#they originally planned to spill the news on their one year anniversary

[marvins-linguinie]

eddie: who's most likely to stay single for the rest of their life?

max: steve

mike: steve

will: steve

dustin: steve

el: steve

lucas: steve

steve: jokes on you, im dating eddie!

eddie:

steve:

eddie: that's not how we planned-

dustin: so, you're saying, that you and steve...

lucas: ARE TOGETHER?

[equallyshaw]

star crossed lovers, pt 2 | connor bedard

↳ oc hughes sister x connor bedard x brendan brisson + blurb + tiny insta post

↳ au masterlist!

takes place in 2026 with a connor sighting!

warnings: swearing

word count: 4.7K

Two households, both alike in dignity...

oh that love story that was too good to be true, so beautiful and soft and wholesome; was never meant to last. romeo and juliet had truly run their course it seemed. though originally, weren't they destined to be together forever, and never see the fate that the original story predicted?

maybe her brothers were right, kailey thought as soon as it happened. he dug the sword deep into her heart, twisted, and then pulled away. it was if they'd never been together. as if they hadn't spent the last three years together.

but was it the end for miss hughes? was it the end of her journey in finding love with a powerful and notable name within the world of hockey?

◦

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume.

kailey pushed jack a bit as soon as entered the kitchen in the townhouse her two brothers shared in jersey. she quickly made her way over to the coffee machine and put a nespresso pod in, smiling once the humming of the machine began. she pulled out her phone and opened connor's message that popped up, and she wished she hadn't. she stared at the screen, allowing it to fade to black. "kails!" jack said hurrying over and putting a towel down, as the expresso spilled over the too small cup. she didn't move. he looked down at her, not understanding why she wasn't moving. he sighed, wiping the counter in front of her, before he heard her whisper. "he broke up with me." jack thought his mind was playing tricks on him, "funny kails." he said turning around to finish making his breakfast. "he br-broke up with me." she said again, louder and more clear. he looked back at her before taking two steps to catch her as she fell backwards, out of shock. he quickly brought her to the ground, holding her closely as she sobbed.

24 hours ago, the two were planning on what they wanted to do for their almost 1 year anniversary.

how could things change in 24 hours?

luke rushed in as soon as he heard sobs, and the look that jack gave him was more than he needed, he knew exactly what happened. the three brothers couldn't have seen this coming from a mile away, they didn't see this happening. ever. they thought that connor was the one, that one that made it past their hard exteriors. the one that had made his way into all of the hughes hearts.

oh how the universe and shakespeare could be so cruel.

◦

thankfully, kailey was finished with school and had graduated a few weeks before the breakup. so she thought long and hard on where she wanted to be, and who she wanted to be. dawning a new hair color and a will to pull herself out of heartbreak, she settled on sunny california. she moved to redondo beach in los angeles county, moving in with her cousin maya - a longtime family friend of the hughes that dated back to her mom's hockey days at college. the three brothers were crushed to see her leaving so early in the summer, and forgoing the lake house in michigan but she knew she needed to go. or else she'd never leave.

it was around 3 months later, late july when kailey reunited with a very old family friend. brendan brisson, out of the blue showed up at her and maya's apartment for a sunday brunch they were throwing. he came with his brother, and at first they did not recognize her because of her new hair color. since she'd been in california, she hadn't had the inkling or draw to post anything on social media. hence, people were relatively concerned as to what she was up to. sure, her family knew through text messages and private snapchats, but other than that- she'd ghosted the world. she also got off Instagram and twitter, not relishing in the fact that connor was off seeing other people. mere carbon copies of the girl, pre brunette. she hated seeing people tag her in things, hated seeing it come up naturally because of how much she used to look up his name; for shits and giggles she used to say.

that sunday morning though, after grabbing a cup of coffee from redondo beach pier, and a walk up and down it- she retweeted something. which let me tell you, alerted the hockey world and hockey twitter. i mean, the sheer power they held when they were together was out of this world. two great hockey names - connected in a magical way, how could they not? people adored seeing them together and that retweet cemented the breakup, which people had been suspecting for some time. she redownloaded Instagram, archiving her pictures with connor, not able to part with them just yet. she then opened up her groupchat with the boys, ripping the canadian boy to shreds. she'd simply put him into an early grave, by her word choice. she woke up with a vengeance this morning, her brothers thought as 6 messages - paragraphs - came in. her brothers agreed with every last word she sent, they were absolutely dumbfounded and out of this world angry when connor broke up with her via text. and without cause. their original thoughts about guys came back in an instant. they would do everything in their power to steer away boys, if luck would have it. nobody would ever be good enough. though she was a california gal now, they couldn't protect her. though - as much as quinn hated to ask for a favor - the boys had asked trevor and alex keep tabs on her on that side of the coast. the two without hesitation agreed, with trevor making a joke at quinns expense.

they were hoping they could sleep a little easier at night.

but as soon as brendan saw her, he quickly pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. "oh my god - blondie! wait no." and kailey giggled, "you're good! i haven't really updated social media so you wouldn't have known." she smiled widely, before hugging jordan. "how do you know maya?" she asked, "new hampshire, remember?" jordan said and kailey grinned. "should have known. those were...uh the good days." she hummed, drinking her iced expresso. "let me show you to the kitchen." she said motioning for them to follow. they walked into the kitchen, the two looking at the buffet of food. "any coffee? i can make it right now." she smiled, and the two smiled. "im good, im gonna go find maya real quickly." he said walking away so now it was just jordan and the girl.

"how's school?" he asked, pulling her out of her trance. "great! i just graduated" she smiled, and he mirrored it. "congratulations, kails! what did you major in again?" he asked and she smiled, "child psychology." she hummed. his smile never faltered, "that would be you. i remember as kids how much you cared for kids on the lake, and they just flocked to you." he said and it was as if they were both brought back to that time when the days never seemed to end, and sunburns were a regular occurrence. "yeah..im very fortunate things worked out the way they did. gave me this wonderful opportunity to start fresh out here." she said sipping some more of her drink. "oh..yeah. totally understandable." he said picking up her drift, "you knew?" she asked and he nodded. "yeah...jack said something in the group chat when it happened. im sorry about everything, that was real shitty of him. you didnt deserve that." he said sweetly. she shrugged chugging down the rest of the coffee, "good thing I've got nobody watching my every move, anymore." she smirked, leaning closely towards brendan before sliding over the his cup of coffee.

◦

“Then I defy you, stars!” 

jordan ended up leaving at some point in the afternoon, while brendan and kailey spent the day together catching up. the two had always been easy to get on with and used to be thick as thieves during the lake days. she'd never told any of her brothers - because god forbid if she did so - but she had had a crush on him for a few summers. it absolutely crushed her, when he got his first girlfriend in 8th grade and then they never came back to the lake house, so her crush disappeared. she'd never known this nor her brothers, but brendan too had had a crush on the girl.

the two sat on the white plush couch in the living room, as the sun was setting. maya had left some time ago to hang out with a friend and do some errands while kailey opted to stay in for the day. kailey and brendan were in the process of laughing, as kailey got a text message. she pulled up her phone from where it was laying on her thigh, and her demeanor visibly changed. it was a text from connor, asking why she retweeted the tweet this morning. brendan saw her eyebrows crease in confusion, before she shook her head and locked her phone. "let me guess..connor?" he questioned and she nodded. "the fucking nerve.." she sighed, pinching her nose. she stood up grabbing the two empty glasses from the coffee table, and made her way over to the kitchen. brendan followed, "the nerve he has! we've been broken up for three months already and he's upset i tweeted something about being respected by a significant other? whats so wrong about that? he's just upset because im calling him out for it, publicly at that." she said setting the cups in the sink. "don't i deserve respect?" she asked turning around to face the boy. he nodded, walking over to her and leaned against the counter. "you deserve that and so much more. he's got a stick up his ass, that's for sure." he began, "don't ever lower your standards because of him. he's an idiot. he's the one who did that, the one who double crossed you for no reason." he finished as kailey met his eye. "wish i heard that sooner." she hummed, crossing her arms over her chest. she looked down at the ground, "well...im saying it now. and i mean it." he said softly taking a step closer and lifted up her chin just a bit with his hand. she looked into his brown eyes. one's she adored as a kid, and now looking into his- something sparked within. a spark she hadn't felt for some time, long before connor. he took this as an invitation to close the gap between them.

oh, how the universe laughs. or hockey gods.

◦

it was now two weeks later, and brendan had kailey in his arms this early morning. the two had stayed up talking about anything and everything that came to their minds. they talked about their childhood, laughing over the fact that they both had crushes on one another but never suspected it. they smiled as the other one brought up conversations and significant memories, both happy that the other hadn't forgotten. this morning, she was savoring the warmth and comfort his body oozed, because he'd be starting back up early morning training again. he'd taken two weeks off due to a stress sprain, and now that it was fixed he would be resuming his schedule. "wanna see my parents today?" he softly asked, as he felt her beginning to hum from tiredness. she nodded her head, against his chest and he smiled. "they've been asking about you since i told them i was going to brunch." he hummed, and she slowly pulled her head up from his chest to look at him, "still the favorite hughes, eh?" she grinned before he leaned down to kiss her. his hand found the base of her neck, and the other found the base of her back. she wrapped her hands around his neck, getting as close as possible. they broke the kiss, resting their foreheads against one another.

kailey had a wave of deja vu, pass over her. making her nauseous.

she pulled away from brendan, pulling her phone to her chest, and saw a missed facetime from each of her brothers, and she sighed pressing quinns contact. she sat up, and inched away from brendan so he wouldn't be in the shot. "hey q, whats up?" she questioned, pulling him from whatever jack was saying. "hey uh, i take it you didn't see yet.." he said and that's when he heard jack yelling on the other end. "what do you mean q? why is jack yelling?" she said rubbing her eye, and quinn sighed sending her a screenshot of the instagram post. she clicked on his text and swallowed, anger seething from her. how could she betray her? her friend lisa from college in chicago was in connor's instagram post, somewhere in toronto. she quickly opened up instagram to lisa's page and she was even more angrier. she had been soft launching for almost 3 months already...that traitor. lisa was the one all along, the one that had been seen in pictures but kailey had never paid too much attention to the fact it was the same girl! she hung up on quinn, quickly locked her phone and turning on dnd. "whats wrong?" brendan asked, setting his phone down and pulling her into his chest as he sat up. "he-he's been seeing my friend from school." she said but she didn't cry. she was just angry, and disappointed. how naive she'd been. "im sorry kails." brendan said softly. he felt terrible for kailey, somebody he cared deeply about. and he knew she cared about him just as deeply. but maybe not in the way that he believed.

"lets just uh, lets get going. we should head over so were not late." she said pulling away and getting up to shower. she quickly took a body shower, hopping out to brush her teeth and moisturize before heading into her closet to find an outfit. brendan came up and wrapped his arms around her, as she inspected her outfit. they looked at one another in the mirror, as she finished inspecting, and she smiled once they found each other's gaze. "you ok?" he whispered, and she nodded giving him a small smile. "yes. thankyou for uh, being here with me these past two weeks. it means more than you'll ever know." she hummed, turning around in his arms. he grinned, leaning down and kissing her. deeply. she melted into his arms just a bit before pulling away. "lets get going b." she said pulling him out of her small walk in closet.

-

"kailey!" kim cheered, as the two walked through the doors of the brisson's manhattan beach mansion. "kim!" she smiled, disconnecting the twos hand as kim pulled her into a hug. kim swayed her just a bit, "oh my goodness! we've missed you so much sweetie, congratulations on graduating! i saw the pictures, they were just perfect." she said pulling back a bit and kailey smiled. "thankyou! had the best photographer." she hummed and kim smiled. "your mom has always been a fucking gem when it comes to pictures. they were just to die for and chicago being the backdrop? timeless." she fawned and kailey giggled. "thankyou!" she smiled, seeing mr brisson walk from the kitchen. "kiwi!" he yelled with a huge grin on his face, and kim let go of the girl. "pat! so good to see you." she smiled as he pulled her in for a hug. "you too! congrats on graduating, heard you finished with honors." he said pulling away, and kailey nodded. "yep! perfect 4.0. to which jack sent 4 dollars exactly, as his gift." she joked, causing the family to laugh. pat shook his head as he could just picture jack doing it, and so could kim. "your hair! oh my god! i love it, it looks so good." kim smiled, looking over the girl. kailey smiled, "thankyou! thought a little change could be good." she hummed and the brissons nodded. "well, breakfast just finished lets go eat!" pat offered and the three nodded. "good, im starvin!" kailey said rubbing her hands together, "good, we made your favorite!" kim said wrapping an arm around the girls shoulders, making her feel right at home. again.

Kailey and brendan ended up staying the full day at the brissons, catching up and reminiscing over the lake days. it was around 7 when jordan and brisson begged kailey to go get froyo and walk the pier at santa monica. "go! have fun, we'll get together soon." kim smiled, and kailey nodded hugging the two goodbye and then they were off. kailey got in the passenger side, and jordan got in the back. kailey quickly leaned into brendans shoulder, and there hands found each others as well. she looked back at jordan, and he quickly snapped a picture. she rolled her eyes with a small grin on her face. the three sat through traffic, singing loudly to whatever music she put on shuffle. a little bit of everything, which the boys loved. they finally made their way to santa monica and parked right in front of the frozen yogurt place. after that, they walked down to the pier and she stopped at one of the shops that was selling books and other knickknacks, getting a book to read at some point. they walked down the pier for the next hour, with brendan taking a sunset pic of the girl with her book who had the biggest smile of her face, at whatever dumb joke jordan had just said. on their way back to her apartment in redondo beach, she posted that sunset picture on her instagram story.

it broke hockey twitter.

"im gonna walk her in and then ill be out." brendan said to jordan who nodded, and the two got out. he walked her up to the townhouse, two blocks over from the pier. "thanks for today brendan, i had a lot of fun." she smiled, turning towards him at the door. "me too, thanks for being a trooper. i thought my parents would never stop talking." he joked, and she grinned. "no i loved it, it felt like home. like old times. it was comforting. with my parents being far, it's nice knowing that they are out here." she hummed and he nodded. "im glad." he smiled. she could tell he wanted to say more to her, but was fighting himself on how to begin. "just say whatever it is you want to say." she said grinning, pulling her free hand in his. he blushed, looking at the ground. "these past two weeks have been...everything i'd wanted since we were little younglings. and i don't want to go back to vegas in a few weeks, not knowing what we are or if we might have missed an opportunity....to see where things might go." he said looking up at her with hopeful eyes. she bit her lip, thinking hard. she liked brendan, and always had secretly; but was she ready to date again? she didn't want to become the laughingstock of the NHL family sphere. going from one player to the next, but shouldn't she at least attempt to move on? even if it was with another player?

brendan saw the hesitation in her features, and accepted defeat. he was about to say something but kailey spoke up. "i want nothing more than to say yes but what will my brothers say? what will the hockey world say? going from one guy to the next? i don't want to become the laughingstock, besides- my brothers don't deserve that. they don't deserve to take any heat from or about me. besides..i don't want to ruin our years-long friendship b." she said hoping he understood, and he did. "give me a few days, let me go take some time in chicago and ill let you know. ok?" she said with a pleading look. he nodded softly, "thankyou." she said pulling him in for a hug. her arms found his neck, his arms found her back; drawing her in as close as possible. incase, he'd never have her in his arms again.

◦

she arrived in chicago two days later, her best friend becca from college and lukas reichels' fiance, as well as alex vlasics wife tessa were waiting for her at the pickup area. she strolled her suitcase and carry on towards the arrivals area, and smiled widely when she saw the two holding a small bouquet of peonies and a dunkin coffee. they jumped up and down, as they saw her. she began to jog over towards them before they wrapped their arms around one another. "oh my god!!" kailey shrieked when they held out her iced americano and flowers towards her, while tessa took her bag and suitcase. "guyssss im gonna cry." she said with tears in her eyes. "we couldn't come empty handed." tessa cooed, as she wrapped an arm around the girl, with kailey taking the gifts from becca. the three girls walked out to the car that was waiting at the curb, that sat alex and lukas. "oh my god!" she said smiling widely when she saw the two leaning against the audi. "kails!" lukas said smiling and quickly hugging her, and then alex joined creating a group hug. tessa snapped a quick picture as kailey just laughed. "thankyou guys for coming to get me, i appreciate it very much." she smiled widely, as lukas opened the door for her and tessa. "you are very welcome hughesy." alex grinned as he opened the other door for becca. "where to first?" she quipped.

-

the three girls headed towards becca's and lukas' guest bedroom in their chicago townhouse, ready to bombard the girls with questions over her california life. kailey had been awfully quiet the past month and they were curious what had been going on. "girl! what have you been up to?? we wanna know everything!" tessa squeled as she shut the door behind them. kailey blushed while throwing a small smile towards her best friends. "did you meet a guy??" becca smirked, and kailey shrugged. "did he take the one sunset pic?" tessa joined in, sitting across from kailey on the bed. kailey grinned, "I've known him for sometime now....I've known him since we were kids." she began and the girls looked at one another. "who is it?" becca asked. "brendan brisson." she stated, and the two girls thought about who that could be. "wait! was he at usntp?" tessa questioned, and kailey nodded. "oh my god i remember him! isnt his dad like THE agent in hockey? doesn't he work with your dad?" tessa rambled and kailey giggled. "yes...we arent like officially together but somethings there. i just don't know if i want to pursue it. like, i don't want people to create narratives that were never true to begin with." she said putting her face in her hands, feeling defeated. "to hell with what everybody says. if you're happy and you see something with him, go for it." becca said and kailey shrugged. "but my brothers....what are they gonna think? they're gonna kill me." she said tessa forehead creased, "do they not know that you two have been spending time together?" tessa questioned and kailey shook her head. tessa and becca looked at one another, sharing silent words.

-

she spent the next week in chicago, reminiscing and growing fond of the memories she'd made the past four years. they caught up, spent quality time together and thankful that nothing from her past had shown up or crossed paths with the three girls. kailey did not need that, at all. she face timed nightly with brendan, him curious at to what shenanigans that three were getting up to. she'd been to 2 concerts, numerous museum trips, countless trips up and down the lakefront, and shopping galore. kailey woke up around 8 am, getting herself put together before heading down stairs. she jogged down the steps, and headed to the kitchen. it was too late, before she realized who was in the kitchen. lukas and connor were laughing at something, that happened at a gym session that morning.

connor caught the footsteps on the stairs first, and then the brunette hair second. he did a double-take, before realizing it was kailey. kailey was on the phone with brendan, before she spotted connor and froze. "ill uh, ill call you back." she said hanging up before brendan could respond. "morning kails." lukas said sipping some coffee, curious to see what was going to happen. "morning lukas." she hummed, heading to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, and her breakfast from the day before. she quietly worked as the two hockey players looked at each other, "ill be right back. im gonna take penny outside." lukas said calling for the small dog, and now it was just the two.

"how have you been?" connor asked as she put the food in the microwave. kailey took a few seconds to respond before turning around. oh, how good he looked. curse the hockey gods. his hair was still wet from the shower, his blue eyes meeting hers and what felt like a sense of deja vu washed over the girl. "I've been good. you?" she questioned, heading over to the expresso machine and began to mess around with the machine. she banged the expresso on the counter, before sliding it into the spot to pour over. "yeah real good. just got back to the city a week ago." he responded, and she nodded. "that's real nice." she hummed, as the microwave beeped. "hows california?" he asked and she sighed, pulling the container out. "its been nice. beautiful as always." she hummed, pulling a few pieces of hair behind her ear. she looked back up at him, "been doing everything i haven't been able to do for a few years." she said, a dig at the boy. he nodded feeling dread wash over him, as her phone began to ring again. she looked over at where it was on the counter, and she let it go to voice mail. she'd text brendan at some point. "hows lisa?" she quipped, biting into her burrito. connor swallowed tensely, "shes good. just started at lurie children's hospital." he said and hailey nodded. "that's nice." she hummed, walking over to the finished expresso and brought it back over to her food.

connor and kailey's tension could be cut through with a knife. even then, it might not even work. "when did you change your hair?" he asked, a few minutes later. "right after you texted me, I thought id try on a different personality." she said sarcastically, "apparently the last one wasn't good enough." she hummed, picking up her container, coffee and phone. connor sighed, "kails-" she cut him off, by turning back to him with a glare. "don't you ever call me that again, so help me god connor." she spat. he was defeated, he knew that much. she turned back and headed back upstairs.

oh how she loathed that boy, who threw away almost 2 years of pure bliss. pure romance. something out of this world. kailey did find out what changed, in those 24 hours and swore she'd place a dagger in their hearts at some point. his last words mere hours before, echoed his love, pure and committed adoration for the blonde. but like life, it can change in a mere moment.

“Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. then your love would also change.”

◦

kailey sat down on the airplane, about to depart chicago and bring her to sunny los angeles. oh how she'd missed her home, and somebody that was waiting ever so patiently for her to return. she smiled, posting her photo dump from the summer. her first post since march. she deleted her instagram after responding to a few comments, allowing for the chaos to consume the hockey fandom. she turned her phone on airplane, drowning herself with music for the next 4 hours, not daring to look at the messages waiting for her when she landed.

“Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.” 

◦

oh, what the universe and all of its stars had instore for the young hughes and the bright superstar.

-

@kaileyclara: little bit of this, little bit of that.

tags: tessavlasic, beccamuprhy, jordanbrisson and laurenorlando

-

@trevorzegras: wait a min @jackhughes: wait a damn minute @kaileyclara: can yall leave @trevorzegras: no im too busy inspecting every single detail of this post

@_quinnhughes: hughes sighting! @kaileyclara: hehe

@lhughes_6: who gave u flowers @kaileyclara: idk @jackhughes: to the gc! @_quinnhughes: already there @kaileyclara: i hate yall

@tessavlasic: I loved having you here bestie, i need to come out soon! @kaileyclara: i second this!

@beccamurphy: loml returned ! @kaileyclara: i thought that was lukas? @beccamurphy: he's my second love @lukasreichel: alright.

@brendanbrisson: im here for the hair @jordanbrisson: so am i @jackhughes: im not @kaileyclara: fuck off

@mayaaa: maybe u r a slut @kaileyclara: and that would be a fucking lie ! @mayaaa: 😚😚

@adamfantilli: orlando sighting? @kaileyclara: yes! toronto days hit hard @laurenorlando: still salty you guys moved @kaileyclara: me too @johnnyorlando: absolutely rude

hope you all enjoyed it, please like and reblog if you did-- id appreciate it very very much🥺 oh, and ofc i will have one more part to finish up this little series (:

mutuals from previous part : @privatemythss @boldysswld @trevorzegrizz @jayda12 @simp4hughes @skatesnstuff @slafgoalskybaby @cuttergauthier

[djparticle]

A Look Back At A Certain Splatoon Promo Image...

The more I think about it, the more I think that we got Splatoon 3 (and another event) a lot later than Nintendo originally envisioned. The image above was released by Nintendo at Midnight (JST) January 1, 2020. I even remember where I was when I first saw it: partying on New Year's Eve in a karaoke bar with friends. Right away people were wondering about the image, and what it could mean. This also wasn't too long after the fake-out "Where's Marina?" promo where the answer was "oh, she took the photo!" Of course, the most obvious hidden meaning was the text on the bottom disguised to look like a reflection in the waves: SOS. And written in the waves, combined with the "reflection", said "Save Our Salmons". This had people wondering if this was a hint as to a later plot. Maybe a new DLC for Splatoon 2, or even a Splatoon 3. Looking back, it's obvious now that this was meant to be our first tease for Splatoon 3, given the plot of its Story Mode revolving around the consequences of Salmon Run and why Mr. Grizz was having us all steal eggs. The only thing is...we all know what happened in 2020, and what it did to numerous industries, especially tech-based industries like video game development. We know now that Splatoon 3 development started about as soon as the Chaos vs. Order Splatfest ended, just like development for Splatoon 2 kicked into high gear after Marie won Splatoon 1's final fest. Given how fast Nintendo put out Splatoon 2 after only a year and change of development, it seems like it's possible Nintendo intended Splatoon 3 to be released sometime in 2021 instead of this year. But of course, a certain virus had other plans. Eventually with vaccines, air filtration technology, and the virus evolving to be overall less deadly, we we able to slowly get back to an almost normal lifestyle, and a lot of the bottlenecks in the supply chain started to ease up, but in 2020 itself, everyone's plans were thrown into... well... chaos. If I were to make a guess, absent the pandemic, we would have likely gotten the first Direct Splatoon 3 teaser in September 2020, with a release date of Fall 2021. Instead, Nintendo, trying to keep Splatoon hype going, gave us some extra rerun Splatfests, including a rerun of Splatoween over Halloween weekend (after all, not like anyone had any real plans for the holiday itself), while they played catch-up on game development in a pandemic-strewn world. And that leads me to another topic: The Super Mario Splatfest. 2020 was also Super Mario's 35th Anniversary as a franchise (discounting 1983's Mario Bros and 1981's Donkey Kong), and if you may have noticed, much of the celebration spilled over into 2021, including a Splatoon 2 Splatfest fitting the theme. Again, absent the pandemic, I think we would have gotten the Super Mario 35th Anniversary celebration confined within the calendar year of 2020, with the related Splatfest in July 2020, one year after "Final Fest". Again, this is just my musing, and I could be amazingly off-base with this, but given the original timing of the "Save Our Salmons" promo, it seems to make sense. Stay Fresh, Don't Get Cooked, and Catch Ya Later! 😊

[severeweatheralert]

Ashes

Original short story written for a discord prompt.

The dishwasher broke today. I had Hannah over, so cooked too much, hid the take out containers in the thrash beneath produce scraps and tins of cubed tomatoes. She brought a girlfriend, all smiles, pink hair and a college T-shirt, and Hannah had that same glint in her eyes that you had in our wedding photo. It's still up on the mantle. The ashes of the fireplace beneath it are cold, now. Do you remember last Christmas? You were working the graveyard shift again, because Kyle's girlfriend had just had a baby and John had booked a flight out to see family and Mike, well, we all know not to depend on Mike. So I sat by the fireplace and told myself it wasn't Christmas. I don't think it's been lit it since.

Dinner was stilted, jagged, Hannah's girlfriend chattering over the potholes she couldn't know we stumbled into. She sat in your chair; Hannah didn't flinch when she chose it. We spoke about the weather and the news and future plans and the price of gas, nowadays, and have you seen the thing the neighbours put up in the garden? Hannah's girlfriend tried to tell me about her major and her job and I didn't hear a thing, I just saw the way Hannah looked at her, with that fondness. Your eyes in her face. I tell myself I'm too old to be jealous of young love. For all I know they'll break up next week, over a miscommunication or a perceived slight or an impending move across the country. It's those emotions that they tell me to journal about, they'll pass, they're normal. I don't want any of it to be normal. I want you to walk back in the door.

With the pasta gone and dessert politely demolished, they spilled out of the front door, into the driveway, bundled up in boiled wool coats and soft scarves. I'd have liked to close my eyes and pretend Hannah was six years old again, off to play with a friend, to regale me with tales of crocodiles and castles when she inevitably rushes back in the door again. But Hannah's at an age now where she doesn't tell her mother what kind of games she plays. What people she sees, which bars she goes to, where they end up after that. I waved them off. Their tail lights streaked red into the night, in sight one moment and round the corner the next. I lingered, a few unwise minutes, but the street stayed empty. The air still, November fast approaching. Fog reaching up from the tarmac with long, pale fingers. The neighbours across the road had a sign in their front yard, lit up in red and green, loud words in a garish font. Happy 25th anniversary!

Remember when we worried the house would be too small for us? If we wouldn't need more bedrooms, a finished basement? We could always move, you'd tell me, if we ever outgrew this stack of drywall. I'd like the house to shrink in on me, now. Stick to me like cling film. Every week I dust rooms I don't use anymore. Hannah's bedroom, frozen in time, and sometimes I sit in there and pretend she's still eighteen years old and sneaking into the house at 2AM as if we don't hear the stairs creaking. It's quiet like a church. Not even the rumbling of the dishwasher.

The dishwasher. It sat blinking tail light red and opening it unleashed a flood of water, the sickly grey of dead skin, full of chunks of god-knows-what. The half-digested dishwasher tablet stuck to a plate, and my socks were growing wet, and for a bizarre moment I was almost grateful. Something to do. So I grabbed dish towels and bright yellow lemon-scented chemicals, the mop. Stacked the remnants of the evening into the sink. The way we used to when we were still renting that apartment. Right after college. Remember how our fingers would wrinkle when we did the dishes, then? I folded half my torso into the dishwasher, pulled the filter out, rinsed off peas and see-through mushrooms, clicked it back into place. Put the racks back in, the dishes, the pots and the pans and the plates. The cutlery. Hit the button. There was the buzzing noise of water flowing in, the vague satisfaction of a job well done, but when I came back downstairs with clean socks and pants without wet patches on the knees, the light was blinking red again. I didn't think.

Your name spilled out of my mouth before I realized you were gone. I swear I almost heard you answer.

The house is all quiet, now. My hands have wrinkled. There's not even the rumbling of the dishwasher.

[misunderstood-muses]

Cruel Kingdom (Part 1)

Royal AU

Two Princes. One driven from his home. One in charge of a kingdom that should have never been his. Will they find a common enemy?

The room was trashed. Chairs knocked aside and the table pushed into the stone wall.

The red silk comforter lay strewn halfway off the bed and the pillows were against the wall near the opposite window, one spilling white feathers against the dark stone floor. 

A gold platter lay turned over on the table, food spilled onto the floor, an apple having rolled underneath the dresser that no one would find for a few months until the smell would be too much. 

A man stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard and running a hand through his black hair. The imprint of the crown he wore was still visible as his hair fell back into place. 

A light knock on the door, a familiar pattern, made him look up sharply and he said a simple “come in.” When the person entered and shut the door behind him he was silent for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Hongjoong,” He said, he was the only one who could get away with calling him by his name, “You can’t beat yourself up like this.”

“It’s the anniversary.”

“I know. It’s why I came to check on you.”

This was always a dreaded day for Hongjoong. It was the day that his father forced him to commit one of the most horrible atrocities he had ever been part of. And what was he now? The Crown Prince of a stolen throw he didn’t even want, and every year he’d have a complete meltdown. At least this year it had just been his own room and not the Hall of Family Portraits (his family mind you). 

It had been hard to explain that one, but Wooyoung had made it look like an accident caused by his mage fire trying to protect Hongjoong and his father had accepted this. 

The man pushed his blonde hair back and started to pick up the overturned items.

“Seonghwa, you don’t have to do this.” Hongjoong said, moving to pick up things himself. 

“As your friend, I want to do this.” 

“You…”

“Don’t. You know I would do anything for you. A little clean up from your tantrum is hardly a burden.” He moved closer, resting his hand on Hongjoong’s cheek, “Besides, I don’t want you to be alone. I know out there we can’t…but in here, I’ll be here for you. However you need.”

Despite trying to fight off his rising blush, Seonghwa could still see the tops of Hongjoong’s ears turning red. He stepped back and righted a chair, “Also, I have news.”

“From Orna?”

Seonghwa nodded, “They’re planning to be on the move. A few outer cities first and then moving in.”

“Have you talked with San?”

San was the head of Hongjoong’s Royal Guard. He had been part of Hongjoong’s father guard since he was fifteen and had even trained with this Kingdom’s original Royal Guard.  He’d gotten the title bestowed upon him when Hongjoong came to rule here. 

“Not yet.” Seonghwa said, frowning. They both knew San was battling his own demons tonight. 

Hongjoong sighed, “Alright, let’s get this cleaned up and you can tell me more so we can set up a plan to make sure they aren’t set with too much opposition.”

“As you wish, My Prince.”

This earned him a pillow to the face. 

Across the land.

“You shouldn’t be out here. You know your health hasn’t been well lately.”

Yeosang sighed at Yunho’s soft voice from behind him. He knew he would find him eventually. 

He hadn’t been out in the garden long, not long enough to hurt him anyways. He’d just wanted some time alone to think, to continue to grieve as he did every year since he was sixteen.. 

“They were her favorite,” He said, touching the soft petals of the red roses that his mother used to grow in the palace gardens. Here, they always bloomed this time of year, always too early, when the hint of spring was not even barely in the air. Yeosang knew it was Yunho’s doing. The bushes would be full of large, deep red blooms by today every year, a reminder of his mother as well as a reminder of the bloodshed of his childhood. 

“Your highness, we really should head back in.” Yunho said.

Yeosang fought the urge to wince at the title. He was no longer a prince. He was no longer anything. Why should he continue to keep the title? He was just a misplaced boy whose parents were taken from him by people he considered protectors, friends. 

And what was he doing to avenge them? Hiding out, drafting plans but never putting them into action. 

He reached out to grab one of the roses, a thorn pricking his finger.

“I’ve decided something, Yunho..” He said, watching the blood well up  from his skin. 

Yunho made no noise, but Yeosang didn’t have to look up to know that he was listening. 

“I’m going after them. And when I get there, I will not stop until I have reclaimed my home. I don't care who gets in the way. I will avenge my parents and take back what is mine.”

When he finally looked up Yunho could see the cold fury burning behind his eyes.

“We will follow your lead, My King.” Yunho said, giving a slight bow which had Yeosang rolling his eyes.

“I told you…”

“Yes yes. Now let’s get you inside and let me fix that finger.” Yunho said, slinging his arm over Yeosang’s shoulders and ushering him to the door.

[alphagirl404]

(Rewrite) Snapped. A LEGO City Undercover Oneshot

Hey ya’ll...this here is a rewrite of a LEGO City Undercover oneshot I wrote years ago. Since today is the 9th anniversary of the game I decided to rewrite this because the original version needed some improvement, especially since I’ve been working in 3 major fanfics these past several years.

I hope you enjoy this fic about everyone’s favorite LEGO unhinge multi-billionaire Forrest Blackwell. And Happy 9th Anniversary to LEGO City Undercover.

****

Snapped

The door gradually opened, letting out an unsettling creaking noise. Entering inside was Forrest Blackwell, who had an unreadable expression plastered on his face. Slowly, he strolled through his mansion, letting his suit jacket fall on the floor. Forrest had given his staff the week off earlier today, leaving him and his white cat, Pearl, the only occupants in the mansion. 

Today...Today was supposed to mark a grand accomplishment. A chance to move forward. Not only for the city but for himself. Instead, it turned into something dreadful. Events kept on replaying throughout his head repeatedly like a broken record. Today was perhaps the second-worst day of his life. 

He entered his dark kitchen and turned on the light. Pearl followed, emitting a quiet meow, indicating that she was hungry. Forrest grabbed the milk carton from the fridge. The older man grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. He poured the remnants of the milk carton into Pearl's food bowl, not even caring that he spilled some of it onto the floor. Tossing the now empty carton on the counter, he removed the cap of his wine bottle and drank from the bottle itself as he treks down the hall to the next room.

This chamber was the biggest in his entire mansion, next to his safe room. It contained a widescreen tv, many books, awards, and a model of the city Forrest reside in, the place he gave so much, LEGO City.

Forrest turned on his tv. On came the LEGO City news. Forrest paid no attention. Events from just hours earlier replayed in his head.

****

“You can’t do this!” The billionaire shouted.

At the site of his latest project stood newly elected Mayor Gleeson, members of the city council, wildlife officials, recently appointed Cheif of Police Marion Dunby and a portion of the LEGO City Police Department. All of which were at the receiving end of the man's glare.

“Mr. Blackwell.” Mayor Gleeson spoke to the billionaire firmly. “This is a site of an endangered species. This project cannot allow to go on.” 

“They’re just squirrels! We have plenty of those running amuck. How are these any special? You dare deny my chance to build this in her name to protect some insignificant rodents?”

“I understand that you're upset about this, Forrest, but harming endangered animals of any type is against the law. Should you break said law, I’ll have no choice but to have you arrested. Is that clear?”

Forrest gave nothing but a cold stare at the mayor. Gleeson, however, remained unfazed.

“I hereby declare this construction project shut down!”

****

Just like that, his plans were ruined. Plans that he had spent several years pondering. Plans to honor the one he loved.

Julie…

Oh, his precious Julie. She was the first & only person who truly understood him, to know the real him. An early portion of his life Forrest...stood out among his peers. Even at a young age, he knew he was different from everyone else. That did not settle well with some people. At best, people just avoided him. At worst, they would call him cruel things. That often resulted in him lashing out, which often got Forrest into trouble in his youth. 

Things with his parents were not any better. Forrest's mother did try to understand him better, but it was never enough. His father, on the other hand...acted like nothing was wrong.

"You'll get over it." Forrest's father often said to him with condescension. 

That was the most and only heartfelt thing his father had ever done for him. Other than that, his father did not attempt to mend their relationship. Even after Forrest's mother died, his father did not take any action. It was right then that Forrest realized that everyone he grew up around will forever reject him. So when he was able to care for himself, Forrest stole a fragment of his father's money and moved to LEGO City to start over. Severing the ties of his old life, forever. 

In a short amount of years, he made a name for himself and acquired more wealth. The city admired the gifts he brought to them. Not once did Forrest ever sense any rejection. The city made him feel more accepted than anyone in his previous life ever done. No longer the outcast that everyone avoided like the plague. He was now the one everyone wanted to be around, and it felt so damn good. 

Despite the adoration from the city, the fear of rejection lingers within due to his experiences in his childhood. So Forrest vowed not to build any close relationships. After all, one cannot experience rejection if they do not form bonds with anyone.

That all changed when he met Julie many years ago. With her around, life now felt more joyous. She was aware of his flaws, but that never drove her away from him. Despite the many hardships they endured, their love for each other was strong. Forrest honestly had no clue what he did to deserve her. Every bad day he had, Julie was always there for comfort. The years that followed into his marriage with Julie, and the admiration the city gave him, Forrest felt truly...happy. At long last, life finally decided to give happiness to him. Forrest believed that this feeling would last forever. 

Then the day came when life would again take a jab at him when Julie died in a tragic accident in Bluebell Forest a few years back.

Forrest was distraught when her death occurred. Julie's death was conceivably the single worst day of his life. In the months afterward, he became severely depressed. Eventually, it turned into anger. Forrest needed an outlet to direct that anger. That outlet: Bluebell Forest.

Forrest had never been a nature person, that was more Julie's thing, but he never had any negative opinions of Bluebell. That all changed when Julie died. Just the mere mention of the word Bluebell filled him with fury. That was when he finally decided to build his newest creation at Bluebell in Julie's name. 

Despite many protests from environmental activists and scientists, no one had taken action against him. After all, why should they? Forrest had provided the city with many great things for so many years. Never once did they ever oppose him. Not to mention he was building this project in memory of Julie. The city adored Julie for her undeniable amount of kindness when she was still alive. How could anyone deny him of that? 

But thanks to that dammed squirrel, everything he thought he knew changed. Despite everything he has done for them, the city did not allow him to go forward with his plans. They denied him his chance to honor Julie's name. The city rejected him. 

It had made Blackwell feel many emotions. Denied, betrayed, and scandalized…

“Our top story tonight: The shut down of Forrest Blackwell's project.” Forrest heard from the tv, to whom he brought his attention back. There he sees a male news anchor speak.

“A discovery of an endangered squirrel by Bluebell officials led to the end of Blackwell's latest project. After a sweep on the site, City Hall shut down the project. Unfortunately, we could not get a comment from Mr. Blackwell. He did have this to say.”

The screen showed footage of Forrest himself storming off to his limo. “You're all ungrateful swines! I gave you all I have, and this is how you repay me?! Let’s see how you all like it if I never built anything for you ever again!” He watched the footage of himself shouting before getting into his limo.

"I have to say Mr. Blackwell didn’t seem to be very happy,” A female news anchor commented. 

“With someone as loaded as him, I don't think its that big of a deal to him.” The male anchor expressed nonchalantly.

Forrest felt a tremendous amount of rage building up, as he heard those words from the television. Not a big deal?! It was a huge deal to him!

“If you ask me, a person like him would surely get over it.” 

Hearing the way the news anchor spoke as if they were mocking him. It was like hearing his father, and the others in his childhood years rejecting him all over again. This time it was coming from a member of the LEGO City. The very same city that he gave everything for and gave him nothing in return when he needed it.

It was enough to make something within him snap.

Forrest let a scream of pure anger as he threw the remote at the tv with the full intention to break it, giving it large cracks. Much to his displeasure, it was still functioning. Forrest repeatedly hit the tv with his whisky bottle in his rage fit until he decided to knock it over. Still unsatisfied with his attempts, he started to stomp on the tv until it finally stopped working. 

Forrest felt some sense of satisfaction. But he brought his gaze to the pictures on the walls. Pictures that reminded him of the very city that betrayed him.

Taking the remnants of the whisky bottle, Forrest smashed each picture one by one until the bottle shattered. But Forrest was still not satisfied. He threw the bottle into the wall and went into his kitchen. The millionaire went to a drawer where he pulled out a huge knife. Forrest exited the kitchen and dragged the knife's blade along the wall, slicing the frames from their support string. 

It was then that Forrest had entered a different room. He saw the picture of a photo of Mayor Gleeson and members of City Hall. Forrest stabbed the knife through the picture. Forrest moves to a nearby closet, leaving the knife stuck in the wall. He removed a box of materials, along with a drawing pad.

Gathering his newfound supplies, Forrest returned to the room where his carnage had started. He had even smashed more picture frames with his bare hand, not caring the newfound bleeding cuts. Forrest entered back and proceeded to the center. In that center lies a model of LEGO City itself. Just looking at it only increased his rage even further.

Forrest gave hard hits on the model city several times until he just knocked over it entirely. Afterwhich, he set down his drawing pad and proceeded to start sketching. For the next hour or so, Forrest made several sketches only for them to be crumpled up as tossed aside. That went on until he made the perfect design. 

The older man gazed upon the sketch. It was a sketch of his next building project. But then a new problem arose: Where to place it? Forrest slowly paces around the torn-up room, trying to think, until his eyes move to the window. The full moon shined brightly in the night sky. It was then he got an evil idea. Forrest then went back to the very same table where the model of LEGO City once stood. 

Hours later, Forrest gazed upon his creation. A model of his next big idea. The room was quiet. The only thing heard was the curious meows of Pearl as she was rubbing around her owner’s legs, trying to get his attention, but he did not flinch.

“They think they can steal away my gift? After all these years of giving them so many things?” Forrest muttered darkly. “Let's see how they like it when I start taking from them. And it will be more than objects...”

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Begrudging Allies (Aaron Hotchner x Trans!Male!Reader)

Summary: Aaron and Y/N's marriage is suitable enough, given that Aaron secretly loves men and Y/N secretly is a man. When the one year anniversary of their amicable nuptials brings forth correspondence from their estranged families, Aaron takes the opportunity to potentially make something more out of their arrangement.

AN: This is one of my entries to the "Enemies 2 Lovers" challenge set by @imagining-in-the-margins​ on Tumblr!

Reader is trans male and uses he/him pronouns. 

WC: 2.4k words

Content Warning: References to era appropriate homophobia/transphobia but nothing actually mentioned. Two dumb fucking gay men trying to flirt.

Photo Credit // Masterlist // AO3

Your name: submit What is this?

Aaron Hotchner and Y/N L/N were served breakfast together every day they were in the house together. They sat not at opposite ends, but the seat left adjacent to them. That way, they did not have to look at each other whilst they ate. Breakfast was the only meal with which they shared each other’s company. Why make it unbearable first thing in the morning? They read the morning paper - and any post - while eating. Only the scrape of their plates and muted chewing was to be heard before the chairs scraped across the floorboards and both men departed.

Today they both received a note from the L/N household back in their old country.

“I assume your letter reads the same as mine,” Y/N dropped his beside his plate before pushing it further away.

Hotchner raised his eye from the headline that had been mildly entertaining him, “It does.”

In cursive flicks, the usual complaints of their emigration had reached his eyes not moments prior. The closing of his family’s letter however broached a new request: a photograph of the happy couple on their first wedding anniversary, specifically a recreation. The ungrateful bunch, the only remaining wedding photographs of the wedding were in their hands.

“I don’t have the dress,” Y/N scoffed and looked aside. Even from this end of the table, Aaron could see that he was trying to mask his tears from the dawn. The wedding day was the culmination of their greatest shames.

At least Aaron had tried to make the best of it, but there was no relief for Y/N until they were in their separate chambers and free from all betrothment attire.

“Suppose we should arrange for a fitting. Though how we’re going to do that without arousing any suspicion here is beyond me.” “Perhaps we can go north, find a seamstress and a wigmaker there.”

Aaron did not patronise Y/N by pretending he understood his plight. He himself had never pictured himself with a wife; worse was that Y/N had never pictured himself to be a wife.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to remain a woman?” He had said after Y/N had confessed during their third arranged rendezvous.

With venom spitting from each syllable, Y/N’s reply was one that he remembered vividly: “I was never a woman to start with.”

They were not friends, they barely spoke, but the enemy of the enemy is a friend. This sentiment made Y/N a begrudging ally.

However it did not make the occasions they had to pretend to be a happily wedded couple any simpler. Y/N did look most becoming in white, but Aaron knew that there was no worse day for Y/N than that day in the church. Any reminder was like a stake through the heart.

“I’ll arrange for the fitting,” Aaron quietly volunteered.

Y/N was quick with a brusque reply, “I can organise my own affairs.”

“Of course, but perhaps it would lighten your load if I took on those responsibilities.” Aaron paused as Y/N pushed aside his breakfast plate, his eggs now making his stomach turn. He used his newspaper as a shield, “And as your husband, I give you permission to dress how you please.”

Y/N blinked then nodded. He did not ever say thank you. That was his problem, Y/N, too proud. Too nervous to admit that he had been graciously allowed to exist like this because of his marriage to Aaron. As if that was ever any part of their agreement, both of them had blackmail worthy material. Y/N just seemed to forget that, or at least he was not the type of individual to dangle Aaron’s secrets before him like a carrot on a stick. Why Y/N thought that Aaron was that type though, he had some idea.

“A member of the bar?” was the response Aaron got from Y/N, disgust thinly veiled, upon their first chaperoned walk through the L/N estate. It must have seemed contradictory later down the line, to be a protector of the laws that criminalised his very own existence. It was not as uncommon as Y/N believed however, and there were much worse laws to break between trials than being attracted to men.

A man of his word, Aaron prepared for a fitting in the comfort of their own home. A friend of theirs was a tailor; accommodations were no economic issue. Of course, this friend did not know either of their secrets, but other than that, he was a companion who would be greeted warmly into their home.

Y/N watched the tailor from the chaise whilst pretending to be interested in a book. His eye would raise itself to see each adjustment made to Aaron’s wedding suit, which he had surprisingly kept – folded in a box at the farthest corner of the house. Then Y/N would go back to the page and reread the top few lines. Every time, Aaron would pretend not to notice. But the jiggle of Y/N’s knee, the absence of progression through the book’s narrative, taught him that Y/N was anticipating this fitting with something more positive than last time.

“All done, thank you, Aaron!” “Y/N, your turn.”

His book snapped shut and Y/N stepped up to the podium. Aaron swapped places with him without acting out the role of an aloof reader. As expected his expression was well disguised as neutral, but Aaron’s practice in law gifted him with a pair of spectacles into the soul. Y/N’s glee of the tape measure taking in his proportions was masked so that only his eyes smiled. Once or twice, the corner of his mouth ticked up, only to iron its creases out when the tailor moved into his eyeline. When asked what colour he would consider, Y/N mulled deliciously his options before selecting a gentle blue. His fingers were cautious but as soon as they touched the royal fabric offered, they fanned out and welcomed it for his new suit.

From the moment they broke apart, his hands were restless. Ticking against his teacup or tapping against his legs were two of their new favourite hobbies. Even when the suit arrived, Y/N could not keep himself still. His beautiful face was scrunched up in the mirror as he attempted for a third time to make the right knot in his cravat. The photographer was waiting for them downstairs.

Aaron sighed and knocked one knuckle to the door, “Allow me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes, “I can do it myself.”

“I know. But this knot will look better.”

Their eyes locked in the mirror, before Y/N turned around and released his tie. His chin pointed parallel to the carpet. His neck was still so as not to drop the breath he was holding. Aaron flicked with the tip of the cravat as his hands slotted it through, his focus on the column of Y/N’s throat, because meeting his gaze now was an impossible feat. They were too close for that. He bent the stalks of his collar into place then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork. But that was not at all what he really regarded.

He cleared his throat, “There.”

As Aaron removed his hands, Y/N spun to face his reflection head on. “Adequate. You’ll have to teach me that one.”

Finally, they greeted their photographer, who had set up his camera in their garden. It was a lovely day, not to be wasted inside. At least that’s what the photographer said as he unceremoniously ushered them into place and posed them to his liking. There was no instruction for how to position their faces so Aaron kept his the same as their original wedding portrait.

His plan for relaxed facial features hit a bump in the road. As the photographer ducked beneath his sheet, Y/N snorted. His hand was quick to follow and it clapped over his mouth. The photographer emerged with concerned curiosity. A strand of his combover was standing on end.

“My apologies, there was a tickle in my throat.” He pressed his lips together and ducked his head, his feet scuffing one inch’s worth of dirt before he regained composure.

The photographer tried again. Aaron could see, in the corner of his eye, that Y/N’s corners of his mouth weighed down to prevent a break but it was unsuccessful.

“Do forgive me,” He said, his voice quivering, “I remembered a jest from last week. It isn’t even worth the laughter it brings.”

Despite his detractions, Y/N kept guffawing to himself as the photographer kept dodging about his cloth and camera. It spilled from between his pressed lips like an overflowing goblet. Aaron had not heard such delight before. He would describe it as infectious if the joy in Y/N’s notes was comparable to a plague. No, this was intoxicating, a mead he would heartily drink until he too was giddy on the stuff. Y/N, clutching Aaron’s arm to stay standing, almost stumbled as Aaron bent over with equally bashful laughter.

“It would possibly suit you better if you sat,” said the photographer through a faux smile. He then ushered over to one of the benches, the one amidst the tulips, before he wrangled with his camera after them.

Seated on the cool marble, Aaron kept a few inches between himself and Y/N. Their hands took that space but waited to hold hands. Y/N was still shaking but his smile was minute now, replaced by mild embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that funny,” He said. But there was a twitch in his voice, a breath that indicated otherwise.

“No, not at all,” whispered Aaron, his head tilted against the invisible line between them.

Y/N turned, his nose pushing their boundary and almost brushing against Aaron’s cheek when he too turned to face him.

“At long last, we agree.”

Y/N’s lips betrayed him again. A bubble of laughter popped between them, letting out the smallest of smiles. Yet it shone through with such luminosity that it almost outdid the flash of the bulb as their photograph was taken. There was delight at the absence of the melancholy pose that a long exposure wedding portrait promised. Oh, the wonders of new technology.

As was with his new suit, Y/N practically waited by the door for the photographs. His hands were beyond ravenous for them by the time they arrived. They snatched at the envelope and tore with as much care as he could muster, his voice catching in the roof of his mouth as he called for Aaron.

On the chaise together, their knees were brought in close to rest the papers upon. Their faces looked as though they were carved into the paper with charcoal, smudged by an artist’s thumb. That radiant smile among it all was the centre of the photograph. Aaron noted the distance between them was mirrored in their past selves as they sifted through their options.

Then Y/N held aloft the ones for their respective families, “Sit with me while I pen the reply.”

Aaron was not usually welcome in Y/N’s study. Yet, as he pulled up a walnut wood chair with red velvet seat beside the bureau, behind Y/N’s matching one, he felt like he was in place. With anticipation, he watched the most passive aggressive comments that had ever been put to paper. All bar one was spun from Y/N’s inspiration. Aaron had but one to add and it took some convincing for Y/N to put it in his family’s correspondence – he was writing since his writing was far neater. Even so, there were a few loops of the ‘l’s that slanted when Y/N was particularly amused by something that Aaron had commented on.

“There,” Y/N said as he closed the second of two envelopes with crimson wax. As he lifted the seal, he spoke quieter, “Just a thought, nothing more, but I almost wish I could see their faces. Only the first second though.” The seal was placed in his drawer and the letters were left in the centre of the desk while one remaining photograph was selected by Y/N, “I want to keep this. In the drawing room.”

Aaron’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead, “You do?”

Y/N nodded once with finality, his broad smile returning, “It’s the first time I was myself in a long time, the best I’ve ever looked! Besides, I am your husband and I say it will stand above the fireplace by the end of the week – once I find a suitable frame.”

He held it up, squinting to imagine what frame might work best with the décor. His chair itching to be closer, Hotch leant over and cupped his hand over Y/N’s so that he could see the photograph too. It stayed there, and perhaps it was his imagination, but Hotchner could have sworn that Y/N’s back slacked and swayed to the right an inch, almost resting against his shoulder beside Aaron’s.

Y/N’s quiet voice was back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You do not have to say thank you.”

“When are you going to stop telling me what to do?”

There was no accusation in it; it was asked as simply as one would ask for another napkin. But Aaron did not quite know how to answer.

“I don’t mean to come across as a drill sergeant,” He said softly.

“Aaron,” Y/N lowered their hands but kept them together beside his lap, “You don’t have to worry about me and what I’m going to do, just like I don’t have to worry about you.”

And what Aaron thought about being ignorant of an answer before, that became a lie. Aaron wanted to worry about Y/N, and he did worry. Not for himself or his identity being exposed, but because he did care for his husband. He didn’t want to worry or have Y/N be worried about control in their home. They should exist as equals, not in blackmail but in respect. Maybe one day, in love.

Aaron settled instead for: “My apologies. And I thank you too. It was the first time I was myself as well.”

Y/N blinked, then avoided his stare. It was a revelation therefore when he laced his fingers with Aaron’s for the briefest of squeeze and replied, “No thanks necessary. It was my pleasure.”

Then the bell tinkled for breakfast and the two men were up on their feet. Y/N was in the dining room first. He sat two away from the head of the table this time. With enough care to drag his chair loudly across the floor, Aaron mirrored that seating, dragging his cutlery and crockery into place. As they were served, Y/N swiped the newspaper before his husband could with a smirk hidden behind the pages. Hotchner poured his coffee and smiled into the brew. He was, for once, thoroughly glad that they had breakfast together.

----> ----> ----> ----> ---->

Tagging

Aaron Hotchner fics: @averyhotchner​

[canmom]

Animation Night 6.6: You Can (Not) Watch Eva

Hoi, weebs! This week is a special occasion: at long, long last, our patron saint Hideaki Anno has seen fit to bestow on us westerners the final entry in the Rebuild of Evangelion! All together now,

Mm. Now take a break, dude.

Jokes aside, hype train or not, I really am pretty damn excited. And while I thought the movie was gonna drop tomorrow, and I was going to show End of Evangelion or something like that tonight, it’s actually already here!

So what do we do?

Well, we download that shit immediately of course. Not every day you get to hop into a 4000 seed swarm.

(pictured: me steering animation night to a new course when I realised the movie was out)

However, if you’re like me, you might be a bit fuzzy on what happened in the Rebuild of Evangelion. After all, it’s been quite some time since we last watched Eva. So even though we’ve already watched the Rebuilds on Animation Night, I think we’re going to do our first (perhaps only) rerun since the year anniversary post, and watch them again.

This brings us to our second problem. Altogether, the Rebuilds of Evangelion run to 464 minutes, which is to say, slightly shy of 8 hours. If we started right now and watched without breaks, it would take us to... 4am. Which may be doable, but we’ll be exhausted by the time we get to the end. So let’s exercise a little prudence...

Instead, my plan is to split this Animation Night in two: tonight, we’ll rewatch 1.11 and 2.22, and if we can hold on just one more day, tomorrow we’ll enjoy this new spectacle.

Not much more to say than that! I wrote quite a bit about the Evangelion series - its historical significance, its strokes of aesthetic genius, its rather convoluted legacy - last time, so go read that post. Since then we have visited Anno on many other occasions, e.g. Animation Night 29 (Gunbuster and The Wings of Honneamise), Toku Tuesday 4 (Cutie Honey) and Toku Tuesday 10 (Shin Godzilla) to get ever more of a sense of his whole, thing. (Incidentally, he was also an animator on Macross. Mostly an explosions guy back then.)

Well, back then, it’s safe to say the Rebuilds made a favourable impression. They’re intriguing in the new story they’re telling with the familiar material, astonishing in terms of animation, and no less striking with their choices of imagery than the original series. Even the use of 3D CGI - which has a tough act to follow given how strong the traditional animation was at the key points of Eva, especially End of Evangelion - had a sufficient sense of design and composition that it could play to its strengths, like the intricate airship we see as the pace ramps up in 3.0.

On a narrative level, there is a clear emphasis on the emotional throughline rather than any technicalities of angels or robots, as seen vividly in the extended gay piano sequence in 3.0. A lot of thematic balls are up in the air...

...so it remains to be seen how they’ll bring this home - what this modern Anno’s trying to say, in contrast to his past self, by revisiting his most famous work. Are we, for example, right to interpret Mari (pictured above, sniffing Shinji) as Anno’s girlsona? Having moved past the hedgehog’s dilemma - a Shinji who is a little bolder, a little less prone to self-destruction - what is the question which he struggles with today? I’m sure we’ll see a lot of ink spilled on Interpreting this movie in the next few weeks! Hopefully I’ll get a chance to spill some myself!

Well, we’ll find out tomorrow. For now, let’s revisit some of the most spectacular animated films I’ve ever seen to juice up our hype glands (sorry) for tomorrow’s big answer. With the sheer weight of anticipation this film is carrying, it’s going to be hard for it to meet everyone’s projections and desires... but whatever it turns out to be, I’m sure it’s going to be interesting.

There is much to be said about the broader context of the Rebuilds - the exodus from Gainax to studios like Khara and Trigger, the key animators whose contributions give them such flair, the whole wodge of capitalist machinery that has built up behind this psychic nucleation point (almost any kind of product you can imagine has an eva merch version). I’m sure kVin’s going to have some interesting posts before long. But for now, let’s just enjoy the movies.

Animation Night 66 will be starting very shortly over at twitch.tv/canmom - showing Evangelion 1.11: You Are (Not) Alone and Evangelion 2.22: You Can (Not) Advance! And tomorrow, a special bonus Animation Night will bring us Evangelion 3.33: You Can (Not) Redo and, at last, Evangelion 3.0+1.0: Thrice Upon A Time.

[yeah-all-of-it]

I wrote a fic the other day (my first!) that included a brief appearance by an original character named Rhonda, who is Ian and Mickey’s neighbor across the hall. Decided to write a bit of a prequel, exploring how they came to be friends with her. It’s 2 parts because it’s 4.7k and I don’t have an Ao3 account. Link for part 2 is here and at the bottom. Hope you enjoy!

Spill Your Guts: Part I

“Mickey, shut the fuck up! We’ve only lived here for like four days!” Ian whispers, dragging his slightly inebriated husband down the hall toward their apartment door. “We don’t want everyone to hate us already!”

“No, you don’t want everyone to hate us. I don’t give a fuck.” Mickey replies.

“Mickey.”

Ian’s trying to convey irritation, but the truth is, he’s so giddy about the evening’s surprise anniversary party, he’s struggling to come off as anything other than completely fond of his loud-ass, thoughtful husband. He’s a little drunk himself which isn’t helping matters.

“What? The only person I want to like me is you, Gallagher,” Mickey says, trying to be only slightly quieter.

“And I do like you, very much. But it would be nice to make a couple friends here too. Waking people up at 2 am probably isn’t the best way to do that,” Ian explains.

Mickey stops walking and gently pushes Ian up against the wall, holding him in place with a hand on his chest. Mickey says slyly, “Oh, you like me, huh? How much? D’you like me… this much?” Mickey plants a soft kiss on Ian’s neck.

“Umm, yeah, I like you that much,” Ian responds.

“Okay. What about… this much?” Mickey steps closer, placing his hand on the side of Ian’s face and softly kissing his lips, just barely slipping his tongue in.

“Mmm, yeah,” Ian replies once Mickey pulls away. “I definitely like you that much.”

Mickey steps right up to Ian, pressing his body into the wall with his own. Their faces are so close, they can feel each other’s breath hitching. He slowly slides a hand down the front of Ian’s jeans.

“You like me this mu-,” he doesn’t even have the words out before Ian is devouring him. Bodies pressed together, hands gripping each other’s hair, tongues tangled together.

Things are so intense that they didn’t realize that they have somehow moved and are now up against their across the hall neighbor’s door.

The next thing they know, they are both plummeting toward the ground. It takes them a moment to realize that their neighbor, apparently hearing strange noises coming from her door, had opened the door they were leaning against.

Ian is flat on his back on the floor and Mickey is directly on top of him. Their arms are still wrapped around each other and it’s blatantly obvious what they’ve been up to.

“Do you know what time it is? I thought someone was trying to rob me! Scared the life outta me!” a slender lady, likely in her late 60s who had clearly been in bed based on her attire, yells at them.

The two men scramble to their feet, Ian panicking when he realizes that at some point Mickey had managed to undo his belt and his zipper. His plaid boxers were on full display as well as an obvious display of what’s underneath them.

“We’re… so, so sorry, ma’am,” Ian says sheepishly as he pulls his pants closed. “It won’t happen again.”

Ian grabs Mickey by the jacket and yanks him out the door and across the hall. He pulls out his keys and unlocks the door as quickly as he can, the neighbor eyeing them suspiciously the whole time. Once she’s presumably satisfied that they do actually live there and aren’t burglars, she closes the door to her own apartment.

They stumble through the doorway, slamming the door behind them and Mickey bursts into laughter.

“Holy shit, that’s one way to make friends, Gallagher! Wonder how long it’s been since that woman’s seen a dick?” Mickey laughs, as Ian’s face turns the same color as his hair.

———

It’s been almost a week since Ian inadvertently flashed their new neighbor and so far, they’ve managed to avoid running into her in the hallway.

Saturday morning, Mickey is sleeping in and Ian goes for an early run. He sneaks out the door, hoping the lady across the hall is still in bed, and walks quickly down the hall to the elevator. He manages to evade her again but when he returns, she opens her door before he’s able to get his key in the lock.

“Well, hello there,” she says cheerily. “Long time no see, neighbor!”

“Um, hi there,” Ian nervously replies.

“So, the name’s Rhonda. I figure we should be on a first name basis, you know, since I’ve seen your penis and all.”

Ian blushes and chuckles uncomfortably, but for some reason, finds himself feeling a little less embarrassed. He likes this woman already and they’ve barely spoken. She seems like a pretty no-nonsense, calls a spade a spade type of person.

“Oh, uh, I’m Ian. Ian Gallagher.”

“Well, Ian Gallagher, I was about to head out to the pool to get a little sun. Care to join me?” Rhonda inquires.

Ian looks down at his watch and figures Mickey will be asleep for at least another hour. And he does want to make friends.

“Umm, sure. That sounds nice,” he ultimately decides.

“Well, let’s get goin’ then!” she exclaims, linking her arm with Ian’s as they take off down the hall.

———

Once they reach the pool, they find two lounge chairs. Ian drags a patio umbrella over by his.

“Ginger,” he points to his hair. “I fry in the sun, even in the morning.”

Rhonda nods understandably as they kick back in their chairs.

“So,” she begins. “What’s your story, Ian Gallagher?”

“Umm, my story?” he answers, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’s just met this woman and his “story” is… a lot. They’d be here all day if he told the whole thing. He decides to stick to the basics.

“Well, I’m from the Southside. Born and raised. Have a huge family, five brothers and sisters. Got married last year and moved here with my husband a couple weeks ago.” He decides that’s enough of an introduction for now.

“That’s all? That’s your story? I imagine it’s way juicier than that, but I get it. You don’t know me. I’m sure we’ll get to the good stuff eventually,” she winks after she says it.

This Rhonda, there’s just something so warm and vibrant about her. She has long wavy hair, white with a little gray mixed in. She has on a bohemian style dress and some turquoise jewelry. Ian imagines she’s had quite a life, well traveled and all that. Probably been outside of Chicago more times than he’s been to the Alibi. Her laugh is melodious, and her voice is cheerful and friendly. She’s one of those people you instantly like, that makes you want to open up and share your deepest secrets with.

“So that man that you were ravaging in the hall the other night. Your husband?” Rhonda asks.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s Mickey,” he replies. “Sorry again, about the uh, disturbance that night. We had just come from our first anniversary party and were, um, celebrating. Mickey planned the whole thing as a surprise for me.”

“A surprise anniversary party? Well your Mickey sounds like an absolute gem.”

“Yeah, he really is.” Ian can’t hide his sweet smile and look of adoration in his eyes. It makes him so happy when others notice the goodness in Mickey.

“So, how’d you two boys meet?” Rhonda asks, like she’s waiting for Ian to give her the real dish.

“Uh, well, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Grew up around the block from each other. I didn’t even know he was gay too until we hooked up as teenagers. The rest is sort of complicated, but that’s the gist of it”, Ian replies, and hopes that satisfies her curiosity. He’d love to tell her more but the whole unvarnished truth is a lot to unload on someone you’ve just met.

“Another Cliff’s Notes version, I see, but I’ll accept it for now,” she laughs.

Ian glances down at his watch and notices the time. Mickey is surely awake by now.

“Listen, this has been really great but I need to get back upstairs. Mickey is probably awake and we always make a big breakfast together on Saturday mornings. He’ll be pissed if I’m not there to flip the banana pancakes.”

“Oh I understand! This has been lovely and we should certainly do it again soon, Ian Gallagher!” she says with that cheery voice. Makes it hard to say no.

“Absolutely, Ms. Rhonda. That sounds great.” Ian rises from his chair and heads back inside, offering her a friendly smile that she returns.

———

“Where the fuck you been?” Mickey inquires as Ian walks through the door, not heated, just a question.

“Good morning to you too,” Ian replies teasingly. “I went for a run, then I was sunning by the pool with Rhonda.”

“Rhonda? Who the fuck is Rhonda?” Mickey asks, confused.

“Uh, the lady that lives across the hall from us.”

“The lady that liv- the one that caught us the other night? The one that saw you with your cock out?” Mickey is growing slightly agitated.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“What’s she want with you? She tryin’ to pull some Mrs. Robinson shit on you? Saw somethin’ she liked?”

“Relax, Mickey. She’s just a friendly older lady. She didn’t do anything, we just talked for a bit. She’s nice,” Ian tries to assuage the situation. “Plus, you are aware I’m not attracted to women, right? And she’s old enough to be my grandma. Don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Whatever, man. Come in here and flip some fuckin’ pancakes.”

———

The next Saturday morning, Ian decides to skip his run and knock on Rhonda’s door to see if she wants to take a walk with him. He really enjoyed their chat last week; it felt good to talk to someone new, someone who had no preconceived notions about him or his life. He wanted to continue that.

He knocks on the door and Rhonda answers, dressed in lilac colored athletic wear, long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was in remarkable shape for her 65+ years.

“Well hello, handsome. I was just getting ready to go do some yoga on the roof. Would you like to come?”

“Uh, sure,” he replies. “I was actually going to see if you wanted to come on a walk but yoga sounds nice. I’ve been wanting to try it but didn’t wanna go alone, and yoga’s not really Mickey’s thing so…” he drifts off.

“I have an extra mat, let me grab it and we’ll head upstairs!” Rhonda says cheerfully.

Once they’re all set up, Rhonda begins, ”I like to start my mornings with something called sun salutation. Do you know what that is?”

“No. I don’t really know anything about yoga, just that it’s supposed to be good for you. Always wanted to try it, especially since moving here. Show me?” Ian requests.

She walks him through step by step, reaching up to the sky and back down. They go through some basic flows, downward dog, warrior, tree pose, cat-cow. She makes sure he concentrates on his breathing.

“All done!” Rhonda chirps and they sit up from their final shavasana position.

Ian feels amazing. Relaxed and limber and strong. He’s surprised how difficult some of the poses are, especially because he’s always considered himself to be in pretty good shape. Yoga is definitely something he wants to continue. Rhonda really knows her stuff, too. Maybe he could convince Mickey to do yoga on the roof so he wouldn’t have to go to an actual class with people.

“Wow, Ms. Rhonda, that was incredible. I see why people love yoga. I feel amazing.”

“We can make this a regular thing, if you like,” she offers.

“Sure, I’d love that. Maybe I could bring Mickey sometime?” he asks.

“Sure thing, handsome!” She smiles at him.

“So, your Mickey. Tell me about him. What made you fall in love with him?” Rhonda asks casually, like she’s just making conversation but he knows she’s trying to dive deeper, get to know him better. He can’t figure out why she’s taken such an interest in him but she’s just so sincere. He can’t help but feel a connection with her.

“Well, Mickey is… complicated. He’s rough and tender. He’s vulgar and beautiful. He’s tough but so kind. He’s… everything.” Ian pauses and Rhonda doesn’t say anything, indicating she wants him to continue.

“He had a rough upbringing. I did too, actually, but not nearly as rough as his. I had druggy, absentee parents and was mostly raised by my older sister Fiona. Struggled to pay bills. Had to steal to survive sometimes. But Mickey…” Ian drifts off, not sure how much deeper he should go. There’s just something about this kind, welcoming woman in front of him that makes him want to open up. He wants to be careful though, as Mickey’s story isn’t entirely for him to tell. He wants to be respectful of that.

“Mickey was raised mostly by his dad who was in and out of prison. His dad was homophobic and violent and was awful to Mickey. Obviously he didn’t support us being together. Mickey had to hide who he truly was for so long which made it tough on our relationship. But we survived all that and Mickey now is just… he has rough edges. Anyone that is around him can see that. He’s Southside through and through. But when you really get to know him… he’s the best person I know. I guess that’s why I love him. Because he’s just… good. And he’s always had my back no matter what. He’s damn good in bed too, so there’s that,” he laughs.

“Oh trust me, I can tell you boys have no trouble in that department!” she cackles and Ian blushes.

Her tone turns a little more serious after that. “So when you say his father was homophobic and Mickey couldn’t be who he really was…” she leaves it open ended for Ian to fill in the blanks.

He sighs, “Yeah, um. His dad had threatened to kill him. And me. Actually tried, after our wedding. He caught us together once, years ago, naked in the living room. It was… really bad. Traumatizing but I won’t go into details. Mickey spent his whole life hiding deep in the closet because of his dad. My family always supported me and loved me no matter what, but Mickey didn’t have that. We had to hide our relationship for years which was tough. I just wanted to be a normal couple, be able to hold his hand in public, shit like that. But he was scared. Wanted to make his dad proud. He finally came out… I kinda pushed him which wasn’t my proudest moment. But he came out and his dad beat us up. It was awful, but he was out so it was kinda freeing too, I guess? I don’t know. Then there was my diagnosis in the midst of all this. I don’t really tell a lot of people about it but I’m bipolar. Did some crazy shit when I was in a bad manic state several years ago. Then spent some weeks in bed, couldn’t even get up. Mickey never left my side. I’m really not sure where I would have ended up if it wasn’t for him. He saved my life. I’m stable now, on meds that are working well for me. Plus Mickey is really good at picking up on shit, like if he thinks I’m starting to get depressed or something. He’ll say something or do something to help me through it, but like, subtle.” It’s all coming out like word vomit. But it feels so therapeutic at the same time, like just saying these words out loud lightens the weight of them.

“I don’t know. We broke up a few times over the years, forced apart by circumstances out of our control. Oh, and we were in prison together for awhile. We’ve been through some shit. We’d be here all day if I told you even half of it. But despite all that we found our way back to each other and never have to let go again.”

“How long have you two been together?” she asks.

“On and off for ten years. Since we were just dumb teenagers, banging secretly in the walk-in cooler at work,” Ian answers.

“Well that’s one hell of a story, Ian. I’m sorry things were bad for so long but I’m so happy you are in a good place now. Your Mickey sounds just wonderful though and I can’t wait to get to know him better. Maybe we could do dinner one night! I’m a pretty fantastic cook.”

“That actually sounds really great, thank you. I’ll check our schedule,” Ian replies.

“Anytime next week works so just let me know.”

They get up and begin to roll up their mats.

“You know, I just realized,” Ian states. “I don’t really know anything about you. I’ve just been droning on about myself. What’s your story?”

“Oh, Ian. I promise, we can discuss my wild life at dinner,” she laughs.

“Sounds perfect,” Ian smiles.

———

“We gotta do what?” Mickey complains.

“We are going over to Rhonda’s for dinner this Friday. It’ll be fun. She’s wonderful. You’re gonna love her. She’s really excited to get to know you better.”

“Better? You’ve already fuckin’ told her a bunch’a shit about me, haven’t you?” Mickey grumbles.

“Listen, Mick. Yes, I’ve given her the gist of our lives and our relationship, nothing too in depth. I didn’t go into great detail about your history because I didn’t think it was my place,” Ian explains. “Just told her how rough we had it in the past. She’s just so kind, and she really listens, no judgment.”

Mickey hesitates. “Alright, fine. I’ll go. But if this woman isn’t as amazing as you say she is I’m leaving. Unless the food is really good or there’s free booze. Then I’ll stay.”

Ian just rolls his eyes and gives him a hug, whispering a quiet “thank you” in his ear.

———

Friday is here before Ian knows it. He’s chatted more with Rhonda this week, seeing her for a few minutes in the laundry room, waiting for his clothes to dry. Then again out by the pool when he went to swim some laps. They were both looking forward to dinner.

“Mick, you about ready? It’s almost 7,” Ian yells back to the bedroom from the living room.

Mickey walks out into the living room wearing his black skinny jeans with the ripped knees and a gray long sleeved waffle knit shirt with his black boots.

“Wow, Mickey, you look really nice.” Ian walks up and kisses him on the forehead. “You smell great too, what is that?”

“Some cologne I found at some fuckin’ hipster shop the other day. Thought it smelled nice. Wanted to make a good impression on your new best friend,” Mickey states, with a slight hint of feigned attitude.

“You’re my best friend, Mick. Rhonda’s just a nice lady that I enjoy talking to and hanging out with. She’s definitely a friend though, the only friend I’ve made here and I really like her company.”

“If you insist. Let’s go, I’m fuckin’ starving.”

PART 2

[basicjetsetter]

Part II

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death, Depression, Triggering Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt

▹ Words: 3k

▹ A/N: ATTENTION! This is an emotionally heavy part. Please DO NOT READ if you know you will be affected. For those struggling with depression, I see you, I care for you, and I love you. You’re not alone and you are undeniably worthy of love.

-Five Years and Twenty Nine Days Later-

You don’t want to get up.

Your phone’s alarm clock is rounding on its tenth circuit, if your counting is correct… and there’s a good chance you blanked out for fifteen minutes while watching a strip of sunlight lethargically inch down your blanket to the foot of the bed, so your number may be off by six or seven.

It’s not that you’re tired or anything, or maybe you are and that’s beside the point. It’s just that your bed is far too comfortable for your own good and you know today is Saturday, the busiest day at Hal’s Diner, and it just so happens you’re scheduled for an 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. brunch rush. If you had a choice, you’d stay in bed.

But you don’t. And you’re running twenty minutes late… for the fourth time in two weeks.

I’ve got you.

Shut the fuck up.

You wearily snarl, snatching your pillow out from under your head and slamming it against your face, uselessly stuffing it over your ears as if that would somehow miraculously block out the words. 

Usually, the voice stayed quiet. After three years of the repeated promise drifting around your brain like a lost ship at sea, you had finally figured out how to anchor it to the deepest, darkest, most unchartered recess of your mind. Every now and then, though, they’d find a way to rattle the chains, just to remind you of their eternal presence, but it never lasted long. You didn’t acknowledge them anymore. They no longer fooled you.

But, twenty-nine days ago, something reinvigorated the voice, giving them a renewed sense of purpose and a reason to break free.

Twenty-nine days ago, on the exact anniversary of their disappearance, everyone came back. 

Out of the blue, in the middle of the day, all of the people Earth mourned for five years reappeared to a very, very stunned world. Celebration rocked the streets of New York and all over the globe. Lovers lost returned. Mothers. Fathers. Sisters. Brothers. Babies. Friends. They all came back. And the voice in your head broke free of its chains, rampantly bouncing around your mind as if they were on pure steroids, ready to charge forward and find the one your Destined Words belonged to. 

Everything reverted back to normal.

Except, besides your newly released Destined Words, nothing changed for you.

You weren’t there when… when your best friend rematerialized in your previous apartment. You moved to a smaller, modestly priced place six blocks away. It was great for what little money you had, and your landlords, a lovely couple that always leaves you a present outside your door for Christmas and birthdays, were generous enough to accommodate for your lack of funds.

You just couldn’t keep your parents’ apartment. Not when you knew they weren’t coming back. 

No one ever speaks about the casualties of the ones lost that day, the ones who perished from the effects of the blip. For a long time, you just couldn’t cope with the fact that a swerving hit from a rogue truck whose driver turned to dust was all it took to take your parents away. But you had to move on.

Ever since that day five years ago, you’ve been on your own.

You’re sure your friend tried looking for you by now, continually calling up a retired cellphone number, searching through deleted social media accounts, maybe even asking your old high school for your whereabouts to no avail. Even though you’re not far from home, she’d never find you. 

You don’t want to be found. You like being alone.

With a great, gusty sigh, you roll out of bed, grab some clothes and undergarments, then pad to the bathroom, ignoring the chiming circuit of your alarm clock. It can wait. You go through the motions: washing up, putting your hair in its regular bun, brushing your teeth, and staring at your unaged face in the spotted mirror.

It’s not vanity, though it’s common knowledge that your features will be impervious to aging for a long while. You literally haven’t aged a single day since the blip.

It was an intriguing phenomenon after the first two years. Everyone your age who had heard their Destined Words but had yet to meet their Soulmate just stopped aging, and when the younger generation hit the age of eighteen, they stopped aging as well. For some, like you, the effect was felt rather than seen. Ever since the string inside you snapped, you knew that cosmic time would stand still until you connected with your other soul. You’re not holding your breath for that anytime soon.

As you step out of the steam-filled bathroom, your alarm blares out its last chime before switching to the Vmm Vmm Vmm of an incoming call.

You pick up on the sixth ring. “Good morning, Hal.”

“This is the fourth—”

“The fourth time. I know, I know. I’m on my way.”

Hal grunts into the receiver, “Don’t get smart with me, little lady. Just because you’re my best server doesn’t mean I won’t fire you.”

That’s precisely what that means, and he knows you know it. You blow out a sigh, “I’m seriously almost out the door. Like two steps.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, a hint of a grin in his quizzical noise. “Well, hightail it, would’ya? The joint’s packed already and I need all hands on deck, so scoot.”

“Scooting,” you confirm, snagging your bag off of your sofa and grabbing your keys. “Who’s with me today?” Please don’t say Wendy. Please don’t say Wendy.

“Chris and Wendy.”

You groan as you shut the door behind you. “Come on, Hal. She’s dead weight in the morning. I might as well be working with a zombie in an apron.”

Hal grumps, “At least the zombie gets here on time.”

“Have you had coffee yet? You’re not you when you’re decaffeinated.” It’s true. Even with your truancy, Hal wouldn’t hold it over your head more than twice. He’s usually as chipper as a dog in a dog park at this time, bustling and joking up a storm.

He takes a loud sip, then says, “We’re slammed, is all, and I’m missing my best hand.” Two disgruntled heys ring in the background and Hal immediately issues apologies. “Just get here, will ya?”

Before you can remind him again that you are on your way, he disconnects the call.

You’re wondering if it’s too late to go back to bed.

The little, infamous family diner is only seven blocks south of your apartment building, a nice walk when the weather’s good and a pain in the ass when it’s not. You used to enjoy the quiet mornings and the stillness that came with it, but ever since things went back to normal, you can’t survive the walk without a pair of headphones jammed in your ears and your music’s volume turned all the way up. Everyone’s just so… loud.

Thankfully, today, the walk is a straight shot and you’re in the doors within fifteen minutes.

It’s like stepping into a den full of ravenous animals. Worse, it’s like stepping into a den full of ravenous animals and being stuck with the task of serving them.

“Look who’s finally decided to show up,” Wendy chides, stifling a yawn as she shuffles to a table and places down three menus. She’s twenty-two years old and likes setting your teeth on edge.

You deadpan, “Did the cat drag you in from the front door or the back?”

“Knock it off, you two,” warns Chris, walking by with two arms balancing four plates of the Sunrise Breakfast Special. He looks at you, then jerks his chin back to the kitchen. “Boss is about to blow his top.”

Nodding, you make your way to the back, giving a small wave to some regulars. Out of breath and sweat running down his reddened neck, Hal is moving like a man caught in a whirlwind, flipping eggs and pancakes and sausages and hash browns and bacon while checking orders and filling plates. As soon as he hears the kitchen door close and sees you, he visibly sags in relief.

“Don’t bother clocking in. Just put your apron on and get out there.”

You nod. Set down your things. Put on your apron. Arrange a plastic smile.

Go through the motions.

It’s all the same thing every single day. Wake up, work, school, sleep. Repeat. Unlike the other constants, school is something you’re temporarily trying out. It wasn’t your original plan, the whole four years to a bachelor’s degree, then some more years for a master’s. You gave that up long ago. Right now, you’re just taking a free weekend art class at a community college. Oddly enough, it’s something you’re beginning to look forward to on Saturdays and Sundays.

Work, while you’re great at what you do, is never a highlight. 

Hal was right. The diner is slammed, and you’re swept up in the current of rude, demanding customers, snide remarks from Wendy, cheerful shrugs from Chris, and barking orders from Hal for six whole hours. You work through your two fifteen-minute breaks. No one reminds you. You slip on spilled hash browns. No one helps you. You bring back a plate three times to satisfy a customer who kept finding fault with their eggs. No one thanks you.

Everything is back to normal.

I’ve got you.

“Fuck off,” you snap, slapping a hand to your mouth when you see the elderly woman you’re serving knit her brows in revulsion. “Oh, no, ma’am. I’m-I’m sorry, I was—”

She stands and marches out of the diner before you could explain, snatching her ten-dollar tip off the table.

“… talking to myself,” you finish under your breath.

She’s the last of the brunch rush, leaving only the regular afternoon crowd and a few stragglers. The clock near the cash register reads 2:13 p.m.

You brush off the disappointment of a lost tip and head to the kitchen to grab your things and leave, Chris and Wendy following you. Hal’s two other workers, the ones here till closing, cover the floor well. Not like they had much to do.

Hal is whistling a jaunty tune when you walk in, stopping to salute you, Chris, and Wendy with an exhausted grin. “Nice work out there, you guys. See you tomorrow.”

Wendy is out the door the instant she clocks out.

Chris catches your arm as you grab your bag from your small locker. “Hey, um, I sort of heard your little outburst, and I was wondering if you were okay.”

You nod, gently shrugging his hand off. “Yeah, it’s just a tip. I made enough.”

“No, not that,” he shakes his head, clearing his throat and pushing a hand through his choppy beach-blond hair. He ineptly bends his head down a little, getting close enough for a private conversation you do not want to have. “It’s just… you’ve done that before and I just want to make sure everything’s alright with you.”

You can’t put the plastic smile back on, he’s seen it too many times to know it’s not real, so you half-heartedly grin. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, anytime. Hey, so, me and a couple friends are hanging out tonight. There’s gonna be a music festival in Cunningham Park. Wanna hang?”

Chris tries this every week. At first, you thought it was his bashful attempt at asking you out, but he’s a happily taken man with a big heart and a lot of friends. Every customer he meets, boom, they’re friends and soon loyal customers of Hal’s. It’s a gift. You just wish he caught your not-so-subtle hints of evasion.

Tonight, though, you had the perfect excuse. “Can’t. I got class.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “On a Saturday night?”

“Yeah. It’s a free course. Get it where I can take it, you know,” you awkwardly laugh, hoping Chris wasn’t offended as you take a couple of steps back towards the exit.

His smile doesn’t falter. “Maybe next time, then.”

Not likely. “Sure, yeah. See you later.”

You duck out before he says goodbye, dashing out the front door and speed-walking home.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

You stop dead in the middle of a sidewalk.

Where did that come from? It’s never said it three times in a row before. Does… does that mean something?

Your breath quickens at the thought, and you spin around, scanning the vacant street. You’re the only one occupying the sidewalk, you and a curious squirrel sniffing at the crisp air. There’s not a person in sight. When you’re certain you’re in the clear, pivoting a glance around one more time for good measure, you pick up the pace, practically running the rest of the way home.

Once you’re in your apartment and the door shuts, you desperately whisper to your mind, “Don’t say it anymore. I don’t want them, okay? I don’t want a Soulmate.”

Nothing.

“I know you hear me,” you bite out aloud, forcefully shoving back the urge to yell. “Stop saying the words.”

Still nothing.

Silence rings hollow in your mind like the voice is waiting for your temper to cool down. Like it knew it upset you and felt chastened enough to back off and take a time out in a corner.

You stand immobile in the middle of your cramped sitting area. Tense. Waiting. Waiting longer than you care to admit. The urge to fight deserts you as quick as it comes, but you’re still standing there with your fists balled up, feeling more and more defeated as the minutes drain away.

The voice isn’t going to leave you alone. You know that. It’s here to serve one purpose, and the only thing holding it up is you. You’re meant to meet whoever those words belong to… but then what? They magically fix you? They love you back to normal? Five years ago, you may have believed they can do that. But, the problem is, you’ve gone through enough life-altering events in the last five years to last you a lifetime, and this one person, this person destined to pair with your soul, won’t be your wave-of-a-wand solution.

You just want it to stop.

I’ve got you.

A lone tear slides down your cheek as you trek to your bed and climb in fully clothed.

For a long time, you simply stare up at the ceiling as the tears leak out the corners of your eyes. You make no noise, and your chest doesn’t jerk up and down with sobs. The tears gather, and then they fall. Gather and fall. Gather and fall until there are no tears left. You continue staring at the ceiling.

You think back to the days when those godforsaken words and the future they foretold brought you happiness. What a wonderful promise, pairing with someone who will always be there for you in some capacity and will instantly love you. You can’t recall any Soulmate story not working out. Maybe they just never speak about it. Why mar the fantasy?

The sun dipped below the horizon a while ago, and now the moon shines bright in the night sky. You missed your art class.

Your body is as stiff as a board when you sit up. There’s a tight pounding in your forehead, either from crying or lack of food, but you aren’t bothered enough to deal with it. Instead, you move to the only window in your room and pull back the curtains to gaze at the stars. Not many are out yet, but they glitter like gems around the moon, and the night sky nears a lovely shade of midnight blue.

The sight is so pretty; you find yourself grabbing a couple of paint bottles, brushes, and a small canvass, then heading out of your apartment, walking up six flights of stairs to reach the roof.

It’s quiet when you get up there, save for the noise of zooming cars below. The first time you came up on the roof, just out of curiosity, you loved how solitary it felt, loved the view overlooking the building-strewn skyline and the overall height of the complex. It became a nice place to visit when you wanted to be by yourself.

You walk over to the edge of the building, sitting your supplies down on the ledge, then look up at the sky for the best angle to capture the moon and the stars.

The sky is vast. So endless. So open. So free. You stop scoping out for the perfect angle and just admire the shining moon when your eyes land on it. It’s waning, only a sliver of its surface visible as it prepares to transition into a New Moon. Then you gaze at the stars as they dimly twinkle back at you… like they can see right through you.

Like they can see your sadness.

You step closer to the ledge, each step laden with the weight of smothered grief. You lost everyone. Your parents. Manda. She’d never recognize the person you’ve become.

You step onto the ledge, not looking down but up, trying to memorize the image.

You lost your Soulmate. That broken string in your chest never felt the same, even after everyone came back. Maybe you were too far gone for any connection.

You turn around. You’d thought you’d feel numb, but acceptance fills you. It’s okay to let go.

You lower your eyes, slowly lean back, and let gravity take over.

Air sails past your ears in a rush as you fall, and you can’t really focus on anything except your erratic heartbeat. You don’t struggle as your body wants. You just fall and wait.

And then, in a sudden flash of red and blue, you’re propelling sideways and swinging upwards, a strong arm pressing you against a hard chest.

“I’ve got you.”

As soon as he said the words, you knew who they belonged to, as if you knew this entire time. Even with the mask covering his face, you knew. But it still doesn’t stop you from incredulously saying, “Peter?”

His masked face snaps to yours. A small part of you tries to pin his surprise on you correctly guessing his identity, but something bigger assures you the reason for his alarm is a match to your own.

He knows you’re his Soulmate.

...

Part III

[cirrus-grey]

TMA/The Good Place AU

I've seen other versions of this before and I have so many thoughts (Contains spoilers for all seasons of both shows)

Gertrude is the Architect, who thinks she's working for the good of the universe by punishing bad people but gradually learns compassion, friendship, and the ways in which the system is broken

Gerry is the neighborhood guide like Janet

He's a lot more incorporeal though

Instead of "not a robot, not a girl" he's got "not a boy, not a ghost"

Good Gerrys have poor dye jobs

Bad Gerrys have perfect dye jobs

Neutral Gerrys do not dye their hair

Yes this means disco Gerry exists

Magnus is the Head of the Bad Place who pretends to be the Judge

(The actual Judge is Dekker)

OG Elias is the pothead student who had a bad trip and predicted the whole afterlife system with almost perfect accuracy

Jon, Martin, Tim, and Sasha are the four humans in the first neighborhood

Jon and Tim think they belong in the Good Place

Martin and Sasha know they do not

Jon is told his research into the supernatural saved thousands of lives

Tim was an environmental activist

Sasha was a hacker but Gertrude welcomes her as a tech innovator who changed the world

Martin was just working a minimum wage job trying to get by and Gertrude welcomes him as a professional in the parapsychology field, he's given the same "your research saved lives" spiel as Jon

Jon and Martin are told they're soulmates

Tim and Sasha are told the same

Jon and Martin have the Chidi/Eleanor multi-season-long star-crossed fall-in-love-in-every-reboot plot arc

Tim and Sasha have the we-hooked-up-in-one-reboot-but-we're-better-as-friends Tahani/Jason dynamic

However, Sasha gets Eleanor's "there's someone with my name who's supposed to be here instead of me" plot

This is Not!Sasha

Peter Lukas is the Bad Place representative who brings Not!Sasha to the "Good Place"

Martin gets Jason's "the person with your name was in a near-death coma"

Sasha tells Tim she doesn't belong right out of the gate

Martin overhears them and the three end up working together

Martin does not tell Jon he doesn't belong, leading to Jon becoming paranoid about what he, Tim, and Sasha are always conspiring about together

It comes out in a "why are you lying" argument just like the CV thing in canon and Jon is heartbroken that he doesn't actually have a soulmate

He shuts Martin out for a while but eventually realizes he's fallen in love with him, soulmate or not

The four of them end up working together (somewhat)

When they go to the Medium Place they meet Mikaele Salesa

He was a cut-throat antiques and curiosities dealer who donated his fortune to aid the orphaned children of sailors on his deathbed

Eventually the whole "this is the Bad Place" reveal happens

Not sure who figures it out

They get rebooted

And rebooted again

And again

Gertrude does not know how they keep figuring it out but she's definitely losing control

The other demons in the neighborhood are talking about rebelling

(Jude Perry is that one fire demon who keeps walking around without their skinsuit)

(I'm thinking Jared "canonically hot" Hopworth is the one who keeps going to the gym)

She makes a deal with the four humans to help them get to the real Good Place if they play along with the torture, and finally concedes to letting Annabelle Cane run the next reboot

(Yes, to line up with the original show it would be the Not!Them but I think Annabelle is far more likely to want to pull everyone's strings)

Instead of the Jason/Janet romance there's a Tim&Gerry friendship

Since there's no romance there's no need for a rebound boyfriend, however Gerry ends up feeling really alone in Annabelle's reboot and builds himself a new best friend to cope

It does not go well

Michael/Helen is a glitchy, non-functional almost-human who nearly blows everyone's cover with the chaos they cause

They have two faces, two personalities, two identities that they flip between seemingly at random

They get more stable the more times they're rebooted

They go chill with Salesa in the Medium Place while the main crew makes their bid for the Good Place, fails, begs the Judge (Dekker) for mercy, and ends up back on earth

Instead of a near-death psychological study they're all brought together again with an un-death paranormal study

Run by Jon and his new girlfriend Georgie

Yes, Peter is the demon Magnus sends to interfere

Yes, Gertrude drop-kicks him back off the planet

They form the Soul Squad and go off into the world to save people

Not really sure who

But they end up visiting OG Elias and realizing how deep the problems with the system go

They pass through accounting, which is run by Oliver Banks, and meet the neutral Gerry

I'm thinking Leitner is that one demon who's forced to assign point values to weird sex acts

Not sure who makes up the Good Place council

But they make their way back to the Judge and get the whole "test neighborhood" thing to happen

The new humans are Daisy, Basira, Melanie, and Georgie

I know it would make sense for Jon to end up in charge of the neighborhood as Gertrudes's replacement, but nope, he gets his memory wiped because he's awful at lying and he can't pretend he doesn't know Georgie

Martin ends up in charge after Gertrude freaks out

Jon does not actually end up as a participant in the study, since none of the new humans are demons in disguise, so he's just kind of wandering around like a loose end

Georgie definitely pulls the "this is a near-death hallucination" thing

Martin breaks his own heart telling Jon that Georgie's his soulmate, hoping Jon will be able to convince her it's all real

It backfires

Jon's miserable

He eventually confides in Tim (he and Sasha are pretending to be normal humans) that he thinks there's been a mistake, unless... do you think platonic soulmates are a thing?

He doesn't want to date Georgie

He's in love with Martin

Tim tells Martin and Martin has to handcuff himself to his desk so he doesn't run off and kiss Jon senseless

Yes, they establish that platonic soulmates are a thing

Georgie starts dating Melanie

Jon and Martin pine from a distance

I'm thinking Basira is the problem resident who is not making any progress towards improvement

She's very reluctant to see the complicated morals of a situation and takes a long time to break out of her "us vs them" mindset

When they're approaching the one-year anniversary of the new neighborhood and the end of the experiment Melanie and Georgie gather together Tim, Sasha, Daisy, Basira, and Jon

They pull out a huge red-string theory board and say there's something wrong with the neighborhood

Tim and Sasha exchange nervous glances

Georgie says she thinks it's all orchestrated by Martin

They make a plan to meet up at the party that evening

Tim and Sasha go straight to Martin, Gertrude, and Gerry and tell them what's going down

They decide to run out the clock and hope nothing goes too wrong

When Martin stops by his office Jon is waiting for him

Jon spills Georgie and Melanie's whole theory

"They think you're plotting against us, but I know you wouldn't"

"Whatever this is, you're as much a pawn as we are, I think"

"This is supposed to be the Good Place, right? So no one should be unhappy"

"But I am unhappy, Martin. You are too! I've seen the look you get, when you think no one's looking"

"Martin, I've seen the way you look at me. You must know how I feel about you. What kind of Good Place would not allow us to be together?"

Martin is imploding

He really really really wants to kiss Jon

But instead he takes him by the shoulders and tells him "I know what's going on. You're right, there's something more here than you've been told, but trust me when I tell you it's nothing bad. I won't let anything bad happen to you, Jon. I've got you"

"Please just play along with whatever happens tonight, I promise I'll explain everything soon"

And Jon does. Even when the sinkhole happens, even when Martin laughs in his face and tells him he's in the Bad Place

"I really got you, Jon," he says. "I got you good"

"I've got you," Jon remembers, and trusts him

Anyway there's a lot of drama but the neighborhood was a success

Jon gets his memories back and there's a tearful reunion

They start implementing test neighborhoods for everyone so everyone has a chance of reaching the Good Place

And Jon, Martin, Tim, Sasha, Gertrude, and Gerry finally get to go as well

Of course they still need to fix the Good Place itself but that goes fine

And then everyone gets a happy ending, with as much time as they want to spend with the people they love

[littlx-songbxrd]

okok here it is, i don't have a working title yet lol and i wrote the first like three paragraphs a year ago and only now finished it

but uh here it is ig (it's long so below the cut)

oh and i named the characters before i read chog believe it or not so there is no correlation lol

Prologue - Cordelia

May brings with it the memory of battles fought and won and the ever looming presence of a war not quite lost but certainly nowhere near done. As I hand out threadbare blankets around the flickering fires of the temporary war camp, I have to force my mind not to stray to all the people who should be here but are not. Well, the one person, really. I don’t allow myself to dwell, for I know that if I let my heart open to loss, there will be no hope at closing the hole left behind. No one here will tolerate that.

Yet no one criticizes Halen when she fumbles and breaks her fragile composure, storming out of the planning tent, the memories glistening in her eyes threatening to spill over. No, when it’s her, they rush to comfort her, to appease her, and they tell her to take all the time she needs. After all, has the poor girl not been through enough? they whisper pityingly as though we all haven’t lost others to this fight. But, of course, it’s not my place to comment on the actions of the mighty Chosen One. Even if she is my friend.

I look down to find my hands are empty. Tir has taken the last blanket from me without my noticing, and he’s settling down against his pack with his bare feet at the fire. I scowl; he isn’t allowed to speak against Halen either, despite being her older brother.

Heaving a sign, I slump down next to my friend and pull a corner of the blanket over myself. Tir shifts slightly so I can lean against his shoulder. We don’t speak. There are no words big enough to dispel the cloud of grief that hangs over us.

I know Tir is thinking of Zo today, just like he knows I’m thinking of Cherry.

Both of us, I’m sure, are also thinking that Halen ought to be here. She ought to be spilling those tears she always threatens and apologizing meaninglessly for deaths that aren’t her fault. Since when did she choose to be distant and calm? Couldn’t she at least have the decency to break down with the rest of us?

I scowl at a gecko as it skitters through the dirt toward the treeline to the west. I should say something to Halen. I should scream at her, sob at her, cry out until she understands that we need her as a friend, not just a commander.

My mind made up, I stand quickly, earning a confused stare from Tir. “Where are you off to?” he asks, his voice thick.

I shake my head. “Somewhere that isn’t here.”

He chuckles and reaches up to squeeze my hand. It’s enough. He was never one for many words.

I smile sadly down at him and set off to the eastern shore, where the purple and gold tents of the Eneris royal tents have been set up. Their fire and sun emblem shines bright on the tent flaps behind guards dressed in layers upon layers of robes and wraps and blankets. I scoff. The army settled just twenty yards away is shivering under thin blankets and dying fires while the royals and their company dine on mutton and venison. Not that I’ve come to expect anything else from them. They recruited Halen and built this army from the ground up—of course they believe themselves worthy of a few more precious coins exchanged for better conditions.

Even today, the first anniversary of Monvira’s troops storming villages and uprooting lives, they haven’t so much as acknowledged the flood of pain that’s sweeping through their army. I wonder if they even know what May first means to their people.

I stop mid-stride, staring straight ahead at the Strategy tent, where I know Halen spends most of her time these days.

It hits me: May first. The sky is clouded and the birds are silent, but it’s May first and no one bothered telling me that I forgot my birthday. Which was April thirtieth. No one noticed.

Weariness pushes at the back of my eyes, and I blink heavily against the tears blurring my vision. Memories from last year flood my mind as I turn and hurry towards Halen’s private tent. It bares the same colors and seal as the others.

I collapse on her bedroll and let out a single sob.

Last year, on the night of my birthday, Cherry had wrapped a blanket around us both as we stumbled back to our village after a whole day spent together at Renton Lake. She’d kissed my hand and twirled me toward the hut I shared with Halen, giggling in the moonlight, her dark unbound hair spilling over her shoulder like a waterfall of night. The memory rips through me, forcing another sob out of my quaking body.

The next morning, she’d been gone.

I’m not sure how long I lay there, my tears collecting in a pool around my head, but eventually the shaking subsides and leaves behind a solemn heaviness. Only when I hear the tent flap ruffle do I stir. There’s a small gasp, then: “Delia?”

Halen’s nickname for me only makes the smallest dent in my sorrow. I push myself to a sitting position, sure that my face is red and splotchy and my hair wild and tangled. All in all, I don’t blame her for looking taken aback. “Delia, what is it?” she gushes, crouching before me and taking my face in her hands. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

This is exactly what I wanted when I stormed in here. Now, I nearly laugh. It’s pathetic, really, all this time I’ve spent cleaning up after Halen, chasing her, thinking maybe she could do something that would fill the cavity growing inside me. I see it now, as her hazel eyes rake my face. “Nothing,” I tell her. Her thumbs are soft as they wipe away the tears that trickle down my cheeks. “Not anymore.” My voice is scratchy, and I push down against a wave of shame. I’m better than this. I’m better than breaking down in my friend’s plush tent. I’ve never been the emotional one—that was always Halen.

I wipe away my tears, feel myself stand and walk out of the tent, my mind still occupied with hazy revelations I’m too exhausted to fully pursue. There’s a feeling in my gut, the only one that matters right now, and it’s an overwhelming cry to get out.

The grass is silent under my feet as I walk, and I’m distantly aware of Halen calling after me. Her cries of “Wait!” and “What’s going on, Cordelia?” follow me, even after she stops.

I keep walking.

I don’t look back.

---

so uh yeah that's it 👉👈 i can give u the idea of the book if u want or you can just take this offering and run lol <33

Im gonna give you my unfiltered thoughts with no order or organization

REMEMBER ME WHEN YOURE RICH AND FAMOUS AND A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

OMG IM GONNA GET TO BRAG I SAW THE PROLOGUE TO AN AWARD WINNING BOOK IN THE FUTURE HOLY SHIT

I DONT HAVE ENOUGH WORDS TO EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS AND IM BILINGUAL

RENDERED ME SPEECHLESS IN TWO LANGUAGES GO YOU

SHE DIDNT EVEN REMEMBER HER BIRTHDAY HOLY SHIT

LOOK I ADORE THE FEELINGA CORDELIA POTRAYED DURING THE ENTIRE PROLOGUE

LIKE HOW YOU WROTE IT IS JUST

I WANTED HER TO COME BREAKDOWN WITH THE REST OF US?????

NO IM SORRY IM HORRIBLE AT COMPLIMENTING EVERYTHING HERE IS BRILLIANT

1) i have a basis for how the crown is unfair (based on cordelias description) ALSO HOW CORDELIA DESCRIBED "i wasnt even sure if they knew what may 1 meant to their people" IDK BUT I LOVED HOW OT WAS WRITTEN. Its not explicit BUT LEAVES THE MESSAGE SAID

2) basis to whats going on? C H E C K

3) JUST HOW YOU WROTE CORDELIAS GRIEVE AND ESTABLISHED THE CHARACTER

Artie i've told you a million times but I adore your writting style, i always adored it BIT READING YOUR ORIGINAL WORK

I FEEL SO PROUD OF YOU?????

Your style is perfect

I WASNT LOST WHICH IS GOOD!

AND LEAVES ME WANTING FOR MORE

I DIDNT NOTICE BUT MY PHONE HAS LOW BATTERY SO IF I DONT REPLY AFTER THIS ITS THAT BUT TELL ME MORE PLS

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with aka "Jake"

aka "Jake" has 83 stories at Gossamer, but don't miss her website for fics because a number of them come with cover images and/or illustrations you can't see at Gossamer. She's written some of the most epic and well-known stories in the fandom, including Abaddon's Reign and The Mastodon Diaries. Big thanks to aka "Jake" for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It does surprise me! It just goes to show the series has amazing staying power and there are many excellent writers in the fandom who were able to capture the essence of Mulder and Scully and expand on XF canon every bit as successfully as the writers of the TV show. Some even more so.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Like any online community, there were upsides and downsides. But what impressed me most were the lasting friendships that spilled into real life. Overall, the folks I encountered in the fandom were kind, helpful, talented, and inspiring. I’m still in contact with many of them and even meet up regularly with a couple of people who I consider my closest friends now, though we live far apart. Readers could be especially encouraging, poking authors with virtual sticks to get them to write more and faster. An amazing group called the Mastoholics formed to spur me on while I was posting The Mastodon Diaries as a work in progress. Several of them traveled to my house for a mini-con after the story was finished. Other folks called betas provided invaluable editing advice to authors. I was lucky to have several very good ones, but especially appreciated mimic117 and xdksfan. They went beyond proofreading; they pointed out confusing passages, missing plot points, and anything that seemed OOC (out of character). This polishing was a vital step before posting. To think they did it for nothing but the love of fanfic. It was a considerable time commitment.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

There were several key sites for posting and discussing fic when I started writing in 1997. These included Ephemeral, Gossamer, and Haven. Several sites issued writing challenges, like Haven, The Project, and The Church of X. Others gave out awards, like P1013 [Lilydale note: short for Prometheus1013] and the Spookys. I Made This! Productions invited authors, including me, to write episodes for virtual seasons of the show. I recall joining a couple of listservs early on, too.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Overall, it was an uplifting experience. My writing improved tremendously thanks to honest feedback and several key collaborations, particularly with co-authors Brandon D. Ray and the Secret Squirrels. I’d never written anything longer than an office memo when I started my first fic. I had nowhere to go but up. These gifted and generous authors helped me grow as a writer. Collaborating with them made the experience of writing even more creative, exciting, and special.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

The first episode I watched was The Field Where I Died. It hooked me immediately. Back then, there was no way to go back and watch the earlier episodes. It wasn’t until several years later I was finally able to watch the first 3 seasons on DVDs.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I stumbled upon Ephemeral where I read a fic called Acadia by RivkaT, which was set in Acadia National Park in Maine. If I recall correctly, it was a casefile with an emphasis on Mulder and Scully’s relationship. It felt like an episode of the show. I was thrilled to find a seemingly endless supply of XF stories that allowed me to extend my enjoyment of the TV series. It wasn’t long before I considered writing a story myself, a case file, although as mentioned above, I had no previous writing experience, just the desire to write down and share my ideas about Mulder and Scully.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I haven’t been active in the fandom for quite some time. I have no idea where writers post or readers go to find fic. That said, to keep my mind off the pandemic and other disheartening news this year, I began writing a new fic, which I plan to add to my site in September.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

No, I never joined any other fandoms.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Sadly, no fictional characters have captured my heart and attention the way Mulder and Scully did.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

Yes, I do still watch XF. Before Seasons 10-11 aired, I rewatched the entire series and both movies. I enjoy the stories as much now as I did back in the day.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

No, not for ages. I’ve never read any stories from other fandoms.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

There are so many great authors and I’m hesitant to name them for fear of leaving someone out and hurting their feelings. Like a lot of fic writers, I was inspired by Prufrock’s Love beautiful way with words. Mountainphile wrote taut, realistic case files that I admired. David Hearne took on unique perspectives. To name just three.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I think my best writing may be in my long, post-col story Abaddon’s Reign. The story I most enjoyed writing was The Case of the Exuberant G-Man. It was a fun story that seemed to write itself.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

As mentioned above, I’m finishing up a new fic now and plan to post it on my site on or near the anniversary of the airdate of Season 1’s episode Squeeze. My story takes place in 2023, 30 years after Eugene Tooms was mangled to death in an elevator. I wanted to explore the idea of Tooms returning. How would that be possible? And what would Mulder’s and Scully’s lives be like five years after losing their son at the hands of CGB Spender and learning Scully was pregnant once again? I honestly thought I’d never write another fic but here we are.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Often from the unanswered questions left by the show, the off-screen scenes we didn’t get to see.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

The majority, no. Years ago, I told my sister I was writing XF fanfic and she looked at me like I’d grown two heads. We didn’t speak of it again. More recently, my sister-in-law discovered my work. She’s a big XF fan and still reads fanfic, so her reaction was very accepting. Back in the early days, fanfic wasn’t considered serious writing and had a pretty bad reputation, which honestly didn’t jibe with the truly fine quality of some of the writing in the fandom. Sure, it wasn’t all good but there were some real gems.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

All of my stories are on my site at akajake.net.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Just that I’m pleased there are folks like you who are helping to continue the tradition and fun! Thank you for interviewing me and giving me the opportunity to stroll down memory lane.

(Posted by Lilydale on September 1, 2020)

[tomiokai]

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts || Spencer Reid

Masterlist

A/N: This is a fic I have wanted to write for a long time, and I have read this concept a whole bunch of times from different fandom so it isn’t my original idea. Kudos to whoever made this idea first, I love it, but I did want to write one with my own twist. So yeah, enjoy. I don’t drink so bare with me. Maybe a happy part two, possibly. 

Please don’t copy my works, but if you do want to use it as inspiration please give me credit, at least tag me. I do read a lot and when I see my ideas getting stolen and then turned into new stories it really hurts me.

Summary: After Y/n and Spencer’s one-sided breakup, Y/n gets drunk on their breakup anniversary and calls Spencer and admits that she still loves him and that she is mothering his child. This is after prison Spencer so he isn’t as nice!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst

Warnings: Angst. Not a happy ending, I really wanted it to be a happy ending but life sucks so whatever. Alcohol obviously. Have your tissues ready if you are sensitive. Swearing. 

Word Count: 3.2k

_

“I’m sorry Y/n but I don’t love you anymore. Everything about us is just so complicated. We’re always fighting and arguing, and my job is very stressful and time-consuming, our fire burned out a long time ago and we just don’t belong together anymore. I just can’t do this with you, I’m sorry and I hope you’ll find someone else and please forgive me one day” 

Those were the words that ended our 2-year relationship. Spencer didn’t love me anymore. He left me standing there in the rain outside of the BAU, 10 o’clock at night, in the dark, alone. He walked away from me, from our child that he didn’t even know about, I was going to tell him but he left before I could. And I knew that if I told him about our child I would burden him with our child. With me. 

Of course the team was devastated when they were informed that we had broken up.

 Garcia, JJ, Emily, and I still hang out regularly, we would go to nightclubs, and bars and all sorts of fun places together, we never lost our connection with each other. Spencer was a topic that was never brought up when we hung out, but when he was the whole mood would be killed. 

Rossi and I would meet up every second Saturday of the month and we would have a nice dinner together and talk, nothing romantic, only a father-daughter relationship. He was also the godfather to Spencer and I’s child. And of course Penelope was the godmother, it was a tough decision between the girls, but since Penelope had the least dangerous part of the job she was the best choice.  

Henry Y/l/n Reid was the beautiful baby boy I had given birth to on October 31 weighing 7.6 pounds. A coincidence to say the least, it was on Spencer’s favorite holiday. He took up almost all of Spencer’s facial features, only leaving Henry with my y/h/c hair, and plump lips. He looked too much like Spencer, anyone who looked at Henry would immediately assume he was Spencer’s. When I was in labor, practically the whole team came rushing to the hospital leaving Spencer alone at the BAU for a few hours. I had made everyone keep it a secret to not tell Spencer until I decided too and so when they had gone back they all had their own excuses. It has been two years since our breakup, I had raised him myself, along with the girls, and Rossi. It was hard being a single mother, 2-year-old Henry had definitely inherited Spencer’s genius brain and had on multiple occasions asked where his daddy was. Every time the answer would be, “Daddy has a very busy job and doesn’t have time, he travels a lot, but he’s coming back really soon”.  And that was how it went every single day for two years. 

On many occasions JJ would suggest I tell Spencer but every time I would decline and say, “not yet”.  

All this time I was still madly in love with Spencer. Every night I would cry myself to sleep knowing the person I loved the most other than Henry didn’t love me back. He had moved on, on several occasions Emily would come to tell me about the girls she would see Spencer flirting with. It wasn’t something I wanted to know, but I needed to know. A very small part of my heart suggests that if I had told Spencer the night I found out about Henry he would have never left me, but Spencer had stopped loving me long before that and telling him would burden him to me. I loved him, so so much, and it was all my fault he didn’t love me back. Rossi, every time we met up would tell me it wasn’t my fault that Spencer had fallen out of love with me, but deep down inside of me it felt like it was. Maybe it was because of Maeve, maybe not. 

Laying in bed crying, that is exactly what I was doing right this moment. The tears spilling out of my eyes staining the plush white pillow under my head, my body curled in the fetal position. Trembling, shaking, coldness, and the choked sobs from my lips filled the air. Henry completely oblivious of what's happening, was sleeping in the room next door. Whenever Henry saw me cry he would wrap me in a tight long hug, his small arms squeezing me tightly, his cheek on my shoulders, he never said anything, just hugged me. He truly was a smart little boy. 

Tonight's tears were different. They didn’t just come out of my eyes, they poured out. Today marked the official 2 year break up anniversary, two whole years knowing the person you loved the most probably had someone else on their mind. 

‘He never loved you.’

‘He’s too good for you.’

‘He hates you.’

‘He loves someone else.’

‘He wants nothing to do with you.’

‘He left you alone.’

‘YOU WEREN’T GOOD ENOUGH, THAT’S WHY HE LEFT YOU.’

‘YOU'RE A WHORE.’

‘YOU'RE UGLY.’ 

‘YOU DON’T DESERVE LOVE.”

The voices never stopped, slapping at my brain. The pounding just got worse whenever I tried to ignore it. 

That's it. I bolted up from my bed and started walking towards the kitchen. Wine, Vodka, Beer, all those sounded great right now. And you know what that’s exactly what's going to happen. To get wasted. I’m never this reckless, but tonight, tonight was an exception, it hurt too much, the pain jabbing at my heart was too much to handle. 

I stomped quietly down the halls of my apartment and swung the kitchen cabinet door that held the booze open. Nothing. 

Plan b. 

Grabbing the skimpiest dress I owned I threw it on and taped up on some light makeup. The dress I had on looked so slutty I almost decided to just cancel my plans, the dress was a deep dark shade of emerald green, it had almost the thinnest straps, a plunging neckline, and a skirt that stopped at the top of my thighs. For makeup a smokey eye with gold and blood-red lipstick. I grabbed my long y/h/c hair and pulled it into a slick, tight ponytail at the top of my head and turned to the bathroom mirror. I looked like a desperate whore, I had thought to myself as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The jabbing was not going to let me rest so I threw my stupid thoughts about being a whore out of my head and called Rossi. 

David picked up on the third ring.

“Y/n why are you calling me at 10:30pm?” David’s voice came from the other end. 

“I’m so sorry David for waking you up so late but could you please please please come to my apartment and watch Henry for a few hours? He’s asleep already! All you have to do is listen for him.” My voice pleaded, sounding more desperate than the time I begged Spencer to come back. 

“Fine, but you owe me a coffee tomorrow,” David answered shuffling around his apartment for a coat and his keys. “I’ll be there in 3 minutes. 

“Thank you, see you,” I said into the phone and hung up.

Three minutes passed and as Rossi promised he showed up. 

I swung the door open as soon as I heard the knock on the door. 

Rossi just stood there looking at me with a disapproving look on his face. I could tell he already knew what I was up to. After all he is a profiler. 

I stepped aside so David could step in. 

“I’m only doing this because I know you need this,” Rossi said stepping in. 

“Thank you,” I said a small smile on my face. 

“Be safe okay? And don’t do anything you’ll regret.” David said, taking off his coat and sitting down in the armchair by the tv. 

“Okay. I’ll be back in a few hours and the guest room is always open.” I said grabbing my purse and closing the door. 

I called a cab to take me to the most popular night club. The more people the better. The driver kept eyeing me throughout the entire car ride, and I get why, I did dress like a lady that wanted nothing but attention. 

When we stopped in front of the club, I jumped out and threw my money to the driver before he could say anything and walked away and into the club. 

The club was crowded as I had suspected, this was good this way I blended in. 

As I made my way to the bar part of the club, I felt insane amounts of prying eyes on me, but I chose to ignore all of them.

“I’d like the strongest drink you have here,” I said to the bartender as I slapped down a few bucks.

“Break up?” The bartender asked as he picked up the money. 

“You can say that,” I said holding the tears back. 

I waited as the male bartender, Elliot I had read on his tag, prepared my drink. All around me were couples dancing and grinding against each other. Jealousy. that's what I was feeling right now at the moment. 

The bartender brought back my drink and I downed it in a matter of seconds. What came afterward hit strong. The drink made my mind fuzzy and fluffy. That’s good. I wanted to feel the clouds. Right? 

“I’ll take three more of these.”  I slurred already dizzy. 

“I’m sorry miss but you can’t have more than three of these, they are very strong.” The bartender said back. 

“I’ll pay double,” I answered.

“I’m sorry miss, but it's against policy, and I have a good idea how you are feeling, and it may seem like a good idea right now, but it’ll suck later,” Elliot responds back. 

“Fine, two more than,” I said handing him more bills. 

He took the money without any words and walked to the back to prepare the drinks. I may be no profiler but I can sure as hell tell he thinks I’m psychotic.

Elliot brought back my drinks, and I gave him a quick thanks. I grabbed my second glass and stared around me again.  Happy couples everywhere. Ugh. I downed my second glass as an attractive man approached me. 

“Hey pretty lady, mind if I take you home for tonight?” The man asked. 

I thought about it. I really did. But I loved Spencer way too much. “No thank you,” I answered. 

“Come on.” The man said, grabbing my hand roughly. His face dangerously close to mine that I could smell his disgusting breath.

“NO THANKS,” I repeated trying to pull my wrists away.

His hand tightened against my arm. “Come on you whore! You're basically asking for it by the way you're dressed.” The man spat. 

I started struggling and pulling but the man wouldn’t let go one bit. 

“Hey let her go, the lady said no,” Elliot said approaching the counter towards us. 

The man looked at me in disgust and let go of my wrists and walked away stomping his feet. 

“Thanks,” I said as tears started spilling out of my eyes. 

“Yeah no problem, be safe okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah okay,” I answered as I chugged my last glass of alcohol.

I stood up, wobbling, and tried my best to make my way out of the club. 

I could still hear the music as I walked out of the club. It was pouring rain outside. Great. My stupid ass didn’t bring a jacket.  I saw a phone booth a few feet away and I quickly made my way to it, tripping and stumbling a bit. Everything around me was spinning and I felt like I could be flying right now. I closed the door to the phone booth and just clutched to the wall as I tried to sort out all my thoughts. 

Then an idea struck me. Call Spencer Reid. 

If I wasn’t drunk I wouldn’t have done it, but now it was too late, the numbers were already dialed, and the phone was already against my ear. 

On the fifth ring he picked up. He picked up. Picked up. He actually picked up.

“Hello?” Came Spencer's angelic voice, although he sounded pissed. 

“Spencer? Is- Is that you?” I slurred stuttering like crazy. I already knew but I had to make sure.

“Y/n is that you? Why do you sound drunk?” Spencer’s voice came.

“Of course dummy I’m drunk, why else would I be calling.” I laughed, bubbly hiccups erupting my mouth. 

“Why are you calling me y/n, it's one in the morning and I’m kind of busy.” He said, definitely pissed.  “Wait are you outside?”

“Y-yes,” I answered back.

There was a long pause. 

What I said next was not something I would have said if I wasn’t pissed drunk. “I really miss you Spence. And, and I love you so much and I hate that you left m-”

“Stop Y/n I don’t want to hear it. I told you two years ago that I don't love you.” Spencer stopped me.

“Spencer please, please, please. I’m s-s-sorry for whatever i- I did.” I sobbed tears, definitely pouring out of my eyes. 

“I’m sorry Y/n. I told you a million ti-.” Before he could finish, a female voice came on. “Hey babe who is that?”

CRACK. That was my heartbreaking. 

“I’m not your babe Amanda.” I barely hear,  my choked sobs were stopping me from focusing on anything. 

“Is-is that a woman?” I clocked out. 

“Yes it is, I told you I was kinda busy.” Spencer spat. 

That’s it. That’s when I snapped. “THAT’S IT IF YOU’RE GOING TO SLEEP WITH OTHER WOMEN, I WON’T LET YOU MEET HENRY, YOU BASTARD,” I screamed into the poor phone. 

My eyes immediately popped open in horror as I realized what I just yelled. I slapped my hand to my mouth in horror. Tears definitely still pouring out my eyes.

“Who’s Henry?” Spencer asked.

“NO. NO. NO. NO.” I screamed on the phone, still in denial. 

“Get dressed and get out of my house. GO!” I heard Spencer from a distance. “I’m coming to pick you up,” Spencer said to me.

“Why would you fucking do that?” I cried. 

“Because obviously you’re bat shit drunk Y/n. And plus if I left you to die in a random phone box somewhere. Rossi’s going to strangle me. Where are you?” Spencer exclaimed.

“I-I’m on third street in front of the club,” I answered calming down. 

“Okay bye.” He said and hung up. 

“BITCH!” I yelled into the deadline. 

Oh god I’m going to throw up.  I ran out of the phone booth and thankfully my hair is already pulled back. I basically threw up everything I ate for dinner. I rubbed my lips with my arm and saw that my red lipstick was rubbed on my arms which only meant one thing it was rubbed on my cheek too.

I stood by the side of the road both hands in front of me holding my handbag, drenched in rainwater, Mascara running down my soaked cheeks, lipstick smudged. And that’s exactly how I looked when Spencer pulled up on the side of the road. 

Spencer pulled the door open from his seat and motioned me into his car. I climbed into the car and grabbed the seat belt to fasten it but my head was so spiny it was impossible. Spencer grabbed the seat belt from my hands and roughly shoved it in. 

“God you look like a cheap whore,” Spencer stated as he pulled away from the crib.

“I KNOW YOU DON’T HAVE TO RUB IT IN,” I yelled, frustrated. 

“Jesus women calm down I’m just saying,” Spencer said calmly, eyes never leaving the road. 

I sat there in silence frustrated as hell. 

“So who’s Henry? Your new boyfriend?” Spencer sneered.

On any other day when I’m sober I would have played along with it, but no.

“No,” I answered staring straight ahead. 

“Then who is he?” Spencer asked, turning his head to me.

“No one.” I spat, making eye contact with him. 

“You can’t just bring a random guy up and not tell me!” Spencer said, clearly frustrated. 

“YES I CAN,” I yelled.

“JUST TELL ME JESUS CHRIST.” He yelled back.

I bit my lip as I started balling my eyes out. 

“Just tell me.” Spencer urged. 

“HE’S YOUR TWO-YEAR-OLD SON. OKAY NOW DROP IT!” I snapped. 

His eyes widened in surprise. I looked at him in horror, slapping my hand to my mouth. 

“I have a son?” Spencer asked, amazed, but also looking angry. “And you didn’t tell me for two years?” 

I just nodded covering the rest of my face crying into my hands. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He asked.

I didn’t answer.

“WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME?” Spencer yelled. 

I looked up at him and his face was all red and he was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. 

“I don’t know.” I choked out.

We neared my apartment building and Spencer parked his car. “Get out, I’ll call you when I’m less pissed at you.” Spencer managed between clenched teeth.

I just sat there cause I really didn’t know what to do.

“I SAID GET OUT OF MY CAR NOW!” Spencer yelled, his hands in the air now. 

“OKAY, BYE,” I screamed back and got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Spencer immediately drove away, no hesitation, and never looked back.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment, tears still pouring out my eyes, dress still soaked, and makeup all over. 

When I opened my apartment door Rossi stood up and looked at me. With one look Rossi knew and ran towards me to wrap me in a very tight hug

I dropped my bag onto the floor and hugged Rossi back, crying into his shoulder as he patted my wet hair. 

Part two?

[moprocrastinates]

the story is about to begin, and every day will be a new piece of the plot

||| If you would like to comment, thank you, but click HERE instead to sign a petition to give Breonna Taylor the justice she deserves. |||

Chapter Rating: T

Disclaimer: Title comes from The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society by Mary Ann Shaffer/Annie Burrows. 

Summary: Her patience has already worn thin when her line of sight lands on the object left on the tray.

The journal is dark leather, marred by striking divots in the skin, but bound tightly together with a fraying string. Glancing around, Jude reaches for it without waiting for Cardan. Her curiosity, never quite satisfied, piques, and Jude turns to the first page.

Property of Cardan Greenbriar, it reads.

(Read on AO3!)

Early morning sunlight streams in through the slots the blinds don’t quite cover, and Jude Duarte groans quietly as she yanks the warm covers over her head.

Then the birds begin to chirp, and look— Jude’s all for birds, okay? (Even if they are a little terrifying at times.) She’d just prefer them if they didn’t feel the need to wake her up on a wonderful, sleepy Sunday before 10am.

Beneath the cover of her blankets, Jude scrunches her eyes shut a little more. The song the birds sing seems to grow louder and louder with every passing moment, and with a desperation only other night owls could understand, she jerks her pillow out from under her head to cover her ears, leaving bare skin touched by the cold air of her bedroom. Instinctively, she reaches out behind her, hands grabby and a little needy, mindlessly searching for her personal furnace— also known as her boyfriend Cardan. But her hands grasp thin air, and it’s then that Jude opens her eyes.

She sits up slowly, hair in a jumbled knot (it had been a messy bun originally, but Jude’s always been a rough sleeper) on top of her head and her covers strewn and tangled up in her bare feet. “Cardan?”

There is no answer, at least, not a vocal one, but as she opens her mouth to call out again, a loud crash comes from just outside the room, followed immediately by a loud curse that causes Jude to smile softly and bite her lip.

Jude Duarte knows Cardan Greenbriar perhaps better than anyone, and, because of this, she also knows that today of all days, she shouldn’t interrupt him. Not when he’s got a plan.

And for their anniversaries, he’s always got a plan. She’s tried fighting him on it, but it’s the one battle she will always cede to him willingly—how much he desperately wants to show his love for her.

She already knows. But because she loves him, she lets him have free reign over their anniversaries.

It’s her way of letting him know she loves him back.

So she shuffles out of bed, padding quietly into their bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. As she daintily smears toothpaste on bristles, she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

She doesn’t look young enough to be the type of woman who has spent five years being with the man she loves, but alas, here she is.

Here she is, and so in love.

Another loud crash brings her out of her reverie, and with her morning ritual done, Jude steps out of their room, and nearly laughs at the sight of her beautiful, curly-haired tree of a boyfriend standing nervously in front of the oven, looking at it like it might explode.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not going to attack you,” She says, grinning shyly at him when he whips around to look at her. “You’re the one out of the two of us who doesn’t burn food in there, so hopefully it still likes you.”

Cardan rolls his eyes in a way that Jude instinctively interprets as loving before he steps towards her, hands immediately finding purchase on her hips. He leans down, and she meets him halfway, lips touching in perhaps one of the gentlest morning kisses she’s ever had. (Most of the morning kisses she’s had in her lifetime have been with Cardan, so it’s not really like she has anything else to compare to.)

She wraps her arms around his neck, fully intending on making this kiss turn into something deeper when he recognizes her intent and laughs against her lips. “Happy anniversary, Jude.”

“Happy anniversary,” she says softly, and when she pulls back to look him in the eyes, she sees the same adoration in his that she knows is reflected in hers. “Five years, huh?”

Cardan chuckles, turning back to the stove and flipping the dials. “Yeah. Still quite can’t believe it.”

Jude snorts. “You’re telling me, Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Relationships Greenbriar.”

“You’re a menace.” Cardan swats at her with an eggy spatula that she barely dodges. She can’t help the squeak that falls from her lips and reflects the bright smile dawning on Cardan’s face. “Go back to bed,” He grumbles. “You’re ruining the whole concept of breakfast in it!”

“Breakfast in bed is wherever I claim the bed is,” She chirps back, reaching around his slender shoulders to snag a few chocolate chips from the bag. “I mean, technically, I could say your penis is the bed. What would you do then, huh?”

Although he isn’t looking at her, she can tell just from the sudden tension in his shoulders that she’s made him think.

Good.

“Go away, Jude.” His response is more of a snarl than it is a statement.

“You loooooovvveee me,” Jude sings when Cardan turns to face her, brown eyes amused and rough hands holding out her beloved BB-8 coffee mug.

“Apparently.” He says, snorting, but his gaze is warm.

Without missing a beat or breaking eye contact, she snags her mug from him and hops down to head back to the bedroom when he grabs her arm and pulls her back into his chest.

“You forgot your tray, darling,” Cardan murmurs lowly in her ear, and Jude really can’t help the shot of heat that courses through her veins at that very moment.

If she had witnesses, she’d blame it on the coffee.

But as always, Cardan has other plans.

He hands her a small tray with what appears to be blueberry muffins (her favorite), a small vase of peonies, and a leather book.

“Don’t read it without me, okay?” Cardan’s eyes are serious now, sharp and sudden, and Jude’s dreams of a morning romp are moderately dashed by the severity in his gaze. “Please?”

“Fine.” She huffs, and he ruffles her hair and presses a kiss to her temple before she traipses back to bed.

Jude waits for less than two minutes. What could he possibly be doing? Turning off the oven? (Anyone who truly knew her knows about her lack of patience.) “Anytime soon would be great, Cardan!”

She gets a muffled response, but by then, her patience has already worn thin when her line of sight lands on the object left on the tray.

The journal is dark leather, marred by striking divots in the skin, but bound tightly together with a fraying string. Glancing around, Jude reaches for it without waiting for Cardan.  Her curiosity, never quite satisfied, piques, and Jude turns to the first page.

Property of Cardan Greenbriar, it reads, and Jude snorts in amusement (what was with him and his affinity for writing letters) before turning another page.

Day One:

So you’ll probably call me an idiot (because that’s what you do), but I’ve never wanted to do this for any other person in my life. You’re special, and I’ve known that for years, but it wasn’t until tonight when we both stumbled through asking each other out that it made me realize that you’re unparalleled in every other relationship I’ve ever had in my entire life. Even with Nicasia.

You’re so special to me, Jude, and I was so sure you would never, EVER, want to be with me.

As of now, we’ve been going out for three hours, fifty minutes, and twenty-nine seconds. It’s been the best three hours, fifty minutes, and twenty-nine seconds of my life. I like this feeling, so I’m going to keep it going, okay?

Is that okay with you?

Jude gapes. Holy shit.

She flips to the next page.

Day Two:

So we went out on our first official date tonight, and we went to that really quaint coffee shop on Elfhame—The Court of Shadows, it was called. It was a nice evening out, so we sat outside. You wore this stunning purple dress that made your eyes shine, and you laughed at all my dumb jokes and it was like we were best friends again, only this time I knew I could kiss you if I wanted to.

The whole time, I really wanted to.

But when it got colder out as the evening went on, I figured it was time for hot coffee, so I went in to order. The line was long, but you couldn’t see that, so when I left the shop, you were coming in. I was so focused on making sure I didn’t spill that I didn’t see you, and you were so concerned that I was fighting with a barista or something that you didn’t see me, and when we crashed, I was so sure it was over.

I’m still not sure what I said— I thought it might’ve been my horror or my stream of apologetic consciousness that made you forgive me for staining your favorite dress— but instead, you just looked at me. Just looked at me, hard, and I swear once again that I thought it was over. I thought I’d ruined my chance with you.

I know I have the potential within me to love you forever, starting from today (not that I didn’t before, but you know)—because you looked up at me from the ground, fucking beamed and me, and said, “Cardan, the coffee’s cold.” Then you grabbed my hand and dragged me to Steak ‘n Shake, you in your beautiful albeit coffee-stained purple dress, and me with my pit-stained, ruffled shift and frazzled hair.

That burger was the best I’ve ever had, but I think it only tasted as good as it did because I had the best company around.

Oh, and you stole my milkshake. You owe me one, Duarte.

Jude can’t help it. Every word he has written makes her shake; her fingers tremble as they deftly flip the pages and trace the ink where he’d pressed so hard— his feelings literally engraving themselves into immortality. She reads the following entries, her heart swelling more and more with every line. Cardan has written every day for the past five years, detailing the highs and lows of their relationship. She cannot stop the laughter; she cannot stop the way her eyes fill with tears at his declarations of her beauty.

Some of her favorite memories are his, and Jude’s no stranger to Cardan’s writing style— she was there when he began and finished his first romance novel, was the one who read every single page and argued with him about the relationship between Hades and Persephone, and was the person peering over his shoulder as he sent out queries to agents. Jude was the person to pour him a glass of red wine when he finally found one, and the first one to congratulate him when the book was sold. But to read of the memories she plays in her head every time they fight or every time they make love, her best ones, her favorite ones, she really cannot believe her previous claims about being so deeply in love with Cardan Greenbriar.

She has never been more in love with him than in this moment with this gift.

Day 11:

We told our friends about us today. I wasn’t sure if you were ready, but as soon as we entered the Court of Shadows, you smacked a kiss to the corner of my lips and laced your fingers with mine, and Liliver whooped so loudly that I thought I wouldn’t hear again.

Then everybody passed the Roach money, and then they started taking bets on when I’d propose.

Believe me, that’s not going to happen yet. I want to get to know you, my sweet villain, and although I’ve known you since I was eleven, I want to know you as more than my best friend.

But instead of scolding our friends (why the hell do I even call them that? They’re incorrigible), you just laughed and made a joke about that episode of Friends where Ross and Rachel get married in Vegas and distracted everyone. You kept tracing your thumb along the lines of my palm underneath the table, and you looked at me and I thought, “I love you.”

Hopefully I’ll be able to say it to you soon enough. I’ll practice it here: I love you.

It feels pretty good.

Not all the entries are professions of love. A few detail their fights, funny moments, touching moments, and she loves every word. Her hazel eyes water, and she blinks, reaching up to wipe quickly across her eyes as to avoid getting water on the pages.

Day 42:

WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME VIVI DUARTE IS SO MUCH SCARIER WHEN SHE’S NOT MY FRIEND BUT MY GIRLFRIEND’S OLDER SISTER?

I love you.

Day 91:

Happy three-month anniversary. Please don’t eat all the chocolate-covered strawberries. Thanks.

I love you.

Day 133:

You came over from work today with sweat glistening through your clothing, around your hair, and on your face— the only thing you said to me was, “I love my job, Cardan.”

I’m so happy you’re happy. 

I love you.

Day 242:

You said it back.

 I love you.

Day 276:

Why are you so fucking good at Mario Kart? I’ve BEEN in the car when you drive. How you haven’t crashed is beyond me.

I love you.

Day 311:

Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.

You looked gorgeous tonight, your hair in curls falling down your back, eyes full of mischief, and in that lilac dress I spilled coffee on whilst on our first date.  

How the hell did I get you to fall in love with me? Some days I can’t believe it. But those days are getting fewer and farther in between.

I really do believe I’ll be with you the rest of my life. You don’t know that yet, of course, but maybe I’ll say it to you. Maybe one day I’ll believe it myself.

I love you.

Day 353:

Godsdamn, you’re blasting “Making Love Out of Nothing At All,” outside my window á la Say Anything because we had a fight. I thought you didn’t care when I said I was so glad we began our relationship and took your silence to mean this was over; you did care, but couldn’t put all you felt into words, and I needed to hear it to quell my own fears.

The song’s quite fitting, isn’t it—on both our ends?

It’s an apology. The words might not be yours, but I hear you. I forgive you. Always.

I’m sorry, too.

I love you.  

Day 398:

I’m going to tell you I have to go to Rome for four months for research on my next book. I don’t know how you’ll take it.

I love you.

Day 468:

Being away from you every day is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I miss your smile and the way it reveals itself, slowly and shyly, before becoming suddenly the brightest thing in my line of vision. I miss your hair (it’s befitting of a queen such as you) and how it smells like honey and those absolutely disgusting peanut butter and honey sandwiches you eat (seriously, HOW do you eat those?). I miss your eyes, and I swear I wake up in the middle of the night completely dazed by the colors of the forest. I miss your laugh, I miss how you say my name, I miss the way you look after sex and the way you murmur and kiss whispers of love on my skin when I push into you, I miss the way you koala-hug me when we’re cuddling, I miss your competitiveness and how you look after you get a Jeopardy question wrong and lose to me, I miss the sound of your voice when you sing “I Won’t Say I’m in Love,” in the shower, I miss you totally drinking me under the table and you dragging Severus Snape with every single curse word you can think of and I miss you telling me in person you love me. I miss telling you in person that I love you.

I guess I just miss you.

Please don’t be mad at me. 

I love you.

Day 500:

You’re the fucking best at phone sex.

I love you.

Day 588:

I’m coming home to you, and I don’t really want to be apart from you again.

I love you.

Day 619:

I don’t even know what we fought about at this point. It was probably dumb. I don’t know whose fault it is. All I know is that I’m sorry. I hope you decide to let me share the bed with you tonight.

And I love you.

Day 730:

I’m thinking about asking you to marry me. It’s our second anniversary… It seems fitting. You’re asleep right now, napping after work, and I’ve just ordered pizza—Hawaiian with extra cheese, just like you like. You’ll wake up as soon as the food gets here. Your stomach never betrays you.

I love you.

Day 846:

You ran into Locke at the grocery today, and I nearly broke up with you right then and there.

We’ve been fighting a lot lately. I don’t even know what about. Every time I speak, you snap, and every time I go to touch you, you recoil. I don’t remember the last time you replied to my, “I love you.”

I still don’t know what I did. I’m sorry.

I love you.

Day 847:

We were sitting on the sofa watching Planet Earth, and you turned to me suddenly, pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, and rested your head on my shoulder.

We’ll be okay.

I love you, and you love me.

Day 952:

My lease is up. Wanna live with me?

I love you.

Day 975:

I don’t know about you, but I’m loving life with you.

Even though you are literally the clumsiest person known to man and break every single dish we own, have a habit of stealing the books I’m currently reading, and never make our bed when I leave early and don’t get a chance to do it— you’re alright, my darling. I think I’ll keep you.

I love you.

Day 1000:

You’re cute when you drool in your sleep.

I love you.  

Day 1095:

So I’m sitting here next to you with the single greatest anniversary gift ever, and I don’t think I could be more content. You’re asleep, so thankfully you aren’t seeing me write this, but for future readings, I’m sorry about the spilled ink… Gus got ahold of the pen.

Note to self and to you: Don’t let kittens chew things.

Gus seems to agree.

I love you.

Day 1273:

So Vivi’s been bugging me for a while now, because apparently she’s going to win the bet if I propose within the next year. She wants to go ring shopping to ensure that she’ll win.

Joke’s on her— I already have the ring.

I love you.

Jude’s breath caught.

Day 1461:

You asked me today why I love you, and I told you that I couldn’t tell you why.

Jude, you started to get mad and tried to pull away just as I told you that I couldn’t tell you why because there are too many reasons. I told you that we’d be there all day if I listed every single reason why I love you. We might be there for days, weeks, months, years even. I cannot describe how much you mean to me. Just know that when I say I love you, it’s so much more than that.

I cannot fathom what it would be like if you were not in my life. Thankfully, you’re here, and I love you. Happy fourth anniversary.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Day 1499:

Geez, I think this journal is getting a little long, don’t you?

I love you.

Day 1587:

I’ve thought about this for years now, and I think I’ve finally perfected my idea.

I love you.

Day 1617:

You’re going to be so mad that you didn’t see this coming. Seriously, Duarte. For the woman who is so terrifyingly good at figuring out those mystery TV shows, you really have no idea. Either that, or you’re just really good at hiding it.

I’m betting it’s the former, though.

I love you.

Day 1765:

Only a few more days… I think you’ll be happy to know that none of our friends will win the bet.

Oh, except me. Did I mention I entered it? Yeah, I bet on us WAY back when.

I love you.

Day 1825:

It’s going to be weird actually giving this to you tomorrow. After all, there’s five years’ worth of my thoughts in here, five years of my thoughts about you kept from you.

I’m going to tell you not to read it until I bring you food (because food always makes you happy, and slightly more agreeable), but because I know you, I’ve accepted the fact that you’ve probably disregarded my request and are reading this right now.

So.

I love you. Just wanted you to know that, you know, in case you couldn’t tell.

P.S.- I’m going to pull the blinds so “those damn birds,” don’t wake you up right away. I have some stuff to do. You know.

Day 1826:

I love you.

Will you marry me?

Tears stream down her face, and Jude hears a soft, “Oh,” come from the entryway to their bedroom.

There Cardan stands, holding a tray of food and looking somewhat sheepish. He sets down the tray on a nearby dresser and turns to look at her softly. His gray sweatpants hug his hips, his dark blue shirt rides up slightly, and his dark curls fall in front of his face, hiding his eyes.

But Jude knows Cardan.

She knows that although his face is composed, he’s shaking inside. She knows that every fiber in his being is screaming at him to run away, to protect himself. She knows he’s always been last in his own mind, that he always chooses to care for others before himself, and that he doesn’t think he deserves her or any of his friends and family. She knows that this journal he’s kept for her for five years is a story of his real emotions, how she really makes him feel, that some of these words are things he’ll never say aloud. She knows he’s terrified about being an uncle to the Roach and Liliver’s unborn child, she knows that he talks to Gus out loud and considers him one of his best friends, she knows that he actually thinks there’s a chance that she won’t accept his proposal.

She’s firmly okay with the rest, but what she won’t stand for is him believing in the last one.

“Um,” Cardan says as he approaches her and immediately her eyes are drawn to his fingers, which flex as he draws nearer. He wants to touch her.

“I guess this is the part where I get down on one knee.” Cardan’s smile is self-deprecating, and Jude doesn’t think she can take any more because her heart is going to burst out of her chest.

When he lowers himself down, she bursts into tears.

When she was little, and thinking about getting proposed to, she, haughty, had always thought she wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t be that overcome with emotion.

Yet.

“Jude,” Cardan murmurs, reaching out and tenderly wiping the tears speeding down her cheeks. “For years I’ve loved you. Some of them were spent with you as my best friend, flinging dirt into my hair and making me push you on the swings. Others were spent in a classroom, quizzing me on my Greek mythology class and me helping you make up lesson plans for your third graders. But the best couple of years of my life have been with you next to me in every way possible, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replicate those years, those feelings, and those memories without you. So, Jude… will you… Jude, will you marry me?”

Cardan doesn’t even get a chance to get the ring out of his pocket before Jude hurls herself at him, knocking over the vase of peonies and attaching her mouth to his.

They fall on the soft carpet, Cardan grunting out as Jude lands on top of him, but his arms tighten around her as she proceeds to press wet kisses onto every square inch of his face, whispering, “Yes, yes, yes, I love you, I love you,” while she does so.

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

The last line on the last page of the journal is written in new curly handwriting:

Property of Cardan Greenbriar (and Jude Duarte).

[simons-calling-the-127-squad]

Missing Piece - Hendery

Credit to the original owners of the images.

GN Film Studies Major Reader X Film Studies Major/YouTuber Hendery

Half of a jewelry piece at birth

Warnings: cursing

Y/D/N = your dog's name

"We've literally been studying for ten minutes", you deadpanned.

"And?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You haven't even studied anything yet. You've just played with the cat."

"I need food to think. And I'll pay for us both."

"Deal", you said. Pushing the book to the side of the bed. Hendery did a little dance as you moved to put your shoes and jacket on. You couldn't help but laugh at him and walked towards him.

"Let's go!" He said as he pulled you out of the door and locked his dorm door. His arm went over your shoulder as you walked, it was a normal thing for him to do with all of his friends.

"So have started writing your script yet?" You asked, assuming that he hadn't even come close to starting.

"Contrary to popular belief, yes", he answered, a bit of pride could be heard in his voice.

"What's it about?"

"It's a comedy about three friends who don't wanna find their soulmates."

"Sounds interesting. Anything else?"

"Nah, just the basics for the characters. What about you?"

"Two friends who somehow don't notice they're mates."

"That sounds ridiculous. How can they not notice the matching jewelry?"

"Some people are blind to little details!"

"Hmm sure", he said, obviously not convinced. The two of you let the silence take over as you walked to the pizza place of Hendery's choice. Upon arrival, he opened the door for you and waved to the workers as the two of you sat down.

"So this is the place you talk about all of the time?" You asked, slipping the jacket off of your shoulders and onto the seat next to you.

He began to rapidly nod and talk about how amazing the entire menu was.

"Hey Hendery, I was wondering when you'd be in this week", a male said as he walked over to the two of you.

"Blame them," he pointed to you. "They keep making me study when I could be eating."

"You're the one who asked me to help you study!"

"I didn't think you would be so strict with me!"

The waiter laughed at the banter between the two of you and said, "I can't believe it's taken you so long to bring your soulmate here." The two of you instantly paused and looked at him. Confusion written on your faces. The waiter looked just as confused when he saw your reactions.

"Wait did you guys not know? How did you guys not see the matching rings?" Your eyes moved to Hendery's hand where a ring that was quite similar to your own sat. His was a sun, yours a moon, but the two were obviously a pair.

"How did we not notice?" You asked, mainly to yourself.

"That explains why everyone always thought we were dating…" Hendery mumbled, causing the waiter to die of laughter.

"This is comedy gold", he mumbled as he walked towards the kitchen to give the two of you time to talk together.

"Dang it. This means you're right."

"That's what you're thinking about right now?"

"That and this is an interesting first date."

"Nothing else? Like being surprised that we're mates?"

"No, in all honesty, it makes a lot of sense. We get along quite well and I've always thought you were cute."

"Okay well if we're just spilling everything, I always used to get disappointed when I would look at you and think of how you weren't my soulmate."

"Well good thing I am then. Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of…"

"Well, I have something on mind. Can I kiss you?"

"Yeah…"

"Fantastic", he said and moved to sit next to you to be closer. One hand moved to your face and the other to your neck as he leaned in. You could feel his lips pull into a smile as they landed on yours. Soon after he pulled away, allowing you to see his smile.

"I'm so freaking glad you're my soulmate", he told you before leaning back in.

---

It was Monday, at 5 pm. You and Hendery had just arrived at class and sat down next to your friends, telling them the news. They each turned to each other and started laughing.

"You guys knew didn't you?" You asked.

"Yeah. We had a bet going to see how long it would take you guys to figure it out", Ten told you as he held his hand out to Y/B/F who rolled their eyes but put a twenty-dollar bill in his hand.

"We're the epitome of stupidity", You said as you looked back at Hendery, who nodded in agreement. The rest of you continued to talk while you waited for class to begin, which mainly revolved around the stupidity of you and your mate.

---

"Hey babe, can you come in here?" Hendery called for you. You already knew why it was to introduce your relationship to his subscribers. You walked into his room and sat down next to him on his bed as Hendery told the viewers you were joining the video today. You had been in numerous videos of Hendery's, to the point where the fans were disappointed when you weren't there.

"So yet again we have Y/N joining today. You guys know them and love them. So as you guys can tell by the title, we have another hilarious story for you. Y/N you wanna start?" He asked as he looked over at you.

"Sure. So Hendery's dumbass asked me to help him study. 10 minutes into it, he wants pizza. So of course Hendery said the most magical words ever, 'I'll pay'. So obviously I join him for pizza, and what happens when we get there?" You asked, allowing Hendery to take over.

"So we sit down, and a few minutes later the waiter comes over and we're talking cause I'm a regular there and I know all of the workers pretty well. The waiter says 'glad to finally meet your soulmate'. And we both just stared at him. Thinking 'what the hell is this dude talking about?'. So he points out our rings and was like 'You guys didn't know?'. And that's how we realized, we're soulmates."

"Yeah, we felt and still feel stupid as hell."

"And the funniest part is, our friends knew. In fact, they had a bet going to see how long it would take us to figure out", Hendery laughed.

"Ten won the bet", you informed the camera.

"Yeah, the bastard got twenty bucks out of it. But you know I got the best prize, I get Y/N as my soulmate sooo…" You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks and immediately covered them. Hendery attempted to pull them away and once he did he pressed a kiss to each of them.

"I love you", he whispered to you.

"I love you too", you whispered back.

---

"So guys can you guess what today is?" Hendery asked the camera. "If you can't, don't worry, I'll tell you. It's mine and Y/N's anniversary. We have been dating for five years now, we've known each other for, like seven years now. So I've decided it's time I finally propose", He said pulling a box out of his jacket pocket and holding it up to the camera as he opened it. "I'm hoping this goes smoothly and that they are really to take this step with me. So I'm not gonna show you guys the actual proposal, but I am gonna show you their reaction afterward. So I'll be back soon. Well for you guys it'll be soon", he paused the camera and slipped the box back in his pocket before moving into the living room. He was waiting for you to get back from the studio to start making dinner for the two of you. His plans were interrupted by the dog pawing at his leg. He could help but to smile and bend down and scratch his ears, causing the dog's tail to wag aggressively.

"You better not mess this up tonight", he told the dog. Y/D/N just continued to wag his tail before laying down at his feet, only to jump up the moment you open the door.

"Hey Y/D/N", you said as you moved to ruffle his fur. "Hey babe", you greeted Hendery, giving him a kiss before sitting down next to him.

"So I was thinking pizza for dinner", he told you. You nodded in response, it had become a tradition to have pizza on your anniversary.

"As expected."

"And you love it", he told you as he went to the kitchen to start dinner. As the timer was getting close to the end Hendery whistled for Y/D/N.

"Good boy", he told him, kneeling in front of him and reaching into his pocket. He pulled the box out and tied it to the collar. "Now stay in here buddy", he ordered, and thankfully he listened. Just as Hendery stood up, the timer went off. He pulled it out and cut it before putting it on the plates and going back to the living room where you waited.

"It looks great!" You exclaimed. Kissing his cheek before taking your plate. It didn't take long for the two of you to finish and Hendery decided it was time to ask.

"Hey Y/D/N, come here boy", he called out to the dog, who instantly responded. "Hey take a look at what's on his collar", he told you. Your eyes moved from the tv to Y/D/N and they widened. You could hear Hendery chuckle as motioned for you to take the box. You did, your eyes widened even more at the ring itself. It was exactly what you wished for, you looked at Hendery who had already moved to the ground.

"We definitely had an interesting start, how many people can say they didn't even realize their soulmate was right beside them for two years. While it may not have been the smartest thing we've ever done, I'm kinda glad in a way that we didn't know. It made us have a friendship beforehand, and we knew our attraction was genuine, it's not just that we're soulmates. And these years together have been so amazing, and I wanna spend the rest of them together. Will you, Y/N, marry me?"

"Yes!" You whispered as the tears flooded your eyes. He helped you put the ring on and to wipe the tears away.

"Would it be okay to get the camera he asked?" You nodded and he pressed a kiss to your lips before running into the bedroom and grabbing it. He recorded the ring and the two of you talking for a few minutes before shutting it off. This was definitely gonna be one of your favorite videos.

-🃏