim touched hers with a soft clink.

“The Cornish way.”

Next chapter: Elizabeth visits the holiday cottage for dinner, and she and George take the next stage in their relationship.

[fureniku]

The return of my blog or something idk

Looks like in my last blog I said I’d not post my semi-private stuff here, only to a private blog.

Honestly, I can’t remember the name of the private blog; let alone the login/password. I think I only made one post there, to zero followers, and kind of lost the point of doing it. So fuck it, lets just go back to being here.

Days since last post: 614 Todays date: 30th September 2019 Start time: 20:39

Well, I guess we have some catching up to do.

I don’t know how many people on here were following me before. So, I guess I’ll start with a sum-up. My previous blog was just me ranting about anxiety/depression related things. It was a good platform for me to vent my thoughts without real life friends knowing; I had a few RL friends who followed it which was great as they could give me some support, but most of them didn’t know about the blog, which was also great as they then didn’t know a side of me I’d generally prefer to keep private. That blog was deleted in early January 2018, when the drummer from my then-band found it. I had made some comments about my frustrations in the band which were true, and I stand by them - but naturally it caused drama. I deleted the account, and instantly regretted it - I only had maybe 50 followers, but now I have two, so yeah.  Life since then has been... chaotic. Not specifically in a bad way, just a lot of things happened. When the blog ended I was; - Single - Playing guitar in a band - Working a dead-end job in a Warehouse - Had no ambition/drive to progress life

Three of those things have since changed; I’m still single (not for lack of trying but whatevs). I guess I’ll cover a timeline? Jan 2018: I deleted my old blog, and made this one, and a second one with a more secretive/anon name. I made a couple of posts on each, then abandoned it. Instead, I started relying mostly on just one friend to help me. May 2018: I got a new job, working for a games developer. It literally changed my life. Anxiety/depression started to clear up a lot, things just generally improved. June/July-ish 2018: I left my band. There was an argument about the fact another band was using our space for free, after we had offered it to them at a split rate and they declined. I instigated the argument, other members didn’t see eye to eye with me, so I quit. It was a final nail in the coffin kind of thing, but it was certainly the healthy thing to do. The whole situation had been kind of toxic for a little while, but I now get on just fine with all of them - I think if I had stayed much longer, that might not be the case. Our vocalist left very shortly after me as well - I don’t know the reasons why, but it seems the terms were... less happy.

September 2018: I started taking Japanese classes. Met a girl, had a crush on her for a bit, it didn’t go anywhere as usual. No biggie.

December 2018: Depression came back a bit, as it always does around then. Not much I can do about it so I just power through.

February 2019: I got made redundant from work. I was cool with it, I could see it coming for a while and there was like 12 other people too, my boss had fought hard to keep me but the game wasn’t doing so well, so I totally get it. I got a nice redundancy pay (which they by no means had to give me, so I’m super grateful). I applied for a job with another studio; quite a big one called Jagex. They were far from me so it would’ve involved moving and stuff, so quite scary. I made it to the final stages, but didn’t get it.

I now had a fair lump of cash (I had been saving for a house anyway), but not quite sure what to do with it. Followers of my previous blog can probably guess what I decided to spend it on...

April 2019: I went back to Japan! My mental-health-reset trip mark 2. I spent about two and a half weeks there (despite fucking up and accidentally buying a ticket to return mid-may... whoops). I got detained in China on my way home too but that’s a whole other story (it was all sorted and fine in the end).

While in Japan, I had time to clear my head and think. I decided I wanted to go back to university, so started thinking about how that would work. Here in the UK, we get a student loan to pay for university. It’s a bit complicated, but the way it works is you get your course length plus one year of funding. The day you set foot on campus, you use one year of funding. Now, I had already been to university previously - I studied music production. Totally dead industry, I dropped out about three weeks into my second year. That meant, I only had course length minus one year’s funding left available. So I have to pay the first year of university myself. At a cool £9,250.

My dad agreed to pay one term, so one third of that. I managed to save up another terms worth by working over the summer. I’m sat in my uni dorm right now, still not quite sure how I’ll pay for the third term... but I’ve got 6 months to figure that one out.

May 2019: I returned to my original job, back in the warehouse. Picking and packing sacks of bird food, so much fun. My mental health naturally slipped again, although everyone was really friendly to me while before it was kinda like I didn’t exist, so that was nice.

Around this time, I also joined an Overwatch team. It was a pretty big team with maybe 14-15 members, it was cool to make some new friends. Except one guy, was a dick. This OW stuff is like a whole side story from hereon... Anyway, I said to my squad leader (We’ll call her SN) that this guy is a dick. She said ok and she’d go talk to him. She said do you agree you’re being a dick, he said no. She said do you acknowledge one of the squad members thinks you’re being a dick? He said no again. Some other stuff I don’t know happened, and he got kicked off the team. He turned a load of people against her, caused loads of drama, and everyone blamed her when it was 100% my fault. So that was fun. The only reason I didn’t leave the team right then is because if I had, the entire drama would’ve been for nothing.

June 2019: My old boss who didn’t work there appeared at the end of may. I have a job for you. Ominous... but ok. Turns out, there was a new system being implemented on another contract. As I had experience with QA, and had done some IT stuff for them before, they wanted me to help with the testing and implementation. It was a job that would test my brain, while requiring little physical work - it was perfect for me. I really enjoyed it. It was supposed to be a four week thing, but we found lots of niggly little problems in the system... as far as I know, it’s actually only just gone live - but may have been delayed further.

While working up there, obviously there was downtime while waiting for fixes to be implemented. “What, you want this label a different size? oof, that’s gonna take about three weeks”. However, I got to stay in the office, doing odd jobs and stuff. One of the “odd jobs” ended up being a full on Android app, that my boss and me developed together. It was super fun to work on and really rewarding. That was worked on on-and-off between June and August.

July 2019: an interesting month. There was a major incident at work where a shelf holding very heavy metal shit stirrers collapsed. (The contract was a water treatment etc company, who provide all the clean water and water recycling for my local area. The things on the shelf literally stirred shit.) No one was hurt but it was a lot of drama, which was kind of entertaining to me as I was totally bunking off for the whole week where it happened. Not just the occasionally check Facebook on your phone at work kind of bunking off; I literally just messed about on Discord and worked on Minecraft mods for about two weeks straight. They had given me quite a big project to do, I automated the process... gg ez.

Around this time, the game I had been a part of before was to be officially cancelled. My old work invited me down to the studio to be a part of the formal funeral for the game, which was a big honour. I even got to fly the sky-whale which was awesome. It was bittersweet though, as the game meant a lot to me and had literally changed my life.

August 2019: haaaaaa august was a meme. I’d gotten kinda close with a girl (we’ll call her AP) in my Overwatch team. Like, we’d arranged to meet up at the end of August anyway but yeah, she was the first crush in a long time who actually knew I liked her. And she had certainly implied she felt the same way... like she’d been sending lots of hearts and stuff and talking to me 24/7, tagging me in “X has to take you on a date to Y place” memes and so on.  Anyways, so SN had apparently picked up on the fact I liked her, and started getting super pissy with me. I was pretty good friends with SN and we got on well, but in August she suddenly started getting crazy angry with me over tiny things. It all came to a head when I let AP kill me in a game (long story). Turns out, SN was like in love with me... despite breaking up with her boyfriend of over a year like 2 days before this conversation. So yeah, she told me to fuck off and that was that, she left the team etc, which thanks to chain of command meant that I was then in charge. fun. 

Anyways, get to the end of August, and I was due to meet AP. We met up, it was pretty cool. We hung out at a gaming festival, then suddenly like half way through she was like “lets split up for a bit” and I was like ........ok thats weird but alright. We didn’t meet up again until literally when she had like 2 mins to go, but it seems like she had a lot more fun without me being there. Clearly I’d done some major fuckup, which I still don’t actually know what it was. I had an anxiety attack before I even reached my car... and not a little one either. It’s quite possibly the biggest anxiety attack I’ve ever had, I barely made it to my car before having a total meltdown. It was the first one I’d had for about a year and it hit hard. It took me about 30 mins to calm down, then I headed home. 

I messaged her that night and asked her what happened, and she replied with “oh I never said I liked you”. It hurt a lot, like I’d been totally lead on. But hey whatever, that’s my life in a nutshell right? “Oh you want this happiness? this happiness right infront of you? HA nah”.  She said in the same message that I “seemed cool” and she’d like to hang out again sometime. But literally within a week she was clearly interested in another guy, so yeah whatever. We’re still friends and play games from time to time but I know she likes this other guy, so yeah. I still like her but whatever, not much I can do about it.

Work was a meme as well. I got taken off the fun and interesting projects to do paperwork. Literally, my job was to scan 35,000 documents because they couldn’t find a couple of bits of information. I suggested much better and more efficient ways, but the boss of the contract was like “no thats bad do it this old fashioned way we don’t want any fancy apps or anything” (I had suggested a spreadsheet or database). It took me about 3 weeks of just standing by a scanner which would jam up every 15-20 sheets in. It was mental health hell, especially in the last week after all the AP stuff had happened.

September 2019: I had one week left at work. I finished the hellish scanning project on Monday afternoon. “Oh as a thanks for your massive hard work we’ll make sure to find you things to do for the rest of the week” No it’s fine, I’m happy to just finish a few days early so I have more time to prep for uni. “No no no, we’ll find you stuff to do” They did not find stuff for me to do. I literally sat there, with nothing to do bar a few odd jobs “hey can you fix this printer”, for four days. It was incredibly mind-numbingly dull. The only thing ticking me over was “hey, maybe they wanna give me a card on my last day or something to say good luck and bye and thanks for doing this literal £20/hr job for half that because you’re agency staff”. But nah, a few people said cya later, but a lot forgot I was leaving entirely. So that was a fun way to finish what had mostly been a decent job...

I then had two weeks of freedom, before moving to university on the 21st. I was nervous; who wouldn’t be? but it was cool. I finally moved out of my house, and had a place where I could make a lot of new friends (LOL). On the day I moved in, I met up with someone I’d spoken to online a few times who was living in the same building as me, we’ll call her S. She was nice, we got on well, and it was kinda cool to have a friend who was a girl that for once I didn’t have a crush on (coz I’m still totally hung up on AP). We ended up going to a club in the evening which I’ve literally never done in my life, and she brought me out of my comfort zone a lot. She was great for my anxiety and really helpful. We’ve hung out a few times since, but I kind of feel like I was just a “filler friend” until she made new friends. She actually totally blanked me when I walked past her today, so that was fun. She has my Switch atm too coz I let her borrow it, I’ll probably just get it back later this week and then be done, its like I put in all the effort to be a friend and she couldn’t care less.

Anyways, so as I said I moved in on Saturday. I met one of my four flatmates on Saturday and another on Sunday, but hadn’t seen the other two at all. It gets to Thursday and I’m tidying the kitchen a bit, my mum’s about to pick me up so I can move in my last few things, and one of the mystery people appeared - she hadn’t actually moved in yet and was just unloading her stuff. She had loads of kitchen stuff, seems she’s really into her cooking.

Anyway, mum picks me up, we go to get my stuff, then we’re driving back, and my phone starts blowing up. S: Are you in? Me: No, why? S: Your building’s on fire. Me: lol nice joke S: no really *picture of everyone evacuated with fire engines outside* S: It’s your floor too, idk which flat. I wasn’t far out, so found her outside when I arrived. I’ve seen people going in, not being funny but one of them looked like [one of my flatmates]. Shit.  A few mins later, the girl who had just moved in came over. You know it’s our flat right? Shit. Turns out the extractor fan on the cooker malfunctioned. I won’t share the video itself coz one of my flatmates is in it, but yeah it just started spraying molten something all over the hob and surfaces. (They said it looked like molten metal, and they were there - but I don’t see how it would’ve gotten hot enough to melt any metal. My best guess is fat that hadn’t been cleaned from last years tenants)

So yeah, we got moved into another flat. The open cupboard right there was my one - I rescued my custom cup from it that the games studio had given me. It’s no good to drink from now, but it still looks ok so I’m glad I can keep it for decorative purposes at least. The rest of the food is waste, and I have to wait for the plates etc to get cleaned. I’m currently eating ready meals out of their cook-in containers, because I don’t have any plates, and only one fork and spoon. I bought some paper plates today though so I’ll use those from tomorrow, but I still don’t have any saucepans or anything.

I wasn’t around when they sorted out the replacement accommodation. Because of that, the other four from my flat went to the same new flat together, with one new person. I was put into a different flat which also had one other person in, my building manager assured me they’re “really nice”. I asked if they knew I was coming, BM said “they’ll know when we get up there :)”. That was Thursday, today is Monday. The only food in the kitchen is mine, I’ve not seen anyone. I’m 100% positive I’m alone in this flat.

And so yeah, that’s my uni experience so far. I had my first lectures today, it was cool because I already knew all the stuff so I got to feel smart (I’m doing computer games programming, and it was mostly about design docs which I read through extensively while working at the studio, so I knew exactly how they worked etc). But, I didn’t really make any friends. I kind of joined in with a couple of other people in each lecture, but it seems like they weren’t really interested, so whatever. I had an anime society taster this evening as well, and it was when I was on my way to that that S blanked me and I just got hit my like a wave of loneliness. I didn’t make any friends at the anime society, so I kinda just gave up and came back to my flat, and started writing this. As I was getting the fire picture from above though someone asked me if I wanted to hang out, so guess I’ll see how that goes. Not holding out much hope tbh and I’m at the point of becoming a full on hermit... I mean hey, at least I’d get a perfect score on my degree if I just focus on that and eliminate any social aspect right?

Finish time: 21:38 Length:  3,302 words/16,759 characters

[soysaucevictim]

The interview came and went. Won’t know how I did until a later date.

-

July 8

I got up a bit after 10AM, today.

Decided to spend some time messing with my Twitter and fandom blogs for awhile, before getting in all my exercise for the day.

First, today’s DD. 2 minutes side-to-side chops with EC. A bit antsy today, but this helped somewhat. I counted 138 reps by the end of the 2', very fun and doable! :D

Second, Day 3 of the T10C. 10′ non-stop punching. I swapped stances every minute (except one time where it was 2′ for both sides.) I also counted 1101 punches thrown, although I may’ve made a counting error at some point... I think this sounds right. (Noting a bit over 100/min.)

Last, Day 3 of CCC. 40 torso twists. This was basically a very similar action to the DD! Pffft. But it was still breezy work! :,D

(Ooof, perhaps it’s all the squats or yesterday’s DD... but my quads have been quite sore today!)

I then took a shower and tried to assemble some notes for that job interview... despite constantly distracting myself out of anxiety. orz

-

July 9

I got up a bit before 8AM.

One of the first things I did while at the facility was ask other people about their local dentist experiences. I think I may have a solid pick to revise what happened to my molar... so I’m happy I have a bit of direction there.

Then, went to Seeking Safety Group, which went well enough.

I spent the rest of my time there doing a second pass over that stream footage and doing the DD. 30 leg raises with EC. Did this one while I was out at the facility, again. Manageable but certainly a bit tough. :P

One of the first things I had to do once back home was make the family dinner, even though on the inside I was tired and didn’t want to. It was stuffed green bell peppers and tasty, though. Bro also doing the dishes from yesterday’s dinner was nice, too.

Spent a few hours playing games and watching YouTube before finishing up my exercise.

First, Day 4 of the T10C. 7 sets of 40″ squats + 20″ shoulder taps, with a finisher of 3′ of squats. I found this very manageable... had to get going later than intended because I was still digesting my food. :P

Last, Day 4 of the CCC. 70 side leg raises, done in one go. This time I opted to do 50%/50%, which was more challenging than alternating sides. Might try to do the rest of this commitment like that or continue mixing things up. We’ll see. :Ic

-

July 10

I got up around 9:30AM. Spent much of my day leading up to the interview prepping some notes and getting ready... and getting aggravated with my browser hanging. :/

Got to my interview. Was nervy for awhile out of my own concerns abt my transportation arrangements (Though now I have a few potential plans to get to the facility) & feeling like I didn't prepare myself enough. But I don't think I did COMPLETELY abysmally.

When I got home and got some food in me, I spent some time drafting my thank you notes/letters. Despite still being nervous and attempting to process what occurred. I hope I can get them finished and delivered before tomorrow’s end, once I’ve smoothed some details out.

Remains to be seen whether I got the position or not (going to take a couple weeks or so).

I then worked on some HW my psychiatrist handed me to do, which on some level I didn’t really want to do, because my brain was getting kinda hazy at that point. But did something to that end. (Kinda frustrated with myself for thoughtlessly scheduling my next appointment tomorrow at an awkward time for the county transport... nnng.)

Getting in my exercise helped a bit though.

First, today’s DD. 1′ reverse plank with EC. Took some willpower to get through, but steady breathing is key. Ooof. :P

Second, Day 5 of the T10C. 10 sets of 2x20″ high knees + 20″ climbers, with 1′ march steps as a warmup. Because i didn’t feel like negotiating a HIIT timer situation - I went for 30 climbers for each set. As I went, it was a couple seconds short - but close enough in my book. It was NOT a cakewalk. Had to pace a bit to get the HR down.

Last, Day 5 of the CCC. 40 torso twists. I do appreciate this was the easier of the two days after T10C’s stuff.

-

July 11

Been up since a bit before 7AM, needed to be up earlier for an appointment.

The psych appointment went well enough. Did ask the clinic about the para-transit application. I won’t submit it unless I get this job - because I don’t have the income to support getting [standard OR para] bus tickets, etc..

Then I did some socializing, played some Risk with others, got to WRAP Group, and did the DD. Also asked about something in regard to the interview - when I get the info I need, I’ll finish up and send those thank you letters.

The DD was 3′ balance stand with EC. Did this one while I was out at the facility today. Was not up for doing the EEC though, takes a lot of emotional energy I do not have, today. But I did EC twice, 3'/3' in one go. That was fun and meditative. :D

After all that, got home and mostly tried to get situated. But I did do the rest of my exercise.

First, Day 6 of the T10C. 5 sets of 1′ sit-ups + 1′ flutter kicks. Had to do the sit-ups a bit more slowly and took several pauses for recovery during the flutter kicks. I also did tht latter mostly wwith my head down... too tired to deal with neck strain.

Last, Day 6 of the CCC. 80 side leg raises, in one go. I think I’ll do all of this challenge 50%/50%. Especially given that the other one’s instance of them are side-to-sides.

I’m... was not happy about having to make dinner today. Or doing the dishes. But I had to, even though I running on fumes. orz

-

July 12

I got up at around 10 AM, today.

Spent a few hours on the usual, before getting in my DD, today. 200 squat hold punches with EC. Oof, that took some willpower to get through. But I'm happy I managed it, trying to throw faster punches helps. :D

I also wrote my thank you letters, did dishes, and made the family dinner.

Bleh... let’s just say I found myself in a spiral about the letter, but a friend helped me deal with the anxiety spike. I’m grateful for the reality check.

-

July 13

I got up after noon, today.

I spent much of my time on the usual. But I did get in some exercise.

First, today’s DD. 40 side-to-side lunges with EC. This was pretty challenging, especially in the last 10 or so reps. But this was still pretty manageable. :P

Second, Day 7 of the T10C. 10′ non-stop side-to-side leg raises. Ooof. That was tough. I counted 524 reps in the duration, lifting my left leg got to be harder than the right.

Last, Day 7 of the CCC. 40 torso twists in one go.

One of the last things I did today was prepping for tomorrow’s dinner. Intend to make some vegetarian chili.

-

July 14

I got up before 10AM, today.

Similar thing as yesterday. Did a bit more meal prep and some exercise, though.

First, today’s DD. 60 knee-to-elbow twists with EC. This was pretty fun, first few was a bit awkward because I wasn't super focused. But quickly got in the rhythm and enjoyed myself. :D

I guess making that vegetarian chili today and opting to do some mass repairs on the gloves I use... took too much of my time/energy to get around to doing my main exercise stuff. But hey, knocked out a fairly big To Do, there. :P

-

July 15

I got up around 10AM, today.

I don’t have much to show for myself other than exercise. And eating FAR too many damn cookies today. orz

First, today’s DD. 2′ O-pose with EC. A personal favorite, because of the ab work and the balance focus. But still not a cakewalk, didn't take a whole lot of time before I got to trembling! Steady breathing is key. :D

Second, Day 8 of the T10C. 7 sets of 30″ jumping Jacks + 30″ plank jacks; with a finisher of 3′ jumping jacks. Had to go at a deliberately slow pace with the jumping jacks to get through this, but I managed. My calves really felt it. :,D

Last, Day 8 of the CCC. 90 side leg raises. 45/45 in one go. That got mildly tough shortly after all the jacks.

With that, I should get to bed in a bit, now.

Okay... I really need to hit publish... this post is getting too damn long.