#thank you for giving me a chance to ramble and read way too far into this 😂😂

[sailforvalinor]

Seeing your post got me thinking. How did you feel about Ten's ending? Especially the fact that he "didn't want to go". That hit me rather hard when I first watched Ten's ending. It was rather unlike Five's for instance where he accepted his fate. I forget in what order I watched it, I think I watched Five's story after, but I digress. I don't know, it felt so human to me, and raw and David Tennant delivered it flawlessly. So I wondered your thoughts on it.

I loved it. I loved it I loved it I loved it. I was a bit too emotional at the time to post anything coherent about it, but…yeah. If it tells you anything, my dad cried—and he’s seen it at least three times before 😂.

Here’s the thing about the “I don’t want to go” line: Series 1 and 2 is a positive character arc for the Doctor. At the beginning of Series 1, he is at his lowest, the Time War having just occurred. He is angry, closed-off, refuses to be “domestic”—i.e., he’s refusing to get attached again. But Rose drags him back into all of that anyway—and this arc is a lot of things, it’s about him rediscovering joy, confronting grief and guilt, but most importantly, he is allowing himself to care again.

But to care is to leave yourself vulnerable to loss, and that’s what happens when he loses Rose—and it’s inarguably devastating for him. His characterization takes a definite shift here, he’s lost a bit of his joy (and even at times when he does express happiness or joy it can feel like a mask, or at least somewhat forced), and he becomes so unwilling to let go—think of the “I can do this, I can do anything” scene where Astrid dies in “Voyage of the Damned.” To me, Series 3 and 4 and the specials are a negative character arc for Ten, though a subtle one, one you don’t realize is occurring until it culminates with the Time Lord Victorious—a slow, agonizing trainwreck. He’s lost so many people by this point—not just his Rose, but Martha, Donna, the Tylers, Mickey, Astrid—and he’s been isolating himself to avoid getting attached again, to avoid hurting anyone else, but when he comes to care for the crew of Bowie Base One and loses them, he snaps. And we all know what happens—he falls for the lure of power, the illusion of control. And he himself falls.

“The End of Time” is the consequence of that fall, and I would argue that the Doctor finds himself much in the same position as he was in at the beginning of Series 1–desperately lonely, but unwilling to get close, so so scared of loss. Though in a very different way, I think Wilf helps Ten relearn the same lesson Rose taught him all those years ago, that he has to care, to try to force himself to be apathetic is so much worse, but Wilf (and the Ood) help give him the second half: he also has to learn to let go. It’s a constant cycle: “you have to love -> you have to lose -> you have to love -> you have to lose,” and Ten finally, finally understands—but as he’s dying. He’s finally grasped the truth, he’s seen the light, but he’s seen it too late. And that’s the tragedy of it. As I watched the specials, I got the sense that he wanted his time to end—it’s never explicit, but you can sense it, he seems tired, makes references to having lived too long. He had all that time he wasted self-isolating and alternately wallowing in despair or trying to force apathy, but it is on his last day, at the sound of four knocks, that he finally realizes that he wants to live. And he can’t.

I think that Matt Smith was an absolutely brilliant casting choice as Eleven, because it would be impossible to not resent any other replacement after that. Smith’s Doctor is just so sweet and goofy and joyful that it’s hard to dislike him for long. Honestly, my personal headcanon is that Eleven is like that because of Eleven, trying to make up for Ten’s lost joy.

Anyway, sorry about the ramble, I had more thoughts about this than I realized.

[shojizbae]

Mothers Day

Spencer Reid x Reader

As the newest member of the team, everyone is shocked by your boldness.

Everyone knew not to trespass when Las Vegas or Mental illness was a factor in the case. Everyone but you, apparently. By chance, the team's last case to Vegas was two months before your hire. Now, you were making very dangerous strides around a very delicate subject. The Unsub was suspected to be a man on a psychotic break and had begun devolving before the team had even been called in. Ever the overtly ambitious profiler you wanted to follow Spencer Reid for his ultra-secret contact.

"He prefers to go alone." My eyes met the dark brown hand on my bicep

"We really shouldn't be going places alone. You know the FBI minted the buddy system?" I shook him off

"I know, baby girl, but this is delicate. You just gotta leave it alone."

"Derek, you, of all people, should be aware of my incessant control problems."

"I have to agree with Morgan. This is something you need to let be."

"But you know I can't. Doctor Reid!" I darted off after him. He was tense, like the way people get when they hear a tornado siren and have to put themselves in their basement or put a mattress over their bathtub. He was preparing for disaster. "I truly believe it would be beneficial if I were to go with you."

"Would it be benefitting the case or your psyche?" He prods

"Well, both and neither." I readjust my little rectangular glasses, "As you know, I'm extraneously protective, to a fault. Also, I am working on my doctorate in psychology and I'm writing a dissertation on noncommutative disorder clusters. And I'm comfortable around disorders. Actually, I find it strange that when we talk about OCD, we call it a 'disorder' when people just like things organized in a particular manner." I snort to punctuate my rambling, but he only grits his jaw. "Aw man, that joke usually kills in my schizoid heredity focus group." He sighs as he tugs his satchel on.

"You need to stay quiet and low profile." He orders, and I know my dorky smile splits my face. He leads me to a big black SUV, where I take the driver's seat. He gives me directions, leading me from the way through town street and down some scary back roads. Eventually, we pass a sign that reads Bennington Sanitarium. He tells me to turn left, and we park in the back of the parking lot. He tells me to leave my gun in the car, and I follow him with my head down.

"So, who's this ultra-secret contact you have?" His stress seemed to triple, "Some fancy professor from Caltech?" He's being intentionally nebulous, I'm aware but there's some fun in playing nosy-cop.

"No, it's not someone who worked at Caltech."

"Oh, but a professor? Where'd they work, Burkley? Or maybe some school in Vegas. Let's see, there are not that many high-profile universities in Vegas."

"No, she hasn't worked in years." His voice sharpens in frustration, so I back down, readjusting my glasses, and licking the corner of my lips. We enter and a receptionist recognizes Spencer immediately with a big smile.

"Dr. Reid how lovely to see you. Have you come to visit your mother? She'll be ecstatic. It's been far too long." Oh, like mother like son. She must be a psychiatrist. I smile softly at the notion. It will be so interesting to see who and where Spencer came from.

"Thank you, Sheryl, how has she been."

"Well, she has her day, but mostly, she just reads. You know the book club started a new series." Sherly playfully brushes his arm and giggles.

"That's good."

"She should have just gotten out of therapy." Sheryl smiles and rakes her eyes over the young doctor. Finally, she makes eye contact with me.

"Oh well, you're new," she cheers in a vaguely Midwestern accent. You'll need a visitor's pass, hon." She gets one from a drawer and hands it to me. "So, do you work at the FBI, too, or are you coming to meet the in-laws?"

"I'm an agent," I laugh. If I were lucky enough to snag him, that would be an HR nightmare." Playfully, I pat his chest. He guffaws dryly as I slide the plastic lanyard around my neck.

Spencer leads me through the building, mostly there are elderly people playing chess or using oil pastels as nurses and orderlies orbit them. He leads me through a large living room past an Asian woman knitting. We find a woman with blonde hair biting her nails on the couch as she ponders something.

"Hi, Mom," He warbles. There's an extra beat between his greeting and her response. It's like she snaps out of a trance when she sees her son.

"Spencer, honey, what are you doing here?"

"Me and my frie-"

"Oh my goodness, thank whatever deities you deny the existence of; you're finally giving me some grandchildren."

"No, Mom, this is my coworker Agent (L/n). She and I just have some questions for you regarding our case."

"Well, at least sit down." She pats the space next to her, and Spencer obeys, "You too, young lady."

"Yes, ma'am." I take the only spot right next to him, and Spencer begins rattling off questions while his mom sits there with her hand under her nose. She sits and observes Spencer like no one at the BAU does. When he finishes contextualizing the case with her she stews on every word like his voice is her favorite song.

"So our first question for you is, uh (Y/n), you might be better at asking." He makes the wringing motion of cracking his knuckles, but no sound comes out.

"Um, mostly, the bureau is interested in the capabilities of delusion to overlap reality. When you are having an episode, do you recognize the difference between your actions and your perceptions?" I retrieve a legal pad and a fountain pen and click it theatrically. Diana keeps her hand over her mouth and inhales longingly through her nose. She points at me but doesn't look at me.

"You're a very smart young woman," She locks her eyes on me, "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

"Of course, wagers are the drug of choice in Vegas, well that and alcohol and mostly any other drug you can think of." I correct myself

"God, you're so much like him." She looks to her son."Why aren't you dating my Spencer?"

"Uh," is all that dumbly spills from my mouth.

"You two seem perfectly suitable for each other. Is it because he's so skinny?"

"No,"

"Well, he's incredibly handsome and talented; even a pigeon could see he's intelligent beyond a lexicon." She rambles

"Mom, I think that's enough."

"Spencer, you haven't visited me in over a year, and how do you believe that's any way to speak to your mother." She reprimands me. Had the information not shocked me, I would have giggled.

"Spencer, over a year?!" I swat his arm, "You've had time off. Why wouldn't you come to visit?"

"Oh well, I've still gotten my daily letters," she pouts. But it's been too long, and I'm getting old." She begins to bat her eyelashes, and she holds onto his arm.

"I'm trying, Mom," he whined

"To visit or to get me some grandkids?" she sasses

"Mom," He groaned, and I couldn't help the giggle that escaped my lips.

"What about you, young lady? Do you have any kids??"

"No, ma'am."

"Why not?" I could see where Spencer gets his tunnel thinking.

"My career has made it difficult to go out on dates and fall in love," I admitted it was almost like Diana could extract the truth from me

"Well, then, date my Spencer."

"Mom!" he protested

"Shh! It's a win-win: I get grandbabies, you get dates, and neither of your careers gets in the way." I meant to retaliate, but her infallible logic knocked all the fire out of me.

"Let's finish up this interview and solve this case then we can circle back." I mitigated

Two days later, the case was solved, and we were riding the jet back to Virginia. Everyone had filed off the plane but Spencer and I.

"So, do you have any plans tonight?" It threw me further off guard than Diana.

"I was just gonna turn on Real Housewives reruns and cuddle cannoli." It was how I spent most nights.

"Would you object to a date?"

"Tonight?"

"We could watch the Real Housewives and hang out with your cat??"

"You want to do that?"

"It sounds much better than sweating in an overpriced Italian restaurant." He laughs and rings his knuckles

"it does, I think I have NBC, we could watch Star Trek after." I offer as we walk from the landing strip to the BAU. We made a sojourn at his home so he could shower and put on comfortable clothes. Two years later it would be cannoli to ring bear your wedding. Spencer would have to credit his mother who walked you both down the aisle simultaneously for your relationship and the whole team would have to agree.

[chaithetics]

GIRLLLL OMGGGG YOUR MONEKY MAN FIC HELLO?? HELLOOOO???? so good. i just came back from watching it and wtf. now that is how u direct and that is how u make a profound film. (i’m glazing him and this film so hard but idc i just want 1 chance dev PLS JUST GIMME 1 ONE IS ALL I NEED) also r u indian? cuz when i saw the “jaan” i read it it in his voice and my knees literally almost hit the ground like i was like 😧🌚😜😍🤭🤭😋😋🤤🥰 the whole time!!! if i may, can i request another monkey man fic/drabble/whatever u wanna make it but it’s about how they met? basically like a backstory on how they met and got together. thank youuu! 🫶🏽

Blood-Stained Meetings, Nauseous Introductions

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader Word count: 2.6K Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries/blood, longing, reader has no physical description, a kiss, no smut. Not proof or beta read. A/N: Hey lovely Nonnie, so glad you enjoyed the film! It's so good! Dev Patel is so talented. I hope you and everyone else reading this and in the fandom enjoys this fic! 🫶(Please do and validate me, I'm scared it's TERRIBLE and I'm not happy with this, genuinely terrified lol) Comments, reblogs etc. are always more than appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy 🥰 Gif by @junkfoodcinemas Somewhat inspired by an old chat with the talented @mittos about how reader would probably hate seeing him fight, and tagging @lialilalo because I feel bad about ending up taking a week to get this out since your ask!

Sure, there were probably worse ways to spend a Friday night, but you also knew that there were definitely much better ways to spend a Friday night as well. But you simply weren’t the kind of person who did better things on a Friday night, that wasn’t in your DNA. Obviously. This was your brother's idea of fun after all. 

It didn’t surprise you that this was how your adult brother wanted to spend the start to his weekend and drag you along, or that this was a frequent pastime of his. It didn’t mean that it horrified you any less though. 

You’d sighed and dreaded this for hours, days probably, subconsciously. 

Yet, you still were here. You’d changed out of your work clothes for this, you’d tried to make yourself as presentable as possible when you knew it was an effort you’d see reflected in your brother. You were dreading leaving your home and having to blend into the sea of bloodthirsty betters you were about to find yourself in. 

You walk with your brother and one of his friends into the building, it’s large and crowded. Everyone is packed in like sardines as they yell about what odds they’re betting on, who’s the biggest and strongest, who’s the most nimble-footed and quickest, and who is the immediate runt of the competitors. You can already feel yourself becoming stressed, at this environment. You don’t understand the appeal of this but you understand how it can become a reality with the world that you’re all in. 

The heat stings your face like a slap, as you stand there, close to your brother so you don’t get split up in this sea and he rambles in your ear about who he placed a bet on, how they usually do. All of the information that seems so important in a moment like this to everyone else. But you’ve seen enough blood, you don’t need to be fascinated by people getting bloodied up like this. It’s a privilege that you’ve been able to avoid this your whole life. 

If you were seeing this at home, or if it wasn’t so packed in here tonight, you’d feel a little less self-conscious. And if you felt a little less self-conscious, you’d be chewing on your nails, all the way down to the nail bed. Until you felt the all too familiar sting of going too far. You give your hand a little shake to try and get rid of that urge, now’s not the place or time to wear your nerves on your sleeve. So instead, you try to offer up a small smile to your brother as he leads you to a spot on some benches nearby. 

The bench is relatively close to the ring, but it’s good, you’re already overstimulated and trying to make it up further to higher seats isn’t an idea that agrees with you right now, and it surely promises you a quick exit if needed. You look around, the dim lighting further adds to everything, your eyes scan the faces of those in the crowd and you look out at the ring. It’s big, you think, but you’re not sure if it’s a standard size or not for this sport. 

An announcer enters the ring, he looks sleazy and has a large, sly smirk pasted onto his face, one that makes you uncomfortable. You look at your brother to try and share a knowing glance but he’s focused on what’s in front of you both. You let out a quiet sigh as you tilt your head back to focus on what’s in front of you. 

The announcer opens his mouth and he speaks in a South African accent, that surprises you and you can’t help but look at your brother again. He announces himself as Tiger. This night is already so random, and you have a feeling that it’s only going to get more wild. 

“He’s the owner.” Your brother says as he tilts his head to whisper loudly in your ear. You can hear him over the whooping, clapping, and chants that have started. You nod as you look back at the ring, trying to pay attention to what you’re going to soon witness. Despite how overwhelming it all is. 

Tiger then introduces a fighter who’s dressed to almost look like a reptile, he’s introduced as King Kobra and gets a warm, adoring welcome from the audience with thunderous applause and cheers. You don’t clap as you can’t help but look around instead, taking it all in. It’s a lot and there’s so many people here, here just for this. 

Tiger then starts to introduce King Kobra’s opponent, his voice changes and it’s tinged with an antagonising disgust, he’s clearly trying to rile the audience up into booing, and not rooting for whoever it is. You can’t help but feel your curiosity grow at that. It feels childlike how it’s said, but you see the audience respond just as Tiger wishes. The opponent is Monkey Man, he quickly comes out and makes his way into the ring. He moves quickly and he bounces on his feet for a moment as he gets further into the zone. He stands there, waiting for the noise to confirm it’s the start, the start of a fight where he can maybe get one or two punches in before he has to keel over for his pay. Pay that he’ll probably have to bargain for. 

He stands in the ring and he can’t help but spend a second focusing on the face he sees in the front row. Kid is sure he hasn’t seen that face here before, it’s a pretty face, but he can’t help but notice the anxiety pooled in those eyes or your body language. He tilts his head slightly, it doesn’t seem to be the kind of anxiety some of the gamblers here have before the match, the ones who are risking it all for an expensive thrill and painful rush, to live vicariously through him and the other men adorned in animal masks and names. 

Kid turns his head away from you and tries to focus back on his work. You don’t even notice that the man in the ring has been staring at you, taking you and your nerves in for a few, long but oh so short seconds.. How could you? With that mask? You can’t see his face, but you can see there’s a lanky figure standing there, hiding under the mask and donning the monkey man mantle. He’s tall and slender but you can see there’s some muscle on his arms, from what you can see of the sweat and blood-stained undershirt he wears, his chest is toned as well. 

You don’t know it yet, but you can feel something realign, change in this moment. You’re just not sure what it is, or if this feeling is even real, or if it’s just another symptom of somatic anxiety. Right now, you think it’s probably just that. 

After almost another minute of the crowd booing Monkey Man and chanting out for the King Kobra, the match begins. Each of the men takes a moment to size the other one up, watching the other’s moves before the first hit lands. It’s King Kobra, he strikes Monkey Man. 

King Kobra goes to throw another punch, he moves quickly and he’s very agile, yet Monkey Man somehow dodges this one. His landing with the dodge isn’t perfect, but it gets him out of the way. He throws a punch to King Kobra and the crowd erupts into boos at that. It’s even more louder and clearer than before who they’re all rooting for and aren’t. The crowd’s response seems to motivate King Kobra as he quickly moves and starts to deliver blow after blow. 

You barely feel the noise of the crowd’s screams of joy and cheers as this happens and King Kobra gets his footing back. Your eyes widen as you watch, you see blood starting to fall as Monkey Man loses his way in this match. 

You let out a gasp as he falls to the ground. King Kobra slithers around the ring, posing and feeding off of the crowd’s response before he goes in for the kill shot. He delivers it and you feel yourself slightly jump. It’s terrifying to you, you don’t see the appeal in this, you can only start to mentally list off all of the physical trauma this causes. You sigh as you watch King Kobra be declared the winner of this match, it sounds like a recurring event, you gaze over at your brother who looks ahead with a large smile of awe, obviously happy with whatever return he’s getting on the bets he’d made beforehand

Monkey Man slowly tries to limp his way out of the ring and backstage, you look at your brother and quickly whisper that you need to check on this man. You have to, it’s basically a moral and ethical obligation. Your brother sighs and nods, you quickly move off of the bench and it doesn’t take much for you to catch up to this masked man. “How are you feeling? I’m a nurse.” You say to him and he nods slowly, you can hear his ragged pants from under the mask, the mask is drenched in sweat along with the rest of his body.

As you slowly walk backstage with him to the locker room that’s pungent with the sweat of costumed men masquerading as animals and characters you’d find in The Ramayana. There’s blood stains visible throughout the floors and walls, and you can taste the copper of the crimson in the air, impossibly so. You don’t know how but you can. You ignore these other bodies floating in your periphery as you walk to a sink with the Monkey Man, he leads the way, naturally. 

As you approach the sink together he immediately puts his hands on the edge and spits out a thick string of blood, you’re used to seeing blood but in this context, you can’t help but feel your nose screw up a little. It’s awful.

He tilts his head to look up at you, your eyes meet him and you offer him a small smile and give him your name. He looks at you, taking in the way that your lips curl up and how they do so genuinely. He gives a small nod, one you’d have missed if you’d blinked just a few seconds earlier. He just tells you that his nickname is Kid. Maybe he’s been fighting since he was very young. You don’t ask. Not yet. 

You turn the faucet on at the sink, to try and wash his blood away so that you can start trying to clean the damage of tonight’s fight, off of him. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, he knows you’re not the type of person to come to these events. You’re not a regular and it’s clear from your face, you’re not a fan of these displays of violence. 

“My brother. It’s his birthday this weekend.” You say quietly as you wipe the blood off. “Have you broken your nose?” He looks up at you with a small smile, it makes sense. Your brother was probably the man beside you, he thinks. Kid can’t quite remember his face. He then shrugs at your question. His nose doesn’t feel too bad right now, but he knows he’s probably broken it at some stage. 

“You’re not sure?” You ask him, he shakes his head. You immediately notice how quiet he is, but despite his silence, his eyes are so reactive and expressive that you feel like you know more than what his words could give you.

“Do you have issues breathing? It doesn’t look bad, there’s just a small scar there. They often heal pretty well on their own.” You say as if to reassure him, even though you know that it probably isn’t something that would bother him. There wouldn’t be much he could do now anyway about that. You don’t like that thought. 

Kid stays there perfectly still as your stomach is now over its nausea and your hand touches his skin so gently as you try to offer him some kindness, some respect, some dignity, some simple compassion and care. His eyes soften as he realises that and looks up at you. There’s a glow from within you, even in the artificial lighting of the locker room and it’s easy for him to block out the chaos in here and focus on your gentleness. 

He’s barely ever touched, except for when a blow hits in a match, it’s never this gently. He doesn’t even know how to show himself that level of care when he bandages himself up at the end of each night that he fights. 

There’s not much of a conversation as you bandage him up but somehow, you don’t really notice it and it’s completely okay with you. There’s a comfort in his quietness, his stillness. It’s one he finds in you as well, perfectly requited. You put a hand on his arm gently as you just finished putting a bandage on him. He takes your hand slowly, and he examines it. You’ve never had someone look at your hair, analysing every hair on your knuckles and by your wrist. It’s a unique way to be seen. He then takes your hand and gently turns it over, taking his time as he does. Kid looks at your palm, at all the lines on it and his eyes follow and travel amongst every single last one. A million lifetimes. A million dreams. He runs his finger along them, just to confirm as he thinks about the roots of your skin, how they run along to the softness and travel over calluses. “That’s your future.” He says softly as he looks at your hand, running his fingers along the lines. He then looks up at you, and his big, beautiful brown eyes meet your orbs. “It’s your past, everything.” You’re not sure what it is that he sees. You’d like to know but you also think you’d be content living without that and just his opinion on everything else in the world. But still, you want to see with his eyes.His fingers stop running over your palm and you feel your cheeks heat up at the intensity of this, his eyes have softened and there’s something else there. Something you don’t quite know. Is it longing? You’re not sure. You feel a deep, soul-aching longing, he does as well and always has. You just haven’t arrived at the stop yet for that to be communicated with words. Now all there is just looks, longing looks from a man with the most beautiful big, brown eyes in the world. You could melt in them, swim in them, drown in them. All of the above and you’d never complain.

You don’t know who makes the first move first, it just feels natural, like gravity. Some kind of natural force that slowly pulls your lips together that you both know is right. His hand gently cups your cheek as you feel his lips. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t mind. The kiss is soft and delicate and you like it. You need it and so does he. Everything feels so natural right now. Perhaps this is something he saw in the palm of your hand. You don’t know what it is yet, but you’re certain that this mask-wearing monkey man is part of that future he just talked about.

[theresattrpgforthat]

As someone who designs games, are there any specific games you've read that do interesting things with the Forged in the Dark or Powered By The Apocalypse systems that get you excited to write your own stuff?

(Asking those two since Protect the Child is FitD, also excited to hear if another system is excited rant worthy)

My friend, thank you so much for giving me space to ramble lovingly about games and mechanics. I don’t know if anything suggested here will be new exactly, but I am relishing the chance to talk about how the games I’ve read and played have impacted my design journey.

This is going to be a walk-through of various games that have given me a lot of tools to work with. Right now my head is full of Protect the Child, so I'm not really thinking about any other design projects, but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless!

Brinkwood, by Far Horizons Co-Op, Slugblaster, by Wilkie’s Candy Lab, and Moth-Light, by Dissonance.

I knew of a few Forged in the Dark hacks before I heard about Brinkwood, but when I realized that the Masks were basically communal playbooks, my mind was blown. Both Slugblaster and Moth-Light appealed to me because of their setting, but when I read the rule-books I was also impressed by how they were able to take the base Forged in the Dark and change it to make the rules work for the proper genre and tone.

Brinkwood takes the playbooks with special powers and makes them communal. You can pick up a new set of powers every time but still play the same character, so you can have variety while still pursuing the same character’s storyline. Because the Masks are shared, the “crew playbook” doesn’t look the same as it does in a lot of other Blades hacks, as no matter what Masks you take, you’re still engaging in a rebellion against vampires. Brinkwood also gives the GM a lot of guidance on how to flavour the antagonists in a way that is challenging, interesting and dangerous, while also giving the players a way to veto any subject matter that bleeds too much into real-life boundaries. Honestly, I think Brinkwood probably directly influenced my game A Terrible Fate more than Protect the Child, but the initial moment of realizing how much you can play with the game was a really important step in my development.

Slugblaster re-organizes your dice resources as Boost & Kick, and shifts Stress into a currency (Trouble) that you have to spend, rather than a time bomb. This gives your characters more longevity and takes away a lot of the gritty trauma that works for Blades, but doesn’t make sense for hover-boarding teens. Additionally, Slugblaster gives agency of faction creation over to the players in a way that’s way more personalized than it is in Blades. Specific questions are meant to be answered by specific playbooks, which I think is a great way to speed up crew relationships, as well as ensuring that each player at the table has a piece of the world that they contribute to. When setting decisions are left up to the group as a nebulous whole, one player may have more say over setting creation just because they have the loudest voice or the most ideas. By giving specific choices to specific playbooks, you’re ensuring that each player has a piece of the world they can point to and claim as theirs.

Moth-Light takes the CATS safety tool and embeds it into Pact creation, allowing the genre and tone to shift the way the game is played slightly to reflect the kind of story the group wants to tell. The core setting is the same - a planet with gigantic bugs - but the ways the characters interact with the setting changes depending on the Pact that you choose. I think this is a genius way to give a group a way to use Safety Tools without them necessarily realizing it, and it ensure that the group enters the story on the same page. This mindset fuelled my choice to present the world-building as a series of questions for the players to answer, establishing some truths about the technology levels and the use of magic before players make their characters, setting some basic limitations to make sure folks are on the same page. Currently however, I don’t think I’ve achieved the seamless translation of CATS into a game-appropriate setting exercise - I’ve just ported CATS into the game.

External Containment Bureau, by Mythic Gazetteer.

External Containment Bureau minimizes a lot of their character options and does away with playbook options in order to make character creation customizable while still quick, and one of the primary ways they did this was by changing the way gear rules work in the game. In standard Blades, you can only use equipment to improve your Effect, but in ECB, you can use your equipment to add +1d or improve Effect. This is primarily because ECB doesn’t use stats in the way Blades does, but I liked the way that little tweak gave the player an additional resource.

Additionally, ECB doesn’t care about load. Instead, the character comes with some gear associated with their department, and a few gear slots that they can fill themselves. You can always have everything in your Gear section on you - the limitation is in what’s available. I really liked how the game provided a balance between gear that made sense for your department and gear that reflects the way the player wants to portray their character, so I did the same thing in Protect the Child.

Antiquarian Adventures, by acegiak

I heard about the way Stress works in Antiquarian Adventures when I was listening to the Dice Exploder podcast, and it sparked a lot of thoughts about what Stress can be used for, especially since I knew that I didn’t want to give the characters Trauma in Protect the Child. Thematically, it doesn’t make sense to imply that parenting is inherently traumatic, and I don’t want to cast the Child as a source of trauma for the parents.

Antiquarian Adventures solves this problem by allowing Stress to re-set every time you fill it, as long as the player is able to dictate how the character suffers some kind of setback or brings about some form of trouble as a result of getting too stressed out. The exact trouble is attached to the playbook, adding to the distinct flavour of each trope. In Protect the Child, I made sure to add one Reaction that was unique to the playbook, to reflect the same kind of thing.

Last Fleet, by Black Armada Games.

Last Fleet blew me away with the Pressure mechanic. It’s a physical manifestation of stress that exists in the setting, that doubles as both a player resource and a ticking clock. You can spend Pressure to give yourself a better chance at success, but once it hits its cap, your character is forced into a situation that that they cause themselves.

In many ways, Last Fleet is doing something similar to Antiquarian Adventures, but the one thing it adds is that it gives the player options in terms of how they’ll cause trouble. Some options overlap across playbooks, but each playbook has a unique collection that helps keep it somewhat distinct from the others. One of the best moments I had in play was when one of my players realized that he had the option to actually turn on the group - the reaction was like a little present he’d just unwrapped for the entire group, and it made for an extremely memorable moment for the table.

Last Fleet also inspired me to shorten the Stress Clock in Protect the Child. Base Blades has a 8-mark Stress track, but in early play-tests, I felt like it was difficult for anyone to fill up their clock in a single session. The Last Fleet Pressure track can only hold 5 marks of Pressure, and re-setting it doesn’t empty the track, but rather puts it at 2. I think that constant Stress provides a bit of a friction point for players, which is needed since it’s easier for players to achieve bigger dice pools in Protect the Child.

Beam Saber, by Austin Ramsey

When I was agonizing about how to encourage more roleplay between players, someone recommended that I read through Girl By Moonlight. Unfortunately, I don’t own a copy of Girl by Moonlight. I do, however, own a copy of Beam Saber, so when I decided to comb through other Blades games for relationship mechanics, I stumbled on the relationship clocks of Beam Saber.

In Beam Saber, you write down beliefs you have of each other character in the party, and attach each belief to a slice on a Connection clock. During downtime, you have the option to Cut Loose, which helps two Pilots relieve stress with each-other at the same time as filling the Connection clock. Filling the clock awards XP as well as provides the characters an opportunity to confront each-other about the way they see each-other.

I liked the idea of using time together as a chance to relieve stress. As far as I understand, this moment of connection is also seen in Girl by Moonlight, but I decided to limit the amount of stress you could relieve in Protect the Child because I’m still operating under the ethos I was introduced to in Last Fleet - I want to keep the characters under a lot of pressure, making room for them to make terrible decisions, and therefore giving them room to grow.

Lady Blackbird, by John Harper.

I returned to Lady Blackbird when I realized that the way I’ve set up runs in PtC means that it may be hard for players to do things like engage in long-term projects, or train for XP in a regular Downtime session. I also noticed that it was hard to get the players to roleplay with each-other with the way that Downtime is written in base Blades - it’s often navigated through in a very procedural way. Finally, I wanted to make the game a bit more one-shot friendly, with a way to present a Downtime-like section partway through the game without bogging down play too much.

Lady Blackbird has moments in between Action scenes where it explicitly encourages players to engage in flashbacks or character interactions in ways that allow them to clear conditions and provide a bit of exposition into their backstory. This, coupled with the Impressions in Beam Saber, gave me the tools to both encourage the players to role-play while also giving them the tools to foster relationships with each-other.

Right now, Rest Stops only have two moves: Bond with the Child and Bond with Each-Other. By reducing both of your options to moments where your character interacts with other characters, and encouraging both of these options to reflect your character’s ideals and history, I’m hoping to provide some of the maintenance of Downtime while encouraging the role-play that happens in Lady Blackbird. Longer downtime actions are relegated to Time Passes, which will only come up in campaign play.

I still haven’t perfected this stage though. For example, I haven’t figured out what to do about wounds.

Apocalypse Keys, by Rae Nedjadi / @temporalhiccup.

It’s kind of hard to quantify or describe the influence Apocalypse Keys had on my design, but I’ll give it a shot.

In Apocalypse Keys, your character never has to fail. There’s always options to give yourself a success, it’s just a question of how much you want to sacrifice parts of who your character is in order to get what you want. Apocalypse Keys is itself an amalgamation of a number of different mechanics from various places, such as the way you use tokens to improve your rolls, as originally found in Libretè, or the Theorize roll, popularized in Brindlewood Bay but originating in Codex: Moonlight.

The character playbooks are also centred on different struggles that the player has decided to wrestle with. The Summoned has a lot of moments centred on fighting destiny, while the Last wrestles with grief and loss. Some of the themes in these playbooks give you a lot of freedom to explore struggles and traumas that affect people in real life, but are flavoured in a way to give your monsters great power and extremely interesting backstories.

Finally, the way your character looks is completely up to you, and is irrelevant to the things your character can do. If you want a thousand glowing eyes, it doesn’t matter which playbook you choose. If you want to be the spirit of all werewolves that came before you, it doesn’t matter which playbook you choose. If you want to carry a golden spear that can listen to the regrets of the restless dead, I don’t think it matters what playbook you choose. I think that there’s a bit of a carryover from what I love about Changeling: the Lost to be found in Apocalypse Keys, in that your character’s origin and presentation can be as varied as whatever you can imagine, and can fit into the themes of whatever playbook you decide to wrestle with.

Protect the Child doesn’t directly borrow any mechanics from Apocalypse Keys, but I think the ethos behind the design is there. I want the players to experience the same creative freedom, while tying down specific themes to specific playbooks. I want to enable conversations about real issues that affect real people, while allowing the table to situate those issues in whatever setting makes the most sense for the group. I want the players to feel powerful, and at the same time recognize that the biggest obstacles to being good parent are generally incredibly personal.

I also admire the way that Nedjadi designs, from the rigorous play testing, to the purposeful openness about his inspirations, to his careful documentation of who has inspired him and where his ideas came from. I think being able to provide a clear through-line to the ways your were influenced by other design works is good for the historians of our hobby, and it also reinforces a culture in which game designers influence and allow themselves to be influenced by each-other.

[gigisriley]

wait people say charpim is toxic or that they wouldn't work out as a healthy relationship??? im so confused is this just angst being grafted onto them or is there a valid argument to be made here?

Im new to the smiling friends fanbase btw and mostly am a lurker that seldom comes by to see fan content lel

first off, WARGGGHHH thank you for the ask i’m literally SO excited to answer!!!

rambling below the cut!!

i’m in two camps on this one. I think charpim in its CURRENT state definitely wouldn’t work. BUT Pim is definitely the kind of person who has the capacity to help Charlie. Pim is a very affectionate guy, and he’s open, honest and sincere. Hle’s very genuine, compassionate and beyond kind. In other words, he’s *exactly* what Charlie needs. Pim can make him better.

Charlie isn’t a bad guy. He’s far from it, actually. His whole job revolves around making people smile, even if his goal is a paycheck and not that fuzzy feeling you get in your chest when you make someone’s day better.

But he’s a very flawed guy. In Charlie goes to Hell and Doesn’t Come Back, I remember reading somewhere that Micheal and Zach wanted to originally make Charlie vape in the beginning, but the studio wouldn’t let them. So they settled on energy drinks. Thats why The Devil says “I can quit my addicted vices whenever I want”- this is supposed to be a moment of realization for Charlie. He can see himself in The Devil in that moment.

In Erm, The Boss Finds Love? Charlie literally gets shitfaced at the wedding. Even as he walks into the break room the next day, he says “I can’t keep doing this. Something’s gotta change, brother.” in reference to his hangover. He’s unhappy with where he is, and he recognizes there is a problem. But he doesn’t do anything to fix that. In the alien episode, both him AND Pim get shitfaced.

Charlie also instigates fights. In both Charlie Dies and Doesn’t Come back and the alien episode, Charlie’s the one to stir the pot. When they go looking for a tree to chop down, Pim keeps a level head and calm voice. Charlie’s the one who raises his voice and takes the axe to the tree. Charlie instigates thus fights with the dudebro aliens, literally egging them on. He’s so caught up in this that he literally elbows Pim in the face.

Plus, you never want to get into a relationship with someone under the notion that you can “fix” them. More often than not, people don’t change. It takes a MAJOR life event or some kind of trauma for someone to change. And Charlie, in the face of LITERALLY being given a second chance, continues to drink, instigate fights, and give in to his addictive vices.

In his current state, Charlie would definitely be the ‘toxic’ one in the relationship. He’d instigate fights, come home drunk out of his gourd, and he’d hurt Pim emotionally. Whether or not he’d hurt him on purpose is up for debate. Pim would overexert himself trying to keep them together, and fall apart. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

Charlie needs to change if they’re going to work. He needs to get better. THATS why I think they wouldn’t work, at least not yet.

At the end of the day they’re just silly little guys in a cartoon about Friends Who Smile so i’m probably reading WAY too much into a guy who looks like a peep. But oh well. To be cringe is to be free.

(ID LOVE to talk more about this—- if anyone has any comments on this or disagrees, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know in the notes. i like talking about my silly little pink and yellow middle aged men)

[ofstoriesandstardust]

can't take the home out of oklahoma - ii. (k.c.)

a/n: we're soooo back! this is filled with banter and found family and all the sweet angst! also, it's come to my attention through a third rewatch that i've actually been wrong the whole time and kate's last name is in fact carter. if you catch any of my slip-ups, whoopsies! thank you to @cottagecori for letting me ramble about this one the phone for hours and to @sometimesanalice for listening to all the personal lore. i actually ended up having part iii written before i start part ii but now i think it needs a rewrite so that should be up in a few days. comments and reblog are always appreciated!

part i.

summary: You and Kate build a friendship until you stand on the precipice of something more.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, tornadoes, concussions, angst, kissing, scott is actually the villain

word count: 10.7k

Kate pushes the barn door open, a piece of toast in her other hand. 

You’ve got another cup of coffee in hand as you follow Kate inside. She stops as you take the place in. 

“This is where the magic happens?” You ask, taking it all in. The model town, the polymer tucked up at the top, extra equipment for the truck strewn about through the place. 

“Just about.” She answers. 

She hangs by the door, as you walk around, taking it all in. 

Towards the back, where some of Kate’s papers sit, are photos. There’s some of the Wranglers, some of her Mom. Others of her and Tyler, some with her and Javi. 

You nudge one of them aside, looking at one of the pictures tucked in the very corner. 

It’s a picture of an obviously much younger Kate and Javi with three others you don’t recognize. 

You think you should maybe be surprised that it’s clear Javi and Kate go back so far but in thinking about what you’ve seen from them, it feels like the signs were always there. 

There’s a comfortable ease they have with each other that can only come with so much time of knowing someone, the same one Boone has with Tyler. 

“You know, I owe Javi a lot.” Kate comments, coming to stand next to you.

“Yeah?”

She nods. “Without him, there wouldn’t be all of this. He brought Tyler and I together in a way. If he’d never convinced me to come back to Oklahoma-“ She breaks off, shrugging. 

“I get what you mean.” You say softly. 

“He’s my best friend. We’d do anything for each other I think. No matter how far apart we go, he’ll always be there. He’ll always be in my orbit.” 

“You guys complement each other in a lot of ways.” You say softly and she nods. 

It’s quiet again as you think of the conversation you’d caught on the stairs last night. 

Javi, telling Kate she should give you another chance. 

Kate, saying she doesn’t want to get hurt again.

You want to ask about these three people you don’t recognize but you know well enough that Kate probably wouldn’t tell you, would probably get annoyed at you for not having the wherewithal to not ask. 

A knock against the wooden door of the barn pulls both your attention. It’s Javi, standing tentatively at the doors. 

“Owens says we’re gonna leave in about an hour, so to be ready by then.” You nod, going to step away and Kate gestures her head, beckoning Javi in. 

You wait as Javi walks over. “Just showing her all the grant stuff.” Kate says, gesturing to the messy table next to you. There’s a white board hung on the wall, grant and sponsor deadlines in a sprawling handwriting that screams Boone. 

“That’s right, we’ve got the deadline for the proposal to talk to the governor and the senators this Friday.” Javi says, picking up a binder. “Good thing California’s got the experience writing proposals.”

“Really?” Kate asks. 

You shrug. “Nothing too impressive, just research proposals. I haven’t written many as I’ve read them — comes with the territory of working in a Writing Center for four years.” 

“The hell’s a Writing Center?” Javi asks, flipping through the binders, presumably to figure out what they should take on the road with them. 

“Place to help students with their writing on college campuses. I spent two years one in my undergrad and then both years of my Masters.”

“You’ve got a Masters?” Kate asks. 

“Yeah but not in anything useful.” You say with a shrug. 

Kate clicks her tongue. “That’s okay. I don’t even think Javi knows how to spell the word conference, so we could use all the help we can get.” 

“Hey now!” Javi defends, snapping the binder shut. “I was in the same PhD program as you!” 

-

“Agh!” Kate shouts. 

You shut the door, hand flying up to cover your eyes. 

“Sorry!” You shout. “I thought you were still in the bathroom!”

You cringe, thinking of the scar running down’s Kate thigh you gotten sight of. You think of the picture tucked into the corner of the barn, the one with three people not around. 

Kate opens the door and you spin around. She rubs her cheeks, a dusty pink covering them. “Sorry.” She says. “You just scared me.” 

You shrug. “No, it was my fault.” 

You two both stand there like in the doorway, awkwardly looking at each other until you hear heavy footsteps. You both look down to see Tyler standing at the bottom of the staircase, hands on his hips. “We’re waiting on the both of you.” He says matter-of-factly. “Hurry up. I’ll leave you here.”

He turns on his heel and you can hear the front door shut behind him. 

“He will.” Kate says. “Leave us here. So we should probably-“ 

You nod, ducking into Kate’s room to grab your bag. She waits for you and then you both walk down the stairs, Kate shouting goodbye to her Mom as she does. Cathy meets her daughter at the door and you slip out, trying to not let your heart twinge at the sight of the obvious love and care Cathy has for Kate. 

Tyler tells you you’ll be riding with Lilly and you nod, climbing into the passenger seat of her van as Lilly whoops, shouting something to Javi about finally not having hot cheeto dust all over her radio and dashboard. 

Kate leaves the house a few minutes later and your eyes meet through the windshield. She gives you a tight smile and a small wave before climbing into the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck. 

“You okay?” Lilly asks and you startle, not having realized she had opened the door. 

“Fine.” You respond. She studies you for a minute before turning the key. 

“Let’s go chase some twisters then baby!”

-

You shoot up with a gasp, feeling the sweat drip down your back as your breath comes out in short pants. Tears sting at your eyes as you take in the darkened space. 

The Oklahoma rose nightlight sits in the corner, the grey cotton sheets beneath you familiar. 

Okay. Okay. You were in Kate’s room. You were okay. You were safe here. 

You press your palms into your eyes, trying to push back the tears as someone shifts next to you on the bed. 

“Are you okay?” She asks softly and you have to bite back a whimper at the humiliating knowledge that you’d gone and woken her up. 

“Fine.” You say, pulling your hands away from your eyes. She reaches over to her side of the bed, flicking her lamp on. “You don’t have to do that.” You say quietly. “I’m sorry for waking you. You can go back to sleep.” 

Kate shakes her head but doesn’t say anything as she moves to have her back be supported by her headboard. Finally, you sigh, moving to match her position as she waits. 

“You know, I used to get them all the time too.” She says, her twang a bit more prominent at this point of night. “The nightmares.”

“How do you deal with them?” You ask quietly, chancing a glance at her. 

She sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t know that I used to deal with them per se. When I first moved to New York after it happened, I used to stay up for days at a time until I was so tired I wouldn’t dream. Some nights I’d have to spend hours reminding myself what was and wasn’t real. They’ve only gotten better since I’ve started to deal with what happened head on.”

You want to ask her what it is exactly that happened, an incident everyone but you seems to know, but you can’t bring yourself to dare to ask. She must know the questions you have though because she keeps talking. 

“I see you look at that picture of them.” She says quietly. “The one in the barn. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” 

“I didn’t think I should.” You say quietly. 

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever made it clear you could.” She responds. “They were friends of Javi and I’s. That photo in there, it’s the last photo we ever took together. We were storm chasing that day; they were helping me with my dream.” She lets out a shaky breath. “The storm we ended up in was an EF-5, not the EF-1 we had been hoping for. We tried to hide under an overpass. Praveen was taken first, he never made it. Addy and I were trying to climb up when I got cut.” You think of the scar down Kate’s thigh, the one you’d only seen that one time on accident. “Addy got hit by debris right after. My boyfriend at the time, Jeb, he helped me get up, to cling to the metal piping. He was holding on to me until he wasn’t.” She swallows. “For years, I’d see them in my dreams. I’d wake up think Jeb was telling me we were going to be okay, that Addy was chasing one more storm with me, that Praveen was still there with his cautious concern. For years, I thought it was my fault.” 

“Kate, I’m so sorry.” You whisper. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t even imagine.” 

You think of Texas, of the horrors you’d seen there. And yet it almost can’t compare to the loss Kate’s lived through. 

“It’s why I’m glad you’re joining Javi and I in DC next month.” 

“How do you mean?”

She wraps her arms around herself, a tear trickling down her cheek. You resist the urge to reach out and wipe it off her face. 

“Praveen’s parents told me after the funeral that they could never be angry with me for what happened; that they knew their son had died doing what he loved. Praveen had gotten struck by lightening a few weeks before and I don’t know, I think they knew that those were the risks he was taking after he decided to keep going back out. Addy’s parents blamed me though. Said that I encouraged her recklessness, that Addy would’ve been safe if it hadn’t been for me.” She swallows. “But Jeb’s parents- they’ve got money, the degrees in science. They’re pretty prominent in the meteorology community but they’re not storm chasers in any form of the term. They didn’t just blame me for Jeb’s death, they blamed Javi.” Another tear drips down her face. “Javi never even got close to the storm. Jeb was dating me; he’s the one followed me into the storm. He never would’ve been there if it hadn’t been for me. But they put that stain on Javi’s name too, it’s why Javi had to fight so hard to get StormPar together, it’s why he had to bring Scott on. I’m terrified it’s gonna affect what we’re trying to do here too.” 

This time, you finally reach out for Kate. You take her hand, squeezing it. “Kate, you’re testing the unprecedented out here and it’s working. You’ve got the support of all the Wranglers, all their supporters. You’ve got this. You and Javi and Tyler - you guys are going to change the game, I’m sure of it. It doesn’t matter what they say, I see it every time you guys go out into the field and cause a storm to collapse. You’re going to change the world, I just know it.” 

She gives you a watery smile as you bite back the you don’t need me for that. 

“I hope DC is going to be good.”

“It’s going to be great.” 

She sniffs, taking her free hand to wipe at the nose. “Anyways, I didn’t mean to make it about me.”

“No, you didn’t-“

She cuts you off. “Just that if you ever want to share that stuff that’s haunting you, the stuff that keeps you up at night, I’d listen.” 

-

“You guys, I thought we had a no work at the dinner table rule.” Dani says. 

She shrugs, crowding over your phone with Javi. “Technically foods not here, so it’s not dinner time.” 

You’re inside with her Mom and Tyler and Dexter, getting ready to bring out all the food for dinner. Javi chuckles as they scroll through the outline you’d drawn up earlier in the day.  

Suddenly, your phone starts ringing with a call and her and Javi shoot back like they’ve been burned. 

She doesn’t recognize the name on your phone, but she knows you haven’t spoken of the life you’d left behind nor talked to anyone from that past. 

“What do we do?” She hisses.

“Kate, just decline it.” Lilly says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

It probably is, but it doesn’t save her from pressing the wrong button and answering the call. 

Her hands fly up to her mouth, looking around the table as they all fall silent. 

Hello? Hello? Are you there? 

She can hear a man say and she glances at Javi, wide-eyed, unsure of what to do. 

Sweetheart, can you hear me? Are you there? 

Javi’s hand darts out and ends the call. 

It feels like the table lets out a collective sigh of relief when the phone starts ringing again. 

Lilly reaches around Dani this time and ends the call. Javi picks up your phone again, going back to reading the outline. 

“Kate man, you’ve got all those fancy degrees and you’re telling me you don’t know how to decline a phone call?” Boone crows from the end of the table. 

“The question should really be are we going to say anything to her.” Dani says with a smirk on her face. 

“Oh please don’t.” She groans, letting her head fall into her palm. 

“Oh fuck.” Javi mutters from next to her and she steals a glance at the phone. “Kate can’t decline a call but apparently I can’t swipe away a voicemail notification either.” 

Out of her peripheral vision, she thinks Dani’s eyes flicker up over her head. 

“Hey guys, this feels like a real invasion of her privacy.” Lilly says and she’s right. Her Mom would wring her neck if she knew what her and Javi were reading right now but it’s like a bad car wreck they can’t look away from as the voicemail transcribes itself. 

“Hey guys, she’s coming back, I’d put it away.” Boone says, shifting closer to take the phone. 

“Okay, yeah, like put it away right now.” Dani says, scooping the phone up but it doesn’t make her forget what she’s seen and she knows Javi won’t either as they share an uneasy glance. “Here.” Dani says, offering you your phone as you slide the platter down in front of her and Javi. 

She swallows, chancing a glance at you as your confusion about the obvious fuss over the phone turns into a hard look, sliding the phone into your back pocket. 

You’re quiet through most of dinner as her and Javi keep looking at each other, both unable to participate in the conversation either. 

Hey, sweetheart, it’s me. It sounded like you picked up there for a minute but maybe it’s a fluke, I don’t know. 

I miss you, darling. I miss you so much. The last six weeks have been so hard without you and I just hope that you’re safe wherever it is you’ve gone. Your sister still calls me sometimes to ask where you’ve gone and I still listen to your favorite music hoping it’ll make you be there. 

I know you’ve said we’re done, that you didn’t want to be with me anymore, but if you ever want to come home, please let me know. I still love you baby, I always will you. You can come home whenever you’re ready.

-

“Man, California, what’s all this? It’s like an art project.” 

You look up at Javi from where you’re cutting out paper. 

“I’m getting the questions for tomorrow’s video ready.” You smack Javi’s hand that’s reaching out for the pile that has Boone’s name on it. “Stop it - you don’t get an advantage.” 

Javi hisses, retracting his hand as he glances at the kitchen. “And the cookies?” 

“I got drunk and made cookies. Kate’s Mom said I could.” You pause, looking up at him. “Well, the getting drunk was all me. But Cathy did say I could make cookies.” 

Javi chuckles. “Okay California, so what I’m hearing is I’ve got to catch up to you?” He asks, pulling another beer from the fridge. 

You shrug. “Sure, but you’ve got to help me pull the cookies out to cool.” 

He nods, sitting across from you at the table as he takes a draw from his beer. “So California, I gotta ask-“ You groan. “That voicemail.”

You sigh before reaching out for your own drink (a strong dirty Shirley Temple, Boone had teased you as you’d made them for you and Dani) and taking a long sip. “My ex.” 

“Sounded like you broke his heart.” 

“I probably did.” 

“Why?” 

You sigh again, looking over at your phone that had all the questions written down on it, the Sharpie squeaking against the cardstock you’d found shoved into one of the closets. 

“It just wasn’t working. The relationship wasn’t right anymore. It probably hadn’t been right for a while, maybe ever, but I wanted to make it work.” Javi waits for more information and you sigh, capping the pen. “He was in the Navy and-“

“C’mon California, don’t you know better than to date a military man? Coming from a former military man.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You? Actually, yeah, that tracks.” 

Javi chokes. “The fuck does that mean?” He says hotly but there’s no real malice behind his words, a wide grin on his face. 

You give an unimpressed look. “Do you really need me to explain it?” 

Javi laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, I get it.” 

You nod, uncapping the Sharpie again as you start on Kate’s questions. “Anyways, he was also eight years older than me.” 

Javi makes a noise through a laugh. “Hoohoo, so you mean to tell me you were the scandalously younger girlfriend?” 

“I wouldn’t say it was scandalous. I was 22 when we met.” 

“Making him 30. That’s pretty scandalous to me.” 

“We only went on two dates and then decided to be friends so by the time we did date I was almost 24 and he 32.”

“That’s still pretty scandalous.” 

You snort, setting Kate’s questions aside. “Yeah, well, my friends would agree with you there but honestly it never really phased me.” 

Javi takes another draw of his beer. “Yeah, cause you were being groomed.” 

The deathly look you give Javi sends him into a fit of laughter. 

“I was not!”

-

“What are you guys doing?” 

You look over at Kate and Tyler from where you’re laughing at the meme Javi’s showing you. You swallow the rest of your laughter, sliding off the kitchen counter like you’d been caught. 

“California and I got drunk. We’re bonding.” 

Tyler looks unimpressed as Kate steps into the kitchen, surveying the cookies. “Can I have one?” You nod. 

“Damn California.” Tyler whistles when he sees the amount of cookies sitting in Kate’s kitchen.

You give a nervous laugh, scrubbing your forehead with your wrist. “Yeah, I know. Its my Dad’s recipe — I always forget how much the recipe makes and I even halved it.” 

“So you disappeared from the barn to drunkenly make cookies?” Kate asks, not to you, but to Javi, and your face falls. 

Right.

Right, Javi had been in the barn with Dexter and Kate and Tyler to talk science stuff. You couldn’t find your place in the conversation with Boone and Lilly and Dani as they had s’mores, so you’d come inside to make cookies. 

Javi shrugs, a lopsided grin on his face as the alcohol paints his cheeks a rosy red. “Just trying to get to know our new team member, s’all.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract him.” 

Kate shrugs as she takes another bite. “Not like it’s hard.” She swallows. “He’s like a toddler — he gets distracted by food and shiny things.” 

“Hey now!” Javi says as you hear the front door open again. “Nah, California here was just telling me about her scandalous-“ Javi pauses as Boone and Lilly come through the kitchen, Dani behind them as they wait for him to finish his sentence. He must see something on your face cause he softens. “Nah California, that’ll just be between us.” 

You give him a tight smile before turning to Tyler as the newcomers realize there’s cookies. “Owens, what time are we leaving tomorrow?” 

“1. And we need to film that video for the YouTube channel, which is what I’m guessing this all is.” 

You nod as he gestures to the table with the stack of questions on it. 

“I hope Tyler loses again.” Lilly says and Tyler gives her a face in return. The group laughs at him, presumably thinking about after he had lost the game of Twisters last week, he’d had to feed Kate’s angry rooster Mr. Biscuits, who Tyler had, up until that point, thought was a dog.

“Hell no, I’m not doing that again.”

“Um,” You say as you pull the sleeves of your (Javi’s, though he doesn’t seem like he’s going to ask for it back at this point) pullover down your arms. “Can someone make sure the cookies get wrapped up? I think I’m gonna head to bed for the night.” 

“Wait, but we were gonna watch a movie!” Dani protests. 

You shrug. “Tired.” 

It’s a weak excuse as the energy shifts in the kitchen. 

Kate clears her throat. “I can. Make sure the cookies get put away.” 

You give Kate a small smile. “Thanks Kate.” 

“No problem.” 

You turn to leave the room, various calls of goodnight following you as you walk up towards the stairs. You sigh when you reach Kate’s room, shutting the door behind you. The sleeping bag you’d gotten had migrated its way inside as you always ended up falling asleep on Kate’s floor. 

She’d offered to share the bed again more times than you could count but ever since you’d awoken her from your nightmare, you’d elected to sleep on the floor in hopes to ride them out alone. 

You all but flop onto the floor, feeling your body protest as you do. As much as you dismissed the uncomfortable sleeping conditions to the group and especially to Kate, your body protested more than anything after sleeping on the wooden floors of Kate’s house. 

Your phone dings and your stomach drops as you look down at it.

Hope you’re safe wherever you are.

You swallow around a scream, seeing Jake’s name on your screen. Your fingers begin flying across your screen without your permission.

Jake gets blocked first, then Javy. Natasha and Bradley. Pete and Bob and Sophie, Elle and Sam following. Mickey and Julia and Reuben. 

Before you can even realize it, most of the people you knew who were wondering where you were now had been blocked. Maybe you should’ve done it before now, seeing as how desperate you were to leave those memories in Texas where they belonged. 

Angry tears sting at your eyes as you resist to throw your phone, deleting photos en masse. 

As you hear laughter from down the stairs, an ache settles in to your bones. 

Six weeks gone and it still sort of felt like you were always standing at the edge of this group, never quite able to find your place. They seemed to like you more now, Kate especially, but it still felt like the bonds they’ve woven together in the last year would always put you on the outs. 

A lot of the time it still felt like you’d never really run from the memories of Texas, your past life left behind. 

-

Kate says your name softly. “Are you awake?” 

You shift in the sleeping bag, turning to face her. “Kate?”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. “Seeing that voicemail- that was wrong of us. We didn’t mean to.” 

You shrug, though you doubt she can see it. “Not your fault.” 

“I know you don’t want to talk about why you left but I- it sounded like he really cared about you.” 

“Caring about me doesn’t mean our relationship was right. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t unhappy for a while before I left.” 

Kate sighs. “I get what you mean. It just sounded like he really missed you.” 

You swallow, turning back over. “Yeah.” 

“I get that we can’t make you stay.” She whispers. “But I understand how someone could miss you that much. I think I’d miss you that much if you left.” 

Your tears are resurfacing but you can’t bring yourself to respond to Kate’s words. 

After a few minutes, when it becomes clear you’re not going to respond, Kate bids you a quiet goodnight and rolls back over. 

I think I’d miss you that much if you left. 

-

“Now, you might be wondering where our fearless leader Kate is today.” Boone says through the grainy feed of the live stream. 

“And her lovely sidekick Javi.” Lilly adds from her end. 

“Tyler, why don’t you tell the viewers at home where they are?” Boone prompts, facing the camera to Tyler. 

“Well folks, they’re in DC with our lovely social media manager to talk to the governor and Senators from a bunch of the states in Tornado Alley, particularly Oklahoma. They’ll be presenting the research we’ve been done out here in the last year in hopes of getting more state budgeting allocated to tornado research and relief.” Tyler informs the livestream and you grin as you type out a comment. 

Tyler wasn’t invited because he’s not smart enough. 

Boone lets out a bark of laughter, repeating the comment to Tyler. Tyler makes Boone gesture the camera over to him, getting real close as he drives. “I know where you sleep at night.”

Hello FBI, there’s been a threat made against my life. 

The group sets off into laughter as Boone struggles to relay the message to Tyler through his laughter. 

“What are you doing?” Kate asks, sitting down next to you, Javi across from you. 

“Causing chaos in the livestream chat.” You exit it, turning your phone off. “How come you guys aren’t eating?” 

“I think I’d throw up right about now.” Kate says, looking over to Javi, who does look much paler than normal. 

“You guys can’t seriously be nervous?” You ask around a mouthful of Cheerios. 

“You’re not?” Kate asks in disbelief.

You shrug. “I’m used to public speaking. Besides, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good presenter, if I do say so myself.” 

“Great, want to present all the data?” 

You blanch. “I wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of that. All I gotta do is talk about Tyler and well, he makes that part pretty easy.”

-

“So, it’s like I was saying, when I backed out of StormPar, a lot of these guys came over because of Kate.” Javi says as he makes introductions of his team, the ones who’ve been out in the field, using the radars to collect the data from the tornados Kate and Tyler have collapsed. 

“Javi.” Someone says and the group turns. Javi’s face sours noticeably. 

“Scott.” Javi says with a grim face before turning to you. “This is Scott, my ex business partner.” 

His eyes gloss over you as they land on Kate. “See you’re still wasting your time with Carter here.” 

Javi’s eyebrows scrunch up but you put your hand out, stopping him. “Sorry, Simon, was it?” Javi snorts. 

“Scott.” 

“Right, Sonny. Sorry. I mean- do you like take pleasure in being an asshole? That’s not a very attractive personality trait.” 

“It worked for Owens, does it not?”

“Oh, Stephen, sweetie. The internet would never make thirst traps of you like they do him.” Javi has to cough in his fist to hide his laugh and Kate has a hint of a smile on her face. “Oh, I know! You must be jealous of Javi’s sauve charm or- no, it must be because you think Kate should be in the kitchen, cooking and cleaning right? Cause women can’t have degrees.” You snap your fingers. “That must be it.” 

Scott gives you a displeased smile, turning to Javi. “When did you two get a guard dog? Couldn’t face me on your own?” 

Javi introduces you. “She’s Tyler’s new social media manager, been out there giving us a hand.” 

Scott clicks his tongue. “Maybe she’d like to meet my new investors.” Scott turns, gesturing over a woman and man, and the sight of them must mean something to Javi and Kate as they both take a step back, their faces going pale. 

Scott introduces them to you with a smirk on his face. “She’s working for Javi and Kate, figured it might be good for you all to meet.” 

The woman, in particular, has strong displeasure written on her face. “So, you decide to follow these two into a tornado?” 

You give a half shrug. “Can’t seem to think of why the decisions of a stranger would matter all that much to you.” 

She raises an eyebrow, adjusting her purse. “I just think you should be careful.” 

“I think you should mind your own business.” You say sharply, catching sight of the aide opening the door for you guys down the hall. “If you’ll excuse us, we should be going.” You touch Javi and Kate’s arms, nudging them forward. 

“And when you die for them, will it be worth it?”

It’s the man this time. 

You turn. “Excuse me?” 

“When you die for Kate and Javi, for this- this- hypothetical they believe in, like the one our son died for, will it be worth it?” 

And suddenly it all makes sense. It all clicks into place.

Kate’s words come back to you, how Jeb’s parents who were meteorologists who had money, how Jeb’s parents blamed Javi and Kate for their son’s death. 

Javi says your name softly. “C’mon, they ain’t worth it.”

“Your son didn’t die for some hypothetical. He died for research that’s working.” You say sharply. Kate grabs your wrist, pulling you back. “Maybe you should watch the YouTube channel sometime. Sounds like you could stand to learn a thing or two.” 

The aide ushers you into the conference room after that. The presentation goes smoothly, no obvious signs of how much the encounter had rattled Javi or Kate, and it’s obvious that more than a few of them are impressed with what you had to tell them. 

Until Kate asks if anyone has any questions. 

“Ms. Carter, you’re from Salpulpa, Oklahoma, isn’t that correct?” The governor of South Dakota asks. 

Kate swallows. “Yeah. That’s right, I am.”

“And six years ago, you were caught in an EF-5, right? Working on this research with your business partner here?” 

She nods, hesitancy growing on both her and Javi. “That’s correct.”

“And this research, you were doing as part of your PhD? But there was a team of five, right? What happened to your three colleagues?” 

You frown as Kate glances at Javi. “They were killed, sir.” Javi answers for her. “In the EF-5.”

“Sorry, I just- Can I ask why that matters?” You interrupt.  

The governor shifts as the one of the senators from Oklahoma turns to him. “I’d like to know as well.” 

“Well, two of my constituents are directly connected to that incident, as their son Jeb was dating Ms. Carter at the time. And they’re raising a lot of concerns about this research you’re out here doing. I mean, how are you going to ask me to sacrifice more lives and money to your data that’s not even backed?” 

Kate seems stunned, Javi too. “Well, sir-“

“Sorry, what are you implying here?” You say, cutting Javi off. 

“I’m saying that this research is led by two people who have a known history of being responsible for the death of my constituents and I simply won’t put any more time forth on this.” The governor stands, snapping his folder shut. “We’re done here.”

“So you’re saying Kate and Javi are responsible and at fault for the deaths of three equally educated researchers who willingly chose, by no influence of Javi or Kate, to go in the storm that day six years ago? Because I think that is incredibly gross and inappropriate.” 

Javi reaches out for your arm. “Stop.” He whispers. “It’s fine, we can take it.” 

You shake your head. “No, no because you’re wrong. To insinuate that what we’re doing out there is anything less than helping the people these tornados target is wrong. We use the data from the radars Javi’s team sets up to understand how these tornados are collapsing and when we can’t get to a storm in time, we’re there, on the ground, giving out food and water and helping people dig through the rubble of their lives while you sit in your fancy office, removed from the everyday struggles of these people!” 

You finally breathe, taking a step back as you pray Javi and Kate can forgive you. 

“You’re new to this team, that’s right?” 

You nod. “Been here just under three months.” 

“And how did you find yourself here?” 

You shrug. “I’ve seen firsthand the destruction and death these tornadoes cause. I’ve seen what these people can do to help. All I’ve ever wanted is to make a difference. 

“And when you die, cutting your life short, for this research?” 

You glance at your friends. “Then I’ll die knowing I gave my life helping others to change the game. I’ll died knowing I did what I could to make a difference.”

-

Her and Javi sit in their hotel room, uneasy silence between them. 

They’d invited you to come with them but you’d seemed hesitant and had retreated to your room down the hall. 

“Can we talk about it?” Javi asks finally. 

“You ever think about that voicemail we saw?” 

Javi shrugs. “Not really, I guess.” He glances at her. “Do you?”

She shrugs, pulling her shorts down. “Sometimes. Just wonder what the hell she’s doing out here when she’s got people at home who seem to care about her that much.” 

Javi shrugs. “Whatever they did to force her to Oklahoma, that cut’s gotta run deep because oh boy, she seems to be loyal something fierce.” There’s a knock on the door and Javi slides off the bed. “That’ll be our room service!” He jogs to the door, getting the food and thanking the person. He shoves a fry in his mouth, moaning around it, before he talks again. “I mean, she had the balls to stand up to the governor of South Dakota for us.” She doesn’t say anything response, running her fingers over the starchy fabric beneath her. “Kate.” 

She glances up at him. “What?” 

“C’mon, talk to me. What’re you thinking?”

“I can’t ask someone else to sacrifice their life for this.” She says softly. 

Javi sighs, sitting back down on the bed. “That’s the thing I think you’re missing Kate. You’re not asking. She’s offering.”

“But why?” She croaks. “What is any of this worth to her?”

Javi shakes his head. “That’s the part I can’t quite figure out. I don’t know, Kate.” 

-

Your head meets the table as Cathy slides a plate down in front of you. “I need three naps and an IV full of Diet Coke.” You mumble and Dani laughs into her coffee from her seat next to you. 

“So, c’mon tell us about DC.” Boone says excitedly. “You said you’d say over breakfast.” 

You can hear Javi sigh from across the kitchen at the coffee pot. “It didn’t go well.” 

“What happened?” Lilly asks around a mouthful of food. “Javi stumble over his words or something?”

“Well, for starters, we saw Scott.” Javi says as you lift your head from the table. There’s various groans and boos from the group as Javi’s grins grows. “Yeah, but she was mean to him.” 

You snort. “Yeah, I said the internet would never make thirst traps of him and he must think women belong in the kitchen. Oh, and that he must be jealous of Javi’s charm.” 

“We also saw Jeb’s parents.” Kate softly, immediately sobering your friend’s laughter. Cathy frowns, reaching out for her daughter. 

“They’re Scott’s new investors.” Javi explains as Kate looks at you. 

“They asked her if dying for me like Jeb did would be worth it.” 

Tyler scoffs. “That’s bullshit. You told them that was bullshit right?” 

You sigh. “Them and the governor of South Dakota, whose pocket they’re in. Told him it’s was gross and inappropriate to ever say Kate and Javi were responsible for the deaths of their friends.” You sigh, standing up from the table. “Sides, I know my words won’t make any difference to men like him but they didn’t go into that storm for Kate. They did it with Kate. This was something they believed in and it’s something I believe in too.” You push your food towards Boone. “Here, you can have it, I need to go to bed.” 

-

She sighs and Javi tosses her an irritating look.  

“Alright Carter, cough it up. What’s bugging you?” 

She shrugs. “Nothing.” 

“Kate, do you really take me for an idiot?” She gives him a curious look. “Look, I see how you are with her. The looks you give her when you think none of us notice. The way you’re always trying to include her in conversation, the way you always want her to be around. What gives?” 

She scuffs her heel against the asphalt of the parking lot. “Do you think she’s got a thing for T?” 

Javi sighs, rubbing his hands together. “No, I don’t.” He nudges her. “I mean that genuinely. I ain’t just saying it cause I know it’s what you want to hear.”

They both look at where you’re sitting, crowded up into Tyler’s personal space. Tyler’s arm is resting on your head obnoxiously, a cross look on your face as you elbow Ty in the ribs. To an outsider’s perspective, she could see how someone would mistake you two for something more but she knew the truth. 

Tyler Owens saw you nothing more than the little sister he had never had and had always wanted. Tyler was protective of his team, it was a given, but with you he was different. There was an innate, inherent bond between the two of you different from everyone else. And if Kate had to guess, it stemmed from where your pasts intertwined, even if they didn’t know how. 

But maybe it would be better if you did have something with Tyler. 

“Better how?” 

She blinks, turning to look at Javi. “Didn’t realize I said that out loud.” 

Javi studies her for a minute before standing. “C’mon, I need to get a jacket, come with me.” She follows as Javi shouts that they’ll be right back to the group and she catches your curious look from across the fire. 

Only once the motel door of Javi and Boone’s bedroom is shut, Javi looks at her.  “Kate, what’s up?” 

She looks at her friend before sinking to sit down on the bed. “I didn’t- I didn’t think I could ever love someone again after Jeb.” Javi’s eyebrows raise. “Ty showed me it could be possible.” She swallows, feeling tears sting at her eyes. “But I can’t ask her to love me back and to die for it in return.” 

“Wait, Kate, hang on.” Javi says, raising his hand. “You’re- Are you saying you’re in love with her?” She nods slowly. “Kate, that’s- that’s amazing.” He breathes. 

“No, it’s not Javi!” She nearly shouts and he flinches back. “Tyler nearly died for it and I saved him from that fate. But Jeb died because I loved him and so will she!” 

Javi sighs, running a hand down his face before moving to sit next to her on the bed. He’s quiet for a minute as their knees knock together. 

“Kate, look at me.” She does only to meet with a flurry of emotions. Concern like she might be spooked by his next words, love and care woven into the proudness that’s written there. “Kate, just because- just because they died doesn’t mean that we don’t deserve to love afterwards. Just because Jeb died doesn’t mean you have to suffer and pay the price for that.”

“Their deaths are my sins, their blood is on my hands.” 

Javi shakes his head, taking her hands in his own. “No it ain’t. Would you say their blood is on my hands?” 

“Never.” 

“Then you need to understand that it isn’t on yours either. What happened was a terrible stroke of luck, maybe fate. I’d give anything to have them back with us, to have stopped it from ever happening. But we can’t go back, we can’t make our homes in the past. We’ll miss what’s right in front of us. And Kate, you deserve a love as soft as hers.”

She lets out a shaky breath, feeling her shoulders let some of the tension bleed out from them. For the first time, she doesn’t have the heart to argue with Javi, to tell him that he was wrong. She wasn’t sure she could when he looked so sure and absolute in his words. 

-

You watch as Kate and Javi walk up the steps when Boone reaches over and nudges you. 

“California, when are you gonna admit you got a thing for Kate?” 

Your eyes slide over to him, giving a cool look. “Whenever you admit to the thing you’ve got going with Javi.” 

The group lets out a bunch ohs and Tyler cackles. “She’s got you there Booney baby.” 

“It’s just stress relief!” 

You look back at Boone. “You know no one believes that right?” 

“Man, stop deflecting, I was asking about you and Kate first!” 

You roll your eyes as Dani breaks into silent laughter from across the fire, Lilly’s shoulders shaking as she works on the drone in her lap. 

Tyler climbs off the truck, moving to stand behind you. You glance up at him as he does. “C’mon though. Seriously, what is going on with you and Sapulpa?” 

“Nothing.”

Tyler sighs. “C’mon California, you really expect me to believe that little lie?” 

You shrug. “It’s not a lie. I’m not denying anything I feel for her but I’m pretty sure Kate doesn’t like me in that way. Most days, I don’t even think she likes me period.”

“She likes you.” Lilly protests. 

“Kate’s just a harder read because of…” Boone trails off, looking to Tyler. 

“Because of what happened to Jeb, I know.” You say softly. “She told me.” 

“I just wasn’t- We weren’t sure.” Dani says gently. 

“But you guys always said she was a certain way with T right?” 

Dani hums. “Yeah, but they aren’t exactly who I’d take as example from considering-“ She glances at Tyler. “Well, considering their fling lasted all of three weeks before they nearly killed each other.” 

“Tyler, anything to contribute here?” Lilly says after a minute and you look back up at him. He’s got his hands on his hips, an unreadable look on his face. 

“I don’t know that I should be encouraging any inter-company dating here. Team dynamics and all of that.” 

Your eyes grow wide as you almost rocket out of your chair before gesturing to Lilly and Dani, who only laugh. You then turn to Boone, gesturing a hand at him. “Really?!”  You nearly yell. “You’re so full of shit Owens!” 

Tyler sighs. “California, I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt. I mean, if I tell you something wrong and it turns out to be a misstep, and shit goes wrong and one of you leaves, it’d be a huge blow.” 

Dexter shakes his head, finally speaking up. “Kate’s not leaving.” 

You can see the silent I know on the edge of Tyler’s lips, the It would be you leaving written in his eyes. 

“Hey guys,” Dani calls. “We’re all still here.  Wanna include us in whatever silent conversation’s happening over there?”

“I don’t want to get involved.” Tyler says with a wave of his hand. “Y’all are both too important to me for me to get this wrong.” 

You sigh, settling back in your chair as you see Javi’s door re-open, Kate and Javi emerging. Boone sighs, patting the spot next to him and you move, falling into the space next to him. 

“Boone, anyone ever tell you you need to shower more?” You mutter as Tyler meets Javi and Kate halfway, probably to bid them goodnight. 

“I’ll take the shot if you do.” He whispers back. You glance at him as Javi and Kate return to their original seats across the campfire. Javi’s got a strange look on his face at the sight of you and Boone and Kate’s eyes are watery as Dexter hands her a few Oreos. 

“You first.” You mutter. 

Boone gives you a wolfish grin before sliding a marshmallow into his mouth. “I’ll think about it.”  

-

“Guys, look.” Dani calls, and you and Tyler turn, seeing her hold a small puppy. 

You coo, walking over to her as she holds the dog out to you. 

“Where’d you find this little cutie?” You say, holding the little baby up, scratching underneath his chin. 

“Heard him whining under a bunch of wreckage a few blocks over. One of the firefighters helped me pull him out. EMTs said the elderly couple who lived there didn’t make it. Probably couldn’t get to safety fast enough.” 

You feel Tyler’s body deflate next to you as he kicks at a piece of wood at the ground. 

“Ty?” You ask softly as the puppy nuzzles into your collarbone. You can’t read his face but it doesn’t seem like Dani can either as he scrubs at his forehead with his wrist. 

“Could we keep him?” You ask softly. “You heard Dani.”

“We’ll find a shelter for him.”

Dani shakes her head. “Shelter here got destroyed; there’d be nowhere for him to go.” 

You turn a pleading look onto Tyler, who has a storm brewing behind his eyes. 

“We can’t have a dog on the road you guys. A dog, chasing after tornadoes? Really? Let’s use our brains here. Besides, I think Boone’s allergic.” Tyler snaps, hands falling to his hips. 

Your pout grows as you hold the puppy up to your face. “But Tyler, little Enid wants to come with us. Don’t you Enid?”

“Enid?” Tyler asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, we found him in Enid so we should name him Enid.”

“First of all, that dog is not an Enid.” Dani chokes down a laugh at Tyler’s snark as he shoots her a look. “And we are not adopting a dog.” 

“I think we should do a group vote.” You say, turning on your heel in search of the team. 

“You can’t override me!” Tyler calls after you.

“Watch me!”

You find Lilly and Dexter first, handing food out. “Group poll - should we keep this little puppy? His owners passed away. Dani and I vote for yes. Tyler votes no.” You can hear Tyler walking behind you so you drop your voice to an over-exaggerated whisper. “For the record, Tyler’s vote is wrong. Vote yes.”

“This is not a democracy!” Tyler shouts. 

“Man, just let the girl have her fucking dog!” Lilly shouts back. 

“What dog?” Kate says, appearing from the back of the van. Her face softens. “This is such a cute little puppy.” She coos, bending down to scratch at his ears. 

“I think we should keep him and name him Enid. Tyler disagrees.” You explain as Kate fawns over the puppy. 

“He seems like such a sweet little guy, and you’d have so much fun on the road with us, wouldn’t you little Enid?” She coos, taking the dog from you. 

“So that’s an enthusiastic yes from Ms. Kate Cooper.” You say, hands falling to your hips.

“Once again, this is not a democracy.” Tyler says sharply. 

“It’s an Owens-acracy.” Javi calls from down the street. “Meaning Tyler does whatever the hell he wants.” 

“Javi - Yes or no on keeping the puppy?” You shout back. 

“Aw hell yeah! Our little storm chasing dog! Our little data dog!” 

“We are not keeping the dog.” Tyler says firmly, impatience growing. 

“Is Boone allergic?” You ask Lilly, who snorts and nods. 

“Yeah but that man would die so happy covered in dogs. He loves ‘em. Had bloodhounds growing up.” 

“A dog can’t stay in most motels.” Tyler reminds the group. 

“As if he couldn’t be snuck in.” You counter. “Besides, you’re telling me that after a long day of storm chasing, you wouldn’t want to cuddle up with this little puppy here?” 

The look Tyler gives you is answer enough. 

“Somebody go find Boone and ask him if he wants to keep this dog.” 

“Aw hell yeah, we’re getting a dog?” Boone crows, walking up behind you. 

“Boone, you’re allergic.” Tyler deadpans.

“Man, I grew up hunting with bloodhounds, I’ve got like a natural resistance by this point!” 

Kate holds up the dog, smile wide. “Boone, this is little Enid.” 

Tyler sighs, turning on his heel. “We are not taking that dog and we are certainly not naming him Enid!”

“Famous last words.” Lilly mutters.

Tyler flips you all off as you break into laughter. 

-

“Man would you stop pouting, you’re ruining my vibe!” Javi exclaims, which only causes you to sink further down in your chair. 

“This is fucking stupid.” You mutter, kicking at the dirt as you do. 

“I’m not happy about this either.” Tyler says from across the fire pit, begrudgingly looking down at the dog on his chest. 

“I’m the whole reason Enid came with us and who does he want to spend time with? Oh, Tyler of course!  Smoke practically came out of his ears when he saw Enid in the truck! But nooooo, that’s who the dog wants to be with!” 

Boone’s chair creaks as he leans over. “You kinda sound a little crazy, talking to yourself like that.” 

You shoot him a glare that has him withering back in his chair. 

“I’d want a cat, I think.” Kate says thoughtfully from her seat next to you. 

“I hate cats.” You mutter, crossing your arms. “I want a dog.” 

Javi lets out a long sigh from next to you. “This is gonna get real old.”

-

You’ve been with the team for four and a half months when it happens. 

You’re in some small town, just past the border of Oklahoma into Kansas, when the second storm cell you had all been tracking touches down. 

“Hey guys.” You call, panic starting to creep into your voice. “That saying with lightning, how it never strikes the same place twice? Does that apply to tornadoes too?” 

Moments after you finish your sentence, the winds kicks up, the sirens blaring. 

It’s almost like you’re rooted to the spot, staring at the beast coming towards you as Lilly shouts from down the street to follow her to the shelter. 

“California!” Tyler shouts. “What are you doing?!” 

You sweep your gaze to him, spotting the truck as you. The unmoored truck. 

He catches what you’re looking at and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, come on!” 

“I got it, I’m right behind you!” You shout, already darting towards the truck. 

You think Tyler curses but then he’s off down the street after the group. “Damn it, Boone.” You mutter, brushing the cookie crumbs off the console that are preventing you from getting to the switch. “The snacks have got to stop.”

Once the button has been pressed and you can hear the gears start, you throw the truck door open, sliding down to follow  Tyler. 

Except one minute you’re standing and the next, you’re on the ground, groaning. 

You blink your eyes open to see debris scattering down the street and realize it must’ve taken your feet out from under you. You push yourself up and realize you don’t know where Tyler went. Your head hurts from its collision with the ground and through the pain, you can feel yourself start to panic. You roll over catching sight of the truck locked into the ground. 

The truck. 

The truck probably wouldn’t fly. The truck had harnesses. The truck had protected Kate once. 

You crawl to the truck in hopes to avoid catching any wind, pulling yourself up and slamming the door as quickly as you can. You tug the harness on, debris hitting the car as the wind speeds pick up.

From the bed of the truck, you can hear Enid let out a bark, climbing over the arm console to curl up in your lap. He lets out a whimper, nuzzling closer to your stomach. 

“It’ll be okay, Enid.” You whisper, letting your eyes shut as your hands curl in the dog’s shaggy fur. You guys really needed to take him to a groomer. “We’ll be okay.”

-

She watches her friends filter into the shelter, panic clawing at her as everyone from the town passed through the doors with no sight of you. 

Javi’s pushes his way through the doors and he collides with her, her fingers clutching in his jacket. “Javi!” 

“She isn’t with me Kate.” He breathes out, backing her up from the doors. 

Her breaths coming in stuttering gasps as she clings to him. “Can’t be.” 

“Kate, she’s probably with T, they were together. They’re coming, don’t worry.” Boone tries to soothe and Javi confirms his words, rubbing his hands up and down her shoulders. 

Until Tyler appears through the doors, the last of the crowd. 

“Where is she?!” She’s frantic now, a sob growing as she sees Tyler round the corner. “Tyler, where is she, I thought she was with you!”

Tyler glances over his shoulder, where they’re shutting the doors. “She- She was just supposed to nail the truck down.” 

Kate’s moving towards the doors before she realizes it but she doesn’t get very far before someone’s arms are pulling on her jacket. 

“Kate!” Javi shouts. “Kate, we can’t help her now!” She looks at him, feeling her eyes sting as she looks at his defeated face.

“It’s just like last time.” She chokes out into a whisper. 

“I know.” He says softly. “I know, but there’s nothing you can do for her right now. We just need to wait.” 

The mere minutes it takes for the storm to pass drag on, the tears unabashedly slipping down her face. 

How could this happen again? 

It’s maybe only 15 minutes later she’s standing outside in the clearing Oklahoma sky but it’s felt like a lifetime has passed and when the street is empty, save for their truck at the very far end of the street, it feels like it’ll all drag on for a lifetime more. 

Her team is beside her but all she can do is wipe at her face, unable to stop the salty tears against her tongue. 

“Kate…” Tyler says gently and she whips around, near snarling at him. 

“This is your fault! You should’ve taken care of the truck, it never should’ve been her! She should’ve come with us, you never should’ve let her out of your sight!” 

Tyler swallows, eyes growing glassy. “You don’t mean that.” He chokes out. 

She doesn’t and she knows she doesn’t. 

But this loss stings. 

Lilly reaches out a cautious hand, and when Kate doesn’t push her away, Lilly pulls her into a hug. Dani joins, Boone not far behind. She thinks she can even feel Dexter join at the edge as the tears slips down her cheeks. She clings to Lilly, the girl running a hand up and down her back. 

And then Javi shouts out. 

-

You finally breathe, blinking your eyes open as you do. 

You wince, your head throbbing as you begin to take the harness off and-

You pull on the door handle, tripping out of the truck as you start throwing up onto the gravel road. 

Tears sting at your eyes, the small rocks digging into your palms as you empty your breakfast onto the ground. 

“Yo!” Someone shouts from a ways away, but all you can focus on is the throbbing in your temple. 

A hand is on your shoulder, gently pulling you up. You blink, wincing as Javi comes into focus. 

“Javi?” You breathe out, leaning into him as the sound of footsteps running towards you gets closer. “Think I- head. My head hurts. Concussion.” 

Javi doesn’t respond as another body collides with you. It feels like the wind has been knocked out of your lungs as the person trembles against you. “Thought you were gone. Thought I lost you.” Kate whispers. 

“Kate, you’re gonna get vomit all over you.” 

“Don’t care.” She whispers, still holding you. “I know you probably have a concussion, I’ll take you to the EMT’s please just- just let me hold you for a little longer.” 

You nod. Despite how tight she’s holding you and the throbbing behind your eyes, it feels like you can finally catch your breath as she does. 

“How’d you even think to hide out in there?” Lilly asks and you blink your eyes open, seeing the team standing before you. You don’t let Kate go.

“I truly was right behind you T.” You say, locking eyes with Tyler. He looks devastated, the relief of seeing you unable to loosen the tension in his shoulders. “But one minute I was standing and the next I was on the ground and you were gone. I think some debris knocked my feet out from under me and I sort of panicked. I remembered how it had kept Kate safe and it was the only place I could think of in time.” 

“You gave us all quite the scare.” Dexter says. “Glad to see you safe.” 

“Me too.” You whisper, squeezing Kate. 

“Holy shit Enid! You been in there the whole time?” Boone shouts after a minute.

“My brain hurts. Paramedics now?” You ask. “Please?” 

Kate nods, stepping back. “Yeah. Right now.” 

-

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

Tyler scoffs. “You can’t even see me.” 

You’re laying on the RV bed, eyes closed. The lights are dim, the quiet conversation from outside barely audible. 

Tyler had shooed Kate out to get dinner and told her she actually had to sit outside and eat it or he’d remove her concussion watch entirely. 

“Yeah but I can feel it.” You reach a foot out, knocking Tyler’s knee. “T.” 

He takes your foot, but must think better of whatever jerk move he’s going to pull because he lets your feet fall on his thigh softly, hand resting over them. His thumb finds your ankle bones and he rubs over it softly. 

“That feel okay?” He asks quietly and you nod. The show of intimacy, however platonic, is nice as you sit there. 

“I’m real sorry for putting you in harm’s way kid.” 

You let out a breath through your nose, resisting the urge to open your eyes. You know Tyler will just get mad if you do. 

“You didn’t. It was an accident.” 

“Kate blames me. Hell, I blame myself. It would be okay if you blamed me too.” 

“Tyler.” You say firmly. “It was an accident. You never meant any harm to come to me. I am fine, nothing more than a wittle baby concussion. The paramedics checked me out and Dani’s been keeping an eye on me the whole drive. I am fine.”

“You’re not fine!” Tyler snaps and you wince at the loudness in his voice. “Sorry, sorry. I just- You have a concussion, not to mention the bruises and cuts you’ve saddled yourself with. That’s not fine in my book.” 

“Tyler, I got hit by a car in college. What’s a little debris?” 

A smile tugs at your lips as you remember the way Dani and Javi’s eyes had gone wide as they’d sat with you as the EMTs check out you when you’d told the paramedics that story. 

They’d told you it was incredible that this was the situation you’d ended up with a low grade concussion and the other only a sprained wrist. 

“A tornado and a car are hardly the same.” 

“Technically, the tornado never hit me. Just debris.” 

“Semantics.” 

“The semantics are keeping Kate’s sanity in tact so please don’t make the difference in front of her.” You say quietly and Tyler sighs again. 

“She really cares about you, you know?” 

“Thought you weren’t getting involved?” 

“I’m not.” 

“Then stop talking.” 

Tyler pushes your feet away, scooting closer to you. “Your loss would’ve devastated her.” He says softly. 

“So I’ll be more careful next time.” 

He sighs. “You’re not listening to what I’m saying.” 

You crack an eye open. “Tyler, my brain hurts too much for this conversation. Can you please get to the point?” 

Tyler’s point never gets made as the RV door opens, Javi telling him that Dani had pulled him off concussion watch too. 

You suspected Javi just wanted to be around you but you’d take his presence over Tyler’s interrogation. Javi sits next to you on the bed as you close your eyes again. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

“No, though I wish I could call my freshman year room mate and annoy her like she did me.” 

Javi chuckles. “How do you mean?”

“She got a concussion in a skiing accident and made me talk to her for hours because she was bored and couldn’t do anything. I need payback.” 

-

Kate wrings her hands, eyes flickering around the room nervously. 

“Kate?” You say cautiously. “Are you okay?” 

“I just- I mean, are you sure you’re gonna be okay here? By yourself, you know, I could stay with you?” Her eyes roam over your body. “No, I think I should stay. I’m going to- I’ll go tell Tyler right now. I-“

You grab Kate’s wrist, cutting her off. “Kate.” You say softly. “It’s fine. It’s a baby concussion. I’m going to sit here for a few days and force Enid to snuggle me. It’ll be fine.” 

She sighs. “I don’t know, I still think I should stay.” 

“Kate, you are no use to anyone here. Anything I need, your Mom can get for me. I’ll be fine.” 

Your heart clenches at the concern swimming in your friend’s eyes and it’s going to take every minute of each one of those day to remind yourself that that concerns is only because of the losses in Kate’s past. 

She’s lost three friends before, she doesn’t want to lose a fourth.

She sighs, taking a step back. “You’re right. But- you call me if anything changes, okay?” You nod and so she takes another step back. 

You can hear Tyler shout up the stairs for the third time in fifteen minutes. “Tyler’s gonna get mad, you should just go.” You say, already taking a step back towards her bed though your eyes never leave hers. 

“Yeah, I should-“ With one last look, she slips back out the bedroom door. You sigh, pressing your hands to your eyes, willing yourself to get it together. 

“It doesn’t mean anything.” You mutter to yourself. The door creaks open and you glance up, seeing Kate stride through the door. “Kate?” 

Kate crosses the room in three steps, pulling you into a kiss. Before you can even process what she’s doing, she’s pulled back. 

Her hands fly to her mouth, a shocked expression on her face. “I can’t believe I just did that! Oh, I’m so sorry- Mmph.” 

You cut her off, crowding her space before pulling her lips back to yours.

Your hands slide down to her hips as she cradles your head in your hands. Only does she break away when Tyler shouts up the stairs, heavy footsteps on the wood. 

“I really should go this time.” She breathes. 

“You’ll come back right?” You ask, nudging your nose with hers. “I want to talk about this, I want to make this work with you.” 

She nods. “I’ll always come back for you.”

iii.

[worksby-d]

A Great Mentor: Only If You Like It

A One Shot

Summary: You sit down with Andy to settle on a first and middle name for your daughter. 

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Warnings: None 🥰

Word count: ~800

a/n: Even though this is part of a series, it can def be read alone. I MISS THIS SERIES SO MUCH.

All you want to do is say hi and let him know you’re home, but he doesn’t give you the chance, pouting when you walk into his home office. 

“No,” he groans–almost whines as if you ruined something–gently closing his laptop as he drags the word out. “You’re home already?”

You open your mouth to retort, but you just scoff, “Yeah.” And you raise a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Don’t sound so happy about it.” 

“No, that’s not–” He shakes his head, laughing a little. He holds his arm out and waves you in to come closer to him and you roll your eyes as you push off the door frame to let him draw you in. “I’m just finishing up, sweetheart. But I wanted to have dinner ready before you got home for once.”

“Well, that’s okay,” you chuckle. “Don’t worry about it.”

He takes your hand once you get within reach of him, and you know where he wants you, but you just lean against his desk instead. 

It’s his turn to give you a questioning look. He’s used to you sitting on his lap. 

“C’mere…”

“I’m getting too heavy for that,” you mumble, resisting his gentle tug. 

“No you’re not,” he laughs quietly, giving one more reassuring try. “I’m strong, I promise.”

You give in, letting him pull you down to sit with him. With one arm around your back and his other hand on your growing belly, he gets you to relax. 

“See, you’re fine,” he winks. 

You ignore his told you so, wanting to get back to the cooking thing.

“I’d rather cook anyway.” You never let an opportunity to tease him slip away. “Remember that time I got sick after eating your parmesan chicken?”

“Hey now,” he chuckles. “That was before we were even together.”

“I know, I had to lie to my parents and say I was hungover the next morning when I was lying on their bathroom floor,” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “Because telling them I was wasted was safer than telling them I was sneaking around with you the night before!”

“That was so long ago.” He shakes his head thinking back. “I’m sorry my cooking is subpar and maybe known for getting you sick once… or twice. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, giving him a quick consolation kiss. 

“How was your day?”

“Good,” you sigh, leaning against him a little more. “Really long.”

“Mm,” he hums, just holding you a moment, enjoying the quiet after all day. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you smile. He reminds you every chance he gets, especially during the past few months. “I–We,” you correct yourself, placing your hand on top of his over your stomach. “–Want to talk about something.”

“Yeah?”

“About her name…” Your voice trails off as you wait for his reaction. 

“Honey–” He chimes in immediately. “I’ve been thinking about it. I like Evren. I think it’s a beautiful name.”

You try to interrupt him. You don’t need to settle on her first name yet. But he doesn’t let you stop him.

“I can tell you really love it. And it’s growing on me… I think.”

You laugh a little at his rambling, running your fingers through his hair. 

“You really like it?”

“Yeah, angel.”

“That was easy,” you tease, sitting up proudly as if you just won something. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about middle names…”

He gives you a look, clearly confused. He doesn’t see the need for that yet without having agreed on a first name thus far. 

“I was just going to say that whatever we choose for her first name has to go with her middle name,” you explain. “And I have one that I want to run by you.”

“Oh, this’ll be good,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes jokingly. 

“Stop,” you laugh, swatting at his arm before getting more serious. “How do you feel about Marianne?”

“Mari–” He softly begins to repeat it, processing what you said. “Like my mom? Marianne?”

“Yeah,” you nod slowly. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” you let out a small laugh. “It’s a beautiful name. But only if you like it.” 

“I love it,” he quickly assures you. “Evren Marianne…”

It’s your turn to repeat him, mirroring his smile as you listen to how the names sound together out loud.

“I love you,” he whispers, resting his head on your shoulder. “You’re sure?”

“I’m so sure,” you promise. He lifts his head to look at you when you gently nudge him. “I love when you talk about your mom. I want Evren to know her.”

He nods, leaning to give you a soft kiss. “Me too.”

Tag list: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @katiew1973 @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby

[werewolf-girlfriend]

ive been enabled so let me share some of my thoughts on how to get ur art noticed online

if u want Engagement on ur posts then i believe that its critical to make people care about ur art. the easiest way to do this is to appeal to something they already care about, like fandom, aesthetics/subculture, current events, having fun (people love humor!). a harder but perhaps more fulfilling route is to talk about ur own ocs and projects enough until people start caring about them too

theres an infinite amount of topics people care about out there so id suggest picking something u already care about urself and channel ur art energy there. trying to make art for the most popular things out there regardless own interests is an exercise in misery, id advise against it..! if im allowed to get superstitious for a moment, i do believe that even untrained eyes can tell whether a piece of art was fun to work on or a chore. and besides! if ur having fun then its easier to create more, and the more u create the more chances ull have at getting lucky and having a post seen :)

on a very related note, art is a way to communicate ideas so the quality of the idea being presented in a piece of art is paramount to how popular a post will be. what i mean by this is that technical skill isnt the primary determinant of a posts popularity. if all your posts are portraits of original characters then people will have a hard time connecting with your posts and theyll keep scrolling, even if those portraits are masterpieces! the major exception to this is probably other artists, who ive found usually have a greater appreciation for the technical side of art (we can only speculate as to why..!)

lemme finish by saying that making popular posts and being good at art are two entirely different skillsets, ive seen many incredibly skilled artists with jack shit for notes because they dont give people a reason to care about their stuff NOT TO MENTION its a huge game of luck whether a post will get seen. so dont go insane in pursuit of recognition!

(i dont want to make this post too long so ive included examples from my own art and their note counts with my analysis after the break)

hello and welcome to the extracurricular segment to this post :) i bring yall two pieces from my art blog @werewolf-artfriend:

here we have a portrait of my fursona that im still proud of and a sketch suggesting "what if sniffers (from minecraft) were the size of mountains?" (let it be noted that the sniffer sketch was posted right during the minecraft mob vote = peak interest in the subject of sniffers).

the portrait at the time of writing has a crisp 30 notes, whilst the sniffer sketch has over 2000 notes. from the same artist, on the same blog, posted only a few months apart. i believe this is a good example both of the power of a piece of art having an interesting idea at its core AND of a piece appealing to the interests of the masses

this is of course just two convenient example posts, but i have experienced fan art of popular topics getting thousands of notes a couple of times now, amidst my other furry shit that these days get around 200-300 notes in comparison

this may sound like a really long winded way of saying "fan art make the world go round" but i just want to point out the nuances that

1) it matters what u make fan art of: if a fandom is small or dormant (waiting on new canon content for example) then clearly less people will be excited about the fan art you make. dont expect 10k notes on ur post if the average recent post in the fandom gets around 200 etc etc

2) it doesnt have to be fan art! ive also had some of my bird art get thousands of notes because people simply like birds :) and this applies to ANY topic people care about! the world rly is your oyster on this one

anyway i think ive started rambling dhgdjhgd thanks if u read this far! i hope i got my point across! and if ur feeling down about ur art not being seen then just keep at it okay! keep creating and keep having fun! keep sharing ur ideas and perspectives with the world and ur audience will eventually find u! i love you!

[rippersz]

𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺, 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺

───※ ·❆· ※───

───※ ·❆· ※───

(An OC/Named Reader x Larissa Weems one-shot) (Bittersweet/angsty. Possible part 2 depending on feedback.)

Summary: Odette sends a letter and it ends up in the wrong hands.

───※ ·❆· ※───

‘January 11th, 2023

Odette,

I am terribly sorry to inform you that the letter you sent to a woman named Mirabelle did not end up in her hands. I believe the mail carriers fell short along the way and got it mixed up within my pile of documents; thus my wayward response to you. Considering the nature of your words (I must admit I read them - my actions were caused by split curiosity and confusion), I suggest you re-envelope and reseal your letter before sending it again. I have slipped it in with this one. And if you choose to listen to me, then we shall both hope your sentiments arrive to Mirabelle in a timely fashion with no surprise stops along the way. Until then, someone must tell her that she is a very lucky woman.

And that I am very sorry she broke your heart.

Happy New Year Odette. Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 18th, 2023

Larissa,

Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness. I am far sorrier than you are. Obviously if I knew that was going to happen, I would not have let it. Okay that doesn’t make much sense, but I’m sure you know what I mean. I think. Hopefully? Anyway, thank you very much for sending the letter back. I gave myself some time to think it over and did as you suggested. New envelope, new seal, new everything. Except the perfume on the letter was different. Are you wearing Jean Paul Gaultier? It’s very nice. Mirabelle may appreciate the mix of scents (I’m wearing Marc Jacobs - Daisy), so at least she’ll get something out of it. The words, on the other hand, I’m not so sure. That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily. That’s a big flaw, I think. Oh well. I guess rambling’s a flaw too. And here I am. Forgive me?

Thank you again. Happy New Year. Odette’

‘January 23rd, 2023

Dear Odette,

Please don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault, as you know. And if I knew the letter did not concern me at all, I would not have read it. But, I’m sort of glad that I did. It was perhaps one of the best letters I’ve ever read in my entire life. Are you a writer, by any chance? If not, you should consider becoming one. The rambling could add a nice personal touch - it’s not as big a flaw as you think it is. It certainly introduced me to your keen sense of smell. Speaking of which, Daisy is wonderful. I may have a roll-on tube of that somewhere. Otherwise, you’re correct. La Belle was released in 2019, it has become my new personal favorite. Are you a perfume collector? Or perhaps a bloodhound? I jest, I jest. Though I do appreciate the follow-up. If Mirabelle doesn’t appreciate your love, I may have to send her a letter myself. That being said, please let me know what she says? If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.

Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 29th, 2023

To Larissa,

You are far too kind. I write in my free time, yes, but I’m not sure I’m good enough to become a writer. However, your support still means a lot - even from all the way in California. Quite a long way, right? Crazy how paths cross. Anyway, I’m not a perfume collector, no. But my friend, Cassie, wears the same kind. I know for certain that she’d say you have good taste. And I’d agree. That bloodhound comment was funny. I know you can’t hear my giggling, but trust me when I say I am. I wish I could be as witty, but I don’t know what to say. My humor is typically made up of making fun of people. Do you have a guilty pleasure I can harp on? An embarrassing secret? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. And as soon as I get something back, I’ll let you know. Don’t start writing just yet.

Best, Odette’

‘February 5th, 2023,

Odette,

Telling you my secrets already? My, I believe we’ve skipped a few steps. What happened to a favorite color? A favorite memory? An age or profession, perhaps? If you couldn’t tell by now, I am still jesting. One of my guiltiest pleasures, though you may find it juvenile and silly, is the fact that I am a huge chocolate fiend. Many of my coworkers are aware that the best drink to buy me is a hot chocolate - hold the whipped cream. I am watching my figure after all. And because I pity your lack of matched wit, I’ll tell you that my biggest secret is the fact that I quite enjoy Taylor Swift’s music. Don’t ask me about my favorite song, I don’t think I could choose just one. Oh is that- is that the sound of your giggling? Maybe I can hear it from here, Ms. California. Now it’s your turn to hear mine. In the meantime, enlighten me on what you write about. I’m thinking poetry and free-form, with a focus on romance. I do a bit of writing myself from time to time, but it’s always in a diary. Never further. Perhaps you can do both of us justice and contemplate publishing? I’ll be the first to run to the shelves.

I hope you are well, Larissa W.’

‘February 13th, 2023

Dear chocolate fiend,

White. My first trip to New York City after Mirabelle. I arrived in the afternoon, went to see a movie, grabbed dinner and headache pills on the way back to my hotel room, and couldn’t sleep for the entire night. So I went out at 3 AM to see Times Square. It was only a block away and let me tell you, Larissa, it was beautiful. It was unlike anything. I felt safe for the first time in a while - beneath all of those lights. I was invincible. Not even loneliness could touch me. 27 and counting. Secretary. And potential writer. Someone I met recently has been trying to push me further into my hobby- to really adopt the lifestyle. You wouldn’t know them, though. Them? They/them? Please correct me if I’m wrong, Larissa. These letters wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable if I was calling you something you weren’t. As for me, I go by she/her. Mirabelle did as well. Does? Did? I’m not sure - I haven’t heard anything back yet. But that may be for the best. Horrid segue here (shame on little writer Odette), but Taylor Swift? Wow, I must be giggling quite loudly. HA HA HA HA HA!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!! I swear that one day I’ll get a laugh out of you as well. In the meantime, as you say, I’ll happily inform you that you’re a psychic of some sort. Yes, I write poetry and free-form romance. Novels have never been my thing though. But if I did write any, I’d have to say psychological horror is a favorite. I may give it a crack if you’d edit for me? Unless you’re terribly busy, Ms. Vermont. Then please don’t worry your pretty little head.

I hope you’re ‘weller’ than I am, Odette

(P.S. Happy Valentines Day)’

‘February 19th, 2023

Dear sweet poet,

Do forgive the late response. Work has been keeping me busy; but if you’re serious about editing, I’m sure I can set some time apart for you. That memory of yours does sound quite glorious - nearly heavenly. Such freedom is a dream for many people, myself somewhat included, so I admit I’m the tiniest bit jealous. However, I could always visit the city in the summer. Times Square is already calling my name… maybe I’ll even see a certain 27 year old stranger there. Maybe we could even grab hot chocolate. But I suppose you’d rather enjoy your independence. That being said, you are quite correct - they/them is one of my preferred pronouns. Much like yourself and the mysterious Mirabelle, she/her is another. And I’m glad we both agree that these letters are quite a treat. I have not had a pen-pal in quite a long time. My old roommate and I used to talk after we graduated, but times change. Much like they did for you and Mirabelle. I believe I may have loved my roommate in that way, too… but it’s as I said. Then again, she was always more of a psychic than me. I just got lucky. As for the answers to my questions, I’m quite sure none of those were secrets. Unless, of course, your favorite color is known only by myself. In which case, I’d consider myself lucky again. But either way, come to the table please Odette. Tell me yours - but only if you wish to.

Weller is not a word, Best, Larissa W.’

‘February 23rd, 2023

Dear Larissa,

Weller is a word if I want it to be. That is my secret. No, but in all seriousness, you’re correct. Fair is fair. So I’ll grant you this: I’m a redhead. Ugh I know! I know! It’s terrible. Horrible. I’m sorry. If you find that you can’t stand me anymore, I understand. A writer, secretary, AND a redhead? What’s next? An FBI agent? I can’t disclose that information. Speaking of which, you have yet to answer your own questions. All is fair in love and pen-paling, am I right or am I right Larissa? It’s okay. You can admit it. I’m right. Just like I’m right in saying that your roommate made a big mistake if she’s not with you now. Speaking from experience, love like that is not something one finds often. I’d say I’m glad you experienced it, for it has its good moments, but I know that the ache can be bad. Quite bad. Not to worry, though! If you figure you want to send her a letter, you may get a pen-pal out of it. Kind of neat, huh?

I’m sorry she broke your heart, too. What a foolish woman. Tsk tsk.

Best, Odette’

‘February 28th, 2023

To the resident redhead,

How could you betray me like this? A redhead? On the other side of these pages? I feel scorned. Scorned and touched. Very much like a writer to offer comfort for an offhand comment. I appreciate the sentiment more than you know. And just for your information, Ms. I’m-Always-Right: Silver. Getting my teachers certification and celebrating with a few friends before life pulled us in different directions. It was a wonderful night. I haven’t laughed so much since - and that was quite a while ago. 32 next year. Principal. I do hope that was enough to sate your burning curiosity; I’m sure you can be at ease now. And since I do so enjoy meeting you halfway, I’ll tell you that I’m very fair-haired. Very. Perhaps one day you’ll see. Until then, don’t let the curiosity kill you little cat.

Best, Larissa W.’

‘March 5th, 2023’

‘March 12th, 2023’

‘March 16th, 2023’

‘April 14th, 2023’

‘May 21st, 2023’

‘June 9th, 2023’

...

And the months went on.

And on.

And on.

And every few days, another letter came. Another letter went. Another letter was written. Another letter was sealed. Another letter was received. Another letter was cherished. Kept. Forever a lovely memory. Larissa and Odette went and went and went- on and on and on- exchanging and smiling as each paragraph grew in length. From this to that and whatever else they could find to think about; they formed a banter and connection like no other. Poking fun, making jokes, referencing previous letters, gossiping until their hearts were content. Purring within their chests, eagerly awaiting another letter. It kept their days moving. It kept their souls dancing. From miles away, they cheered each time they saw the thin familiar scrawl of Larissa’s writing and the loopy tilted words of Odette’s penmanship. At one point, they even tried copying each other’s style. It was hilarious. It had both of them laughing at the same time - and later doing it purely to mock. Such things, little but large, were frequent and lovely. One time, Odette mailed a perfume scent strip of her new favorite; and Larissa, never one to be outdone, sent a roll-on tube of La Belle. Odette got so ticked off she made her promise that they stick to letters and paper only. Larissa, usually a stubborn soul, agreed. That was their dynamic. Their push and pull. Their agree to disagree. Never did they fight; rarely did they not see eye to eye; and constantly did they playfully argue. It was small things- small insignificant little things- but they moved the conversation along. And it made them smile. It made them laugh. And during the hardest parts, the parts in which life pinched at their skin and dragged at their souls, it made them cry. It made them weep. It made them open up. It led to Odette confessing that Mirabelle had left her and it led to Larissa confessing that Morticia had left her as well. Two women, two ships in the night, both of which got away. And not gently, not two slow drifts into the night, but a harsh yank. Morticia left school with a man on her arm and Mirabelle returned to California one day from a business trip in France with a ring on her finger. The two of them agreed that it was funny how life likes to slap lovers in the face. That it was funny how life likes to get in the way. And enjoys ending good things and ruining them. Taking them away too quickly. With no warning at all. Without a single goodbye.

The last letter Odette sent was on October 28th, 2024.

Larissa hadn’t responded to her previous one. Or the one before that. And eventually, after much contemplation, she gave up. It wasn’t healthy- worrying so much. Odette figured that perhaps, finally, her worst fear came true and that Larissa realized their little arrangement was more odd than she thought. That she knew virtually nothing about Odette, not even her last name. And that she didn’t find her amusing anymore and didn’t want to associate with her anymore and didn’t want to even say hello. Or goodbye. Or anything in between.

It broke her heart a little bit.

Okay it broke her heart a lot a bit.

The radio silence left Odette living on autopilot for weeks. Months. Nearly half a year. She’d get up, check her mailbox, and go to work - only to come home, check her mailbox, and go to bed - just to do the same thing over and over and over again. Day and night. Night and day. It was worse than Mirabelle. It was worse than anything. No amount of teenage angst or familial grief could get over the deep void left within her soul once those letters stopped coming. Once the friend she found by accident, the kindred spirit she stumbled upon, the woman she lov-…. well. Once that one person decided never to write again.

Though like most difficult things that left her raw, Odette’s heart began scabbing over. She cleared her desk, packed away the special pens she used, put the paper neatly into a box, and tucked the leftover Larissa letters away right along with those sweet memories. Then she put them into the back of a closet she rarely rifled through… and tried to forget it was all there. The La Belle, which she rarely touched, was hidden in her pajama drawer at the very back- wrapped up in old T-shirts she no longer wore. And every other thing that existed around her, that reminded her of Larissa, was pushed out of sight. Out of sight and out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight… out of mind.

The company was celebrating her 5 year anniversary. They wanted to fly her out to Vermont. Jericho, Vermont. To have a little vacation there. To enjoy life. To fucking torture her.

She almost didn’t go. She almost canceled entirely. She almost quit her goddamn job because that was the same job she had when she first met Lar-…..

But she went anyway. Vermont was large enough. She’d be fine.

And she was, much to her surprise. She was entirely fine. It was a beautiful change of season; the air was crisp, the trees were changing color- morphing back into sunny greens. The world enjoyed its rain as April introduced May to Jericho and as the year of 2025 blossomed into being. Odette spent her days reading, taking walks, basking in the beauty of the log cabin the company rented for her. It was truly lovely. Truly a dream come true. And she didn’t even think- didn’t even wonder- about the other ship that got away from her. That barely even brushed past her, or lingered, before parting the water and skating away into the night all those months ago.

It was blissful. It reminded her of New York. Of that freedom- that independence- that song within her soul, dredged up from the depths.

But there was one thing.

One tiny little thing.

One little reminder that never left her. That she didn’t let go of.

“Hot chocolate, no whip, for Odette?”

A small smile grew on her lips as she slid out of the booth and made her way up to the counter. The young man met her eyes, returned the smile, and gestured to the warm cup on the counter with a nod of his head.

“Thank you lots.” And with that, she retreated to her booth.

Hot chocolate.

She wasn’t going to give up hot chocolate, let alone any chocolate at all, just because a distant soul enjoyed it. The whipped cream was something she wanted, but… old habits did always die hard, didn’t they? Oh most definitely. And as Odette reclined against the comfortable seat, eyes tracking the screen of her work laptop, hot chocolate firmly placed on the coaster to her right, she lived up to that sentiment with no room to spare. Leaving work at home was hard. She dove into it some time ago; dedicating more time, thinking, and hours into the well-oiled machine of her job just to distract her from everything outside of it. When she was there, responding, taking calls, managing dates and meetings and this, that, and the other, the world fell silent. Into a distant buzzy din. Into a land of muffled sounds and unimportant chatter - like her head was dunked under water as soon as she opened her emails. To a certain extent, it was calming. Repetitive and not at all that difficult after she figured out a proper routine; the worst part was dealing with those who couldn’t write properly. And in the professional world, that was rare. Well- if a person wanted to keep their job of course. And she definitely wanted to keep hers. It was fulfilling. Enriching. She made some friends, she shook some hands, she reassured her bosses. They knew she was reliable. Friendly. Odette never faltered. And they counted on that. Counted on her. Gave her the time of day. Responded when they could. Cherished her like a human. Like a friend. Unlike-

“Larissa? Hot chocolate, no whip?”

Odette blinked.

The muffled bubble popped. The world flooded back. She looked up from her screen.

Was she going mad? Crazy? Bonkers, finally? After all that time? Had she misheard? Maybe the young man said Patricia. Or Melissa. Or-

“Larissa! Hey, long time no see!”

Larissa.

Odette turned around in her seat so fast, she nearly broke her neck. She shuffled to the end of the booth, peered around the side, eyes wide and hands gripping the edge of the table… only to feel her excitement die as soon as it existed.

Of course. Foolish her. She didn’t know what Larissa looked like. She never got a proper description. Never got a photograph. Or a phone number. Or anything at all. Just a P.O. Box and a state. Just… nothing.

“Hello Jerry, it has been a while, hasn’t it? How are you?”

No, she- well she did get something. She got little things. Details. Odette’s brow furrowed as her eyes, hazel and starry and glazed over with apprehension and fear and admiration and horror, ran up and down the woman’s body. She was tall. Larissa never mentioned tall. She was curvy. Larissa never mentioned curvy.

‘I am watching my figure after all.’

…She was stylish. Larissa never mentioned style and fashion.

“Oh I’m good, I’m good. What about you? How’s the semester going?”

“I’m well, thank you. It’s… well it’s definitely going, Jerry.” They shared a laugh.

She was English. Larissa never mentioned being English. She wore gloves. Larissa never mentioned gloves. She-

Wait. Semester?

‘Getting my teachers certification…’ ‘Principal.’

Odette felt her heart drop.

But-

“I’m sure it is! I- oh shoot. More customers. Sorry, Larissa. Can we catch up later?”

“Of course Jerry. You know where to find me. Until next time.”

Hazel eyes watched the stranger wave. Then turn around.

Oh.

Dear lord…

She didn’t recognize her- not really- but the fair hair, which only registered then… and the silver jewelry. And the… the…

Odette watched as the woman walked past. She watched and she felt her heart in her ears- pounding, clawing, dancing- as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. So deeply. So deeply it made her lungs ache. So deeply it made her soul tear in two.

La Belle.

Odette had never packed up her things so quickly. She never slammed her laptop closed so fast, never slid it into her bag so messily, never threw the bag over her shoulder or shoved her wallet into her pocket or grabbed the hot chocolate with such vigor ever before. Not once in her life. And rarely did she act so impulsively- not after Larissa. But seeing her then, somehow knowing deep within her soul that it was her… it broke- snapped- the thin resolve of Odette’s sanity and sent her flying out of the Weathervane like a bat out of Hell. She was burning up inside. Electric. Her eyes held fire and ice and so much warmth, so much desperation, that she nearly toppled over herself in her hurry.

The woman- Larissa- was a fast walker. Her long legs took her far as she distractedly typed on her phone with one hand and held the cup of hot chocolate in the other. Odette, being short and clumsy, was red and out of breath by the time she got close enough to call out her name. And call, she did. Call, cry, silently plead, she did.

“LARISSA!”

It was loud. Like a roar. Like a harrowing yell. Like something that held months and months and months of pain and sorrow and grief behind it. It instantly made her throat hurt, running it raw in only a second, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care at all. Not when her voice got Larissa to stop in her tracks and turn around, eyes searching and confused.

Of course, as to be expected, she had no clue who she was. Not even an inkling. Larissa got no description either - not even a photo. All she knew was that Odette had red hair. And that a woman with red hair was storming toward her, all fucks thrown to the wind, sneakers smacking the pavement hard as she stomped down the sidewalk. Larissa looked utterly puzzled, slightly mortified, entirely put off by the sight of such a determined stranger. Like she wasn’t sure if she had done something wrong and if she had, she wasn’t sure how to fix it. But Odette would tell her. Odette would make it known.

“What the fuck?” was the first thing out of her mouth.

A rather harsh introduction, but necessary nonetheless. She didn’t even really mean to say it, but the surprised widening of Larissa’s eyes had a twisted spark of satisfaction spiraling up within her soul.

And her outburst, naturally, meant many things. Not just ‘What the fuck?’ but ‘What the fuck? Why did you disappear? What did I do? Did I hurt you? Did I say something? Did something happen to you? Do you feel sorry? Do you miss me? Do you wish you responded? Do you hope to never hear from me again? Did you always know this would happen? Did you ever even bother to think that you should tell me you’re that beautiful? What the fuck, why are your eyes so blue? And why are they piercing? Staring at me? Heavenly and deep and never-ending? Like.. oceans… and why are your lips so soft looking and plump and red? Where did that scar come from? Do you hate it? Do you know that I like it even though I’m only seeing it now for the first time ever? Did you always wear your hair like that? How long does it take you to get it like that? How does it feel to take it out after a long day? Did you know your makeup is flawless? And that your jawline is magnificent? And that you’re so tall… and you look so strong… inside and out… and why the fuck did you not mention you were British? English? What does it matter? Just what the fuck? Why the fuck? How the fuck? What the fuckity fuck?!’

But overall, it only meant ‘What the fuck? Why didn’t you say goodbye?’

“I beg your pardon?”

Unfortunately, Larissa could never read minds. Or hearts. So the vague pangs of longing, like old rusted blood, only ached harder as the taller woman blinked and frowned.

A blush painted Odette’s cheeks. Right. Somehow, along the way of admiring, she’d forgotten. Larissa had no idea who she was.

“Um.” Clearing her throat, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. Suddenly, things were very awkward. Terribly awkward. So horribly bloody awkward. It was a wonder if Larissa could feel the odd lull in conversation, the sudden dousing of Odette’s flames, but it didn’t really matter. If she wanted to, Odette was sure that if she chose to walk away, if she chose to take one last look before turning around and never coming back, then Larissa would never know. Then she’d just be another story. Another odd memory to tell her children one day, if she ever wished to have them. In her letters, the taller woman admitted that she didn’t think she ever would. But Odette always had a feeling that she’d be an amazing mother. Looking at her then, taking in the perfect posture and the crisp seams of her clothing, the feeling became fact. Larissa would be the best mom.

Funny that… there was a time, long ago, where Odette fantasized about making sandwiches for picnics and uprooting her entire life. Just to see the proud smile on her pen-pal’s face as her child grew and grew and grew and flourished. And maybe even ended up calling her ‘mom’ one day too.

But as Larissa wrote once upon a time, things changed. Time went on. And that was how it was.

So she could turn around. She could very well wrench herself from her spot and drag herself back the way she came. She could apologize, tell her she was mistaken, and that she was sorry - and then she could walk off into the sunset and pretend nothing ever happened. She could burn the letters. She could burn the very memory of her. She could forget the name ‘Larissa’ entirely and all would be left to rest. And that would be that. Que sera, sera.

But Odette was never the type to give up easily. Mirabelle, wherever she was, could attest.

So instead of abandoning ship, she powered through.

“It’s Odette,” came her firm tone. She straightened her back and tilted her head to look up properly, trying to stand tall in the face of heartache.

But heartache didn’t recognize her.

“Have we… met before?” Larissa blinked, turning to present her full attention.

Odette flushed red. Angry. Sad. Liberated.

“Have- have we met before?” She repeated, scoffed, outraged by her old friend’s obliviousness. “Just how many Odettes do you know?!” Her hands ran to her hips, firmly rooting themselves there as she began tapping her foot and glowering.

Such a display had Larissa scanning her from head to toe, desperately scrambling for understanding and recognition. The loose T-shirt, the black leggings, the sneakers, the hazel eyes, the pretty features, the freckles, the plump cheeks and curved body, the bag on her shoulder, the hair on her head. Red. Fiery. Standing out against the blue of the sky like a stain on white fabric. Messy curls and natural red red red.

Red… red…

Odette watched as Larissa froze. Her lips fell open, her eyes widened, she could practically see the way her heart stopped in her chest.

She remembered.

She remembered.

“…Odette?”

The shorter woman nodded, slowly feeling the anger and excitement drain from her body. It was fun being anonymous for just a moment. It was fun being the only one that remembered - having the chance to feel properly scorned and betrayed. But that didn’t last very long. The come down was harsh. Quick. A fall from immense grace. Especially when she saw the tears. They welled up in Larissa’s eyes, glossy and wet, making those sapphires shine. So swift they were. So rapid. As if sparked by Odette’s very existence.

Though maybe Larissa wasn’t the one that was tearing up. Maybe it was just her. Maybe the haze of the world, growing slightly blurry, was caused by the water that threatened to fall over her own lashes.

“Yeah.” It was all she could think to say.

For even with all of her passion, even with her love of words and her many discarded story drafts (all coincidentally started in the year 2023), even with whatever eloquence she was naturally born with, Odette couldn’t come up with a single meaningful thing to say. There was much, of course. But none of it fit. None of it made sense. Everything that lingered on her tongue, finally unlodging itself from the stickiness of her throat, was too heavy. Too heavy for the moment. Too heavy for the sidewalk. Too heavy for the side of the street. Too heavy for Jericho. Out in the open. Vermont. Miles away from home. Too close too close too close. Too much all at once. Maybe running after her was a bad idea. Maybe taking the vacation was even worse. Maybe sending that letter to Mirabelle in the first place was the poignant moment in which she should have changed her mind and threw it away when she considered it.

But she hadn’t.

And so there she was, staring up at Larissa, suddenly helpless. That ship that passed her in the night all those months ago had come back around; except that time she had stumbled upon it herself. And she wasn’t entirely sure if she was grateful- or terrified. Maybe the ship hated her. Maybe the ship would crash into her and ruin her and maybe the ship would begin shooting cannons. Maybe the ship would continue right past her. Maybe the ship would-

-hug her?

Odette blinked, very much unsure of what was happening as soon as she felt the comforting weight of long arms pushing themselves under her biceps and interlocking behind her back. La Belle and the soft clean smell of faded shampoo filled her senses. Her nose. Her lungs. Her eyes. Her heart. And soul. Part of her was so confused it wanted to grasp Larissa’s shoulders and shove her off. And the other part of her, the part of her that had dreams about receiving another letter from the one that broke her heart, wanted to give in.

‘That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily.’

Odette’s arms pressed against Larissa’s waist. Their holds were odd, skewed by the cups of hot chocolate they held and the other items in their grasps. But nonetheless, it was… it was unlike anything. Each breath died on Odette’s tongue. She felt the atoms in her brain disappear. Like they never existed at all.

“I’m sorry.” It was said so softly, she was near certain it wasn’t uttered at all. But then Larissa was pulling back, hands shaking as she brought them to her lips. “I’m sorry.”

There was grief in her eyes. A sadness that not even the most haunted of poets could explore, nor understand, nor emulate. It gleamed. It cut Odette in half. It had her taking steps back, suddenly unsure. Suddenly disoriented.

“What-… what happened?” She was breathless, bewildered at the sight of regret swimming in Larissa’s eyes.

The taller woman opened her mouth… then hesitated. Her gaze burned through her old friend- then twitched away and ran over the world around them. The sidewalk, the street, the shops, the Weathervane, the town itself. They were out in the open. And their… reunion… was too good for that. Too painful for that. Odette watched as Larissa’s lower lip quivered; as the thoughts ran through her mind at the speed of light. And before she even spoke, she knew what she was going to say.

“Please, come with me,” her voice was soft. Silken. Heavy with guilt. Pouring with unspoken words.

It was Odette’s turn to hesitate. Years… nearly. However much time. She didn’t really know. She stopped keeping track once she realized she was losing sleep over it. Hours upon hours of sleep. It affected her work - it affected her body. It slit the throat of her life and dragged it through dirt. ‘It’ being the silence. ‘It’ being the goodbye that never came. ‘It’ being Larissa, Larissa, Larissa.

The same Larissa who held an apology wound up in her lungs. The same Larissa who looked down at her as if she couldn’t quite believe she was real, standing before her, breathing and living. The same Larissa whose shaking hands held a cellphone and a cup of hot chocolate that was swiftly running cold. The same Larissa with the same shining eyes that glistened with tears and crackling memories and affection, warmth, that seemed so out of place. Years without the comfort of that dove-like soul… years without the… the love? Love? Is that what they had? Perhaps it was too little too late to wonder. Perhaps Odette was just dipping into wishful thinking. Giving into the dreams she repeated over the years. With every word, every breath, every letter - she found herself begging. Pleading. ‘Please. Please please please invite me to Vermont. See me. Know me. These pages are killing me.’ All of it secretly scrawled between her slanting lines. Running in circles behind her hazel eyes. Displayed for Larissa, even though Larissa did not exist before her at the time.

Not like she did in that moment. In Jericho. In tears.

“Let me explain, Odette. I meant- I… just- give me a chance.” Larissa blinked her tears away and straightened her shoulders, tone growing desperate, body growing tense.

Never before did she sound like that in their letters. But never before did she leave Odette for so long. Interesting circumstances… Funny how life ended things so quickly. Funny how life brought out the truth in a person when they felt themselves tugged at a loss. Pushed to their knees. Though she said she had an explanation… and her old friend had never been a liar.

“Okay,” Odette breathed, clearing her throat. “Okay.”

“Really?”

‘Yes of course, really,’ Odette thought, looking at her with a mix of surprise and anger and devotion. ‘What are you, mad? I’d never just walk away. I’d never just give up. I can’t help myself. I never could. You know this. You know me.’

───※ ·❆· ※───

I quite enjoyed writing this. Might take a break from writing 'Heat' and 'To People Watch One Person' for a bit- same with requests. For the foreseeable future, whatever comes to mind will be written. I've started watching GOT again... and a certain Ser of Tarth has strummed the strings of my heart {as always} so maybe expect something with her? Dunno. Either way, thank you for staying with me. You mean the moon and stars, believe me. - Ripley x

───※ ·❆· ※───

[ontosgold]

hi! first off i wanted to say that i love your art so much its so so pretty and secondly i was wondering, since youre like the ceo of ryomina, if you had any good ryomina fanfic recommendations ? :>

THANK YOU :D !! and hehe thank u for giving me the chance to ramble abt the two ryomina fics that have been consuming my brain lately (that are both written by my lovely fellow ryomina ceos <3)

first off !! the twilight wants him back by @chatlote

it's a canon divergent fix-it fic that takes place from november onwards featuring sees ryoji :> I think my favourite thing abt this fic is the way lina characterises both ryoji and makoto, like I genuinely adore how she writes them in this fic. both of their inner worlds feel so rich and detailed and i adore how the pov switches give us a look into makoto and ryoji's different outlooks !! seeing makoto and ryoji's different perspectives on the same events is so interesting and it adds so much depth of their interactions. it's been such a joy so far to watch those two slowly get to know each other while also exploring how makoto's dealing with everything he's experienced up until then (the way she shows how makoto's been dealing with loss is so. augh <3) and I'm so excited to see where this fic is headed ^_^ every update has me kicking my feet in excitement hehe

and then there's persephone's curse by @sweet-sirin

this fic took me on such an emotional rollercoaster that it hasn't stopped rolling around in my brain since I read it. it takes place post canon and if u know abt persephone than u can probably take a guess as to where this fic is going. I don't wanna say too much bcs I think this fic is best experienced knowing as little abt it as possible but its just a beautiful exploration of ryoji and makoto's characters and just how stubborn they can be in their own ways, especially ryoji. there's so many scenes in this fic that are just stuck in my brain. it felt like every single scene and every piece of dialogue has some sort of underlying/second meaning and it was a ride unpacking everything as I was reading. everything feels so purposeful and meaningful its just so. augh. it emotionally destroyed me and I don't think I'll ever recover <3 it'll live in a special corner of my brain forever

Also !! I haven't really gone down the ryomina fic rabbit hole myself yet so if you or anyone reading has some fic recs of their own please send them my way !! 🙏🙏

[lets-try-some-writing]

Okay, I just wanna say that I love ALL the fic ideas you came up with and I desperately want to read all of them but I know everyone else wants that too, so for the sake of your mental sanity, I'll pick my favorites

Also, as much as I cry/go feral over your angst works, your fluff/crack stuff does something to my brain chemistry that I need

So I really want to see more of the prompts I requested (omg, someone wanting to see more of their prompt, who would've guessed? Though which one you wanna expand on is up to you) as well as "Of all the things that could happen, did have to be this?", "Human Females Do What Once A Month?!", "Cybertrons newest younglings/sparklings"

Those are some of my personal favorites but if you aren't feeling it or wanna do angst, you do you. Love all your amazing work and thanks for listening to my rambles 🙃

Well thank you for the chance to write more fluff! I am so happy you like my work friend! I've been meaning to get to this request for a while now. But classes have been dragging me kicking and screaming through the mud.

Prompt for this request here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Of all the things that could happen, did it have to be this?

The battle for the Omega Lock was by far one of the most intense any of the Decepticons had ever engaged in. It was a fierce and brutal conflict that left both sides struggling. However in the end, all Autobots on Earth were captured, promptly executed, and had their bodies thrown into the Cybermatter as a taunt toward their desperate attempts to regain control of the relic. But of course, this singular act of smug retribution came with consequences.

As the bodies of the Autobots sank into the Cybermatter, the Matrix blazed and collected the sparks of the fallen within itself in an attempt to preserve them. Then, with the aid of the Cybermatter surrounding it, the Matrix did as it was made to. It remade those it was offered. Optimus it kept to itself, but the others? It molded them again granting them new life and hoping to save them from execution once more by altering how they emerged. It could not erase who they were, nor did it want to. No, it needed to preserve them and give them a chance.

With that in mind, there was no way the Decepticons, who were still reveling in their victory, could have ever predicted eight sparklings clambering out of the Omega Lock screaming and shivering. At first the gathered Decepticons were too shocked to act, but as a young Smokescreen wailed, Starscream moved without thinking. With soft murmurs and croons, the Seeker held the sparkling close to himself, soothing him with gentle touches and songs. After that, there was no stopping it. Megatron was cruel, but he was not the the kind to allow sparklings to die, no matter their origin. Thus he gathered the sparklings, brought them onto the Nemesis, and set course for Cybertron. Earth was all but forgotten amidst the chaos.

A meeting was held with all of high command as soon as the Nemesis was out of Earth's orbit. There was brief discussion of killing the sparklings considering they were formerly Autobots, however that was shut down immediately by Starscream throwing the biggest fit any on the Nemesis had the displeasure to deal with. The Seeker threw away any pretense of cowardice in order to defend the sparklings, regardless of whatever wrath Megatron might hold toward him after the fact. Thankfully for him, Knockout was quick to support his stance, even going so far as to threaten to damage the ship and tell the Vehicons about the incident if the order to kill the sparklings was given.

As such, with no other choice considering the threat of mutiny, Megatron sighed, and had the sparklings distributed until a better plan could be devised. The Nemesis continued to soar toward Cybertron, but the trip would take time and quite frankly, what interest Megatron had in Earth all but faded. Optimus was a sparkling, and without his foe fighting for the planet so viciously, the competitive desire to take the world was no longer present. Cybertron was his focus, even more so now that there were sparklings on board to fuel and raise. They had been at war for far too long, and now with the Autobot elites stuck as sparklings, it had practically been ended. Cybertron needed to be restored, and Megatron would see to it, if only to ensure he didn't lose the loyalty of his soldiers.

Of course, taking care of sparklings was far easier said than done. Each of the newly reforged Autobots seemed to have something... off about them. All were assessed by Shockwave and with his aid, assigned to the appropriate caretakers until further notice.

Smokescreen was biologically the youngest and based on the tests run, the most mentally stable. He behaved as a perfectly normal sparkling, with all the little quirks and habits of the newly emerged. In order to ensure that the sparklings with more... pressing needs were attended to, Smokescreen was given to the Vehicons, under the supervision of Starscream of course. The former Autobot rookie was perfectly tame for the most part and by all accounts, terrible friendly. He didn't care for who was tending to him and had a fantastic time with just about anyone. He only cried when he wanted something and was totally at ease for the most part. He had no sense of stranger danger whatsoever. His only notable quirk was the simple fact that whenever he got a glimpse of the other Autobots-turned-sparklings, something seemed to click in him.

In the instances where he caught sight of his former comrades, Smokescreen lost any and all self control. He would scream, kick, bite, and overall fight denta and digit to get away from whoever was taking care of him. There was an intelligence in his optics during those instances, and cunning calculation that often led to the sparkling somehow wriggling away and booking it after whoever it was he spotted. Thankfully for everyone, he would calm quite easily once allowed to interact with whoever it was he wanted to get to. He needed at least a half groon with the former comrade in question, but then he would not struggle against being removed.

Bulkhead was the second least difficult sparkling to handle. He and Wheeljack could not be separated without causing both to throw horrible fits and reject energon, and so were given to a caretaker together. Knockout ended up being the one to take both under his wing, partially due to their relation to Breakdown before their reforging, but largely because he was one of the few ground units that could be trusted with unruly sparklings. He treated them perfectly well and took great care of them. Knockout threw himself into the tending of his new charges, even going so far as to create carriers that he wore on his front and back, one for each sparkling. Both his charges were given ample entertainment and offered enough affection to be somewhat smothering. But of course, there were issues.

For an undeterminable reason, Bulkhead spent a great deal of time crying. Next to nothing Knockout did ever seemed to calm him. All that worked for the former Wrecker was being held close to Knockout at all times. Often this led Knockout to carry the sparkling around everywhere during the cycle, even while working. Bulkhead could not be left alone or he would begin to wail. Having Wheeljack with him helped, but Wheeljack had his own set of problems that made having him around a blessing and a curse. Perhaps due to his prior love of any and all things explosion related, Wheeljack was a master at eluding Knockout while he tended to his more sensitive ward. Wheeljack then proceeded to always get into something important, be it the inner workings of the Nemesis, or some wiring that inevitably led to partial blackouts. It was somewhat amusing most of the time for Knockout, up until Wheeljack started making Megatron mad.

Knockout has since kept to giving Wheeljack random broken electronic parts to mess with instead of watching his wreck havoc on the ship. Of course the pyromaniac still manages to escape the confines of Knockout's workspace here and there, but it is nothing serious... usually.

Arcee ended up with Starscream quite simply due to her rather debilitating problem. Anything that moved too quickly, she immediately did her best to attack and kill despite her small size. More specifically, anything with too much kibble for her liking ended up receiving her ire. Shockwave predicted it was due to lingering trauma from Arachnid, but whatever the case, she hurt herself and sometimes others because of her aggressive tendencies. Starscream, long used to tending to feral seeker sparklings, took her on as his own in an instant. He took every precaution tending to her despite her lack of flight capability. It had been far too long since he last saw or was even able to come near a sparkling.

Arcee was a vicious little thing, but Starscream handled her with grace none on the Nemesis knew he possessed. She quickly came to only calm around Starscream and her former Autobot companions as the seeker worked to earn her trust. It was an arduous process, but Starscream carefully cleaning her, singing to her, helping her fuel, and constantly holding her as close to himself as possible yielded results. She could not be around any of the other Decepticons without her newfound caretaker for fear of her hurting herself, but she was renown for the happy sounds she made when particularly at peace. Starscream has a whole album filled with photos of his adopted ward, which he shows off as if it were the documentation giving him ownership of Cybertron itself.

Ultra Magnus was a difficult sparkling to be placed under a caretaker. At first he was given to Knockout alongside Wheeljack and Bulkhead, but that swiftly led to numerous fights between the trio. Not to mention a startling lack of emotion from the former leader of the Wreckers and a subsequent explosion of it made handling him alongside the other two impossible. Ultra Magnus was a mess of emotions and couldn't be predicted at all for the most part... well except by one scientist. Shockwave did fight hard to not be given the position of tending to the sparkling, but Ultra Magnus needed a steady servo to guide him. He reacted to any sort of emotions that others presented with extreme prejudice. Shockwave had no facial components for Ultra Magnus to react to, nor did Shockwave have any outward emotional responses.

There were MANY concerns from Knockout and Starscream about Shockwave possibly turning Ultra Magnus into his lab rat or abusing him. However against the expectations of pretty much everyone, Shockwave was a highly dutiful caretaker once the mantle of being a parent was passed to him. He took all the necessary steps to tend to his ward, including setting up an entire section of his laboratory specifically for Ultra Magnus. In turn, Magnus was as happy as could be in a safe, controlled, and calm environment. He thrived in the stable comfort Shockwave provided and was content to remain quiet as the scientist kept careful tabs on what he needed and when. There was never a moment when Magnus wanted for anything, and in the odd instance where something set him off, Shockwave was there to hold him as he worked, waiting until Magnus calmed. Emotionally Shockwave was not particularly invested, but with Magnus's mental state, that seemed to be for the best for both of them.

Ratchet was an interesting case in that he REFUSED to be cared for by anyone. He was... odd to say the least. Being the most developed out of all the sparklings, he could easily toddle and was capable of managing basic words. What he said was concerning more often than not. He seemed to know things he really shouldn't, especially regarding death and medicine. In the end, Megatron himself ended up snatching up the former medic and becoming his overseer more so than a Sire. Ratchet had no interest in forming any real parental bonds, but he was more than accepting of tutelage despite his relative youth. That suited Megatron just fine as often he would allow Ratchet to roam with a Vehicon as an escort. In turn, Ratchet would visit with almost every one of his former compatriots and hang around with Megatron's inner circle, watching and learning without complaint.

The only times he made a fuss where when Megatron was eventually forced to come grab him from wherever he was hiding out and take him to his crib. Ratchet was NEVER pleased with that development. He got his energon from those his visited, and his assigned Vehicons tended to him when he required aid. He had no interest in being put to bed against his wishes, even if he was not exactly sure why. Once he had Ratchet secured, Megatron would fulfill his one vaguely parental task of the cycle and tuck the sparkling in, answering several questions and reading Ratchet a book of his choice before bidding him a good recharge cycle and leaving. Ratchet was a strange and oddly mature sparkling, one constantly hounding his fellows to ensure they were well. And despite the hatred Megatron once held to the former medic, he came to appreciate Ratchet's willingness to learn and was more than happy to give him classes necessary for a future leader. Ratchet didn't seem all that enthusiastic about leadership, but he took the lessons without complaint.

All the sparklings settled into some sort of situation, that is all save for Optimus and Bumblebee. Their situation was.... unique in the extreme. Before their reforging, Optimus and Bumblebee were bound as Father and Son. The Matrix, in its infinite wisdom saw this fact, and not wishing to destroy those bonds, came up with a fantastic solution. It simply... didn't give Bumblebee a proper frame. Optimus emerged from the Cybermatter screaming and ready to wage war despite being the size of Megatron's servo. But that was not the strange part about his and Bumblebee's situation. No, it was the fact that when examinations were run, it was revealed that Bumblebee's spark shared a chamber with Optimus's. Through some strange means, he yet lived, but was not yet truly developed. Optimus carried his sparkling within him alongside the resized Matrix, and based on the scans, it seemed that once Optimus was large enough, the Prime was going to likely go through the oddity that was budding.

That took almost everyone by surprise. Budding was not... unheard of. However it was so rare as to be little more than a fairy tale. Often it was the result of a set of spark twins forged from a hotspot not developing with enough protoform for both of them to have frames. In those instances, whichever sibling developed would eventually bulk up until there was enough protoform to break off and produce a frame for their sibling. Even in those extraordinarily rare cases, modern technology meant that it was often easier to artificially produce a protoform for the twin without a frame. With that in mind, there was discussion of having that done to Bumblebee, however a shriek of outrage from Optimus and a good look at the adult sized protoforms on board that that idea flying out the window. Not to mention Optimus's Sire coding was still active despite his youthful body, meaning that any attempt to take what he saw as HIS would end horribly. Bumblebee would be left alone, at least until Cybertron was stabilized.

Bumblebee's spark appeared healthy enough once they could strap the half feral Prime down long enough to get a solid look at his spark chamber. The gold and white mote of light spun happily around its far larger counterpart, pulsating as it swirled like a nebula. Optimus for his part was fiercely protective, and once released and given time to calm himself around his companions, he too revealed his oddities. Much like Ratchet, he seemed to know a bit too much and had little desire to seek out a parental unit. During the trip to Cybertron he largely avoided everyone and wandered the Nemesis, only remaining with his former comrades to receive fuel and check on them. Often he fell into recharge in dark corners, unwilling to settle down anywhere due to his parental desires. Thankfully for Knockout and Starscream's mental health, Soundwave, through bribery with energon goodies and respectful interaction, managed to acquire Optimus's trust.

While most certainly odd, Soundwave found himself with the young Prime as his ward. Optimus was perfectly content to remain quiet, muttering to himself and to the unframed spark within him as he followed Soundwave and watched. He was not a nuisance, and so the spymaster had no issue teaching the young Prime his craft and caring for him as required. Theirs was a strange relationship, one that never fully stepped into mentorship or a familial tie. They simply existed and assisted the other as much as possible. But of course their care for each other was quite clear when Soundwave would silently stalk the halls with Optimus clinging to one of his cables as he hurried to keep up.

They were processor ache inducing menaces at times, especially when Ratchet and Optimus managed to meet and be creepy together or when Wheeljack managed to get Ultra Magnus into a tizzy, but they were the former Autobots were Decepticon wards now. Most of the caretakers involved in tending to them would have it no other way, especially once the startling realization that they still required the Allspark to fully repair their world hit them all in the helms. That left them two choices.

One: Wait until Optimus was old enough to guide them to it.

Two: Try to focus on rebuilding Cybertron until Shockwave could find a way to locate it.

Either option involved time and a great deal of sparkling rearing in the meantime.

[floofanflurr]

What's a Papyrus made of???

A SKELETON, OF COURSE!

Other than a skeleton.

PUZZLE PASSIONEERING, AND DARING TO A GREAT EXTREME? OR PERHAPS YOU MEAN MY ENDLESS HANDSOMENESS AND CHARM!

Well, those too! But how do people draw you? You aren't made of the same shapes as your brother, after all!

I AM MADE OF MANY SHAPES! GREAT SHAPES! SANS IS MADE OF... SLIME. OR SOMETHING.

He's made of circles.

THAT'S WHAT I SAID! SLIME, CIRCLES, BROTHERS—IT'S ALL THE SAME THING.

Hmmm, I guess you kind of have a point, but—

...Well! I digressed! Here's a little thing I put together containing a lot of my observations about how artists commonly draw Papyrus! There's a lot of variation, (a lot a lot!) but I have found some common trends! Like building blocks!

OR A PUZZLE!

A Papyrus-shaped puzzle!

Not pictured here is the variation in the top part of the skull! (What I have depicted as a circle here.) Some people draw it more angularly, or even more like a square.

ARE YOU CALLING ME A SQUARE?

No-

GOOD! BECAUSE I AM ONE! A SQUARE, THAT IS! NEVER BROKEN A RULE IN MY LIFE, NO SIREE!!!

...Are you sweating right now?

NO!

...Hmmm. Anyway! This post is getting long, so there's more under the cut!

WHAT'S A CUT?

Well, this is a tumblr post, so that means that I want to put some of the longer content I make behind a read more line. That will collapse the rest of the text so that it doesn't make it too hard for people to scroll.

TUMBLER? SCROLLING? YOU SOUND LIKE SANS.

Sans uses tumblr?! Oh no...

...Well, onto the rest!

There's a lot more variation of Papyrus's mouth. People can get really creative! But most of the common depictions I see follow these building blocks.

YOU MEAN PUZZLE PIECES!

Yeah! Puzzle pieces.

THIS PUZZLE NEEDS MORE SPIKES! IT IS DISTINCTLY LACKING IN THE DEADLY SPIKE DEPARTMENT.

Wait, no— Papyrus put that down! This is not a spike kind of puzzle!

And finally, eye sockets! I've seen people do them in a lot of different ways, including like Sans's sockets but slightly longer. But again, this is how I see it done most frequently! And Papyrus has a lot of more extreme expressions, such as his eye boggle and his sparkling sockets that adds even more variation.

And that's it for now! There's still a lot I didn't go over, and I don't know if this could be counted as a tutorial? (Though if it helps, that's great!) I'm more just here to ramble about all the cool art I see of Papyrus!

I didn't get a chance to go over Papyrus's nose, nasal ridge, or the way people draw his neck. Not to mention the rest of his body! And his clothes! There's lots more common depictions (building blocks!) there.

PUZZLE PIECES!

Puzzle pieces. Like scarf vs. cape, gloves vs. mittens, round battle body or more square. (Or even a normal crop top!) Shorts vs. bowl, black tight material vs. bare bones...

That's not even getting into the AU Papyri! They also have common building blocks! (Puzzle pieces, I know.)

THEY AREN'T AS HANDSOME AS ME, ANYWAY! EVEN IF THEY ARE ALSO VERY GREAT.

Ahem. ...Debatable. (Fell gives you a run for your money in the handsomeness department—) ...Nah, you're right.

I AM, AND I KNOW IT!

(I'm also not as good at drawing them...)

Well. Needless to say, there's a lot to cover! And I've spent... huh. 7 hours on this so far! So I'll leave it off for now and maybe do a bit more if there's any interest.

WHO WOULDN'T BE INTERESTED IN ME? WHAT DOES SOMEONE AS GREAT AS ME HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME RECOGNITION AROUND HERE?

Never change, Papyrus. Never change.

THAT SOUNDS LIKE AN UNHEALTHY IDEAL! ...EVEN IF I DON'T SEE HOW I COULD GET ANY BETTER.

Huh. Surprisingly true.

Well. Thanks for sticking with this so long!

How do you draw Papyrus? I'd love to see! Do you use any of these building blo... puzzle pieces?

OOOH ME TOO, ME TOO!!! I WANT TO SEE! YOU SHOULD ADD MORE SPIKES THAN FLOO, THOUGH.

[awkwardlyflustered]

Return the Favor

A/N: Okay so I didn’t think I would be back again this quickly, but some lovely anon requested a sequel-esque to my other RWRB fic, (which if you haven’t read and would like to, is right here), so I am back to write another quick one with Alex returning the favor to Henry. Hope this one is at least sort of decent, I’m still not feeling great about my writing, but we’ll get there! Anyways, please enjoy! (P.S. thank you to everyone who gave kind words about my last fic, I was really feeling not great but all of that helped me stay motivated to keep writing). 

“Wait wait wait,” Henry rushed out, trying to keep the couch in between him and Alex.

“What exactly am I waiting for?” the dark-haired boy questioned, still trying to close the gap between him and his boyfriend. Henry just sputtered, desperately trying to come up with the right words. Refusing to even give him the chance, Alex jumped over the sofa and tackled Henry, pinning him down. 

“Come on, you don’t have to do this,” he pleaded playfully, the words having no real desire behind them.

“No? Because I remember you doing this exact thing to me not more than 3 minutes ago.” Alex’s face tinted the shade of pink remembering Henry’s fingers slowly taking him apart. 

“Okay yes, fine, I did, but that doesn’t mean you need to return the favor,” Henry rambled out, not making any moves to really escape.

“You know, today is your lucky day, I’m really not all that big on ‘returning the favor,’” Alex started with a smirk. Henry narrowed his eyes, knowing Alex far too well to believe he was getting away that easily. “However, unluckily for you, I am very big on getting revenge, so you’re not getting away yet.” Alex’s smirk shifted into a big, cheeky grin, very delighted with himself for his set up. In turn, Henry rolled his eyes at the goofball keeping him stuck to the floor, but couldn't help but smile at his adorableness. Granted, the smile quickly disappeared from his face when Alex started rolling his shirt up. Before he had any chance to protest, he felt fingers skitter across his tummy. The reaction was instantaneous, he couldn’t keep the giggles from pouring out of him. 

“Ahahahalex plehehehease.”

“Ohoho, so when I plead with you, it falls upon deaf ears and you keep torturing me, but when you do it, I’m supposed to have sympathy?” He questioned, feigning offense. 

“Yehehehes! And ihihit wahahasn’t tohohorture!” Henry barely managed to giggle out, bucking his hips, trying to get the offending digits off of his sensitive tummy. 

“Good, if that wasn’t torture, then this certainly isn’t. You should be just fine.” Before Henry could even think up a reply, there were already fingers pinching away at his ribs.

“AhahahAHAHLEHEHEX NOHOHO,” Henry pleaded, the laughter only rising as Alex pinched further up.

“Mmm good spot?” Alex murmured out, a smile gracing his face as he took in just how cute his thrashing boyfriend was beneath him.

“NOHOHO!” the prince screamed out, refusing to admit in any way that Alex has an upper hand. 

“Oh, lying to me now, your royal highness? I think that deserves to be punished, doesn’t it?” Henry shook his head, grabbing on to Alex’s wrists, and trying to pry them away from his ribs. Alex relented and took his hands off Henry’s ribs, just to give him a little bit of a breather before continuing. 

“I wonder…” he thought out loud as he reached back and experimentally dug into the muscle on Henry’s thigh. The yelp he was rewarded filled him with absolute joy and a whole new level of menacing he was about to achieve. 

“Nononononono, Alex don’t you daHAHAHARE NOHOHOHO.” Henry was once again thrown into a fit of laughter as Alex started pinching at his thighs now. 

“Hmm? What was that, babe? You want me to keep going? Oh even harder you say? If you insist,” Alex teased, the smile on his face mimicking that on Henry’s. He flipped around, now sitting on Henry’s hips, facing his thighs so he could have better access to his new target.

“One would think that as the First son of the United States, you would be a lot nicer, but no, you’re an absolute menace.”

“And one would think that the Prince of England would be less sensitive, yet here we are.” Henry couldn’t even respond, just lie back as his face reddened and Alex’s hands inched closer and closer to his death spot. 

As soon as Henry felt Alex put his hands down, he sat up and started scribbling along Alex’s sides, hoping to deter him. Alex pinched his arms down against his sides, squealing and falling back.

“Hehehehey nohoho.” The two of them wrestled around on the floor, fighting each other for the upper hand of the situation. There was nothing but stray yelps as death spots were attacked, constant giggles from both parties, and clumsy pinching and poking at anything they could reach. By the end of it, they ended up right back in the same position that they started in, with Alex pinning Henry down.

“Now that we’re back where we’re supposed to be,” Alex commented, glaring back at Henry, “I will not be making this mistake again.” He grabbed Henry’s hands and shoved them under his knees, trapping him well. Henry just smirked at him, all too proud of his various shenanigans. He, of course, was promptly knocked off his high horse when Alex began squeezing his thighs and he couldn’t do anything about it, but beg.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! NOHOHOHO!” Alex just gave a little hum in response as he started lightly tracing his fingers on one thigh while swiftly pinching at the other. Henry kicked his legs out and continued his begging, even though it was pointless. 

“You should really try to quiet down, people might hear you.” Henry’s face darkened another shade of red as he remembered that people outside of just him and Alex existed, and could very well be hearing him being tortured by his boyfriend.

“FUHUHUCK YOHOHOU!”

“Later, definitely. But I’m having fun with this, right now,” Alex responded, cheeky as ever, not even needing to look back to see Henry’s blush deepening, once again. The two carried on like this for a few minutes longer, only stopping because Henry’s laughter had gone silent. 

Alex carefully climbed off of him, and laid down beside him, kissing his crimson face. 

“You okay?” Henry simply nodded in return, still catching his breath. Alex smiled at the sight beside him. Henry’s eyes still scrunched up with the huge smile adorning his face, his cheeks an absolutely beautiful shade of red. He just looked amazing like this, and Alex never wanted it to end. 

“That was really mean, you know. I didn’t go that hard on you,” Henry accused, grabbing Alex’s hand.

“Yeah, I know, but I have to show you who’s top dog around here,” Alex replied in the most stereotypical, 80s douchebag voice he could conjure up. Henry just chuckled at him and leaned over and gave him another quick kiss. 

“If I wasn’t exhausted, I would be proving that statement wrong.”

“Uh huh, sure you would, babe. But there’s plenty of time for that tomorrow. For now, that bed is calling… no, yelling my name,” Alex returned, already starting to stand up. Henry just eagerly followed along happy to just cuddle beside his boyfriend for the rest of the night.

[hayatheauthor]

Update Regarding My Sudden Hiatus + Author/Publishing News

Guess who's back from the dead!

Jokes aside, I truly do feel terrible for going on hiatus without saying anything, and then I come back and see that I've hit 2k (which btw is absolutely amazing and left me shell-shocked) and that just made me feel worse for leaving unannounced. So, here's everything that's been going on:

(click read more if you want to learn about my experience at my first writer's workshop & pitching to an agent ++ publishing updates for The Traitor's Throne)

If you DON'T want to read more: long story short I'm back and will revamp this blog Monday onwards.

Would you look at that I'm finally getting the hang of Tumblr etiquette!

Anyways, I know if I took the liberty of casually explaining everything we would just be here all day and I would ramble endlessly SO, I'm going to summarise everything into a list:

One of the biggest reasons for my departure was because *insert drum roll* I graduated! That's right, your girl is officially a diploma holder and ready to conquer college! Although I've seen the 'finals week or my final week' meme enough times to start questioning what I signed up for.

My writing life has been a little...disappointing. There's no other way to break it to you folks, but when I started this blog, I was knee-deep in the query trenches, and now, I'm still there. Does that suck? Yes. Am I going to give up? Absolutely not! BUT I do have some changes planned:

I've officially decided if this final shot at traditional publishing doesn't do well, I'm going to give in and self-publish The Traitor's Throne in May-June 2024. Which means you might potentially be able to purchase my baby pretty soon!

BUT I decided to give querying one last shot and actually joined a writer's workshop (which is going on as we speak btw). I joined the online Boston Writing Workshop, I'll drop a review on that on Sunday, but so far I've actually learned A LOT from it, and have decided to give querying another go while implementing what I've learned. Dw I'll also be putting out a review about the workshop on Sunday.

So, here's a summary: I've created a self-publishing deadline for my current project while also giving traditional publishing a final shot. I also joined my first ever writer's workshop this weekend and will be pitching to agents for the first time.

Overall, I think my lack of success in the querying scene kind of made me feel like a fraud when giving writing advice. I'm the type of author who does A LOT of research when I write, which is why I have so many tips on so many topics, but that doesn't make me an expert.

This workshop especially made me realise I've been making some rookie mistakes and focused so much on my story that I forgot the query and synopsis are just as important. Maybe this realisation came too late and I've lost my chance of traditionally publishing The Traitor's Throne, but I am grateful for everything it's taught me.

ANYWAYS—see what I meant by we'd be here the whole day if I didn't use a list??

Let's get back to the important stuff; yes, I will start putting out blogs again, and answering my asks. I'm also thinking of launching a beta reader project where I'll beta read some of your works for free! Stay tuned to see that announcement since it'll come soon.

Thank you so much for supporting this silly little blog of mine, and I hope you have a good weekend! As always, I'll see you on Monday! 💕✨

[fandomtcikles]

Hellooo! If it is prompts you need, then prompts I shall deliver >:)

“What’s with the bad mood? I think that may need to be remedied…”

with ler!Thor and lee!Loki? :)

(sending love <3)

Eeeeh thank you so much for the request @just-a-fluffy-knight, I loved this one. You always give the best prompts my love!

Hope you guys enjoy this! It’s just a little Drabble of everyone’s favourite Asgardian brothers

Not in the mood

Warnings - none

Word count - 1.4k

“Greetings brother”, Thor declared as he waltzed his way into the lounge area, and flopped onto the couch that his slightly less cheerful brother was already lounging on, in a hopeful attempt for some peaceful reading. So much for that plan he thought to himself, as the oversized golden retriever that was his older brother flopped far too close to him for his liking on the equally oversized couch. He only huffed in annoyance and shifted away, in yet another attempt for some personal space.

“Must you do that”, he grumbled. Thor only chuckled in return, “yes I must dear brother”.

“Wonderful”, Loki threw his head back dramatically, rolling his eyes, before returning to his book. Thor chuckled again, “do you really find me that intolerable?”. Loki never even lifted his eyes from the page he was on, and yet they still told Thor everything he needed to know. “I sincerely doubt you want me to answer that honestly” he sighed, the annoyance lying heavy in his voice.

Thor wasn’t having this; he was used to being the happier of the pair but even he knew something was different today with Loki, and as he was the older brother, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

“What’s with the bad mood brother? I think that may need to be remedied...”, mischief lacing his voice, and an unsettling smirk gracing his face. This did not go unnoticed by Loki, who despite his best efforts to pretend he didn’t notice, subconsciously shifted even further away from Thor, so that he was now pressed right against the side of the couch, nervously turning the page of his book. Thor wasn’t exactly wrong. He hadn’t exactly been having the best day so far, hence his mood and attempt at trying to find some peace and quiet. However, it had escaped his mind that as his brother, Thor knew him well enough to know when something was wrong, and worryingly for Loki, Thor had a preferred method when it came to bringing his younger brother out of his moods, despite Loki’s numerous protests against it in the past. And judging by the mischievous glint in his brothers' eyes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right to be nervous, especially as he noticed Thor making his way closer towards him.

“Thor, I assure you I am not in the mood for any childish games right now”, as he attempted to back even further into the couch. However, Thor was not away to give up that easily. “Oh, come on Loki we both know you could do with some cheering up today”, making his way closer to Loki still. “Thor, I assure you that is not necessary”, the panic in his voice becoming evidently clearer, as Thor neared closer still, until he managed to get close enough to Loki to pin his arms to his sides with his knees, before he ever got the chance to escape.

“Thor this is childish nonsense that we are much too old for, must this be the way it always goes!”, Loki frantically rambled, as he desperately tried to squirm his way out of Thor’s iron grip. Thor in turn let out a hearty laugh, “you know I might ask you the same thing brother”. Loki shot him an incredulous look, “I beg your pardon”, he questioned, still attempting to worm his way free.

“Loki you are the God of Mischief; a man known for his tricks and illusions, whilst being cunning and sneaky. You’d think a man capable of such feats would be able to escape a situation like this easily, why not rely on your illusions or teleportation's to escape if you truly hate it so much, rather than this child like display of strength”.

Loki went to make a snarky remark to immediately defend himself but found himself unable to do so. As Thor said despite him being known for his deceptions, he found he was unable to explain why he hadn’t truly chosen to escape all the times when Thor had subjected him to this childish torture. Unfortunately, he didn’t get much time to ponder on this, as his train of thought was abruptly disrupted when he felt two strong hands digging into his ribs, causing him to bark out a surprised laugh.

“THOR STOP THIS AT ONCE THIS IS UTTERYLY RIDI-”, he was cut off yet again by his own surprised laughter as a result of Thor suddenly leaving his ribs, only for him to start digging into Loki’s bony hips. Loki attempted another snarky remark, but the unbearable ticklish jolts shooting through him rendered him useless of any strength or ability to speak he may have previously had, much to Thor’s amusement.

“Face it brother, we both know you need this”, and with that, he went in for the kill. Using one hand to knead into Loki’s hip, whilst his other hand spidered its way across his other hip, and up and down his side multiple times before kneading into his ribs. Any hope Loki may have had to escape this situation with any part of his dignity still intact vanished, as he got lost in the million maddening sensations jolting through him, rendering his mind essentially useless and only allowing him to throw his head back in pure unfiltered laughter, as he continued to be subjected to the torturous feeling.

“THOR-” he finally managed to wheeze out in between frantic peals of laughter, as Thor continued to knead into his hip, whilst his other hand had begun to spider up and down his sides and stomach, both torturously light but also with enough pressure for it to still tickle like hell. It was no secret that Thor was enjoying this, knocking his usually stoic arrogant little brother down a few pegs with a few squeezes to his sides. However, he also had the feeling that he was not the only one enjoying it, as Loki was still yet to try and make a proper escape, or any escape for that matter, proving to Thor that he had been right all along, which he couldn’t help but smile at. Loki certainly could have his moods, but at the end of the day he was still his little brother.

Thor couldn’t help but smile at this, and looked down at his younger brother who was still in hysterics, and decided to finally have pity on him, at least for the moment. Slowing to gentle rubs on his sides, Loki’s laughter eventually slowed down as well as he finally regained his breath, uncontrollable giggles still spilling out. “I still think that was ridiculous” he managed to wheeze out, his voice hoarse from laughing so much.

“Careful how you speak brother” Thor warned him playfully, squeezing just above his knee, causing Loki to let out another wheeze that spiraled into yet more giggles.

“THOR”

Thor only laughed. “I’m sorry Loki that was just too easy”. To which Loki only grumbled, but even he couldn’t help the small smile that was tugging at his lips. Just as Thor had realized, this did bring back fond memories for Loki as well. There were countless memories of them as kids where Thor would pull one of these attacks on Loki to see him smile, and to ensure he never felt left out. These attacks would often consist of Thor pinning down Loki and going for his death spots. Loki couldn’t help but shudder slightly thinking about all the times when Thor would go after one of his worst spots. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Thor now.

“What are you thinking about brother?”.

“Well, I still believe that was completely unnecessary” he grinned. Thor only smiled and rolled his eyes. “I do believe you were still ever so slightly more merciful than when we were children, for which I am... somewhat grateful I suppose” still grinning.

Thor thought for a moment before all those beloved childhood memories came crashing back to him as well, which gave him an idea. “Ah yes, I do believe your neck used to be rather sensitive didn’t it... hhmm I wonder if that is still the case”, and without any warning, he dipped his head into the crook of Loki’s neck, blowing an enormous raspberry causing Loki to wheeze once more.

“THOR”

“I’m sorry brother that was the last one, I promise”. He smirked. Loki, still giggling slightly, only rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sure it was brother”.

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Little Lady Masterlist

liked by maggie.hughes, trevorzegras, _quinnhughes and 1,894 more

jackhughes you've been by my side since before we were born (i guess it's a twin thing) and i don't think i would have ever wanted it another way. when we were little and i'd have a nightmare, you'd crawl over from your bed into mine and give me the biggest hug you could muster to calm me down. when i would get a hurt, you'd pull out your little first aid kit, unicorn bandaids and all, and patch me up before mom ever got the chance. i guess it makes sense why you are graduating from nursing school today, read to help others like you did me. i could not be more proud of you mags ❤️

maggie.hughes jack i could not have asked for a better twin ❤️

jackhughes i know, i'm pretty great maggie.hughes i retract my previous statement.

liked by maggie.hughes, elhughes, canucks, and 1,206 more

_quinnhughes i'm going to be honest, i really only wanted a little brother. but the minute you were born, even at a year and a half i knew i would be looking out for you for the rest of your life. and i could not be more proud of the life i have watched, and I can't be more proud of you today as i watched you walk across that stage and get pinned as a nurse. you're an amazing kid and i'm so glad i didn't only get a brother

jackhughes uh, should i be offended?

_quinnhughes not unless you want to be.

maggie.hughes thank you for always being my best friend and giving the best hugs Q ❤️

liked by maggie.hughes, elhughes, trevorzegras, and 997 more

lhughes06 you have looked after me since you were 3. when you left for college, i cried for a week. i mean, new jersey was so far away (so is california, by the way). but you were still attending ever game you could, and texting me daily for life updates. so even though you are going away again (i hate you trevorzegras), please keep looking after me. i'll miss you.

maggie.hughes oh lukey, i'll miss you too kiddo

maggie.hughes but i'll be back to visit and you can always come to anaheim! trevorzegras to be discussed maggie.hughes trevor. trevorzegras see you in anaheim lhughes06!

liked by maggie.hughes, lhughes06, _quinnhughes, and 56 more

elhughes we both know i love the boys, but the moment i found out i was going to have a little girl i cried, and i cried, and i cried. you have been my closest friend since you were born, and the biggest help in managing four boys (yes, i'm including your father in that count). your talent, empathy, and joy light up every room you enter and i could not be prouder of everything you're doing with your life. i love you baby❤️ (this is a photo of maggie and baby luke, way back when)

maggie.hughes i learned everything i am from you momma ❤️ love you back!

liked by maggie.hughes, lhughes06, _quinnhughes, and 2,452 more

trevorzegras i have loved you since we were eighteen. now, i know we met a few years before that, but i knew i wanted to be with you forever when you got comfortable enough with me to ramble about books for 45 minutes. jack had warned me not to get you started, that you would never stop, and you always were shy about how much you read. but one night you just couldn't stop reading this book, and everyone else had already gone to bed so you turned to me and said "can i tell you about my book?" and i wanted listen to jack, but you were so shy, and looked so hopeful. so i said yes, and i couldn't be happier that i had. your nerdy rambling is one of my favorite things about you.

i love everything about you and i couldn't be happier to be able to watch you follow your dreams.

_quinnhughes you made her cry. and if it wasn't because of how much she loves you i'd kick your ass trevorzegras uh thank you?

maggie.hughes i love you to the moon and back trevorzegras i love you to saturn and back

liked by trevorzegras, elhughes, _quinnhughes, and 148 more

maggie.hughes they tell you that time flies when you're having fun, and they're not wrong. the thing is, it also flies when you're looking forward to what comes next. no matter why it flew, it did, and i have loved my time as a nursing student, sports medicine nursing assistant for the njdevils, and living down the road from my brother(s) more than anything.

and a moment of appreciation to my boy. since the season ended for the ducks, he has been on load to me from jamiedrysdale (thank you jimmy) and keeping an eye on me during finals and graduation. making sure i'm eating (while teaching himself to cook), making sure i was going to bed at a good hour, and helping me study. i love you Z with my entire heart, and i can't wait to live with you (and you jamie)

trevorzegras i love you more than i do jack lhughes06 oh wow, that's basically a proposal jackhughes Z, how dare you! i thought we were forever! maggie.hughes ... i love you too?

nicohischier beyond proud of you kid! may just have to fly out to anaheim for our movie nights from now on!

jamiedrysdale you can have him any time! it's been so quiet around here! (also, congrats! can't wait for you to officially join apartment movie nights!)