#why do people still expect me to know useful stuff

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for u-h-h-g-h behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . wait, actually, is he gonna have to start reading biographies and historical stuff? He’s a dad now. The other dads are gonna expect him to know stuff about the Civil War and World War II and, like, lawnmowers and how to grill, aren’t they. His dad didn’t even grill, Mom did! Dad always got distracted by his book or something and let the hot dogs burn! 

Billy is not optimistic about his capacity to mow a lawn, though at least they’re in an apartment. Like–probably somebody handles that, right? That’s gotta be a thing, doesn’t it? 

. . . he should check with Batman about that, maybe. 

. . . . . . and also figure out what the wisdom of Solomon knows about how grilling works. 

Or, uh–work on the focus thing, maybe. Definitely the focus thing. It’s just–it all feels like so much, and Billy doesn’t wanna mess up and wreck Lynn’s whole entire life and make him miserable forever or ever make him feel like any of those foster “families” and social workers ever made him and just about all the other kids he knew in the system feel or– 

Billy wonders if he could maybe find a god to talk to about asking to borrow, like, the forethought of Apollo or the precision of Arachne or the strategy of Ariadne or something sometime (though definitely not the concentration of Atalanta, because one golden apple and he’d be right back where he started). Like if he could maybe swap it out with the stamina of Atlas or the courage of Achilles when he needs to, that’s all. Just when it’s, like, situationally useful or whatever. 

. . . he’s really not doing a good job with this focus thing at all, yeah. Which he’s pretty sure he’s thought a few times now already, too, just–

He’s just really nervous, still. He’s really glad Lynn doesn’t hate him or think he’s lame, but he could still totally do something that’d make Lynn hate him or think he’s lame and–

Focus. 

“Want me to serve?” Billy offers, pointing at the plates. “I mean I know I don’t know how much you need to eat yet, but neither do you, and I’ve seen a lot more people eat than you have, sooo . . .” 

“. . . you’ve seen Superman eat?” Lynn asks, looking–uncomfortable, briefly, and looking down at the plates in his hands. Billy’s gonna have to start finding stuff for him to look at instead of people, he’s pretty sure. Like, little puzzles Lynn can be messing around with or little crafts he can be doing or something, so people just figure that’s why he’s not making eye contact with them and not, like, him being antisocial or something. 

“Oh, yeah, tons of times,” Billy says, since that’s a valid question and all, considering actually the way big majority of the people he’s seen eat were human and Lynn is actually not, so actually that might not be helpful anyway. Superman’s diet would be way more useful to know about. But the problem there is–“But like, I don’t ever really know if he really needs to be eating or if he’s just doing it to be polite? ‘Cuz I do that sometimes, definitely. But also sometimes it’s just ‘cuz something looks good? So yeah, I dunno. I’ll have to ask him when I get a chance, maybe I can catch him after the next League meeting. Or I guess I could email him, I guess that’s a thing . . .” 

He doesn’t really use his League email or messaging accounts or anything like that, like, basically ever, but Batman did give them the phones and all, so he’s not gonna have to go to the library to do it anymore, sooooo . . . 

Lynn doesn’t say anything; just keeps his eyes down and on the plates he’s still holding. Billy tries not to frown. Lynn doesn’t talk much or make eye contact all that much, so far, so it’s not like it’s new. Just–he doesn’t know, really. He’s still got this weird feeling like something’s wrong, all of a sudden. 

[whatiwannaread]

take me back

Tom x reader

Warnings: toxic! relationship? (probably), trauma?, waaaay too much dialogue probably, drugs, sex and small town solitude are mentioned, not proof read (I'm lazy)

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

It's 3:00 am, you were peacefully sleeping, not expecting anything to happen until you were then suddenly woken up by loud banging on your front door downstairs.

You sit up, and hear Tom, your ex-boyfriend, speaking from the outside of your door. "Mm Baby, open the door, it's meee!" He slurs.

You sigh. This can't be real. Tom and you broke up 2 weeks ago and it's been hard but you were determined to get your act together and get over him. He seems to have other plans. You go downstairs, hesitant to open the door just yet.

"Schatzi, don't do this to me now, pleeease just let me innn!!"

Although you know you shouldn't, you open the door anyway. His eyes widen when he sees you "oh Schatzi, there you are!! Been missing you so much" Tom practically stumbles into your doorway, he holds onto the doorframe and then onto you for balance before stepping away a little to steady himself. He closes the door behind him. You cross your arms "Tom... how drunk are you?"

He exhales heavily "D-drunk? Nooo... not meee"

You keep a straight face "Don't lie. You drank. What do you want?"

Tom bites his lip, he hates being called out on his lie. He knows damn well that he drank, but he didn't want to admit it in front of you. "I- I had a few drinks, alright? Is that what you want to hear? But it's not like you care, anyway." He mutters. He then looks at you, his voice turning into a pleading tone once more. "Please, can we just talk?"

He looks miserable and you start to feel bad for him. you sigh "ok ok. Talk about it. What's so important?"

He takes a step closer to you, his eyes filled with desperation. "I.. I miss you. I miss us. I miss how we used to be.. I just.. I need you in my life, please, I need you back.. I-"

you roll your eyes a little "Tom, I don't think we should. What's really going on, huh? Trouble at home? In school? Or within that little drug-taking train station gang of yours?"

Tom's expression darkens at your question. He hates it when you bring up his "gang." He clenches his jaw "We're not a damn gang, alright? They're my friends. They understand me. And we're doing just fine, so stop talking about them." He speaks in a slightly more aggressive tone, but he soon calmes down, and he looks down at you, a hurt expression on his face. "Why did you even break up with me? I thought we were happy.."

You huff "happy? No, we weren't. And I don't trust your little friends, you know it! I can't deal with the stuff you guys do. I don't like it, I don't wanna get caught up in that. Why the hell are you even still hanging out with those people?? Tommy, I just don't understand..."

Tom's expression changes from hurt to frustration in a matter of seconds

"They get me, ok? You're just too good to get it! The guys get what it's like to have issues! And what do you mean we weren't happy? I was as happy as it gets! If only you would stop being so damn annoying about stuff like this"

God. He can't be serious. What an idiot he is! If only you could truly stop loving him...

"You know damn well I got my own issues, but that doesn't mean I'm out drinking and taking drugs every other day! You know my father left me and my mother is too damn busy taking care of her ever changing boyfriends. And then they drink our money. You think that's a sweet sweet life?? Get out Tom, I just don't get what you even want from me at this point! Go back to your friends!"

You hate talking about your family situation. Tom sees tears forming in your eyes, and he knows he went too far. He curses at himself inwardly for being such a jerk. But he's hurt too, by your words, and he's too stubborn to apologize. He swallows and he continues to speak in a harsh tone. "You know what, maybe I WILL go back to my friends! At least they care about me! They don't judge me! Maybe I'll just find some other girl too, someone who's actually worth my time..."

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down. Your voice is sharp and cold "yes. Please! Go back to the abandoned train station and pull at whatever they give you. And then ask Therese if she wants to do it again maybe! Maybe she'll be amazingly sweet this time"

[Therese is the secret 'whore' in our small town. She takes drugs and sleeps with usually young boys when they want to lose their virginity. Tom himself lost his virginity to Therese when he was only 13 and Therese was 17 and already infamous for doing it for little money. (Yes, horrible. But Therese is a victim too kinda)]

Tom's mouth agape in shock as his eyes widen. His heart feels like it just shattered into pieces. Seeing you so cold and harsh stung his heart like hell, and seeing you say those things about Therese made it even worse. He can't believe you'd stoop that low. He steps closer to you, his body trembling in anger and hurt.

"You dare bring up Therese?! That was a mistake, OKAY?! I was young and stupid! You're never gonna let that go, are you?!"

You glare at him "well you still hang out with her occasionally, dont you? If it was such a bad experience then how come you used to brag about stuff like that when we first met?? How you had sex at 13 with an older girl..... only to have it turn out you were talking about damn Therese out of all people!" You clench your jaw. You know you're going to far. But you wanna know why he keeps going back to the people who hurt him.

Tom's face turned red in anger and embarrassment. He couldn't believe you were humiliating him like this. He clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles turned white. He took a step closer to you, almost towering over you with his height.

"I- I-" He stuttered, but then he snapped, his expression turning into a sneer, and he yelled at you in a harsh, mocking tone.

"It was one time behind the damn train station, alright? Yes, it was behind the damn train station and it was stupid and so damn weird!!! Are you happy now?"

"The damn train station you guys hang out till this day!! Don't you get that?? When I agreed to be with you, you said you regret all that stuff. But you still go there and meet up with the same people and every time you're there, you're so god damn cold!! I don't understand you. You and I... that never worked" You look up at him

Tom stares down at you, his anger replaced with hurt and despair. He clenches his jaw, and he speaks in a more quiet tone.

"We hang out there because we have nowhere else to go, okay?! We always go there because there's nowhere else to hang out in this stupid town! And you know why we hang out there, because we can do what we want there, you know that!! We're allowed to drink, to smoke, to have a good time!"

You huff and look down "I know I know. Everything's just perfect over there and everybody is sooo nice and lovely"

You remember when you hung out there too for some weeks. But you didn't really smoke or drink, no nothing. You were scared in some way. You didn't want to be just like your mother. They called you Miss Virgin Pure back then and made fun of you a lot. That's how Tom knew you when you first spent some time together outside of school. But you always kinda hated that hangout. You never got why Tom keeps going back there!

Tom's expression softens a bit as he remembers how you were always the 'stuck up little prude' among his friends and how they teased and made fun of you for being hesitant to copy their lifestyle. He knew deep down you were so sweet, even if you acted so guarded and dismissive at times.

"I- you were always kinda different from us... you were special. You were... I don't know, better, you were beautiful. They only teased you so much because you were too perfect..."

Tom's heart twists and aches as he thinks about his words. He takes a step closer to you, his eyes full of sadness now.

"You know what? You're just... you are perfect. You're too good for me, I know that. But I can't help it... I need you, okay? I just... I can't stop thinking about you."

You sigh and cross your arms "Tom, make up your mind! You just told me I don't understand you, cause I don't know what it's like to have issues and now all of a sudden I'm so so perfect. What do you want? I didn't ask for you to come over! And I won't take you back tonight either!" You wonder what's going on with Tom, maybe he drank more than you thought...

Tom feels a pang of guilt as he remembers what he said to you. He was angry and hurt, and he said those things out of spite.

"I- I didn't mean that... I just... I'm so messed up, and I don't know what's wrong with me. I just want you back... I need you back. I need you in my life, okay?! I can't be without you."

"We broke up 2 weeks ago, Tom. You need to give it some time... you will get over me, come on" you mumble, you feel slightly bad but you're also still hurt.

Tom feels a pang in his heart as you say that he'll get over you. He steps even closer to you, his body mere inches away from yours now. He looks down at you with a pleading expression.

"I can't get over you... I've tried, I really have. But no matter what I do, you're always on my mind. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't think about anything else except you. You're all I think about, all the time... please, just give me another chance. I promise I'll be better, I'll do anything."

You sigh. Damn...what were you supposed to do?? You look away before you turn towards your room "I don't wanna talk no more. I'm so tired, Tom. Come on... let's get some sleep, ok?"

Tom feels a spark of hope in his heart as he sees you step towards your room. He follows after you, a small smile on his face. He's glad your letting him stay, even just for tonight.

"You're serious? I- I can sleep in your room?"

"Yeah... but just for tonight. I suppose it's too dangerous to drive back for you now anyway..." you bite your lip as you shake the pillow and the blanket up, just like you did when you two were still together. You get into bed and pull the blanket over yourself.

Tom's heart skips a beat as he watches you get into bed. It felt so familiar, bringing back all sorts of memories of when you were together. He can't help but smile, but he's also still feeling a pang of guilt.

"Yeah... it's really late, and I... I drank too much. I ... ugh... really can't drive back like this"

He slowly gets into bed beside you, trying not to get too close, but he's fighting the urge to just wrap his arms around you and pull you close.

You nod "mmm you gonna sleep in jeans?" You ask sleepily. Tom quickly unzips his pants and slowly slides them down, leaving him in just his boxers and t-shirt.

You smile as he pulls his jeans off. You move closer, the bed is rather small. U instinctively snuggle up to him "only tonight... let's say we didn't break up... but only for tonight" you whisper, not in your right mind as you grow more tired.

Tom's heart skips a beat as he feels you move closer, it feels like heaven.

"Yeah... just for tonight."

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer. He buries his face in your hair, taking in your scent and savoring the feeling of your body against his.

Suddenly small tears start to run down your cheek. You sniffle softly. You seriously feel so lonely ever since you have broken up... but you feel like you two don't work out and that you have to let him go.

Tom feels your tears on his chest and it breaks his heart. He gently runs his hand up and down your back, trying to offer some comfort. He thinks he's the cause of your pain, and he hates himself for it.

"Hey.. hey... don't cry... please, don't cry... okay? we're together, right? Just for tonight, but still... I'm sorry... I'm sorry I messed up... I'm a jerk, I know I am... but I'll be better, I swear, I'll be better for you..."

You cry softly. It hurts so much. It's late and you are getting emotional. You feel like you got no one in this world. You only had him... but that's over now too. His voice calms you down a little "right... i love you Tommy. I love you. I need you. I don't trust anybody but you"

Tom swallows, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I love you too... I love you so much. I can't live without you. I need you, I need you so much... I'll do anything... I'll do whatever it takes to have you back... I promise I'll be better... I swear..."

You breath shakily "Tommy... I don't know. I'm so scared we will fight and break up again. Maybe we're better apart. But I'm so stupid and I miss you, I can't sleep without you... I feel empty and... ugh... I love you" you mumble

Tom feels his heart shatter at your words. The thought of being apart from you scared him so much. He wraps his arms even tighter around you, pulling you as close as possible.

"No... don't say that... I don't want to be apart from you. I can't... I can't be without you. I feel the same... I can't sleep without you either, I can't eat, I can't think about anything else except you. I'm empty without you too... we can make it work, I know we can. Just give me another chance, please..."

I sigh shakily as he pulls you closer. This feels good. Your resistance is crumbling "mmm you promise? The two of us against everything else, right? And you will try to distance yourself from that train station gang? Tommy please... then i'll take you back"

Tom's heart skips a beat when he hears you say you'll take him back. He knows he has to make this promise, no matter how hard it is.

"I promise... I promise I'll distance myself from the gang. I'll do whatever it takes... just please, take me back... I need you, okay? I love you so much..."

He buries his face in your hair, holding you tightly.

You smile softly "ok" you whisper "then we're back together. I love you Tom. You and I forever, hm?" Your heart feels like it's ten times lighter

Tom feels tears welling up in his eyes as relief washes over him.

"Yeah.. you and me forever, ... y/n and Tom forever. Oh god... I love you so much. You have no idea how much I've missed you. I swear I'll be a better boyfriend now, I promise... "

He hugs you tighter, feeling happier than he's been in weeks

You giggle softly "nooo you're the best boyfriend already. I love you sooo much" you relax in his arms and close your eyes, feeling veeery tired after all.

Tom smiles, holding you close and rubbing your back.

"No, I could be better... I messed up, and that's why we were apart. I won't mess up again, I swear... I love you too... you're everything to me."

He kisses the top of your head, feeling so happy to have you back in his arms. He can't help but smile even more as he feels how close you are to him, how your body fits perfectly against his

You yawn "I kinda wish we could have sex to celebrate but I'm soooo tired, Tom" you can't even keep your eyes open at all. The way he soothes you with his hand on your back makes you so so sleepy.

Tom feels his heart skip a beat at the mention of sex, but he quickly pushes that thought away. He can see how tired you are, and he doesn't want to push you to do anything. He keeps rubbing your back, trying to lull you to sleep.

"Shhh... it's okay, it's okay... you're tired, and you need to sleep. It's okay, there's always tomorrow. We can celebrate properly tomorrow, okay?"

You hum softly "mmmm yeah" you whisper sweetly. It's working, he's lulling you to sleep. Before you know it, you have fallen asleep in his embrace.

Tom continues to rub your back, feeling you relax and slowly fall asleep in his arms. A soft smile spreads across his face as he watches you sleeping so peacefully, your head resting on his chest. He holds you close, savoring the feeling of having you in his arms once again.

He whispers in a soft voice, so as not to wake you.

"Sleep well, schatzi... I love you, baby."

--------

the End

[ikilledyvette]

(Part II of my seriously condensed 9-1-1 fic is here! Hope people enjoy, even though it's all a bit rushed!)

Part I

Sunday afternoon, Father’s Day. It’s always a hard day for Bobby, but usually, working helps him get through it. Today has been ... worse, and not just for him. Bobby finds Eddie on the couch, staring blankly into nothing. Bobby sits down beside him, a silent invitation to talk. Eddie doesn’t always take him up on it.

Today, Eddie says, “He hasn’t called,” and Bobby reminds him the day isn’t over yet. Eddie asks, “What if he doesn’t call?” and Bobby reminds him about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. 

“Every day you’re both alive is another chance to make things right,” Bobby says. “Don’t give up on tomorrow just yet, Eddie.”

Buck comes by then, and Eddie takes off to give the two some space. Buck says, “So, I had dinner with my parents the other night.” Bobby asks how it went, and Buck says, “Yeah, not great. They had, uh. A lot to say about me, you know. Going through a gay phase, or something. Wanting attention. Getting too old for, I don’t know. Making stuff up, I guess.”

Bobby nods. Cautiously, he says, “Sounds to me like they still don’t know you very well.”

Buck huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Thing is, everything they said ... it’s all stuff I’ve thought too, you know? Like, I’ve always done stupid things to get people’s attention. Their attention, Tommy’s. Yours. And if ... if what I’m feeling, who I am, is ... is real ... how could I have not known before, right? And I, I do know how I feel about Tommy—I like him so much, Bobby, you don’t even know—”

Bobby knows. Everyone knows. Buck’s joy is not subtle; it shines through him, a thing to behold.

“—but sometimes I still—” Buck breaks off and sighs. “Well, maybe that’s why I reacted so badly last night. Cause sometimes, I worry they’re right.”

“They’re not,” Bobby says immediately.

“How do you know that?”

And Bobby hesitates, not sure Buck is going to want to hear this right now. But still, he says, “Because I know you, kid.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, smiling a little. “You do. Bobby, I’m. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Cause that night we talked about Tommy? You didn’t ask me to, to explain myself, or suggest maybe I wasn’t thinking things through. You didn’t need me to prove anything. You just accepted it, Tommy and me. You accepted me.” Buck shakes his head. “I told this to Maddie once, but sometimes it’s easier to lash out at the person you know is always going to forgive you. My parents, that’s not them, never will be. But you, uh. You’re safe.”

Bobby swallows a little at that. He wants to be that person for Buck—but Bobby know he isn’t, can’t be. He’s the reason his family is dead; he’s the reason so many people are dead. 

“I know I hurt you,” Bobby says. “If I hadn’t left the way I did, Gerrard would never have been captain, and—”

“You think this is about Gerrard? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.” But Buck’s voice is teasing, lessening the sting. “Yeah, I mean, working under Gerrard was ... rough, for a lot reasons. But that’s not ... Hen was the one mad at you for that.”

Bobby is aware. Hen had forgiven him pretty quickly, but her attitude towards Bobby on his first day back had been ... cool, to say the least. Bobby understands why, had prepared himself for Hen’s anger, potentially Chimney’s, too. They both went through a lot, working under Gerrard the first time around. Bobby had expected them to be upset.

He’s not sure why he hadn’t expected Buck to be.

“I’m not mad about Gerrard,” Buck tells him. “I’m mad that you lied. You—you were saying goodbye all day, only we didn’t know, I didn’t know. And you just—you were just going to leave?”

“I didn’t want—”

“You didn’t want us to change your mind,” Buck says, now visibly upset. “You—you said goodbye, Bobby. I didn’t realize it then, what you were doing, but—if you were gone, if you left, and I could have done something to stop it, stop you from, from—"

And Bobby realizes suddenly that Buck isn’t just talking about Bobby quitting.

“Hey,” Bobby says. “Listen. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“For how long?” Buck asks, and it’s not mockery this time. It’s pleading. Anxious. Young. For as much Buck has been through, for as much progress he’s made over the last seven years, Bobby is struck every now and then by how young Buck still is.

“That’s not up to me,” Bobby says and points up, skyward, at the man upstairs. “And listen, Buck, I won’t deny I was ... I was in a pretty dark place a couple of months ago. I should’ve been more honest about that. But I’m here, and I mean to stay here as long as I can. Okay? I’m not going anywhere without a fight, I promise.”

Buck inhales, a deep, shuddery breath, and Bobby hugs him, and Buck hugs Bobby back. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says again. “I think, maybe. I think I’ve just been really scared.”

Bobby hugs him a little tighter and says, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, kid.”

Footsteps on the stairs interrupt them a few minutes later. “Not to break up this long overdue moment,” Chimney says, “but Buck, you’ve got another visitor.”

Buck turns with a little dread, expecting his parents and not sure he’s ready to face them just yet—but it’s Maddie. This time, it’s Bobby and Chimney who disappear downstairs to give the Buckley siblings some space.

Maddie tells Buck that their parents are flying home. “I told them to go,” she says. “And not to come back.”

“Chimney told you,” Buck realizes, resigned and more than a little annoyed.

“Of course, he did,” Maddie says. She’s slightly exasperated but mostly worried. “Why didn’t you?” 

She thinks he’ll say something about not wanting to ruin Maddie’s relationship with their parents or Jee Yun’s relationships with her grandparents, and Buck does lead with that. But mostly, Buck’s ashamed of how he petty it was, bringing up Daniel. “I didn’t want you to think that I, I resented him,” he says. “I really don’t, Maddie. He was just a kid, and he never got the chance to grow up and, and I wish I could’ve given him that chance. I wish I could’ve met the person he would’ve become.”

“I know,” Maddie tells him, and reminds him that it’s not his fault; it was never his responsibility to save Daniel. Buck says he doesn’t blame their mom for slapping him after what he said, and Maddie, steely, says, “Well, I do. For that, and also for how they talked to you—no, it’s not okay. What if Jee grows up and realizes she likes both boys and girls someday? I don't want Mom talking to her like that. Do you?"

Buck recoils a little, and Maddie nods. “Would you be okay if Mom ever hit Jee Yun?” she asks. “Even if she said something terrible? Even if she deserved it?”

“She could never deserve it,” Buck says, knowing what Maddie’s doing but unable to keep quiet, not when his sister looks so upset, not with the ghost of Doug so heavy in the air. He hates to think of how many times Doug must have told Maddie that she was to blame for everything he did to her. “But Maddie, I don’t think Mom or Dad would ever—”

“Maybe not,” Maddie says, “but that doesn’t make them safe. They screw up, and they always feel bad about it, but they never really apologize. They never put in the work. They just ... make excuses and expect that we’ll forgive them, but I think I’m done with that now. I’m done with relationships where it’s only my responsibility to try harder, to smooth things over, to say the right thing, to always forgive. Maybe someday, if Mom and Dad actually work on themselves, but for right now ..." Maddie shakes her head. "Enough is enough.”

Buck gets that, he does. But he admits he isn’t sure he’s ready to cut off his parents yet, isn’t sure he wants too. He still wants to keep trying, and Maddie says that’s okay. What matters is, they still have each other. And she won’t try to change his mind if he doesn’t try to change hers.

Buck offers her a pinky swear. Maddie smiles and hooks her finger around his.

*

Meanwhile, downstairs, a phone rings.

“Christopher?” Eddie says, and takes a few steps, turning away from everyone. 

It is Christopher. He calls to wish his dad a happy Father’s Day, but also to say he loves him, and while he’s not quite ready to come home yet, he still wants to come home, and maybe soon.

“I miss you,” Christopher tells him. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. But you have to stop lying to me.”

“I can do that,” Eddie promises.

“And go back to therapy.”

Eddie laughs. “Already on top of that one, bud. Maybe ... we could go together, sometime, when you come home?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says. “I’d like that. I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Chris,” Eddie says. He hangs up, takes a breath before turning around, and announces, “Christopher called!" as if everyone—including Maddie and Buck, leaning over the balcony—weren’t badly pretending not to eavesdrop.

Everyone cheers and rushes Eddie. 

“What did I tell you?” Bobby asks him. “What did I tell you?” Hen asks, too, and Eddie says, “Yeah, yeah,” to both of them, with wet eyes and a shaky, hopeful smile.

“This calls for champagne!” Chimney announces. “But since we’re all on duty ... cheap coffee and leftover Ding Dong, Gerrard is Gone cake it is!”

—All in all, it’s the best Father’s Day the 118 has had in a long, long time. 

(And that's it! Apologies, fellow Tommy fans, that he didn’t make it into Part 2—but you know. If Tommy’s at the fire house, who’s flying the plane? Actually, Tommy’s too busy babysitting Jee Yun, and—to both Buck and Chimney’s horror—introducing her to all the worst Star Wars movies. She loves them.)

Tag List @lavenderleahy @v88sy

[lottins-only]

I love you, it's ruining my life | Part V

pairing: Kylian x black!fem!Reader

word count: 4.5k

part one, part two, part three, part four

V. May 2024

She’d gotten the invitation in the mail a few weeks ago, a creamy white envelope announcing the upcoming wedding of Julien, a childhood friend from Bondy, to his fiancee of several years. Seeing his name on the paper had brought a smile to her face; it had been years since she’d seen him.

She’d be in Paris to visit her parents anyway, it would be a crime not to go.

She’d quickly written to him to say congratulations, and Julien had texted back a thank you. Moments later, he’d texted her something she’d expected. 

Not sure if you’re still in touch with Kylian, but if you can let him know about the wedding, that’d be great. We haven’t seen each other in ages!

Unsurprisingly, the response she’d gotten from Kylian was a firm and resounding no. 

“Why not?” She’d asked over the phone.

“Because of a lot of things, Y/N” There was a lot of chatter from Kylian’s end, she had caught him just as he’d entered the locker room after a grueling match. 

“Well, what are those things?” She’d asked. 

“I can’t just go to a wedding” He’d grumbled. “Haven’t been able to do that in years, in fact. I  have to think about bringing security and all that stuff”

She’d expected he’d say that, so her response was quick. “So bring your bodyguard. I’m sure Julien and his fiance won’t mind”

“And let someone leak a story to the press about how I’m a stuck up asshole who brings a hundred people with him everywhere he goes?” He’d snorted. “No thanks”

She’d rolled her eyes. “I don’t think anyone we grew up with would do that, Kylian”

“How would I know? I haven’t spoken to those people in years” 

“I haven’t either.”

“Exactly” He’d said. “Let’s just not go. It’s Ousmane’s birthday party that weekend  anyway. Actually, he said to tell you that you should come”

She’d frowned. “So you’d rather go to a party than to your childhood friend’s wedding?”

“It’s just a wedding Y/N” He’d said, his tone weary. “People get married all the time”

She couldn’t believe how mean and dismissive he was being.

“And get divorced all the time” He’d continued, letting out a humorless chuckle. “The stats on that are crazy, actually. Someone should let Julien know”

“What? Kylian, that’s so harsh. Why are you talking like that?” She was starting to get angry now.

“I’m not being harsh. Just honest” He’d said “Look, the last thing I need right now is to go to a public event, okay? I’m sick of people asking me about where I’ll be next year, and I’m sure as hell sick of having a hundred cameras pointed at me”

“Ok, then.” She said, her irritation evident in her voice. “You have fun at the party. I’ll go to the wedding.”

“But–”

“Tell Ousmane happy birthday for me”

He’d paused before responding with a resigned “Fine”

They hung up after that, goodbyes curt. She didn’t know what was going on with him, but he’d been very tired and irritable lately. He called less and less, and took longer to text back whenever she reached out.  She suspected it had to do with his contract with PSG, which she knew was nearing its end, but they didn’t speak about things like that. If he had news, he’d tell her. So far he hadn’t said anything, which meant things were probably still up in the air and it was troubling him. She’d chalked it up to that, and was therefore able to quickly move on from the conversation. 

The day of the wedding arrived, and Y/N found herself at the crowded venue of the wedding reception, wearing a silky blue dress she’d bought a long time ago but had saved for an occasion like this. She was seated next to Manon, a girl who used to live two doors down from her, and Anna, who she knew was Kylian’s first kiss and who she’d consequently been very envious of as a pre-teen. It was great catching up with the two and reminiscing about the old days. It turned out Manon worked in marketing while Anna was a tattoo artist. 

“So, are you and Kylian still friends?” Anna asked, taking a sip from her drink. The toasts had been made, and dinner had been eaten. They were now watching the bride and groom take the floor for their first dance. 

“Yeah” She said. “We’re still friends”

“Well, wave him over then. He looks like he’s lost” Anna nodded towards something behind her. 

Y/N whirled in her seat. Sure enough there was Kylian, his head down, weaving his way through the tables. People looked up to stare with hushed gasps as he passed by them. Y/N raised her arms to wave, and thankfully his bodyguard noticed and started guiding Kylian towards their table. 

“Hi” Kylian said, smiling tightly as he pulled a chair and took a seat.

“Hi” She said. “I thought you weren’t coming”

He shrugged. “You were mad at me”

“And I was right to be” She said, smiling despite herself. He looked handsome, she could tell he’d gotten a fresh cut. 

“Sure” He rolled his eyes before turning to their tablemates. Anna and Manon were briefly starstruck as he greeted them, as if they forgot they’d grown up with him. The initial awkwardness wore off quickly though, and before long they were all chatting animatedly. 

“Remember when you two–” Manon chuckled,  gesturing between Kylian and Anna.

“Ah, yes. When we dated for a whopping two days in the seventh grade” Anna laughed. “I do remember that” 

Kylian laughed along with her, shaking his head in embarrassment. 

Y/N couldn’t help but snicker. “Two days? What happened?”

Kylian opened his mouth to respond but Anna beat him to it. “We kissed one day, and then the next day was valentine's day. I found out he gave you a card, while I got nothing. So I dumped him”

Y/N gasped, elbowing Kylian. “Oh my god, I remember that. Those anonymous valentine’s cards we did in class. That was the first year someone sent me one, I was dying to find out who it was. I didn’t know it was you”

“Oh, we all knew” Manon said while Anna nodded in agreement. 

“Everyone knew he had a crush on you”  Anna said. “At least everyone except for me. I found out after the whole card thing”

Kylian said nothing, keeping his eyes trained on the bride and groom as they swayed. 

“Okay, so what happened after that?” Y/N pressed. She was flushed. If only her twelve year old self had that information. “Did you two ever talk again?”

Kylian finally turned to her, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Not really. I acted like it never happened” He grimaced at Anna. “Sorry about that, by the way”

Anna laughed. “You were the ultimate heartbreaker, Kylian!”

He chuckled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made Y/N’s heart skip. “Yeah, well, I got my karma back, don't worry.”

“What do you mean?” Anna asked curiously. 

He hesitated before answering. “I’ve had my fair share of heartbreaks, is all”

Y/N looked down at her lap, idly fiddling with her jewelry. The cynic within her had convinced her that Kylian didn’t care for her in that way. She’d allowed herself to believe he wanted her only for her body, just another fleeting fling in a long line of them. But his behavior over the past couple of months had made it clear that her own insecurities had clouded her judgment. She had the person she cherished most right in front of her—the boy she had loved since she was twelve—and yet she had pushed him away.

As she watched the bride and groom twirl, doubt grew inside of her. Was that kind of love even possible for her? Could she ever meet someone she cared for as deeply as she did for Kylian? The thought felt almost laughable. In her heart of hearts she knew that there would never be anyone else who could fill that space in her life.

Suddenly, the DJ switched to an upbeat song and people started to flock to the dance floor, eager to join the bride and groom. Manon and Anna went off as well, leaving just the two of them at the table. 

Y/N nudged Kylian gently.“Dance with me?”

He looked at her with an apologetic look, wordlessly shaking his head no. He looked tense, evidently very aware of being in public. 

Y/N visibly deflated. She wanted to be in on all the fun, but Kylian clearly wasn’t up for it. Oh, well. He did come here for me. I don’t need to make him even more uncomfortable, she thought. 

She smiled tightly at him, hoping he couldn’t see her disappointment. But of course he did. 

He hesitated before grabbing her hand and standing up, pulling her out of her chair. “Let’s go”

She grinned, her heart fluttering as  they made their way to the dance floor. Sometimes, when he did things like this purely to make her happy, the walls she’d built around her feelings for him would break down, sending her heart into a joyful spin.

They got to dancing, laughter bubbling between them as she playfully teased him about his abysmal dancing skills. 

“You just want me to be publicly humiliated huh?” He grumbled, a mock pout on his face. 

Just then, the song changed to a slow ballad. They froze, exchanging uncertain glances. It was only couples around them now, slowly moving to the romantic song playing. 

“What now?” Kylian asked, his voice low.

She stepped closer, wordlessly wrapping her hands around his neck. Her breath hitched when she felt his hands land on her hips.  They swayed to the song,  shifting their eyes  away from each other whenever their eye contact got too intense. His fingertips on her hips felt like they weighed tons. She wondered if he wanted to kiss her; she knew she’d let him if he tried. She’d fantasized about it more times than she could count.

Suddenly, she bumped into someone’s back. They’d been so focused on each other they’d completely lost track of their surroundings, it seemed. She turned around, ready to apologize, but froze when she saw who it was.

“Lucas?” She said incredulously. 

He had a different haircut than the last time she saw him, but it was definitely him.

Kylian's grip on her tightened slightly. “You’ve got to be kidding me” He muttered under his breath.

Lucas’ eyes lit up in recognition. “Y/N, wow. How are you?”

“I’m good” She said, forcing a smile.“ Crazy running into you here”

He smiled a fake smile, pointing to his dance partner, who she hadn’t noticed until then. “My girlfriend is co-workers with the bride”

She greeted his girlfriend, who was nice enough. 

“So you two finally got together, huh?” Lucas said. Y/N could tell he’d had a little bit too much to drink by the way he was swaying on his feet.  He leaned closer to Kylian, making it known the next part was just for him. “Better have her on a tight leash,  or she’ll start emotionally cheating on you”

Kylian recoiled at his words. “That’s not a bigger red flag than breaking up with a person over the phone, or thinking of women as animals you put a leash on” He gave a pointed look to Lucas’ partner. “He’s in the habit of doing that, by the way”

Poor girl looked like she wanted to disappear. 

Y/N felt disgusted. “Can we not do this here?” she said to Lucas. “It’s a wedding.”

Lucas shrugged, unfazed. “Just looking out for the guy. He should know what he’s getting into.”

Kylian stepped closer, a protective stance forming. “She can speak for herself, Lucas. And right now, she’s not interested in your opinion.”

Y/N suddenly noticed that some of the wedding guests had their eyes on them, clearly having noticed Kylian on the dance floor. They had their phones out, no doubt ready to send social media ablaze with pictures of Kylian and a ‘mystery woman’. Without thinking, she stepped away from Kylian and his hands fell away from her hips. 

He gave her a hurt look, confusion etched on his face.  “Y/N…”

“There you go!” Lucas laughed. “She doesn’t even want you to touch her”

Kylian gave Lucas the dirtiest look she’d ever seen him give to someone. “Fuck you” 

He turned on his heel and strode away without waiting for a response, his bodyguard trailing closely behind him adding a dramatic effect.

She made to follow him, but he disappeared into the crowd quickly. She turned to Lucas angrily. 

“You’re disgusting, you know”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she stormed off. 

She found him taking pictures with a group of people, dimples and charisma on full display. Someone even pulled out a jersey—though she couldn’t quite fathom why someone would bring that to a wedding. Still, he signed it with a gracious smile, effortlessly charming everyone around him.

“Kylian” She said as she stepped closer. “Can we talk?”

“Sure” He said, his smile fading slightly as he excused himself from the group. 

“Look, I’m really sorry” She said. “It’s not that I don't want to be seen with you or anything. It’s just –”

“No, it’s fine” He said unconvincingly. 

“It’s not fine” She said earnestly. “That was really inconsiderate of me. Especially since you were standing up to that asshole for me. Thank you for that, by the way”

He shrugged. “That’s what he deserved” 

My sweet Kylian, she thought.

She enveloped him in a hug, taking in the smell of his cologne. He hugged her back, albeit somewhat hesitantly. She could tell something was still bothering him.

“Kylian, are you okay?” She asked, pulling away. “You’ve seemed off for a while now”

“I’m okay” He said, looking at the ground. “Just a bit stressed is all”

She looked at him empathetically. “Tell me”

“Well, for starters, I shouldn’t be in public right now”

She frowned, feeling guilty. “I know, it’s a lot–”

“No, it’s not just that. That I can prepare myself for.” He said. “It’s because there’s a video announcing my departure from PSG that’s going to be released–” He paused to look at his watch. “-- In about 20 minutes, so…”

She stared incredulously. “What?”

“I said there’s a video–”

“You’re leaving PSG?” She said in a hushed yet raised tone.

“Yes” He affirmed.

“And it’s going to be announced in 20 minutes?” 

“Yes” He repeated. 

“And you’re in a packed wedding full of proud Parisians” She stated the obvious. “One week after crashing out of the Champions League”

He nodded, then yelped when she smacked his arm. 

“Kylian, why the hell did you come?” 

“Because I wanted to make you happy” He said simply, rubbing his arm.

She didn’t know whether to smack him again or kiss his beautiful lips. She decided on neither.

“Let’s get out of here then” She said, already dragging him to the exit. “Before the video is released and all hell breaks loose”

“But we haven’t even talked to Julien!”

“You’ll send him an expensive gift” She said, sounding determined. 

He chuckled, letting her lead the way.

They were in his car, his driver speeding away from the wedding venue. She watched him look out the window, the city lights casting a yellow glow over his skin. He looked less stressed, but she still thought there was something going on with him.

“So, where are you going?” 

“Hmm?” He pulled his eyes away from the window, seemingly jolted out of his thoughts. 

“Where are you going to play next?” She asked.

“Take a guess”

“Uh, let’s see, Leeds United?” She teased. 

He rolled his eyes. “You know where”

She squealed, launching herself across the backseat to give him yet another hug. “Real Madrid? Oh my god! Congratulations, Ky”

“Thanks” He giggled, hugging her back tightly. “I’m really excited”

“You should be! This is your childhood dream” She pulled back to look at him, her eyes wide with excitement. “Remember that winter you abandoned me to go visit them?”

“Well you’re getting back at me for that now” He said with a sad smile.

“Hm?”

“You’re moving back here” He clarified. “While I’m going there. You’re the one doing the abandoning this time”

“Oh” She said, understanding. “About that, I, uh–I’m not moving anymore”

He froze. “What?”

 “ I mean, I was going to, but… things changed. I got a promotion at my job, and the pay raise means I actually get more than what I’d earn at the new job here, so I told them I’m not gonna go for it”

He lets out a strange laugh. It’s near hysterical, but it stops as abruptly as it starts. “So you’re not moving back? You’re staying in Madrid?”

“Yes” She said slowly. “I’m staying in Madrid”

“Cool” He fidgets in his seat, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest “Great”

He looked out the window again, then turned back to her, his face breaking into a huge grin.

“What?” She giggled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just really happy you’re staying” 

“Why?” She knew why, she just wanted to hear him say it.

“I wanted better for Luna” He exhaled loudly, as if this was a concerning issue he’d thought long and hard about. “ I hear the cat food here sucks”

She burst out laughing. She didn’t know what, but she could tell something just shifted between them. 

“You know, I haven’t been back in a while” He said. “To Bondy”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” He said thoughtfully. “You just reminded me, when you mentioned that time I went to visit Madrid”

“Why don’t we stop by?” She said, her eyes lighting up. 

He paused for a moment, contemplating. 

“I don’t have anywhere else to be. Let’s do it” He said finally. 

He told his driver, and they went on their way. They sat in silence for most of the drive to the suburbs, both lost in their own thoughts.

“Oh!” Kylian’s eyes lit up suddenly. He pulled something from the console. “I forgot to give you this”

“What is it?”

“Belated graduation gift” He said as he handed her a small gift bag. She’d graduated from her masters program a couple weeks ago.

She beamed,  pulling out a jewelry box from the bag. “You didn’t have to” She cooed.

“Liar”

“You’re right, I love gifts” She grinned.

Her eyes widened when she revealed the pair of earrings. “ Kylian, wow” 

She looked at him in disbelief as she held up the jewelry delicately. “They’re so beautiful”

“I got them from Cameroon, when I visited last year” He explained. 

There was a card nestled amongst the wrapping of the earrings, small enough that she almost missed it. 

“Oh, there’s a card” She said as she picked it up.

Kylian’s eyes widened, reaching out to take it from her hand. “Wait, no—”

She leaned away from him to avoid his grasp, her smile almost fading as she read what was written:

“Y/N,

I don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but right now I’m in Cameroon, and I’m heartbroken. 

Maman thinks I should call you. Tchaga and all the others think I’m annoying because all I do is sulk.

We visited a traditional market today. I saw these earrings, and I thought of you immediately. They’re made by female artisans, which I think you’ll like.

 I love you, I think it’s ruining my life.

–K”

She looked up, the last sentence reverberating in her head, almost drowned out by the pounding of her heart. 

She didn’t know what to say, just looked at Kylian, who was avoiding her gaze.

“I forgot that was there” He said quietly. 

The car came to a halt just then, and Kylian’s driver let them know that they’d arrived at their destination.

They found themselves at the park they frequented as children, where they spent countless afternoons and evenings. They took a seat on a bench, facing a gaggle of children playing football. The park was otherwise empty save for a couple other wanderers, which was unusual for a summer’s evening. Y/N wasn’t  complaining though; fewer people meant less chances of Kylian being spotted.

They seemed out of place in their formal clothes; her in her silk maxi dress, and him in his suit.  She stole glances of his side profile as they watched the kids’ game, marveling at his beauty: his big brown eyes, the strong nose he’d inherited from his mother, and those pink, pouty lips. More than 10 years of knowing him and yet he still managed to take her breath away.

He turned to her suddenly. “What’s on your mind?”

She decided to be honest. “I was thinking about how pretty you are”

“Pretty?” He chuckled.

“Yeah. Pretty” 

“Don’t think anyone’s used that word to describe me before” He said.

“Well I have” She said. “Many times before – in my head”

“Me too,” He admitted, his gaze warm. “I’ve called you pretty. Also many times —in my head.”

She grinned at him. It was impossible not to. “Speaking of pretty, I want to try those earrings!”

She pulled them from their box, quickly removing the ones she was already wearing and carefully putting on the new pair. Kylian took an exaggerated double take, his eyes widening. “Qué hermosa!” 

She snorted. “ Working on your Spanish, I see”

“I’m already fluent, cherie” He winked at her as he pulled out his phone and quickly snapped a picture of her. 

A loud cheer erupted from the kids; someone had just scored a goal. Y/N and Kylian briefly turned their attention back to the game, smiling at the infectious joy of the kids as they rushed to one another for a group hug. The celebrations gradually faded, and the children returned to their positions to continue the game.

She swallowed hard. “Did you mean that?”

“Mean what?” Kylian dragged his eyes away from the game. It didn’t matter if it was being played by a bunch of 10 year olds, football was still his favorite thing. It was quite endearing, actually. 

“What you wrote on the card” She said quietly. 

“Yes” He met her eyes. “I do”

“What did you mean– what do you mean when you said it’s ruining your life?” She asked.

He took a deep breath before answering. He had a pained look on his face. “It’s just – I don’t know, it feels like torture sometimes, not having you. First it was the whole time you were with Lucas when I was pining after you, and then it felt like I had you, but you ran away. Let me tell you, those couple months after that when we weren’t speaking were the worst of my life.” He took a shaky breath. “And whatever we are now, just friends, it’s never going to be enough”

“Kylian..”

“And I was speaking to Papa” He continued, ignoring her. He scooted closer to her, eyes so intense. “He told me to take a leap of faith. To cut out all the bullshit and tell you I love you.  So here I am, I guess. I want you to tell me what you truly want. Not what you think you should want, or what other people want for you. What you really, really want. Because if it’s me? I’m all in, Y/N” 

He took her hand, gently opening up her palm. “Because you’ve had my heart here” He traced his index finger over her palm. “Ever since I met you at my birthday party all those years ago. It’s always been you for me. There will never be anyone else”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately,  lifting his hand that was on hers to her lips and kissing his trembling fingers. “Just so you know, I’ve wanted you as long as I’ve known you. And you’re right, maybe all of the excuses I was telling you and myself were lies. Because I was scared. I thought if we did this and it didn’t work out, I’d end up losing you forever. I didn’t want that, Ky. But how would we know if we don’t try? We have to try, right?” She paused. “I really want to try”

Kylian let out a relieved laugh at her words. They were so close to each other, their faces mere inches apart. He cupped her face with his hands, caressing her cheeks in a way only he could. She closed her eyes, basking in his touch. She felt gentle kisses on each of her eyelids.

“Yes” She heard him murmur. “I want to try”

They closed what little distance was between their lips, kissing passionately. All the tension, all the unspoken feelings that had been brewing for ages seemed to dissolve in that moment. It felt like releasing air after holding her breath for a long time. It felt like relief.

“Wait, there’s someone taking pictures” Kylian muttered as he pulled away.

“I don’t care” She said, chasing his lips with hers.

To her annoyance, he pulled away again. “But you–”

“I said I don’t care” She mumbled, kissing him again. She felt him smile against her lips.

They left the park after the game ended, satisfied and at peace. Hands intertwined, lips swollen from kissing. She thought about the kids that they used to be, the ones who used to run to the very same park everyday after school. Oh how they’ve grown,  how they’ve changed. 

Inside the car, she turned to him, her heart steadying after a long while of drumming loudly. “So, what now?”

His gaze was unwavering. “ No more running away.”

"No more running away" She repeated softly, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes.

A/N: Aaand thats it folks. hope you like this last part <3 i'm working on an epilogue though so stay tuned for that. as always lmk what you think in the comments or in my inbox. thank you for reading!

tags: @kyliansonlygf @ynkfreeastheocean @scottishthistle @user6373738 @lucysantos6-blog @tuliptopiasstuff @kennasutopia @cinderellawithashoe @akiracim @kymb-10 @germanapples @ariesmai @edgyficuselastica

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Yuugiroku 2 Drama CD - Undelivered Letters, Uncommunicated Hearts Eng translation

Well, I figured since it's Hakuoki's 16th anniversary, I'd look for something with Hakuoki in it, and the person who gave him that name, even if it's stupid (there's usually a lot of stupidity in Yuugiroku associated things imo)... so I settled on translating this drama since it was the first one I saw in my files that was most definitely not in the 20-30min range, though this is probably around 15 minutes long... which likely contributed to how long it felt to translate (more than 100 lines in this!).

Also, as of right now, I'm not sure if I'll work on the crossover stuff right now or put that off until October (trying to figure out my schedule since I do want to finish off the last of the Deemo content and I know that I'll be ignoring everything once Veilguard comes out)... going to look for something short to see if I can work on something that I'll be be to put out faster to make up for my missing my normal postings.

Anyway, enjoy~!

Hakuoki Yuugiroku 2 Store Bonus Drama CD - Undelivered Letters, Uncommunicated Hearts English translation

Translation by KumoriYami

(door opens)

Souji: Hijikata-san~ you free~?

Hijikata: Souji….! Didn't I tell... to not just barge into another person's room without knocking?

Souji:….You're still as petty as before~

Hijikata: Ha?

Okita: Regardless of how many times you remind me, I still forget. So Hijikata-san, I'd like you to tell me again next time~

Hijikata: Don't you always knock when you go to Kondou-san's room?

Okita: Ahaha~ that's seriously unimaginable. Ah, rather than that, this is for you.

Hijikata: What is it... a letter... who sent it?

Okita: Well… there's no sender's name written on it. One of the neighbour kids said that he was asked by someone to deliver this.

Hijikata: Why does one of the neighbour kids have a letter a letter addressed to me?

Okita: I don't know. That kid had been asked by someone to deliver this. The other person apparently said something about "help me deliver this to the man in the Shinsengumi with long hair" or something. I can only think of someone with long hair who receives letters from outsiders as Hijikata-san.

Hijikata: But, none of the people I know would send me a letter through a child. Additionally, I believe there is another person here who has long hair... Let me see... "To my wife/My wife"...

Okita: Areh... how strange, Hijikata-san, you're still a bachelor/single, aren't you?

Hijikata: Even if I was married, I wouldn't be a "wife"! What the hell is wrong with this letter?

Okita: Nn... there are no married women at headquarters.

Hijikata: In the first place, there aren't any women! Besides, temples are generally off-limits to women.

Okita: That's right~ though there is a girl disguised as a man here. Areh, do you think she'll [no pronoun here] be struck by lightning for doing that?

Hijikata: What, Souji, what the hell are you saying, they should be a boy, right?

Okit: It doesn't matter to us, but I wonder if the gods and Buddhas will see through it? And this place is inside a temple.

Hijikata: Generally speaking, even if the gods and Buddhas know the truth, they would not punish a girl for living here. Even the gods and Buddhas would not do such a petty thing.

Okita: Hmph, as expected of Hijikata-san, you're really good at confusing right and wrong/turn black into white [idiom here]. Stop talking nonsense and read the letter.

Hijikata: You were the one who first changed the subject! Seriously...

......

Hijikata: Ah………………

Okita: Hm…………………………

Hijikata: Well………… how do I put this………… the handwriting is quite elegant and beautiful………………

Okita: The handwriting is quite beautiful…………………………

Hijikata:……Actually what's written is incomprehensible…………

Okita:……I can read it, but I can't understand what he wants to say when I read it…………

Hijikata: Hmm… This tone of this is humble on the surface, but its inner contempt is really headache inducing...

Okita: It uses a very arrogant approach, as if it's from someone standing on top of a mountain and looking down over the world…

Hijikata: In other words, this letter is a challenge…?

Okita: You know… generally speaking, those kind of letters are not written to a “wife”, are they…

Hijikata: Well... I can understand the sentence "I'll be waiting for you under the cedar tree behind Nishi Honganji Temple" at the end of the letter…

Okita: I can only understand that sentence. Anyway, let’s go and check it out, if the writer of this letter is waiting there, we can ask him for the details.

Hijikata:...Souji, just in case, I'd like to make sure, if this is a trap set to assassinate us, what should we do?

Okita: Needless to say, of course, we catch the other person and pay them back by giving them a taste of what assassination is. I don't believe that anyone in Kyoto will be able to escape from me and Hijikata-san, right?

Hijikata: Hmph, let's go and confirm this then.

....

(Hijikata and Okita arrive at the designated location)

Hijikata: I remember the appointed time, it should be the evening, right?

Okita: The other person should be here by now~

(footsteps)

???: You two, why are you here?

Okita: You are... Kazama Chikage!

Hijikata: Are you the guy who wants to assassinate us?

Kazama: What nonsense are you saying now?

Okita: What do you think, Hijikata-san?

Hijikata: From his confused expression, it doesn't look like he was seriously coming here…

Kazama: Hey! What are you talking bout! Answer my question first! Why are you two here?!

Hijikata: You're still as arrogant as ever. It's not like we came here by choice. It's just that headquarters received a strange letter and since we couldn't leave it alone, we came to check it out.

Kazama: A strange letter?

Okita: They asked us to meet here in the evening. They other party wanting to assassinate us - we have to prepare for the worst/we even prepared for the worst case scenario.

Hijikata: Were you the guy that sent the letter?

Kazama: Che, you're really good at framing others. Besides, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't even have to use such a troublesome method like writing a letter. I would just go ahead and kill you. could just kill you directly.

Okita: In fact, you've attacked us before.

Kazama: The Aizu Domain, which the Shinsengumi answer to, and the Satsuma Domain, which I am lending a hand to, are currently in a cooperative relationship for the time being, and if it weren't for something directly related to that girl, I wouldn't have bothered to pay any attention to you.

Hijikata: So that's how it is.

Kazama: (...That stupid brat... I clearly told him to give the letter to the girl with "her hair tied up high, whose beauty is reflected in her radiant smile, with her petite figure that exudes a sense of gentleness that remains untarnished like a delicate flower while being surrounded by the filth of the Shinsengumi,” and yet he…)

Hijikata: Huh? What the hell are you mumbling about? Did you hear what he said, Souji?

Okita: I heard it… Ha…It's not for a game of communication, so why did you have to say such complicated things to a kid…

Kazama: Shut up! Keep your mouth shut!

Hijikata: Anyway, if this letter wasn’t written for an assassination plot, then it must be some kind of confidential document, right?

Okita: So that's how it is~~~ So you’re saying that it was purposefully written to be hard to understand to hide important information? Now that you mention it, the letter does feel like a cipher.

Kazama: You think that letter is hard to understand? What do you mean?

Hijikata: Even if you ask what that means, it’s difficult to explain that right away…

Okita: Hey, Hijikata-san, the Satsuma Domain and the Shinsengumi are in a cooperative relationship right now, so if Kazama has nothing to do with this letter, it should be fine to read it to him, right?

Hijikta: Huh?

Okita: (Think about it, if this is unrelated to that child, Kazama is unlikely to resort to force. Let's forget about it this time.) Well~ if Kazama wrote this letter to that child, it's a different story.

Kazama: (awkward laughter, sounding extremely unconfident) Ha... ha, ahhahahaha... the one named Okita, what you said is quite interesting. There’s no way I’d write a letter to that girl, and even if I did, how could it end up in your hands.

Hijikata: That's true. The oni appear to be much more capable than humans.

Kazama: Heh… You are quite smart, Hijikata.

Okita: Then, perhaps Kazama will understand the meaning behind this letter, so I'll read it out loud. This is a rare opportunity , and I'd love to hear Kazama's opinions~

Kazama: Huh~ I can guess what the contents of that letter are. Fine, never mind it, just read it out loud and show how elegantly it's been written.

Okita: Pfft, ahahahahaha~!

Hijikata: Sorry to disappoint you, there’s nothing interesting about this letter.

Kazama: Wh-What...!?

Okita: (opens letter) Nn... "In welcoming the early summer breeze, and listening to the music from the festivals, my wife's heart must thumping with joy."...

Kazama: Heh. How poetic. The content clearly reflects the writer's intellect, doesn’t it?

Hijikata: Referring to someone who isn’t even their wife as “my wife” just shows that this person is delusional.

Kazama: Kuh...!!

Okita: "I'm sure that within my wife's heart, a wish has begun to form, and if you are willing to lower your head and beg me to fulfill it, I may grant/fulfill it as your husband."....… Eh, I have absolutely no idea what he’s trying to say with this statement.

Kazama: That’s because your reading comprehension is terrible.

Hijikata: Then... do you understand what it means?

Kazama: Of course. This is a letter inviting the other party to a festival.

Hijikata:……Why not just say that from the start!!!

Kazama: What? You are a fool who doesn't know what love is.

Hijikata: I’m telling you, no one in the world would interpret this as “I'm going through the trouble of inviting you to a festival"!!!

Okita: The whole "music from festivals" thing is completely unrelated! Moreover, what’s with the "lower your head and beg me"? Is this an invitation to the other person, or a threat?

Kazama: What are you not convinced by? That was a high-class invitation.

Hijikata: Stop talking nonsense! I don't know which idiot wrote this, but how could anyone write a letter like this to a woman/their wife [the word here can be translated to either "woman" or "wife"]!

Okita: Yeah, that’s impossible~ they're blindly arrogant, and totally off-topic~

Kazama: You two bastards… to actually join forces…

Hijikata: Huh? What's wrong with you?

Okita: We weren't saying that Kazama is an idiot~ right, Hijikata-san?

Hijikata: That's right, we’re just saying that “this letter wasn’t written by a normal person.” If you’re really trying to invite a girl, instead of spouting nonsense, why not just outright say, “Let’s go to the festival together”? That's what a decisive man would do [I think?].

Kazama:......Hmph.... But, it's impossible for a simple letter to convey the depth of one's admiration.

Okita: Hei~ But even if there was a lot of long-winded and superfluous content, I'm afraid that nothing would be expressed either.

Hijikata: Right, this letter is a perfect example of that. No, it's more like a bad example.

Kazama: You need to understand that this letter conveys the love the love for a wife!! What’s wrong with this love letter!?

Souji: Ah~ this was supposed to be a love letter?

Hijikata: You’ve got to be kidding!!!

Kazama: What is there to be surprised about?

Okita: It's because it says things like "be honoured to walk beside me," and "I'm willing to hold your hand if you want me to," all of which are things that would make the other person completely hate them.

Kazama:...Ha-Hate...!?

Hijikata: If they sincerely like the other person, before boasting about themselves with a contemptuous tone, they need to show respect for the other person first! They should clearly state what they like about her! Even a three-year-old could do that!!!

Okita: If this is really a love letter, I really want to give some advice to the person that wrote it.

Kazama:......Uh......I see/Is that so……

Hijikata: Speaking of which, Kazama! You are you here?

Kazama: Hmph, of course I just happened to bee passing by here. My apologies, but I don't have time to play around with you anymore.

Hijikata:...Hey, hey, Kazama!

Kazama: Although I really want to say "remember this", it's fine if you forget about today! Goodbye!

(Kazama runs off)

Okita:...Ah, he ran away.

Hijikata: He fled way surprisingly quickly.

Okita: What can I say, the truth about humans can be extremely harsh. If he still doesn’t understand what's going on after all that, he’s frighteningly stupid, right, Hijikata-san?

Hijikata: It was just because I couldn't stand him doing something to that guy. In any case, Kazama will probably stay quiet for a while now.

Okita: Areh? Could it be that you were aware of the truth?

Hijikata: Well, what exactly is the truth.

Okita: Is that why you were playing dirty to protect that child?

Hijikata: Don't make such a disgusting smile, Souji. I just don't want him doing anything because Yukimura Chizuru is nothing more than a member under the Shinsengumi's jurisdiction/is someone under the care of the Shinsengumi [could also be interpreted as being "a member of the Shinsengumi], so don't make any weird speculations.

Okita: As expected of Hijikata-san, for the purpose of protecting a girl, you willingly transform into a demon.

Hijikata: Didn't I tell you to stop talking nonsense!...... Hey, Souji... you actually knew the truth from the beginning, did that on purpose, right! ?

Okita: Hahahaha~ then let's run back to headquarters~! (runs off)

Hijikata: Hey~!!! Stop right there!! Stop running!!

(runs)

....

...

Hijikata Toshizou, Miki Shinchiro

Okita Souji, Morikubo Shotaro

Kazama Chikage, Tsuda Kenjiro

---END---

image from suruga-ya.... and this took a lot longer than I thought it would, mainly on account of Kazama. It's quite difficult to translate his parts unfortunately since they have significantly more words in one sentence.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

so my brother just asked me how many millimetres are in a centimetres, and yesterday he asked me what 5½ inches is in centimetres, and i just want to know what about me made him think id know conversions.

yes, i have a lot of eclectic information in my brain, but its never useful stuff like conversions. theres a reason my friends labelled me the resident mormon expert, and not the one you go to for useful stuff.

[inniave]

pharmacies should automatically give you (or at the very least offer) naloxone any time you get an opioid prescription

[mediumsizedpidegon]

I feel like naruto doesn't get into the fact that naruto had literally no one give a shit about him until like. iruka-sensei? And sure, he was in an orphanage but then we learn that he's had the APARTMENT HE LIVES ALONE IN AS A TWELVE YEAR OLD CHILD THAT THE ENTIRE VILLAGE DESPISES since he was 4 or 5 i think (i will not check this. the timeline of naruto is dumb and makes me cry). and even in orphanage it isn't like the staff there were treating him right. why else would be given his own apartment by the hokage when he's four? i know they let sasuke stay in the house of his dead family and let itty bitty kakashi live alone after his father died but they are The Last Loyal Uchiha and a prodigy respectively. the rules are different compared to naruto himself, i believe.

Like, yeah– Naruto is loud and brash because he wants attention– and never has it unless he provokes others– and almost certainly neurodivergent (I think he has ADHD and depression). He doesn't know any of the theory behind being a shinobi, doesn't even know what chakra is. But Naruto has been criminally neglected, socially isolated and if not physically abused by some people in the village then certainly threatened with it often at the least. I'm more on the side that says that the ANBU can't stop everything and that by ditching them all the time Naruto actually ends up in more Very Bad situations but that aside:

I genuinely believe that Naruto would not know how to read when canon started. I think he doesn't how to use a washing machine (he washes his clothes in the Naka river because no laudromats will accept him). I think he holds his chopsticks wrong. I think he has half-picked up ANBU handsigns and how to mimic other people's voices to an eerie degree but he doesn't know a single thing about nutrition besides what can be obviously observed and tested (ie, if I don't eat something green at least once a week my body will Not Like It). I think he doesn't know ANYTHING about medical care except "if it's popped out, shove it back in the socket," or "wrap it in cloth scraps."

He's can be so quiet and stealthy that the ANBU lose sight and sound of him but he doesn't think unconditional love exists. Or at least, not for him.

I desperately want to see more of a Naruto that is brash and loud and loving and hopeful, yes, but also, once you peel back some layers, extremely eerie. Naruto is an orphan that raised himself in a village that would leave him dead in a ditch at the first opportunity: he is a child that raised himself in enemy territory. He is a child seen as a beast to the ordinary and a weapon to the higher ups. and do you know what people do to beasts and weapons that are unruly and too smart or lazy and useless? they put them down.

there is no way that Naruto is unaware of this. he's a child, but children can be perceptive and Naruto has to be to survive. And it's not like the village is being subtle. so. I want to see a Naruto that is so so aware that the ANBU are both to protect him and destroy him, that the hokage might hesitate, but no one else will. So: here is Naruto, who is a child who is a monster who doesn't want to be put down. who has to be cheerful and stupid and harmless enough to not be a threat, and strong and naive enough to not be useless.

just. just. a Naruto that has had to learn everything on his own, through trial and error, people-watching and his own common sense (naruto's sense is NOT common). And he's good at it because he has to be. He's a mimic through and through– he learns much from the ANBU and the vendors in their market stalls and the conversations that families share with each other. But the problem with being the outsider looking in is that sometimes you fail to see the context. meaning that Naruto has a SHIT TON of just. objective incorrect ideas of why certain things are the way they are. and it's not his fault– his conclusions are completely logical with what he has on hand, but the point is that he doesn't have all the information and he never does, on the outside. meaning: Naruto is a walking talking version of using the wrong equation on your math test and getting the right answer. he has to reverse engineer all this shit! and especially when it comes to jutsu, what's behind the product isn't obvious.

and now we come to the reason i actually made this post. the ridiculous, funny misconceptions i have headcanoned that naruto has, not the heartbreaking rage enducing ones.

the raw meat shame tax. so naruto eats raw meat (because no one has told him that eating raw meat = becoming ill, but he has kurama to take care of that anyway) if he's hungry enough or can't be bothered to cook it. but one time someone came across him during raw meat mealtime and reacted in horror and disgust. then naruto notices that sushi is like. super expensive despite how easy it is to catch fish and that cooked fish is cheaper as well in restaurants. SO naruto comes to the conclusion that eating raw meat must be shameful and taboo and something that can only be done alone or with close family in private BUT people like playing with the taboo so you can have sushi (which has non-raw meat elements to make it less scandalous) at restaurants AS LONG AS you pay an 'eating raw meat in public' tax. this is my most ridiculous headcanon and i love it to bits. like. i believe that out of all of the funny misconceptions naruto has, THIS is the one that is so baffling that it makes sakura just. give up. she leaves the room and walks directly into the Naka river.

what??? is?? the??? difference?? between?? girl?? and?? boy??? look. naruto knows that people can have different equipment: he lives in a bad part of town and is constantly eavesdropping on people. he doesn't just know that people have different equipment, he knows what sex is by the time he's 6. but naruto thinks that it can't be based on that because it's too stupid. like, if it were based on that, why would people cover up that part of themselves and treat it like taboo in public? it would make it really hard to tell who's a girl and who's a boy. naruto keeps coming up with shit and then disproving it over the years and is still unsure. but he nows knows he CANNOT ask people whether they're a boy or a girl because they will get mad.

which leads into clothes/hair aren't gender-specific but they ARE clan or occupation specific. Naruto does show up to class wearing dresses on multiple occasions and doesn't understand why Ino is extra mad at him those times. However the first time he sees someone with a haircut similar to sasuke's he's like 'that's not allowed! he's not part of your clan!' and it takes two hours to for sasuke to find out what the fuck dobe was talking about–

doesn't know what a library due date is. the library doesn't know who stole all the various craft/cooking books that have illustrated steps but they're never getting them back.

unintentional poison eating. naruto's cooking is.... so poisonous. he has eaten everything that looks like it could be eaten in the forest and if it doesn't make him sick then he deems him safe. there are SO many things that naruto forages that would straight up kill anybody else. naruto tries to share his food with team 7 one time because that's love and care babyyy!! and then there's ten minutes of screaming where sasuke and sakura genuinely think this was a murder attempt.

if someone leaves stuff unattended in public for more than half an hour then it's up for grabs and no longer stealing. this is how he gets most of his plants. and his bags. and his winter jacket. also his shoes. this is also how he garners even more hate from the village.

anyone above the age of seven can budget, haggle and save money. Naruto has been living on his own since he was four and he's been in charge of his own budget since then. he is merciless with money because he has to be and thinks that it is a normal thing for children to be capable of since he's doing it just fine after some trial and error. Naruto grudgingly thinks kakashi is smart for trying to foist the bill for ramen off on him every time by disappearing (good way to save money– don't be there when the bill arrives) but ALL of that goodwill evaporates when they go on a mission and kakashi spends the whole budget in the first week. also the image of naruto talking about finances with his teammates in a 'you know how it is' manner in and getting blank fucking stares back is hysterical. however sasuke is in legitimate danger of naruto dragging him through budget boot camp if naruto finds out that sasuke, the fucking clan head-in-waiting of the uchiha, is filthy rich and doesn't know anything about money.

there are three sets of teeth and if you lose an adult tooth you grow it back. this is (unintentionally) kurama's fault actually. naruto ends up with three sets of teeth: useless little baby teeth that he have fully lost by 6, child teeth (which are actually human adult teeth) that are fully lost by 12 and then "adult teeth." "Adult teeth" are nightmarish and are somewhere in between fox and human teeth. and if he loses an adult tooth naruto will grow it back sometime between a week and a month after he lost it.

team seven has never been more confused.

[todayisafridaynight]

I’m fairly new to the fandom, but I do have a question if you can answer it! Why do people ship Daigo with Aoki / Masato? I tried looking to see if they’ve interacted before, but couldn’t find anything! Sorry for asking I’m just </3 dumb AND I LOVE YOUR ART OF THEM!!! Nerd looking ahhhhhh

hi ! welcome to the community i hope you're having a lovely time so far and ty for enjoyin my stuff :) no need for apologies it's a very fair question to have :]

i cant speak for everyone (all. ten people into masadai anyway) but Personally To Me i just think the idea of them together is very funny. thats quite literally it im afraid..

[doodlingwren]

Hiatus

I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.

Thank you for your patience ❤

Wren

[skrunksthatwunk]

i just finished saw v and i don't have high hopes for the rest of the franchise (based on what ive heard) but im in too deep to stop now

[andromedasummer]

yesterday was. a lot

[strwbrymlkshake]

I don't think I've ever been in a relationship this healthy before I don't know what to do 💀

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

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There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

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It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

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When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[vagueiish]

i've been told a number of times that mental illness is a dirty, filthy, no good liar. but like..... what if it isn't?