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dracosearlgreytea · 4 years

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indelicate marks (11)

indelicate marks: chapter eleven - the accusation

A/N: aaa okay so heres the next chapter! ive been lowkey stressed about posting this chapter as it took a lot to write, but i hope you enjoy it.. thank you so so so much for the increased support from everyone, if i havent replied to a comment dw i do read them! they literally transform my day no matter how i feel, so yeah just thank you. lotsa love - ivy

warnings: language, strong descriptions of ptsd/reliving bad memories, graphic descriptions of deep cuts and bleeding

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration @honeymelon22

indelicate marks index

January and February, after the first meeting of the year, passed by quiet. Draco's state was getting worse. Every time you'd see him, even when you'd met twice a week, something about him was growing... darker. Sometimes it wasn't just the bags under his eyes, or the sharpness of his cheekbones. Sometimes it was the way his tone never lifted out of the monotonous state he tended to abandon around you. Sometimes it was the way he could hardly hold a conversation, or the anxiety would overwhelm him and you'd have to sit with him tucked into your chest, praying that his breathing would settle soon. But, somehow, within the misery that hung over the two of you, you also managed to find the friend you had waited so long for. Draco was funny. Dry, and witty, and frustratingly funny. The things that he'd say as a passing comment could make you double over in laughter. You'd always find his lips shooting up into that wicked grin you'd grown to adore. That smile was something you'd find few and far between, and its rarity only settled it closer to your heart. He was smart, too - a lot less stupid that he made himself out to be. Draco could easily give Granger a run for her money, if he wanted to. He had a secret passion for Muggle literature. Something, which you found out totally by mistake - and continued to bring up at any given opportunity just to annoy him. To your utter shock, Draco also played piano. He'd described an organ, back in Malfoy Manor. His parents would usually enchant to play by itself - but, his mother had still taken it upon herself to teach him how to play it when he was a child. The insights he offered you into his life were quite frankly fascinating. It was still odd. The dynamic between you was never quite settled; impermanent. There were little things you found yourself holding onto. Like his smile, or the way he frowned when he listened to you talk, as though he was really focusing on your words. Since your realisation at the beginning of the year, your affections for Draco had only grown. Most of the time, you'd manage to ignore it, only swallowing back the flutters in your chest. Because there was no way you could fancy Draco Malfoy. There was no way he would ever reciprocate, and there was no way it could ever work between you even if he did. And, it was nice. Being friends with someone. You could cope with the darkness he carried. You could cope with pushing away any indication of your developing attachment to him. Having someone to talk to, to even just be around - complicated or not - was a privilege you had never had. But, as much as you attempted to ignore it, the tension at Hogwarts was also getting a lot worse. Trying not to think about what would happen when you had to return home at the end of the year was difficult. Even the idea of having that mark on your arm was sickening. You didn't even want to acknowledge the fact that to take it, you would have to expose the mark that already sat on your forearm. Most likely, to the Dark Lord himself. The glares got worse. The comments got more threatening. Walking the corridors was not safe for you. Not when your parents had killed so many families of the students around you. It hadn't exactly been before, but now, with that suffocating atmosphere, it had only gotten worse. Keeping a firm grip on your wand at all times was second nature, at this point. You had been on your way to a meeting with Draco when your fears became too real. The feeling of someone following you had been tugging at your conscious for most of the day. But then, most people were watching you, anyway, eyes lingering on you in every hall or classroom you passed through. So, you'd only shrugged it off as your paranoia overreacting. It was still light. With winter beginning to pass, the nights were growing shorter. Weekly trips to the classroom were no longer spent in the dark, much to your appreciation. Just as you reached the last staircase leading to the third floor, it jumped into action. It swung away from your destination, and you ground your teeth, hanging onto the railings. Again, you only passed your mistake off as a busy mind - until you glanced behind you. The previous staircase had also moved. A distinct dread began to poison your gut. With the piece of staircase behind you gone, your only choice was to progress onto wherever this one would take you. You swallowed, staring up as the stairs docked. It lead onto a one-way corridor, a piece of the castle that was rarely used, and a quiver ran over your hand as you wrapped your fingers around your wand. Slipping it from your back pocket, you finally shifted. Someone wanted you in that corridor. Someone wanted you cornered. The second you stepped off of the stairs, it jolted away from you, only confirming your assumption. Stranded in the corridor, the lack of windows cast an eerie shadow down its length. There was only two classrooms coming off the sides, and one at the end - most likely locked, with a spell more powerful than 'alohamora' would fix. Edging forwards, you flung your eyes around you. Your heart was thudding dangerously in your chest - it was currently dinner. No one would be around to help if something happened, assuming anyone would help you. Draco was unlikely to come searching for you if you turned up late, waiting on the opposite side of the moving staircases. You only hoped you could reach the stairs before something bad could happen to you. Pausing, your eyes met the end doorway. It was ajar. You pressed yourself against the wall as you shifted closer - the opening only offered to show you a slice of darkness within. Someone could be, however, waiting for you inside. Hoping your curiosity would get the better of you. Preparing to jump you. Setting your wand upright and poised, you lifted your hand, before shoving the door open. Only, before you could get a glimpse inside, it had slammed shut in your face. You stumbled back a couple steps, true panic setting in. "Was it you?" A voice came from behind you. You'd walked straight into a trap. Taking in a shuddering breath, you spun to face the voice. A flicker of your brow, and you stared at the figure blocking the end of the corridor. "Potter?" He had emerged from one of the classrooms either side of you, wand clenched in his fist and eyes hard. Stupid, you're so stupid, you should have checked. "Was it you, Y/N?" Harry repeated, watching you with an unpredictable atmosphere to him. "Did you curse the necklace?" It took a second for any words to form on your lips. Your mind was going to into overdrive. Harry would not hurt you intentionally, you knew that much - he wasn't that type of person. But what he could do unintentionally... "I don't know what you're talking about." You said. Attempting to appeal to whatever friendship you'd had last year, you kept your voice as clear and honest as you could. Harry, however, did not shift. "It was you, or Malfoy." His voice lilted with questioning, and your jaw tightened. You had to remind yourself to keep breathing, act natural, even at the mention of Draco. Shit, what the fuck has Draco been doing? I know it's bad - it's the Dark Lord - but Merlin, if Harry is involved... "I said," You forced an eyebrow up at Harry in emphasis. "I don't know what you're talking about." Voice gruff, relief flooded through you. You'd managed to keep your composition. There was a million scenarios involving Draco running through your mind, and you bit back a shudder. "Then prove you're not one of them." Shit. Harry had gestured to your arm with his wand. You grew rigid in terror, a shaking whisper falling from your lips before you could swallow it back. "What?" "Show me your arm, and prove to me you're not a Deatheater." Harry said, voice a lot more forceful than before. No, no. No, this can't be happening - he wouldn't - he can't - "I don't have to prove anything to you, Potter." You spat - but there was no denying the quiver in your words. Sickness curling in the pit of your stomach, you clutched your wand, scrutinising Harry's every little movement. He shifted. It was so, so slight. Maybe he was moving towards you, maybe he was only adjusting his stance. It didn't matter, because before you could think, you raised your wand and shouted the first thing that came to mind. "Stupify-" "Expelliarmus!" You could only watch in utter horror as your wand flew through the air and clattered to the ground. All the way at the other end of the corridor. Behind Harry. No, no, no- You couldn't move. Frozen. It was as though you were in that cupboard again. Crushed against the wall, watching as two boys enchanted a blade and laughed at the way you choked for breath. "It's okay, Deatheater. You're going to get your mark soon." Harry was moving towards you now. You stumbled, falling back against the door, hands coming to press down on the handle. Locked. No escape. Breathing frantic, you could only stare at Harry with wide, angry eyes. You didn't speak as he grabbed your left arm, pulling it out in front of you. No, you didn't even struggle. You were still in that fucking broom cupboard. Harry's fingers burnt horribly against your skin, pushing up your sleeve. His eyes lingered on you as he did so, long enough to make your skin crawl. Then, he looked down. It burnt. Burnt, as though Harry had struck a match and put it to your flesh. He came to stare at you again, falling a few strides away from you as you snatched your arm back to your chest. You wanted to shout - no, scream at him, but you could do nothing but hold in the gasps of pain. Harry hadn't seen the blood. He hadn't seen the way the cuts had began to tear open, slowly. Excruciatingly. "Get the fuck away from me." It was hardly a whisper - more some inhuman, animalistic snarl. It was all you could manage. The flames were growing hotter and hotter and you'd forgotten how to breath. My wand. I need my wand. "Y/N - I'm so sorry - I-" "Go!" Something in Harry managed to click, seeing your contorted expression. With one last, horrified look, he turned and rushed away, the stairs swinging back to greet him as he did. The second he was out of sight, you let out a shuddering breath, daring a glance down to the state of your arm. Blood was already spilling down your fingers. It seeped into the fabric of your shirt, like the sea lapping at the shore - but bloodier, and a lot more sickening. "How does it feel to bleed, Deatheater? I bet you're fucking enjoying it, you sicko, just like your parents did." An involuntary whimper escaped you, unable to contain it with your mind so hazy from panic and pain. Agony was lacing its way up your arm and through your entire body, and you had to remind yourself - your wand. I need my wand. Staggering forward, you focused your gaze on your wand at the end of the corridor. Blood was spilling steadily onto floor, staining your shirt, but you refused to acknowledge it. Groans escaped your throat, scalding pain cutting deeper and deeper into your skin. Feeling the liquid thick on your hands, you, almost instinctively, gave it another look. Your entire sleeve was coated in red. An overwhelming nausea hit your gut. Falling against the wall, you desperately attempted to get your breath, but it only came in short pants. You'd barely made it halfway down the corridor. Harry had taken too long to leave, given the cuts too much time to reopen before the worst kicked in. Last time, with Draco, the reaction had been quick and easy. This time, you were alone, and wandless. Head spinning, you attempted to choke down a deep breath, and pushed forward. Everything was starting to blur a little, your head a spinning mess of thoughts. You couldn't focus. Tired. You felt so tired. You were close. You were so close to grabbing your wand, hands slick with blood as you stretched out your arm, shaking. Another step - a stumble. Your entire body crashed to floor. There was a terrible, harsh blow to the side of your head. Your ears filled with a high buzzing, sight wavering as you stared from your wand only inches away from you, to your left arm. Ten letters, red and clear. Tears rolled down your cheeks, but you didn't recognise them. It hurt, it hurt so bad, you couldn't think, couldn't breath. It was all a blur, really. A blur of torments and whispers. A blur of blade against skin. "Deatheater." "Y/N? Y/N-"

#draco x you #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy angst #harry potter fanfiction

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dontrollthedicesideblog · 4 years

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if you dont mind me asking, why do people ship spifey and tapL? it seems cute and all, but are there some interactions or collabs ive missed because i dont know how the ship actually started ( or maybe just, why do you ship it?)

oh dear anon, you have no idea what kind of pandoras box youve just unleashed on the world. and ofc i dont mind you asking! ive wanted to talk about this for a while <3

if u wanna hear my spifL ramblings, click read more bc i dont wanna clog up everyones feeds:

1. starting off with the thing that got me interested at first: roommates. Spifey, TapL, and Skeppy were roommates for like three months in LA from I think December to February? Or January to March. It’s not a secret that a lot of people love the dynamic of roommates in ships, and it so happened that skephalo has always been super popular, leaving Spifey and TapL as the obvious roommates to ship.

2. height difference. My numbers may be wrong but apparently Spifey’s like 6′2 and TapL’s like 5′6? I’m sure those aren’t the accurate numbers, but it’s pretty clear there’s a big height difference between them and I just thought it was kinda cute!

2.5. On that note, the general size difference between them. This is most apparent when you look at their hands. I’m not gonna go out and actively look for them for this post bc that feels a lil weird to me, but Spifey’s done a handcam for a video and TapL’s shown his hands both on Twitter when he shows off his nails and on YouTube in his 100 burgers video. I wouldn’t call TapL’s hands small by any means, but I’d say it’s clear Spifey’s hands are bigger than his. And like, one of the staples of fandom is smaller person and Tall Person.

3. Then you get into the kind of content they make. Spifey’s main content is using mods and other packs to confuse the hell out of his friends. TapL’s main content is hosting different UHC scenarios. While they don’t seem similar on the surface at all, both are the kind of content creators that need to keep innovating for their stuff to land to an audience, the kind whose creativity is vital to the success of their channels. I’m aware that the creativity aspect applies to other creators as well, but this only plays a small part in why I ship it. They’re both immensely creative people who I think would benefit from hanging around each other and feeding each others’ creativity.

4. They have a lot of history, though not too much is really public since TapL doesn’t do collabs with people outside the PvP sphere very often. They both appear in Skeppy’s 2018 vidcon vlog, so they had to have known each other for at least two years. But they seem close in the video, so tack on another half a year or so and they’ve been friends for a long time.

5. And their dynamic. The ship has a softer, quieter sort of dynamic than a lot of the Big Ships. TapL and Spifey are both on the quieter side of their friend groups (though I hesitate to say they’re quiet because really, they’re not) and tend to be more quietly chaotic than they are overtly (see: all of Spifey’s videos with Zelk and Vurb in them and that one time TapL leashed a fox on the Idots SMP and called it Fundy and actually treated it well compared to how the Idots treated their pets in the game). I think that makes for a really interesting dynamic where they both know how to have fun and laugh with each other, but they also have just as many moments of quiet between them where they’re just enjoying each others’ company. It’s the sort of dynamic where they can either join the chaos others are creating (and their friend group certainly creates a whole lot of chaos) or they can sit back and watch them fight while snickering to each other. Variety of possibilities!

5.5. That being said, TapL is definitely the more loudly chaotic and confrontational of the two of them. Spifey laughs a lot while being chaotic and he doesn’t usually raise his voice unless he needs to. On the other hand, TapL COMMITS to the bit and is quicker to yell (see: that one time Zelk tried to make ZapL a thing). I just think the dynamic of one (1) man trying to rein in his stupid boyfriend’s chaos while still remaining generally supportive is a funny one to imagine.

5.75. As another note on their dynamic, TapL is one to catch onto the bit very quickly while adding his own flavor of humor to the whole situation, and Spifey’s the one to create the bit in the first place. Those sorts of personalities mesh well together. You can’t have a bit if there’s no one to escalate it, and you can’t escalate a bit if there’s no bit to escalate in the first place. (see: that one stream where Spifey started eating a banana sideways and TapL saw him so he decided to take a banana and eat it sideways. Additionally, their collab on Spifey’s channel)

6. this is really stupid but they both also have nicknames? Like, people call TapL Harv and they call Spifey Geo and i just thought that was pretty neat.

7. They’re literally so supportive of each other and it’s so clear they respect each other so much and they’re such great friends i just... ANONNNNNN IVE SPENT TWO HOURS ON THIS POST I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH ;-; heres some interactions to make up for my lack of words

“BRITISH PEOPLE ARE NOT REAL” “3 months in la - i was merely an illusion” “You were nothing more than a bunch of mirrors and reflections”

“hey, thanks for existing ❤️“ “anytime ❤️ i miss la”

[picture of a spider on Spifey’s face] “UK spiders be like: “Roight, wots ol this then ?”

“@spifeyy happy birthday 🎉🎉🎉“ “<3″ (i would also like to note that TapL posted the birthday tweet just a bit after it hit midnight BST, not in his time zone)

Spifey’s perspective on vidcon 2018

the skittles thing on spifey’s vlog channel (tapL shows up near the end)

And also they teaming for MCU along with Vurb and Finn!!!!

anyone, feel free to add onto this! and once again, thank u for the question, anon <3

#spifL #thank you!

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theokotrain · 3 years

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Vestige - Interlude: The Party

Wattpad Version

As the night fills the sky

All my fears are dissipating

'Cause I feel reassured

That I might make it through

And if all my luck should burn

Then I guess it burned for you

---

April 13th, 2012

I was sitting on my bed, back against the bed frame with my knees raised in front of me, holding up my laptop. I had been spending the last few hours writing an essay for my English class, specifically answering the topic question my teacher had given everybody: "How do our past experiences influence our decisions?". The question was simple enough, it's a pretty universally recognized idea that stuff that happens to us has an effect on our decision making. I mean, that's what it means to grow, right? You gain more knowledge as you live through life and form new memories, and that helps you make more informed decisions in the future.

I've never really been too good at writing anything analytical, especially non-fiction. Essays and research papers that required informed arguments that helped to prove your point? Those were an entirely unknown game to me, one which I had never managed to breeze through. Of course, we were supposed to use some of the books we've read this year as evidence for our arguments, so that at least made it a bit easier, even if most of the books were ones from nearly five decades ago and definitely out of touch at this point. The sound of my laptop's keys clicking as I typed away were the only sounds I could pick up in the room. I had my earphones in for a bit, but those always hurt my ears after a while, so I had taken them out.

Looking at the time in the corner of my laptop screen, it was 4:43 PM. I started writing as soon as I got home from class, so I've only been going for about an hour. Unfortunately, this essay is a non-insignificant amount of my course grade, so I needed to finish this as soon as possible.

God, it's a Friday! I could be out doing something actually fun with Shae and the other guys. Isn't that the whole point of high school? That's what it always seemed like in movies, at least, but I guess I've been a victim of false advertising.

After a bit more time passes, the sound of my phone ringing from my desk brings me out of my writing trance. I sigh, setting my laptop next to me on the bed, not wanting to get out of bed, but eventually forcing myself into maneuvering over to the desk, I grab the phone and flip it open, looking to see the Caller ID.

Shaela.

I instantly accept the call, it's almost second nature at this point. She calls me at least once a day so she can tell me about whatever person is pissing her off that day, or whatever drama she's heard from her other friends. I was never really one for gossip, or whatever, but I did appreciate talking to her.

I put the phone up to my ear, "What's up?" I say, a tinge of fatigue in my voice.

"Hey! Just warning you that I'm like five minutes from your place and you don't have a say in the matter." She replied bluntly. I can hear the sound of cars driving by on the other side of the phone, so she's obviously outside, confirming her words.

I take a deep breath before speaking, "...Why?" I said with exasperated sarcasm.

"Because! I have something to tell you, and if I say it over the phone then I seriously doubt it'll work out in the way I'm hoping it does."

"That clears up nothing, actually, and now I regret picking up."

"Even if you didn't answer, that doesn't stop your parents from letting their son's lovely goody-two-shoes of a friend stop by for a visit!" She exclaimed, a mischievous tone subtly layered in her voice.

She's not wrong.

"Wow, you make this sound like you're sneaking into a high-security building or something." I say, utterly confused at her motives. "Obviously you can come over, but I'm not exactly filled with confidence at whatever you're planning."

"Like I said, I can't tell you yet, but it's gonna be awesome!" She said. There was an unusual perkiness to her that made itself pretty clear over the phone.

Before I can say anything, I'm met with the dial tone, signalling that she had hung up. The only thing I can do at this point is wait for her to get here, I guess. She always lets herself in when she comes over, so I don't make the effort to meet her downstairs. A sudden ping sound fills the quiet room, seeming to come from my laptop. I get back into bed, looking to see where the notification came from.

It's a message from Tyler.

He's definitely the newest member of our little group, if even that. I'm the only person in the group that he's actually friends with so far, despite my efforts to bring him along on any plans we all make. I only met the Grey Wolf back in February, at the beginning of the second semester, in the school's photography class. Nobody I knew signed up for it, and due to our prestigious high school's advanced budget for technology, we were forced to be paired up for shared computer use in the Photography Room. I suppose Tyler was also fortunate enough to not know anybody in the class, as we ended up being paired together by the teacher. He was definitely someone I could only describe as uninterested, as the first week or two I spent with him in that class consisted of him either giving me one word answers or answering in the most blunt, bored tone he could manage. Though, it seemed that it took a bit of persistence on my part to push him to be more open, and since then he's grown to be a pretty great friend.

Tyler: u goin to that party tonight ive been hearin about?

Party? I wasn't made aware of anything like that, at least... not yet. Something in the back of my brain was telling me that Shae had ulterior motives about coming to my place so suddenly, but I'm still hoping that I'm wrong. I hate parties.

Jake: party? havent heard anything, are u going?

Tyler: thinkin about it

think its gonna be over at chris's place, guess his parents r gone for the weekend or somethin

Jake: chrisssss? ughh that guy is such an asshole

Tyler: yeah u dont havee to go, but itd prob be more fun to have someone u actually know there

The way he worded that was directed at me, but I could tell he didn't want to go on his own.

Jake: i guess ill think about it

Tyler: sickk, call me if u make up ur mind

Before I can type my farewells over IM, Shaela energetically bursts through the door.

"Jesus! You scared the shit outta me, don't you knock?" I said, mildly exasperated.

"Oh come on, I literally called you a few minutes ago, you had plenty of time to not make a situation where it'd be a bad idea for me to barge in," She replies, laughing, before setting her bag on the ground and dramatically falling into my bed. "Today was garbage."

"What happened?"

"Ugh, Claire decided to just not show up, I guess, on the day we're supposed to present that stupid History project? And, obviously, she didn't give me her part of the project or anything, so I had tell Mr Thomas about the situation, which was fucking embarrassing." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Luckily, he said he wouldn't reduce my grade for handing it in late, since I actually had my part finished. God, what a bitch- I must've called her like thirty times before class to get her to email me her part, and every time it went straight to voicemail - and she told me last night that she'd have it ready for today!"

"Have you gotten a hold of her yet?" I asked, closing my laptop and setting it beside me.

Shae turns her head to me, shaking her head, "Nope, she's been ghosting me all day."

"Sounds like typical Claire."

"Yeah, I shouldn't have partnered with her, but apparently I can't say no to anyone, so..." I chuckle lightly in response. "Anyways! I didn't just come here to complain to you!" She says, sitting up on the bed, now facing towards me.

"Right... So what was so important that you just had to tell me in person?" I say, sarcastically.

"Like I said, if I asked you over the phone you would've definitely said no, and my ability to pressure you into doing things isn't as effective unless it's in person!" She responded.

I subtly rolled my eyes, but it's clear she noticed from the stare-down she gave me, "Okay, so what is it?"

"Soooooo..." She says, trying to find the rest of the words, "There's a party."

Wow.

"Wh- did everybody know about that party except for me?!?" I exclaimed.

Shaela's face quickly turns to an expression of shock, "Who told you?"

"Tyler did, like, not even five minutes ago." I say, bluntly.

"What? How does he know Chris?"

"Friend-of-a-friend, I'm guessing?"

"Hmm..." She hummed, thinking about something, "So, did you tell him you were going?"

"I specifically said I'd think about it, nothing definite." I made it clear in my tone that I wasn't particularly interested.

"Oh, come on, dude! It'll be fun!"

I didn't really have an interest in going, but I know it'd make Shae happy, plus it'd be nice to hang out with Tyler again even if we've only known each other for a couple months.

"...Fine. But, if Chris or any of his buddies start shit, I'm leaving."

"Awesome!"

"Lemme just call Tyler and let him know," I said as I grabbed my phone and flipped it open, finding Tyler in my contact list and dialling.

"You gonna bring him with-" The phone rings a few times before he picks up and I extend my hand out towards Shae in a shushing motion. She rolls her eyes, smirking.

"Hey? So are ya gonna go?" He said eagerly.

"Well, Shae showed up at my door literally right after you messaged me, asking the same thing!" I exclaimed in a fake-preppy voice. "So, I guess I have no choice since she'll probably just drag me there if I say no," I joked. She nods her head toward me in response.

"Oh, is she going too?" He inquired.

"Yeah, I guess so! Your place is kinda on the way to Chris', so we could probably meet you at your place and go from there."

"Yeah! Sounds good!" He quickly responded.

I laughed, "Okay, we'll call you when we get there?"

"Sure thing!"

We exchanged our farewells, and hung up. The party wasn't for at least another hour or two, so Shae and I had some time to burn, of which I was entirely out of ideas. I figured I could at least spend this time actually being productive, so I grabbed my laptop and continued on writing my English essay as Shae resumed her previous conversation topic of stuff at school that was pissing her off. It was pretty entertaining, to be fair. She was telling me about how Chris had gotten in a fight with this other kid in our grade yesterday after class, which I wasn't lucky enough to witness, but it was obviously all anyone would talk about for basically the entire day today so word spread around fast. The part I hadn't heard about was that both Chris and the other guy, Nathan, got suspended for a week because of it. Chris was generally an asshole to everybody, including myself, so I didn't feel too bad about that. Although, I didn't know Nathan all that well. Other than having a few classes together, I don't think I've ever held an actual conversation with the guy. I think it was safe to assume that Chris was the one who started it, and Shae seemed to agree with me, even though she hadn't seen the fight either.

"But, apparently Nathan's gonna show up tonight!" She exclaimed coyly.

"...Remind me again why you want me to go to this specific party?"

"You'll have a great time! It's not like we'll be involved in the drama anyway so think of it more as entertainment!"

"I think you and I have different definitions of the word 'entertainment'," I joked.

"I'm sure you can go run off somewhere with Tyler if you're not having fun," She said, her tone reminding me of my mom.

"Oh yeah? What about you?"

"I can't just leave Alex at a party with Chris, those two start shit between each other so much and I'd rather not deal with the aftermath of that today."

"I'm guessing it's safe to assume that Elliot's going too, then?"

"He's not big on parties, but he'll usually go if everyone else is, unlike somebody," She says, gesturing towards me.

"Good one," I reply, unmoving as I keep typing away at my assignment.

"Well, we should probably leave soon since we're stopping at Tyler's place on the way.

I saved the document I had been working on, closing my laptop. "Sounds good to me!"

---

"I can't believe you actually agreed to go." Tyler joked as we walked towards the road from his house.

"Yeah, me either." I replied. I definitely didn't put in any effort in dressing up for the party, opting for a snug space-themed graphic tee, along with black jeans and a white zip-up hoodie. Shae and Tyler both stand on opposite sides of me as we walk down the sidewalk.

"Luckily I learned the subtle techniques in convincing you to do things against your better judgement, so now you get to have fun for once!" Shae exclaimed.

"It's not my fault that going to a party is literally the last thing on earth I'd do for fun in any normal situation." I retorted, putting my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

"Oh yeah? And what do you consider a 'normal situation'?" Shae asks.

"Any situation where you guys aren't the ones trying to get me to go! I'm only doing this for you two, y'know." I said, looking over at both of them.

"What about Elliot and Alex?" Tyler chimed in.

"They aren't the ones asking me to go to this party." I sarcastically remarked, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted. "Speaking of the party- this is Chris we're talking about, there's gonna be beer, right?"

"Uh, duh?" Shae replied.

"Yeah, that's a definite no for me, I'm already enough of a disappointment to my parents,"

"No one's making you drink, Jake. At least you'd be safe if some old hag called the cops about the noise." Shae said.

"I think at that point we're guilty by association, so we'd just make a run for it if that happens," Tyler joked.

"Dude, the chance of me outrunning a police officer successfully is about as likely as me not wanting to punch Chris tonight."

"And the chance of you winning that fight is just as low!" Shae retorted, Tyler laughing in response.

"I specifically said 'want' because of that very reason!"

"Wow, I'd pay money to see you fight that guy." Tyler said, nudging his elbow into my side.

It isn't a secret that I'm not exactly athletic. I mean, I'm definitely not weak, but fighting basically any animal of a similar size to mine was not a situation that favoured my victory.

"That sounds more like just getting the shit kicked outta me for your entertainment." I remarked, lightly punching Tyler's shoulder in return.

"Absolutely worth every penny!" Shae exclaimed. Luckily, the place wasn't any more than ten minutes away from Tyler's place, so I didn't have to endure listening to these two talk about me getting beat up for much longer.

We finally make it to Chris' house, and I'm suddenly filled with an impending sense of regret. Obviously, my parents would never in a million years agree to me going to a party like this. As far as they know, I'm just spending the evening hanging out with Shae at Tyler's house. So yeah, this entire night had a lot of potential for disaster.

Shae can clearly see my hesitation, because she grabs my hand, leading me up the walkway, Tyler following closely behind.

"I wonder if Elliot and Alex beat us here?" She says, knocking on the front door.

"I doubt they had anything to do earlier, hell they probably came straight here after school, knowing Alex." I said, laughing.

Our conversation is cut short by the opening door, revealing the familiar black cat.

"Oh, look, the Stephenson kid brought his girlfriend!" Chris exclaimed mockingly, looking back into the house, before peering around my shoulder, "And... Tyler?" He said, inquisitively.

I lean over, blocking Tyler from his line of sight, "Yeah, hey, not dating by the way!" I said. I've known Shae since I first moved to Vestige, around the time I turned five years old, so it wasn't uncommon for rumours to go around that we were dating. I've always thought of her more as a sister, if anything.

"I asked them to come!" Tyler said. That was only partly true, but according to Tyler, they've been 'somewhat-friends' for quite a while now, so saying that would at least mean less mild-harassment from Chris for tonight.

"Oh, uh, okay... come on in! But you're on the hook for any shit they pull, Tyler!" He said, opening the door wider.

---

The party had been going on for a few hours at this point. I could recognize most of the animals here from school, but not enough to actually hold a conversation with any of them, so most of my time here had just been spent with Shae and Tyler. The place hasn't been incredibly crowded luckily, but there were easily about forty others in this part of the house alone. I'm assuming only high school grades were invited, but there were a considerable number of students to meet that requirement. The issue at hand for me, other than how crowded this place is, is that both Shae and Tyler ditched me to go... somewhere? I think Shae saw some of her friends and went somewhere with them, but Tyler was pretty secretive about where he was going, only telling me that he'd be back in a bit. So I've been standing here in this random corner of the house with a drink in hand, trying to make myself look busy and not awkward, which is exactly why I didn't want to go to this party in the first place!

"Jake!" A voice shouted from a ways away.

I turn my head in confusion, revealing Alex, walking towards me from across the room.

"Oh, Alex! Hey! What's up dude!" I finish the last bit of my soda, waving at him. Because this was Chris' party, there was obviously beer too, but I didn't feel like coming home drunk and my parents finding out.

"I didn't think you'd wanna come to something like this! Feeling the regret yet?"

"I like parties! It's the times like these when I'm standing in a corner by myself with nothing to do that I hate, which seems to happen every time I go to a party!" I exclaimed, pausing for a moment. "Okay, maybe I do hate parties- I've had to explain this so many times today I'm about ready to jump into Lake Ambuscade."

' "Wow, sounds like somebody needs to socialize instead of stewing in a corner for the rest of the night!"

"Socialize? Really? I know just about everybody here and just about none of them are worth talking-"

"Hang with me and Elliot, then? Justin set up some racing games in the other room, we were gonna join, but we could use a fourth... You in?" He said, his tone obviously trying to sound coercing.

"God, please, anything to get me out of this corner for the next three hours." I said, Alex returning my words with a laugh.

"Well, come on then! We'll have to hurry if we want to get one of the good controllers!" He exclaimed, motioning to follow him.

As we move through the various cliques, I recognize a few faces here and there, though not enough to actually want to talk to them. There's been music playing since we got here, and I have yet to recognize a single song, they all seem to be some form of drone-y bass-heavy music that I can't say I've heard in any normal situations. I'm doing my best to follow Alex, although he keeps weaving between the other animals faster than I can keep up, resulting in me having to shove past everyone near me in an effort to speed myself up. Luckily, it seems that no one notices me anyway.

When we arrive in the other room, it seems to just be another living room, but decorated with a galore of punk band posters, shelves holding more DVD cases than I would ever care to count, and even a mini-fridge. Maybe Chris is the type to have a 'man cave' or something? Just hearing that phrase almost makes me want to vomit, but there aren't any more accurate words that come to mind. The room isn't massive or anything, but the TV resting upon the wall across the room seems to challenge that idea, looking almost eighty inches in size. Luckily no randoms from the party were in here, sitting about ten feet away from the TV is Elliot, leaning back in a purple bean bag chair that seems almost three times bigger than him, and Justin, the cougar I'd only known slightly through Alex, laying down sideways on the couch directly in front of the gigantic screen.

"Whatttt! You took the bean bag chair? Lameee..." Alex whined.

"You're the one who wanted to go get Jake, you snooze you lose!" Elliot retorted, looking oddly proud of himself.

"Damn, wish I had a room like this at my house..." I mumbled, looking around the room.

"Are we gonna play or what?" Justin said, cutting through the momentary silence.

"Duh!" Alex claimed.

Justin sits up, taking the spot on the couch closest to Elliot. I opt for the leftmost seat, and Alex sits in-between the both of us. Elliot grabs the other three controllers and tosses them over at us, one by one. Luckily, there weren't any garbage third-party controllers, so at least none of us would have to deal with that. I will admit, it did feel kinda weird going to someone's party just to play games away from everybody, but I would be lying if I said I didn't prefer that, even though I rarely play games, if ever.

After Justin turns the console on, he goes through the menus, launching the game. I can't say I recognize the title, but it seems to be a pretty standard racing game. He goes into the custom mode, opting for a four-player split-screen match, choosing 'R1' as the category of cars to race in. As everyone chooses their cars, I scroll through the list, not really knowing what to pick. I've never been good with car stuff, so I pick an 'Aston Martin Lola' just based on the number-rating system the game ranks the cars with.

"You guys ready?" Justin asks.

"Oh yeah, get ready to eat my dust you guys!" Elliot exclaims, challengingly.

"Oddly prideful words for someone about to lose!" Alex replies, laughing.

The countdown begins, as the cameras slowly show the view of each car as it moves to the rear. When it starts, I somehow manage the fuckup of spinning my tires out, leaving me a few seconds behind the others as the car swerves back and forth. I curse under my breath as I try to regain control of the car, and swiftly pick up speed. The track seems like nothing I haven't seen before, a typical professional track, with rows and rows of audience seating to the side. Unfortunately, I'm now in last place. The next few moments of the track are a few quick corners, allowing me the chance to catch up, at least a little.

Unexpectedly, the track turns off of the main road, going into a forested area. The road is considerably more narrow at this point, so it takes a conscious effort to not drive into the trees by the asphalt. It looks like the road stretches on forever, as I still can't make out any upcoming turns. I guess the car I chose for the race had a better top speed than Justin's, as I'm quickly catching up to him, moving into third place. I'm gripping my controller to an uncomfortable degree, but I can't seem to relax the tension as I try to make my way into second place. I don't think I can pick up any more speed in this car, so me moving up is reliant on the road staying straight for just a bit longer. After what feels like a lifetime, the front of my car finally starts making it past Elliot's, then the midsection, and finally, I'm in second. The sound of all four car engines is drowning out any remnants of the video game music, and I feel the sudden urge to curse out whoever turned the TV volume up this high. My eyes are focused entirely on Alex's car as I make my final push into first place. If I were actually driving this fast in the real world, I'd be scared out of my fucking mind. Out of nowhere, Alex, and the others, begins to slow down considerably.

Oh fuck.

It's at that point I notice that there is a sharp right turn rapidly approaching. I've been pushing the top-speed of this car since the beginning of this stretch of road, and now I'm going too quickly to stop in time. What's the button to use the handbrake, again? I figure that the only way for me to not fuck up this race for myself is to try to drift around the corner. Considering I've never played this game before, it's going to prove to be a challenge. But, it's either that, or just ending up in dead-last again.

I hold down the A button, and pull the joystick as far to the right as possible. Suddenly, all I can hear from the game is the loud skidding sounds of my tires against the asphalt. To my surprise, I cut the corner a bit early, now going over the grass. I try to do a bit of directional-corrections and start heading back onto the track. Going over the grass definitely slowed me down a fair bit, but it definitely was a significantly better outcome over just crashing into the wall. And, to my surprise, the corner of my screen reads... first?!?

"How the fuck...?" Alex questions, seemingly in disbelief.

"I wish I could tell you." I replied, eyes wide at whatever the fuck just happened.

The distance I managed to gain on Alex isn't by a whole lot, but there's only about a quarter of the track left before we reach the finish line, so I have a chance at winning this. The track hurriedly changes from the forest as it reenters the main track. The long, straight roads seem to end as the road becomes a slow series of sharp turns, never giving me the opportunity to get back up to speed. It seems like the high top speed was my only advantage, because at every corner we take, I turn my camera around, revealing the other cars inching closer and closer to me.

I can see the finish line on the mini-map, just a few more turns away. I know that I'm not gonna be able to distance myself from Alex and the others at this point, so my only feasible strategy is to keep moving, cutting the corners as fast as I can, and getting to the finish line before they can pass me. Unfortunately, Alex's car seems to be getting too close for comfort now, meaning I might have to take some risks to ensure I can stay in first. As we approach the final turn, leading into the finish line, I realise I'm gonna have to try to drift this corner. I can feel my pointer finger practically cracking the plastic on the controller from the amount of pressure I'm putting on the right trigger. In a final plea to win, I push down on the A button, pulling the handbrake. The car starts to smoothly skid around the corner. Luckily, there are barriers on the sides of the road this time, preventing me from sliding onto the grass. To my surprise, the drift seems to work better than expected. That is, until, like the fucking idiot I am, make a slight overcorrection towards the left barriers as I exit the drift. I managed to avoid driving directly into the wall, but it did slow me down a bit.

Alex is immediately behind me, and I put all of my strength into accelerating towards the finish line. I'd be fucked if I broke the controller, cause I can't really afford the fifty dollars to buy a new one, but winning this race is more important to me at the moment. The finish line is only about five-hundred metres away, and Alex is slowly beginning to pass. All I can do at this point is push the gas as much as I can, and pray that I can cross the finish line before he can get back into first place. The finish line gets closer and closer, and it seems like it's gonna be too close for me to accurately tell the winner. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest from how stressful this fucking game has been, and now, we're about to find out whose efforts paid off. As each car makes its way over the finish line, each of our dedicated sections of the screen turns to slow motion. When it's finally over, the text fades in on each screen, revealing our place...

...

...Second?!?

"FUCK!" I shouted, realising I had been holding my breath since the final stretch of the race.

"HA! Dude, you suck!" Alex exclaimed, playfully shoving me.

"I think that was the most effort I've put into anything in my life." I said, setting my controller on the coffee table in front of me.

"Wow, that's dramatic," Justin remarked.

"Yeah, that's the usual for Jake," Elliot replied, laughing.

"You probably woulda won if you picked a better car, dude. That track was way too close-quarters so you should've gone with a car with better acceleration." Alex said.

"Wha- do you own this game?" I questioned, looking accusatory.

"...Yeah? It came out a few months ago, pretty popular right now." He replied.

"Ugh, this is what I get for playing with a bunch of gamers." I exclaimed, applying a disgusted tone to the last word.

"Not my fault you only play like one game a month!" Alex joked.

"Even then, I was like this close to beating you anyway!" I said, gesturing a minuscule distance between my thumb and pointer finger.

A voice interrupts our argument, coming from right outside the room, "Uh huh...

...

Really? That's bullshit! Come on...

...

Dude, give me a couple of days, I'll make it right!

...

Yeah, I swear."

It seems that we all stopped talking to listen in at the same time. "That sounds like Tyler... who's he arguing with?" Elliot asked. I can't make out the voice of whoever he's talking to, it just sounds like mumbling.

They seem to pause for a moment, and the sound of a single set of footsteps can be heard.

"Fuck..." Tyler says to himself, still out of view.

"...I should probably see what's up, you guys can keep playing without me." I say, getting up from my spot on the couch.

"Yeah, you do that! Less competition for me," Alex exclaims, laughing to himself.

"Hey, I can still beat your ass at this game, I know exactly which car to pick this time!" Elliot argued.

"Yeah, right! Guess we'll find out!"

I leave as the three start up another game, kind of glad I don't have to have another near-heart attack from playing again. When I get back into the dimly-lit hallway, Tyler is nowhere to be seen.

I look around, heading into the main room of the house to see if I can spot him. It's pretty difficult to see anything, because of how dim it is here, plus the sheer amount of animals crowding up the place. Despite that, I manage to spot the Grey Wolf a ways away, hurrying quickly into the bathroom.

As I shove my way through a few groups of teens, I almost fall over a few times, gaining confused stares from a few in the room. I lightly knock on the bathroom door, waiting for a response, "Hey, you okay Tyler?" After a few moments, I'm returned with no answer, "...Tyler-" Before I can finish my sentence, Tyler swiftly pulls open the bathroom door, pulling me in and shutting the door behind me, before sitting down on the side of the bathtub. As I'm about to say something, I hear the sound of him sniffling.

...Is he crying?

He's looking towards the floor, so I can't confirm it visually, but the sound definitely gives it away.

"Whoa, what's wrong? Did something happen?" I asked worriedly, not yet choosing to bring up the argument we overheard.

There's a few seconds of silence as he tries to bring himself together, not very successfully. "I- I... I don't- I don't think I can-"

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I tried to reassure him. He raises his head for a moment to look at me, trying to find words to say, instead opting to go back to crying, head in his hands. I've never been good with situations like this, so I sit down next to him, putting my hand on his upper back, softly patting.

"I'm sorry- I'm a fucking idiot. I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"Hey! I've been having fun! Don't worry about me, it seems like you're the one who shouldn't have come." I joke, in some effort to lighten the mood.

Shit, was that inconsiderate of me to say?

To my surprise, he manages to let out a light laugh, "Yeah, I'm starting to realise that."

"...Do you wanna leave, then? They know I didn't want to go here in the first place, so you could just say you're being nice and walking me home." I didn't know if he would actually take up that offer, but I know some guys have a weird thing about not wanting to seem 'uncool' and leaving a party early was definitely considered that.

He thinks for a moment, still sniffling pretty noticeably. "...okay, just- give me a minute, I don't want to go out there looking like this." He mumbles, looking towards the door.

"Yeah, that's fine." I said, continuing to rub around his neck area.

This definitely wasn't how I expected the night to go. But it was a sort of 'two-birds-with-one-stone' kind of situation. I get to help out Tyler, which is usually the other way around, I get to leave early, and hopefully Shae stops bugging me about going to parties, at least for a while.

Now that I think about it, that analogy is pretty messed up.

A few silent minutes go by as I sit next to the still-crying Tyler, waiting for him to recollect himself. Even though he hasn't actually said anything here, in the two months I've known him, this is probably the most vulnerable I've ever seen him. When I first met him, it was pretty accurate to describe him as the kind of guy who acts like he never feels emotion. Hell, even I refuse to be open about my feelings, but most of my friends see through that nowadays. Even now, I don't really understand why I do that. I guess it's just easier to not talk about shit like that? Is that why Tyler does it?

"I think I'm good now," He said, shaking his hands as he stood up.

"Okay, let's get out of this dumpster fire." I sarcastically remarked. Tyler shot me a confused look in return. "Whatever, let's just go."

I open the bathroom door, grabbing his arm as I lead him out into the main room. Almost immediately the voice of a certain black cat perks up behind us.

"Oh? And what did you two get up to in there?" Chris remarked, laughing, "I didn't know you guys were THAT kind of friends!"

God damnit. This stupid fucking feline.

"Yeah, it's too loud out here for me, I needed a break, he came with." I explained, Tyler standing closely behind me with a confused look on his face. Just roll with it, dude, I think to myself, knowing I probably shouldn't say that out loud.

"You know, I would believe that, but normal guys actually just go outside when they need a break." He replied.

"Well, hey! That's where we're going right now, so it all checks out!" I say in the bitchiest voice I can muster.

"Heh, sure thing, Jake." He said, sounding weirdly satisfied with himself. I didn't want to spend any more time in this fucking house than I needed to, especially while talking to Chris, so I continue on, pulling Tyler by the hand towards the exit. After a few moments, we make it to the front door. I promptly open it and we both head outside.

We're immediately greeted by the light of the moon and the starry sky as we head down the walkway toward the street. One of the few benefits of living in such a backwater town was the absence of any significant light pollution. I've been to Portland a few times for school field trips and such, and seeing the sheer difference in visible stars was absolutely staggering. I could only imagine what it would be like to go stargazing in the middle of nowhere.

"At least it's a nice night out." I said.

"Yeah..." Tyler replied, his mind clearly in a completely different place.

"I should probably tell Shae where we went, so she doesn't freak out trying to find us back there." I joked, pulling out my cell phone. Texting on my flip phone was an arduous task, but I didn't want to call her, so I had not much of a choice.

I send the text, and close my phone, returning it to my pocket. As we walk down the road, we stew in the silence, the only auditory sounds coming from the party still close by, and the local crickets chirping.

I won't lie, as much as I usually appreciate quiet, this is the loudest silence I've ever been stuck in. It goes on for more than five minutes. I could tell he wanted to say something, and I was eager to find out whatever was going on that started this in the first place. But, like the coward I am, I try to lighten the mood.

"Hopefully that satisfied your quota of me going to parties with you for a while, cause I do not plan on having the energy for something like that again for at least a few months." I said, awkwardly laughing. He doesn't respond, at least for a while, as he raises his hand, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "...Uhh, are you sure you don't wanna talk about it? I mean-"

"Can I tell you something?" He interrupted, his voice still cracking like it was in the bathroom.

"...Sure?" I replied, slightly confused.

"It's just that- I don't really know- like what-"

"-to say? Just think for a minute. No rush." That's what my dad always says whenever my mind spirals. I used to be really anxious, although I've been getting better at controlling my thoughts in the past few years.

When I went to text Shae a few minutes ago, my phone's clock read 9:48 PM. I'm supposed to be home at ten and we're still at least twenty minutes away, not even including the detour we'll take to get to Tyler's place. Which brings me to the realisation that, when we get to his house, I'm gonna have to walk the rest of the way home by myself, in the dark. If I get murdered by some serial killer this late at night I'm gonna fucking haunt Shae from the afterlife-

"I think I'm gay," He quickly says, his voice holding a noticeable increase in energy compared to what I've been used to tonight.

Well... can't say that's exactly what I was expecting. Was I expecting anything in particular? I honestly don't know anymore. His words took me by surprise, my brain is kind of scrambled right now. I look over at him - he's looking back at me, probably trying to gauge my reaction. I did my best to conceal any facial reaction, but it's pretty clear that my lack of a response is starting to become noticeable.

"...You... think?"

"Well, like- I don't know. I guess I've just been thinking for a while, and it makes sense... all things considered." He replied anxiously.

"That- That's great! Does anyone else know?"

"I only really realised a few weeks ago, so... no. But compared to anyone else, I probably trust you the most to not like- tell anyone?" He said, looking over at me again.

"Well, I appreciate the completely undeserved confidence you have in me," I joked, realising too late that now probably isn't the time for that, "Yeah, I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you," He replies, a genuine smile strewn across his face.

A few minutes go by as we walk down the road, absorbing the positive energy we created. Having only known Tyler for a little over two months, it definitely surprised me knowing that he trusted me more than anyone else to keep a secret like that... I mean, despite the short amount of time since I met him, I'm as close to him as I've been to Shaela for the past eight years. Maybe even closer? I barely even tell Shae about my actual problems, at least the non-surface level stuff. So yeah, I guess it makes sense that he would trust me with something so important, I know I would absolutely trust him if it were me in that situation.

"...So, do you think you're gonna tell your dad?"

He didn't say anything for a moment as he stared down at the ground beneath him, "I'll probably have to tell him soon, if he has to find out from some asshole that isn't me it'd make it ten times more difficult than if I just said it myself."

I agreed, and we let the conversation cut itself off as we finally approached Tyler's house. I followed him up the walkway and stood on the patio, making sure he actually got inside. He tries the doorknob eagerly, to no avail. Realising that it was locked, he reaches into his pocket for his key - again, to no avail.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Tyler mumbled under his breath, clearly done with tonight. All of the lights were off in the house, signalling that his dad was not awake.

"Maybe you'll wake him up if you knock? Then he can let you in."

"Nonono, he thinks I'm staying at your place! If he finds out I went to a party I'm in deep shit," He whispered.

Of course. If I had to lie to my parents, why would I expect anything different from anyone else?

"Okay, uhh... maybe we can make that lie... not a lie?" I said, sounding weirder than I'd like.

Tyler looked at me, confused for a moment, eyes widening as he realised what I meant, "I can't let you do that, I've already forced you through too much shit tonight."

"Oh, come on, of course you can sleep at my place for the night! My parents think I'm at your house right now, so I can just tell them that we both went over there early in the morning. They love you anyway, so it won't be a problem!"

He didn't move at all, still looking reluctant, "Are you sure it won't be... weird? I don't want to put you in an awkward situation cause of w- what I told you."

"Dude, that couch in my room has a hide-a-bed if you don't want to share mine. Either way, we're friends, aren't we? I trust you."

After a few moments of silence, he speaks up, "...I guess so-"

"Great, then it's settled!" I said, putting my arm around his shoulder as I led him back down the walkway.

---

Once we make it to my place, walk up the creaky wooden steps of my patio as I fish the house key out of my pocket. Tyler's standing closely behind me, looking awkward as ever, clearly not knowing what to do with his hands as he switches between putting them in his pockets and clasping them together.

I turn the key on the lock and try the door, noticing that It's completely pitch black inside the house. My parents usually go to bed at 10 PM, and it was well past that at this point. I lock the door behind us as I reach for my pocket, grabbing my phone and flipping it open to use as a barely-useful flashlight. I take Tyler's wrist as I lead him through the furniture of my living room and up the stairs. The only sounds in the house come from the soft ticking of a clock in the kitchen, the sound of which has always freaked me out whenever I'd come downstairs at three in the morning. Despite my best efforts to be as quiet as possible, the old wooden boards of the stairs prove my effort to be futile as they creak with every step. I can only hope that both of my parents have fallen asleep by now, or else they'd definitely have heard us. As I take Tyler down the hallway, walls strung with various family photos and art fit for a motel, I hear no sounds coming from the master bedroom, relaxing some of my tension.

Once we make it to my room, I breathe a sigh of relief as I turn on the overhead light, hoping my mom doesn't find out and try to lecture me in the morning, "Okay, hide-a-bed or mine, your choice!"

"Hide-a-bed." He replies.

"Sure thing, lemme show you how to set it up," I say as I remove each couch cushion one by one. The couch is sitting directly under my massive bedroom window, illuminated by the glow of the moon. Under the cushions is a black folded-up contraption, bearing a metal handle. I grab the handle and start pulling the bed out from the couch. As the first section of the bed comes out, Tyler stands next to me and helps unfold the second section, and finally the third.

I move over to open the closet door, "I have some spare pillows and blankets in here."

"So, why do you have a spare bed... thingy... in your room anyway?" He asked.

"My cousins' family came to visit from the other side of the country a few years back, so my parents made the cousins stay in my room and gave me our old couch that used to be in the living room. They were here for like two weeks, it was fucking awful," I remarked, pulling a comforter out of the closet and unfolding it out on the mattress.

"That sounds miserable," Tyler sympathized.

"It was, but hey, now I got a sick as fuck couch in my room! And it works as a great place for certain friends to sleep when they wanna spend the night," I said sarcastically, looking over at Tyler as I grabbed the pillows from the closet, tossing them to one end of the bed.

He turned his head, baffled, "Was that a dig on me?" He questioned.

"Depends on how you took it I suppose," I replied, smiling cunningly.

"You're the one who offered, dude- are you sure you didn't drink at the party? You've at least doubled your usual level of sarcasm." He retorted.

"Nope, unless somebody spiked my soda!" I joked, but the realisation slowly set in, "Oh shit- maybe someone spiked my soda?!?"

"Don't freak out, I seriously doubt someone would spike your drink,"

"God, I hope so, if my parents found out I went to that party, that'd be one thing, but if I got drunk? I doubt I'd see the outside world for months," I sighed.

"Even if you were drunk, it's not like you would still be drunk in the morning for them to find out, anyway."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I said, letting out a yawn shortly thereafter. "Fuck, I didn't realise how tired I am." Looking at my alarm clock, it was 10:37 PM. That wasn't terribly late, I've definitely stayed up later when there was an assignment due the next day that I forgot about, but even before I met up with Alex and Elliot, that party was just wearing me down. "At least I can sleep in 'till like noon tomorrow. You sure you don't need anything before I pass out from exhaustion?"

"No, I'm okay, I think. And, thank you... Jake." He replied, smiling at me.

"No problem, dude!" I quietly exclaimed as I turned off the bedroom lights and hopped into bed. I can practically feel my muscles dissolve as I lean into the mattress, pulling the heavy blankets over me as I close my eyes.

I can't help but feel something itching in the back of my brain. I never did find out why Tyler was even crying back at the party. Was it related to what he told me after? He sounded pretty upset when he was talking to whoever it was in the hallway, too, so maybe that was why? We've already talked about so much shit tonight, though, and I definitely did not have the energy to have another huge conversation about something like that. It could definitely wait until tomorrow.

Soon, I feel my consciousness drift away, the only sound I can make out being the slow breathing of Tyler, across the room.

---

As I wake up, I'm blinded by the bright sun shining in through my windows, directly into my eyes. I glance over at my alarm clock, feeling incredibly groggy and sore, noticing that it's 11:13 AM. Usually, the latest I'd sleep in on weekends was only around ten, but I guess it took a lot of my energy yesterday to try to tune the party out. At least it's over.

I slowly sit up, yawning as I lean back against the bed frame. I glanced around the room, noticing that the hide-a-bed had been folded back into the couch, Tyler nowhere to be seen. I reach over to my bedside table to check my phone, finding an unread text from him, sent a few hours ago.

Tyler: hey

woke up early, figured youd want 2 sleep in.

will call u later, might have somthin big i wanna share, will see

A pair of oddly cryptic messages. Guess that confirms he isn't here anymore.

At least it was a Saturday, meaning that I had full permission to be a slob. I get out of bed, deciding to skip my usual shower until after breakfast. Other than the snacks that were out at the party, I ate practically nothing last night. I could almost feel my stomach turning itself inside out, so I hurried out of my room and downstairs to the kitchen to have some breakfast.

The first thing I notice when I get downstairs is my mom, sitting on the couch with a book. I head straight to the kitchen, trying not to make myself stand out.

"Jake! Finally woken up, I see." She remarked, still looking at her book.

"Hey, mom!" There's a moment of silence as I grab a bowl out of the cupboard, as well as a box of cereal, and begin to pour.

She speaks up, "Your friend, Tyler, seemed to be in a hurry to leave this morning, anything I should know about?"

"...Not that I know of? Like what?" I questioned as I poured some milk from the fridge, grabbed a spoon, and sat at the kitchen counter.

"Well, it's not like we didn't notice that you weren't home by ten like your father asked you to be, so obviously you must have a good excuse for why you didn't at least call to let us know you'd be late?" She replied. I could tell when she started talking all responsible-parent-like, it meant that she was gonna lecture me about something.

I sighed, thinking of the right thing to say. "...Well, Tyler was going through some things... so I was trying to help him with that, I guess. Time just kinda flew by and I wasn't able to get home 'till later."

"So he spent the night here? Weren't you at his house?" She asked as I ate a spoonful of cereal.

"Yeah... we went out for a bit and once I noticed how late it was I offered to let him spend the night at our house since it was closer," I said. Almost entirely a lie, but definitely preferable to the truth.

"Jake..." She said, setting her book down on the coffee table in front of the couch, walking over to me, and resting a hand on my shoulder. "You're sixteen now, obviously we don't expect you to tell us everything you're up to nowadays. But we worry about you! I worry about you. Just for future reference, please let us know if you're gonna be home late or anything like that."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," I said, looking up at her.

"Great! Now, I have to go meet a friend for lunch, please try not to burn the house down while I'm out!" She said as she grabbed her purse and keys off of the counter, hurring out the door.

"No promises, love you!" I said as she closed the door behind her.

Well, I guess that went... better than expected? I doubt she believed that story I made up, but I guess as long as I don't break curfew without telling them, I should be fine.

Having the house to myself wasn't totally uncommon. Considering my dad was gone during the day five days a week, and my mom would head out to go meet friends or run errands pretty often, I got some much needed alone time often enough to not go mad.

As I finish my bowl of cereal, I realise that I probably should go shower as soon as possible, considering the night I had. I put my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and head back upstairs. I grab a towel from my room and head into the bathroom, grabbing my various fur care products out of the cabinet for after the shower. As I turn the shower on, I hear the sound of my ringtone going off in the pocket of my pants on the floor. I sigh annoyedly, walking over and trying to figure out which pocket my phone was in. When I flip open the phone, the Caller ID reads out Tyler's name.

"Tyler! What's up?" I ask eagerly, hoping to find out what the news he cryptically texted about was.

"Jake- fuck, I messed up, I shouldn't have- what am I gonna do?" He said anxiously, sounding almost out of breath.

"Hey! Slow down, what's wrong?" I questioned.

"I'm such a fucking idiot! Why did I think this would be a good idea? Jake, I'm so sorry-"

"Tyler! Calm. Down. Just take a few deep breaths," I said. After a few moments, I can hear his breathing steadying on the other side of the call. "Okay, good. Now, what's wrong?"

There's a short pause as he tries to find the right words to say. It sounds like he's been crying. What even the fuck has been the past twenty-four hours?

"Can- do you think I could crash at y- your place for a few more nights? I don't know what to do."

#story #novel #interlude #writing #novel writing #vestige #town #coming of age #lgbtq #gay #furry #wattpad

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holidaywishes · 4 years

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It Had To Be You XXXVIII

Chapter Thirty Eight: Sad Song

Summary: Fast forward six months and the new Preseason is just about to start. After a rough playoff loss, Tyler wants this season to be better and he has some ideas on how to make everything go smoothly.

Warning: I guess because this song is so cheesy and sweet, there’s going to be a lot of fluff in this chapter, this one’s also got a few time jumps as well.

Author’s Note: I don’t really know where I’m going with this series anymore. I think I’m trying to stretch it out to 50 chapters but it all depends on how I’m feeling obviously. Just know that I have a thing with odd numbers. That is to say, I will only end on an even number or a multiple of 5 (45, 50, 55, etc.) But this one will be another short chapter (and I’ll admit this is really not my favourite) but I’ll probably put two out back to back since I have something in my head and I’m literally not doing anything else, so why not? Anyway, I hope you like whatever comes from the rest of this series, ENJOY!

P.S. This chapter took a little longer than I thought it would but I have some clearer ideas of what the next like four-ish chapters are going to be so that’s exciting.

P.P.S. I wanted to update the timeline because this chapter has a lot of time jumps as did the last chapter. So here’s a quick recap of the whole series:

Part I: September 2013

Part II: November 2013

Part III: January 2015

Parts IV and V: May-June 2015

Part VI: June 2015/January 2016

Part VII: January 2016/June 2016/November 2016

Part VIII: November 2016

Part IX: December 2016

Part X: January 2017

Part XI: February-August 2017

Part XII: September-November 2017

Part XIII: mid-November-December 2017

Part XIV: January-February 2018

Part XV: March-April 2018

Part XVI: April-June 2018

Part XVII: July 2018

Part XVIII: July-November 2018

Parts XIX, XX and XXI: December 2018

Parts XXII: December-January 2019

Part XXIII, XXIV, XXV and XXVI: January 2019

Part XXVII: late January-March 2019

Parts XXVIII and XXIX: March 2019

Part XXX: late-March/April-May 2019

Part XXXI: May-November 2019

Part XXXII: January 2020

Part XXXIII: late January 2020

Parts XXXIV and XXXV: August 2020

Part XXXVI: October-Early November 2020

Part XXXVII: March 2021

Part XXXVIII (this chapter): July/September 2021/January 2022 (yup I did that)

Song Credit: Sad Song -- We the Kings & Elena Coats

masterlist

the other masterlist

After the whole quarantine last year, and the season being cancelled, Tyler wanted the next to be better but after being knocked out in the first round he wasn’t in the best mood for a few months. He spent every waking minute training during the summer, except for his seemingly annual trip to the Bahama’s with the guys.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” he asked when you said you’d stay behind and watch the dogs

“I’ve gotta work,” you replied, pushing yourself up to wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his, “plus, I think you need some time with your boys to let loose. As long as you don’t let loose too much...”

“Don’t worry, babe,” he replied, pecking your lips between words, “we’ll really just be playing a lot of golf. You know how it goes..” You sent him off with one last kiss and sent him an ‘I love you’ text before he got on the plane. You felt completely secure with Tyler lately but maybe that had to do with the fact that two of you had survived four months in self-isolation together. Whatever it was, you weren’t nervous about spending a week away from each other.

Tyler’s week away proved to be just what he needed to get his spirits up but as soon as he was back in Dallas, the two of you decided to head up to Brampton to see his family but it was over just as quickly as it began and it was time for the preseason to start. It was a pretty easy start to the season with the Stars winning 7 of their 8 preseason games which left Tyler with a huge grin on his face and he told you he was very positive for the rest of the city.

“I have a good feeling about this season, you know?” he said, rinsing the dishes as you washed down the counter, “I feel like this could be our year.”

“I think you guys are looking good out there but--” Tyler put his finger in front of your mouth to stop you from continuing

“Don’t jinx it. We’re looking good and we’ll continue to look good because we’re in this for the long run.” He said, raising his eyebrows intensely so you got his point and you just smiled before nodding and walking away. You were happy he was so confident about the season especially after everything that happened and seeing him so excited made you excited for the season.

“Hey, Ty,” you called from the couch, “you’re turning 30 in January. How do you want to celebrate?”

“That’s a while from now, I haven’t thought about it..”

“Well think about it!” you laughed, “I know the season will be like in ‘full swing’ or whatever, but maybe we can do something during Bye Week? It’s a big year you know?”

“Yeah, another year older..” he sighed and slumped next to you on the couch, “I’m getting to be an oldie. I’ll be vintage soon...”

“Oh stop,” you nudged, “vintage? I have a hard time thinking you’ll ever be vintage. It’s just a birthday. If you don’t want to celebrate it, we don’t have to. But I’ll have you know, men get sexier as they age.” you said, moving towards him to kiss his neck, “It’s actually very annoying.” He kissed you back

“I’ll think about it,” he smiled and you tucked yourself into his side, “but for right now, let’s figure out something to watch.” As the two of you settled in and started some action movie you were sure you wouldn’t pay attention to, you caught yourself looking up at Tyler for the billionth time, “what?” he laughed

“What?” you responded

“I can feel you staring at me,” he continued, still not returning your gaze, “do I have something on my face?”

“No,” you smiled, “I just like looking at you.” When he finally looked at you, your stomach filled with butterflies and you felt the need to bury your head in his chest; looking back up at him just in time to see his smile stretch across his face.

“I like looking at you too.” He said, leaning his head down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. You reveled in it for a minute before finally saying anything

“I’ll never get tired of that” you giggled and he smiled against your lips before continuing to kiss you.

Tyler’s P.O.V

You hated that you couldn’t be with (Y/N) and the dogs on your birthday again this year, especially because things seemed to be going so well, so you figured out a way for her to be with you in

“Boston?” she said, a hint of confusion in her voice over the phone

“That’s where we’ll be on my birthday,” you replied, “there are some great spots though.”

“I went once,” she said, nonchalantly, “it was beautiful. But I mean.. Bruins fans run rampant” she laughed and you knew then that she would meet you there.

“So you’ll be there?” you asked

“If I get to see you, I’ll be wherever you ask.” You could hear her smile over the phone and your smile grew in return

“Good,” you laughed, “I’ll see you in a couple days. Love you”

“Love you, too.” You ended the call only to turn around to your teammates waiting to chirp you

“Ooooh, Tyler and (Y/N) sittin’ in a tree,” they started, “k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes love, then comes marr--”

“Alright, alright. That’s enough guys.” They laughed and you smiled as you found your way back to your seat beside Rads and Jamie.

“She’s coming to spend your birthday with you? That’s sweet” Jamie said

“Well...” you hesitated, “I’m thinking of proposing to her!”

“On your birthday?” Jamie asked and Rads gave you a sideways glance

“Yeah...” you answered, “I mean we’ll already be out to dinner and I love her, so..”

“You think you’re ready?” Rads asked and you took a second to answer

“Yeah”

“What if she says no? Then your birthday is like forever tainted by that” Jamie challenged

“It’s still my birthday, it won’t be tainted. Forever.”

“She’s a great girl and you seem really happy with her,” Rads interrupted, “I like her and I like her for you. But just make sure, if you feel weird about it, don’t do it.” You took a second to think about what he was saying but you couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d be in that moment and what the rest of your life would look like with her.

“Thanks Rads,” you finally said, “it’s alright though. I want her in my lie forever. I can’t imagine a day without her there.”

You showed up at the Boston airport and waited for instructions from Tyler when he sent you a text with directions to his hotel

“Am I suppose to get my own room or find my way to yours?” you replied as you got into the cab and told the driver the address

“Don’t worry, I got you a room but it’s close to mine” he said

“Sounds good, it’s under my name?”

“Yes. I’m heading to practice, so I won’t be there when you check in but I’ll call you when I’m out. I made reservations at 6 so you’ll have to be ready”

“What kind of place is it? What if I didn’t pack anything fancy?”

“I have something for you. I’m always prepared”

“Well you’re lucky. I figured you might do something like this so I brought a dress”

“Thinking ahead, I like it” he joked and you rolled your eyes

“I have to or you’ll get me something wayyyy too revealing”

“The amount of revealing it would be is debatable.” You let him go after that by sending him an eye roll GIF and he sent back a laughing emoji. A couple hours later, you started getting ready for whatever Tyler had planned, deciding whether you should curl or straighten your hair when he called you

“Hey babe,” he said happily, “you almost ready? I’m just about to jump in the shower so I wanted to check in”

“I’m almost ready. I’ll be ready by the time you’re out of the shower so I could meet you in yo-”

“NO” he blurted out, “I want to pick you up.”

“Fine,” you laughed, “I’ll be ready soon. Go take your shower, I love you.”

Tyler’s P.O.V.

You finished getting ready, making sure to do a quick pep talk to yourself in the mirror.

“You got this dude. You love her, she loves you.” You smiled and made sure you had everything you needed, careful not to forget the ring, and headed over to (Y/N)’s room.

“Just a second!” she called after you knocked on her door, fidgeting with your suit jacket while you waited. When she opened the door, your mouth dropped at the sight of her in a beautiful blue dress and she smiled before spinning around for you to get a complete look at the outfit, “what do you think?”

“You look.. stunning,” you smiled, “guess it’s a good thing I didn’t pack anything for you isn’t it?” She smiled to herself, shaking her head as she grabbed her purse. The two of you laughed and she took your hand as the two of you headed to the car.

“What do you have planned?” she asked as she put on some music

“A nice dinner, I’ll take you to some of my favourite places in the city,” you said, intertwining your fingers with hers to kiss the back of her head, “nothing too crazy.” She smiled at you and tried, the whole way to the restaurant, to guess where you were taking her or what you were planning. You pulled up in front of the restaurant and a valet opened her door

“Oooh,” you smiled as you heard her speak to the valet, “isn’t this fancy?” You met her on the sidewalk, thanking the valet and tipping him before taking (Y/N)’s hand to go inside. When she sat down, she browsed the menu and you tried not to give away how nervous you were about what you had planned for later in the night.

“Anything look good?” you asked about the menu

“Still looking..” she smiled. You ordered her favourite drink when the server came by to grab your orders, “ahh I get it” she said as the server left

“What?” you said suddenly

“You’re trying to be ‘the big man’ tonight. Coming to a fancy restaurant with valets, ordering my favourite drink,” she smiled and you let out a sigh, “who you trynna impress, Seguin?”

“Only you,” you answered, “always you.” The rest of the meal was filled with smiles from both of you; you watched as her eyes lit up when she talked about her job, her smile shine when you talked about how you felt about the team and the way the season was going and listened to her laugh that you couldn’t imagine not hearing everyday. You kept Rads’ words in the back of your head though, ‘just make sure, if you feel weird about it, don’t do it.’

“Would you like a dessert menu?” the server asked when he noticed there was a break in the conversation. You were prepared for her to say no, or to defer to you, but instead she said yes and that was the moment you knew she was comfortable with you. It was a small moment, a small thing, but it made everything so much clearer. You paid the bill and thanked the staff, guiding (Y/N) out to the car by placing your hand on the small of her back. You took her to the aquarium and watched her eyes follow the fish and tried to catch her as she chased the manta rays before eventually stopping in front of the shark tank.

“We may be slightly overdressed for this place” you laughed, noticing the stares the two of you were getting

“Do you ever wonder what they’re thinking?” she said, completely ignoring your statement

“What?” you asked

“Like are they sad? Do they know where they are? Do they wonder where their friends are? Or their families? Do they like it here? Are they happy?” You smiled at her thought process, “did you know that Sharks adapt to fit their environment? So like if there was a Great White Shark here, it would only grow to fit comfortably in the tank but in the ocean it would grow much bigger. That’s why you hear of like 30ft sharks.” She finished, eyebrows raised when she looked at you and you smiled while your eyes danced between hers.

“Is any of that actually true?” you asked and she smiled at you

“I don’t know,” she confessed, “it could be. It sounds like it should be, doesn’t it?” She grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours and continued walking, “and,” she added, “who cares if we’re overdressed.” She winked at you, as if to say ‘I’m always paying attention,’ and you shared the smile that she gave you. There was one last place you wanted to go before it got dark and it was the perfect spot for the proposal. A park with a beautiful river running through and a clear view of the Boston skyline. Sure, it was public but it wasn’t overly crowded so it had just enough of people for (Y/N) to have at least one picture of the proposal without feeling overwhelmed.

“Wow, Ty,” she said lightly, “this place is beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.” She smiled at you and, with her hair blowing in the wind and the sun beginning to set, you knew it was the perfect time.

“(Y/N),” Tyler said when your back was turned, “I need to get this out so don’t say anything until I’m finished okay?” You giggled at his statement but slowly turned around to face him, surprised when you saw him on one knee

“Ty, what are you doing?” you said

“I love you,” he started and your eyes grew wide, “ When we first met, I was so focused on being the best for Dallas, to start fresh after Boston, that you were just some girl. I didn’t think of you really that way, until I saw you with James; I just wanted to see you happy because you deserved that, I just hated that it had to be with him. But now here we are, having chosen each other after all the crap we’ve been through. Together and apart. I know we’ve had some rough times but you’ve always been the person I want to be with. The one I want to wake up next to. Every time we’re apart, whether I’m on the road or your visiting Chris in Calgary, I feel like I’m missing something because I am. You. You’re my favourite part of me and I can’t imagine a day without you. (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), will you marry me?” You stood in front of Tyler for a few minutes, in a state of shock that left you silent when you noticed a few people start to huddle around you and Tyler, who hadn’t moved at all

“Yes” you whispered, a smile starting to grow on your face

“What?” he said jokingly, a smile dancing on his lips

“Of course I’ll marry you!” you exclaimed and he slid the ring on your finger before picking you up and kissing you, you breaking the kiss only to laugh at the round of applause the two of you got. He put you down and waved to the crowd as you buried yourself in his chest out of embarrassment.

“I love you”

“I love you too,” you said, tucking yourself into his side while the two of you continued to walk through the park, “I can’t believe you actually proposed.”

“Why?” he asked, in fake shock

“I don’t know.. I guess I just never thought you were the marrying kind” you admitted

“I wasn’t,” he said, kissing the top of your head, “until you.”

“Well, happy birthday Mr. Seguin” you joked

“Thank you,” he replied, “and thank you for saying ‘yes’ on my birthday. The guys were convinced that if you said no it would’ve tainted the day forever”

“I’m surprised you did it on your birthday. I mean, the guys are right. It’s a risk.” You laughed and he shrugged his shoulders

“It was worth it.”

#Tyler Seguin #It Had To be You #it had to be you series #Tyler Seguin imagine #tyler seguin series #masterlist #the other masterlist #no idea when or how this will end anymore #i had an idea but now i don't #i guess that's how it goes #prepare for some short chapters #after this one obviously

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love-killed-the-superstar · 5 years

Text

femslash february strikes again and i finally updated that one cornirma fic that ive been meaning to get back to for literally an entire year

Title: The Frying Pan Conversation Pairing: Cornelia/Irma Chapter: 2 - funny how we run around Summary: “You're awake...” “Great detective work, Sherlock, want a medal?” “It's too early in the morning for you to be sassing me,” grumbled Cornelia, half-heartedly throwing her phone onto the blankets and scooting closer to Irma. “Good thing you're way too cute for me to be sassing you with intent to kill,” Irma teased, pulling her in closer for a hug. She was overly warm from sleep and Cornelia happily melted into it. Irma's boobs made for an excellent pillow. (Cornelia and Irma spend Christmas with the Hales.)

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743063/chapters/42144206

Cornelia loved watching Irma sleep. While she usually ran her mouth during the day, when she slept she had some sort of serenity around her, a tranquillity one wouldn't expect from someone who spent half the night tossing and turning, hogging the blankets and drooling all over her pillow. Yet, when morning came and Cornelia returned to wakefulness, Irma was at peace with herself in the land of dreams, hair framing her face like a halo. It took all restraint not to kiss her, but Cornelia had never been a fan of kissing before one had brushed their teeth.

Instead, she continued to watch. It was quiet and dim, the early morning sun casting strange light and shadows throughout the main room where they were set up. Without her family milling around, it felt peaceful. She wondered if this was how it would be all the time, if she and Irma moved in together some day. Sure, it wouldn't be some luxury cabin, but the world would be quiet like this. There would be no eyes on her. The whole room would be theirs to lie in silence and watch each other and feel cosy and secure. While Cornelia did want lavish things for herself someday, when she was older and things like throw pillows and vases mattered greatly in the grand scheme of things, it amazed her how easily she would sacrifice that just to be able to wake up next to Irma each morning and take on the day, regardless of whether they were in a plush king-sized bed or squashed together on a pull-out.

Geez. She really was picturing the rest of her life with Irma, like the hopeless romantic she was.

She rolled over to reach for her phone in the semi-dark. Too early to start messaging the group chat, but she hedged her bets with someone who did have a tendency to be up at this hour.

Will, you awake?

Not three minutes later, she received a reply.

ofc?? no rest for an athlete, corny. how did telling the parents go?

It didn't. Turns out I'm a bit of a coward.

nah it's tough. i only told my mom about being genderfluid a month ago, and i had no idea if she'd even CARE about it

Well, she cares about YOU. And from what you've told me, she's taken it well?

The speech bubble indicating a reply stayed for a while, and Cornelia repositioned herself so that she could watch Irma doze while waiting on Will to get back to her. After a few minutes, her phone finally pinged, and she hastily lowered the volume as Irma stirred slightly.

yeah, turns out dean being our teacher way back in the day finally paid off bc sheffield has diversity training or smth. he sat down w me and my mom and talked over all this stuff she was confused about. and she still doesn't totally get it, but she said she just wants me to be happy. guess that's all i really needed. stuff like if she comes to pride and w/e doesn't matter to me tbh, just knowing she's there for me is enough

Cornelia chewed her lip wistfully. If only it worked out that simply for everybody...

That's great. Really, I'm so happy it all worked out for you. I'm just worried about my parents, I guess. They're not bad people, but sometimes they can be so backwards with things. Really, I just want them to accept that this is a part of me so I can stop lying about a college guy just to keep them from overanalysing the way I am around Irma.

hey i get it! you're both just so darn cute together!

Indeed we are.

They shared some quick, casual conversation (Will, as usual, had some funny story to tell her about life as Taranee's roommate, and Cornelia caught them up on the bullshit that was her and Irma's road trip to the cabin) before Will had to leave to start their morning swim practice.

“Psst. Blondie.”

Cornelia dropped her phone in surprise, catching sight of rich green eyes watching her intently.

“You're awake...”

“Great detective work, Sherlock, want a medal?”

“It's too early in the morning for you to be sassing me,” grumbled Cornelia, half-heartedly throwing her phone onto the blankets and scooting closer to Irma.

“Good thing you're way too cute for me to be sassing you with intent to kill,” Irma teased, pulling her in closer for a hug. She was overly warm from sleep and Cornelia happily melted into it. Irma's boobs made for an excellent pillow.

“You're comfy,” she mumbled.

“Yup, cushy tits run in the family,” Irma remarked, relishing in the way Cornelia shuddered with an implosion of laughter. “You know this is the first time in months we've woken up together?”

“Feels like it too,” Cornelia sighed. “I've missed this. You should really come visit me more often, you know.”

“Oh yeah? I visited you twice last term. It's your turn to visit me just as soon as daddy dearest hands over your fucking prius.”

“Well, no offence, but your college campus is like a 30 minute drive away from Heatherfield,” pointed out Cornelia. “I'd sooner you visit me than risk bumping into Uriah of all people at a house party.”

Irma scoffed. “Thanks a lot! It may not be ivy-league or State U or anything, but there's still a ton of stuff to do! Besides, pretty sure Uriah's at Sheffield Community College, Anna works with his mom.” She paused. “Though, I did run into our dear old chum Nigel at a Halloween party this year.”

“Oh? And how did that go down?”

“How do you think? He followed me around half the night asking about Tara until I finally snapped and was like, 'you missed the boat, honey, our girl is gay as the day is long'. Haven't seen him since. Reckon he dropped out when he heard how swimmingly Taranee's life is going without him.”

“I doubt he flunked out because of a girl he was dumped by five years ago,” Cornelia deadpanned.

“Uh, hello? Our girl is a catch. He's lucky to have even walked the Earth in the same lifetime as her.”

“A bit dramatic, but I get the sentiment.”

Cornelia fell quiet, listening intently to Irma's heartbeat, her breathing.

“D'you think today's gonna be the day?” Irma asked softly.

Cornelia let out a noise, somewhere between laughter and a sigh.

“How do you always know what I'm thinking?”

“Because you have the antithesis of a poker face, darlin'. I've been reading you like a book since I was thirteen.”

She tangled her fingers up in Cornelia's hair, gently combing through, careful to avoid knots.

“I don't know if it'll be today,” sighed Cornelia. “Does it make me a hypocrite? I was so certain I wanted to do it this time.”

“Look. You need to stop putting this pressure on yourself to do everything exactly how you imagined,” Irma said firmly. “You don't have to tell them I'm your girlfriend. You don't even have to tell them you're pan if you aren't ready for it. We can call this off, you can spend the rest of Christmas break not having to worry about their reactions, and we can make out and cuddle and all that good stuff the second we set foot in my house. Would that make you feel better?”

“No?” Cornelia reached up to pull Irma into a proper hug. “I want them to know how happy you make me. I want them to know that I'm happy being myself. But the part where I actually tell them? Opening up like that, it... it's a very emotional process.”

“I know. I know it is. But I promise you, once it's out in the open... never mind their reaction, you will feel worlds better with it off your chest.”

“Ugh, why does my girlfriend have to be so wise?” Cornelia wondered aloud. Irma formed a fist and lightly knocked her on the head.

“If I'm going to be a teacher some day, I gotta be wise. I'm meant to be some sort of inspiring prophet, if your dad's stirring speech at dinner last night was anything to go by.”

“He's a passionate guy,” Cornelia shrugged.

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

A sudden creak from down the hall disrupted them, and they sprung apart, Cornelia sitting upright and reaching for her phone while Irma pretended to go back to sleep. A moment later, Harold's face poked around the door.

“Morning, darling!” he uttered in a stage-whisper, before stepping into the room clad in his robe and slippers. “Does Irma take coffee? I was thinking of brewing a pot to wake your mother up.”

“Only with six million sugars in,” Cornelia said, rolling her eyes fondly. “Don't worry, I'll take over. I know how to make it so she doesn't spit it out.”

Harold laughed, and moved over to start on breakfast as Cornelia set up the coffee maker.

“You two are as thick as thieves.”

Cornelia's hand froze.

“...Well, we're still good friends, but...”

“I drifted apart from my school friends when I went away to college, you know,” Harold mused. “I regret it now. The rift grew so big, and by the time I saw them again they were married, had families... and although we could still talk with ease about these kinds of things, the bond we shared at school – the books we liked to read, the movies we saw together, the pranks we would play on our teachers – all of that was gone. It was something we could look back upon and laugh at, but it's not the same.”

“I didn't know that.”

Harold offered her a kind smile, and reached over to crack some eggs into a bowl, dusting the mixture with pepper.

“Well, I think it's important to keep in touch with those you love. I was actually quite worried when I heard that you were going to your college alone. I know how close you are to the girls you met at Sheffield. I'm... glad that you were able to keep a close bond with them despite the distance.”

Oh, if only he knew how close.

Cornelia set out some cups on the side, hoping her face wasn't burning. If she really was as easy to read as Irma said...

“Well, they're my friends. They're important to me.” She glanced over at him. “Dad, I'm... I'm really happy with my life right now. With the person I am, and the person I'm with.”

Harold stopped whisking, and moved over to pull Cornelia into a tight hug.

“I'm so glad to hear that, darling. I really am.”

They worked in a pleasant silence after that, and when Irma next rolled over, Cornelia was nudging her, cup of overly sweetened coffee in her hand.

“Rise and shine.”

Harold was whistling away as Irma took her first sip, his back to them as he began tossing some bacon and eggs in the pan.

“Mmm. You made it just how I like it.”

“Well, you're picky. If my dad made it you'd choke it down and feel awful the rest of the day,” Cornelia teased. Irma stuck her tongue out.

“Jerk.” After another sip, she added coyly, “I heard the conversation between you two. It was sweet. Are you thinking today might be the day after all?”

“Maybe,” Cornelia said, a flame of confidence ignited in her heart. “He really wants me to be happy, so... maybe when I tell him, he'll understand.”

“Look, Harold Hale might not be leading a revolution, but he's always seemed like a chill guy to me,” Irma said quietly. “If you keep dropping hints, he might figure the rest out on his own.”

“Maybe.”

Cornelia glanced back at her father, still blissfully unaware of their conversation, and she leaned down to press a kiss to Irma's forehead.

“Now, drink up. We have a big day ahead of us.”

…

Breakfast was uneventful, with Lillian dominating the conversation with talk of some dream inspired by a zombie TV show she'd been binge-watching over Christmas break. Irma munched on French toast and bacon and watched in amusement as Harold became disgustingly sweet with Elizabeth, pressing kisses to her head whenever he went to refill drinks, even reaching down to pinch her behind when he was sure his daughters and his oldest's girlfriend weren't looking. Elizabeth swatted his hand away, pretending to be mortified at his brazen display in front of Irma, but the rouge on her cheeks and the affectionate eyeroll told another story. All the while, Cornelia quietly ate and drank, keeping a straight face while prodding Irma's foot playfully with her own under the table.

Oh, Irma could get used to mornings like these.

They took turns showering and dressing, and did the usual routine of wrestling for more mirror space as they brushed their teeth and put on make-up.

“So what's the plan for today?” Irma asked, rubbing some kind of moisturiser into her cheeks. Cornelia leaned in closer and inhaled with a happy sigh. Mango. Irma took the opportunity to turn and press a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Cornelia pulled away with a grin.

“Oh, well now we're all together, today will definitely be a decorating day. I mean, it's Christmas eve tomorrow, so it'd be a little sad if we didn't have the decorations ready by then,” she explained with a shrug, uncapping her mascara beginning to apply it to her upper lashes. “It really shouldn't take too long though. We'll have some time to get away, don't worry. And I think tonight my parents reserved dinner for us at a restaurant in town. I have to warn you, the waiter we had last time was super obnoxious...”

Irma stared at her reflection in the mirror, zoning out of Cornelia's anecdote about the wait staff at said restaurant, before glancing over at her girlfriend. In their teen years, she'd always envied how immaculate Cornelia's appearance was. She'd always seemed flawless somehow, even though Irma knew better and would never ever admit that much. Then, those feelings started to mix with something else, and attraction, jealousy and self-consciousness melted into an ugly soup of insecurity in her psyche. Even now, when she knew better than anyone that Cornelia was smitten with her, doubt crept in, especially in situations like these when they had to stand beside one another and pretend like they belonged in the same league.

“You're beautiful,” she sighed, interrupting Cornelia's spontaneous yelp review. Cornelia's hand jerked at the suddenness of Irma's statement and she hurriedly reached to blot away a clump of mascara stuck to the end of her eyelashes.

“Oh. Well, I do my best, and when it comes to make-up practice always makes perfect, you know.”

“I'm not talking about make-up, though yeah, you should consider dropping out of college and becoming a beauty guru on youtube instead.”

“Well, I think you're gorgeous too,” Cornelia replied with a smile, moving onto her lips. First a layer of balm to soften them, a waiting period of three minutes, and then the application of gloss or lipstick. It was her routine every time, and the waiting drove Irma mad in the mornings they'd spent together over the years. Cornelia's lip balm always smelled so damn good that fighting the temptation to kiss it clean off was a rare torture.

“Have you seen me?” muttered Irma, frowning at her reflection. “Eyebags for days. Messy brows. My lips are chapped to fuck and my skin has been kind of red lately...”

“Every time I see you I want to kiss you all over,” Cornelia said in the kind of factual tone that had Irma raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Still, she didn't protest as Cornelia wound her arms around her, and Irma caught a whiff of coconut lip balm. God damn it, she wanted Corny-kisses so bad. “You still get insecure, huh?”

“Hard not to when my girlfriend could pass for a fucking supermodel.”

“While I'm flattered that you hold me in such high regard, you're a far cry from the disaster you're making yourself out to be,” Cornelia laughed. “Besides, if you're really worrying about stuff, just talk to me, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Irma muttered. Cornelia rifled through her make-up bag for a few moments, before bringing out a small bottle.

“Come here, dope. Let me help you.”

“Why pay big bucks for a beautician when you can get one for free in the form of a generous girlfriend?” Irma deadpanned, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Cornelia grinned back and started to apply the liquid to her cheeks and brow with some kind of blender sponge thing shaped like an egg.

“The trick to combating redness and dark circles is to have a good, strong base that neutralises any discolouration in your skin. In your case, green tones kind of cancel out reds, and yellows are good against dark circles, so it just leaves your skin looking healthier, see?”

She switched over quickly to one with a yellower hue, and Irma hummed in agreement, staying put as Cornelia began tending to her eyebags.

“I think I get where you're coming from. Hay Lin calls me up all the time to gush about colour theory, the importance of colour wheels is stuck in my brain for life.”

“Oh, you and Hay Lin call each other all the time? More than me?” Cornelia teased. She put down the sponge and reached back over to her make-up bag, retrieved something that Irma could only describe as the world's tiniest broom, and began to tame Irma's unruly eyebrows. “Don't tell me the two of you are having a sordid affair behind my back.”

“Our torrid love affair is about as real as yours with mystery botanist man,” Irma responded. Without breaking eye contact with Cornelia, she reached over for her own chapstick and began to apply it. Cornelia's tongue poked out slightly in concentration as she smoothed down Irma's brows.

“It's bad enough my parents keep going on about him, don't you start.”

“Well, he is my alter-ego,” Irma pointed out. “Seems a little rude to silence my opinions on him.”

“I hate when you make a good point.”

Cornelia leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Irma's brow, breathing in the smell of her mango moisturiser one more time and sighing deeply. Irma, in a similar moment of pure, unfiltered lesbianism, caught the scent of Cornelia's lip balm and damn went out of her mind. She tilted Cornelia's head down and what transpired for the next few minutes were a combination of kisses, hugs, and several attempts to escape Irma's python-like grip.

“It's lipstick time,” Cornelia complained, a playful glint in her eye as she finally pried Irma's arms off of her waist. “My lips will dry out.”

“Honey, we're both balmed up, if anything, now we have a double coating. You'll be fine.”

“Still, the sooner my make-up is done, the sooner we can get decorating out of the way, and the sooner we can chill out watching crappy holiday movies.”

“The temptation to stay in this bathroom where no one's watching and we can keep kissing forever, though...”

“Aren't we saving 'kissing forever' for the week at your place?” Cornelia asked innocently, perfectly pencilled eyebrows raised.

“No, that's 'sex forever', silly,” Irma said cheerfully, clapping her on the back.

She glanced back at her reflection. While the foundation and tiny grooming hadn't done much besides tidying her reflection up some, her eyes twinkled with something she could only describe as 'the Cornelia effect', and she found her appearance didn't really bug her so much by this point. As they stood side by side, Irma came to the realisation that she and Cornelia really did fit together, but more like a pair of odd socks that compliment each other in all their contrasting glory.

Maybe someone else would call that love.

…

Christmas with the Hales was turning out to be pretty fun.

Irma and Lillian fought bitterly over control of the spotify playlist that morning, while Elizabeth and Cornelia decorated the tree and Harold cheerfully filmed the entire ordeal. Lillian was stubbornly obsessed with the classics, while Irma kept switching them out for lesser appreciated cover versions, partly because rooting for the underdogs was how she rolled, and partly because she got immense glee out of pissing Lillian off (and for that, Cornelia saluted her for her heroism). When Karmilla's edition of 'All I Want For Christmas' came on instead of Mariah Carey, Lillian threatened to throw Irma's phone out of the window, which had Elizabeth swooping in and putting an end to their temporary rivalry.

They called a truce when the parents set out to buy icing and other edible decorations for the Christmas cookies, leaving the girls to prep them for baking. Lillian greased the baking tray while Cornelia mixed eggs and flour and sugar and cinnamon together in a big red bowl. Irma, meanwhile, sat herself on the island and, in compromise with Lillian, put on a playlist of nineties nostalgia, singing along to Re-feel-it and pretending to drum with a pair of wooden spoons against the countertop.

“Funnyyyyy, how we run around,” she belted. “And see what we got, we don't even know what it is we found...”

“And honey, take a look around,” Cornelia chimed in, using the whisk as a microphone. She spun on her heels, her eyes meeting Irma's as she lifted the whisk up to her lips. “By the time we get there we won't even know where it is we're bound!”

The two of them burst out laughing, and Lillian rolled her eyes. “Dorks.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Cornelia sighed dramatically, smirking at Irma before turning back to the mixing bowl and continuing to whisk the mixture. “I forgot we were in your divine presence, Lillian. I hope you can forgive us for entering the realm of uncool nostalgia for two seconds.”

Irma snorted.

“You know, she always gets more sarcastic when you're around, Irma,” Lillian accused.

“Yeah, I rub off on her. I'm a baaaad influence.”

“Is that any way to talk to our renowned guest?” Cornelia chastised. “What would Dad say?”

“He'd probably tell you not to sing into the whisk. You know how many germs you could be putting into the cookies by breathing on the mixture? You've built up an immunity living among students, but have some consideration for those of us who haven't stepped foot in a sweaty student union hall.”

“You're actually mad,” Irma cackled. “What kind of diseases could Cornelia have besides a bad case of the cooties? Unless... Corny, please don't tell me your parents are anti-vaxxers, or I might have to end this friendship for good.”

“Hell no, they're fine. Since when did you become such a germophobe, Lillian?” Cornelia teased.

“I play zombie games,” Lillian responded sagely. “I know how infection spreads.”

“They really don't paint as accurate a picture as you've been led to believe.”

As the mixture began to thicken into a dough, Lillian joined Irma on sitting on the island counter.

“So what's college like?”

“Classes are boring, my roommate sucks, and I'm drowning in student loans. But the parties are fun, and the people are cool when they aren't being pretentious tools.”

Lillian hummed.

“I can't wait until I go to college. Community's one of my favourite shows.”

“Heh, well, Community is an exaggeration for the sake of comedy, but...”

“Cornelia, what's your college like?”

“You saw it when you and Mom and Dad helped me move in,” Cornelia pointed out, distracted as she began to knead the dough.

“Yeah, but it's not the same! Your dorm is nice, sure, but what about the classes? The parties? The boys?”

“Hmm, I don't know about that. Boys aren't my area of expertise.”

“Well that's gay.”

Irma raised her eyebrows.

“Using 'gay' as an insult? Very 2004 of you.”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Sorry. So you don't have a boyfriend?”

“Nope,” Irma said shortly.

Cornelia began to knead a little harder.

“I bet you know stuff about Cornelia's boyfriend though,” Lillian said to Irma, arms folded. “Why doesn't she talk about him? Is he secretly ugly?”

Irma snorted.

“Ha. I know a thing or two, but he's actually... probably the most handsome person I've ever known. Aside from your sister!” She playfully punched Lillian on the arm, who looked unimpressed by the statement. Cornelia made a strangled sound.

“Lillian, pass me the cookie cutters, please,” she choked.

Lillian raised her eyebrows and hopped off the counter top, retrieving ones shaped like pine trees and angels and bells, handing them to Cornelia.

“Here they are, weirdo. Anyway, you can't blame me for being curious! We had to pry it out of you that you were seeing anyone at all, and you're always so twitchy when we bring him up. Irma, is he a junkie or a biker or something?”

“Nope, just a loser who lies around watching cartoons all day,” Irma responded with a lazy grin.

“So you have a thing in common.”

“Lillian!” Cornelia admonished, slamming a cookie cutter into the dough with enough force to make the other shapes jump. “Also, Irma, I don't appreciate you calling my partner a loser.”

Lillian pulled a face.

“Partner? What are you, old timers?”

“Cowboys,” Irma chimed in.

“Oh, stop teasing me,” Cornelia huffed. “I'm just trying to be more inclusive. The world could do with more of that, you know.”

Lillian shrugged. “Whatever. So you're liberal now?”

“I reckon I've always been, yes.”

“And you, Irma?”

“Socialist, through and through.”

“Of course you are.”

“Just wait until college, Lillian,” Irma chided with a smile, as Cornelia began setting out the Christmas cookies on the tray. “There's a whole wide world out there.”

…

The Italian restaurant Harold took them to that night was fucking fancy, to say the least. The kind of fancy where there were lemon-scented wipes in little packets on every table and complimentary garlic dough balls and everyone was in suits and dresses. The Hales looked like they fit right in, and Irma was some vagrant they'd picked up off of the streets and were treating to dinner in a commendable act of charity.

“I don't even know what half the stuff on this menu is,” Irma hissed to Cornelia as they took their seats.

“It's good food,” Cornelia promised. “They just use posh names to scare people into thinking its worth the money they're paying. Come on, you watch enough Hell's Kitchen to know what filet mignon is.”

Irma ended up ordering something that she was pretty sure was some kind of beef thing, and Cornelia ordered the one pasta dish on the menu that used aubergines instead of pancetta. The wine was decent at least, and Irma found it easier to sneak glances at Cornelia's cleavage in the scoop neck dress she was wearing with the large flower centrepiece obscuring them from her parents. Lillian, while looking the part in a simple white turtle neck dress, was very obviously playing on her phone under the table.

The sweet onion soup starters arrived swiftly, and Irma was dragged back into a light grilling about her teaching degree from Harold, while Elizabeth began to catch Cornelia up with the latest family drama.

“Why, I just think it's so inspiring that you're choosing to act as a beacon for young people, and pave their futures-”

“-And your uncle, of course, is still coming around asking for money, as if your grandparents don't have enough to worry about-”

“-And you know, teaching qualifications open up the whole world to you! You could teach in international schools, or you could teach English in schools where it's a secondary language-”

“-It's not like their health is getting any better, you know! I keep telling him it's time to stand on his own two feet, he's certainly old enough-”

The moment that their waiter came to take the dishes away, Irma hurriedly excused herself.

In the bathroom (one of those spotless white ones with tiny shell-shaped soaps and embossed toilet paper because of course, rich people) Irma took a few moments to collect herself, staring at her reflection in dismay. She'd done her best to look presentable, but she still stuck out like a sore thumb in this kind of environment. Her dress was a little tight since the last time she'd worn it was for graduation, and her choker was crooked. Her bun was already starting to look lopsided, the redness of her cheeks was starting to show through the base Cornelia had applied that morning...

“Why am I not as perfect as the folks out there?” she muttered to herself, eyes narrowing as she glared at her reflection. She reached for one of the shell-shaped hand soaps and began to pick it with the edge of her fingernail. Absently, the faucet turned and water began to gush out, thrumming to the beat of her frustration.

After a few minutes of self-loathing and contemplation, she heard the sound of the door open behind her, and saw a flash of Irish green fabric, before Cornelia came up behind her, a vision of concern. She startled as the small army of water gushing from the faucet turned on her, almost letting out a hiss of steam, before Irma quickly called it off, allowing it to taper down the drain and out of sight.

“Irma, are you okay? My parents thought I should check on you in case the wine didn't agree with you, but...”

“Yeah, it isn't the wine,” Irma sighed. “It's this whole place. I can't fucking believe your dad called this place rustic on the way here.”

“He doesn't know the meaning of the word,” Cornelia agreed with a giggle. She wrapped her arms around Irma, leaning down to rest her chin on her shoulder. “You look amazing tonight.”

“Really?” Irma sighed. “I don't feel it. Or is this a classic 'lying to your girlfriend's face so she doesn't start crying in a stupidly fancy bathroom' tactic?”

“Well, it wouldn't be a great start to the meal.” Cornelia pressed a kiss to her jaw. “But I'm serious. You look great.”

“I'm practically bursting out of this dress. My tits are fighting for freedom. And my hair is coming undone and my stupid face is getting stupid red!”

“Of course it is, you've been drinking,” Cornelia said, rolling her eyes fondly. “And your face is the furthest thing from stupid, so don't even start.”

“I'm past the point of starting, Corny, I'm waist-fucking-deep in it. Look at this damn soap.” She gestured aggressively towards a shrivelled pebble in the basin. “That was shaped like a fucking seashell when I came in here and I picked and picked at it and now it looks like, I don't know, a really tiny golf ball?”

“Wow. Okay, let's take a step back from the soap.” Cornelia spun her around and rested her hands on her shoulders. “Irma, you look wonderful tonight. Seriously, you do, and I hate that going to this stupid dinner has made you so worked up.”

“It's not just the dinner.” Irma frowned up at her so-tall-it-was-unfair girlfriend. “Look at us. I mean, really look. We're like chalk and cheese, except, you're too pretty to be chalk. We're like – I don't know! An oil painting and cheese! I don't belong here eating food so fancy I can't pronounce it with wine I'm too weak to drink and in a dress that's too tiny for my damn good. You might fit into this magazine-spread life where everything is minimalist and perfect and velvet but I just don't. I saw it in the mirror this morning and I saw it in the mirror again just now. Are you honestly okay with that?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Cornelia asked, the smile gone from her face. “I love you. I love having you in my life. Sure, I like the nice material stuff sometimes, but if you think for one second that I'd put that stuff before you – before us – then the wine has definitely gone to your head.”

Irma huffed. After a beat, she muttered, “Rich people wine is ridiculous.”

“Agreed. Now, listen to me. We're too deep into this relationship to be hitting insecurities over stuff like this, got it? You know I come from money. You wanted to come on this trip with me. Unfortunately, that means seeing the way my family lives up close and personal. I just want you to remember that doesn't define me, or how I feel about you. I want you here. Okay?”

“I hate when you're being reasonable,” Irma groaned. She hugged Cornelia tight.

“Oof. Heh, don't tell me you're drunk already, we have the rest of a dinner to get through.”

“Are you gonna tell your parents tonight?” Irma mumbled into Cornelia's waist.

Cornelia hummed uncertainly. “Maybe. I don't know.”

“Well, remember I still love you. If you don't wanna come out here in this stupid fancy restaurant, no pressure. We'll make it happen some other time.”

“Hey, no need to comfort me, you're the one feeling insecure,” Cornelia teased. Irma lifted her head up to protest, and was met with Cornelia's lips pressing against her forehead.

“Ugh, you're too cute,” whined Irma. “If I weren't wearing heels I would go on my tiptoes and kiss you. And if you weren't wearing heels, we might actually be fucking level for once.”

“Thanks for clarifying that,” Cornelia quipped. “Not to worry, I can accommodate you.”

She leaned down and cupped Irma's cheeks, pulling her into a kiss.

The sound of the bathroom door abruptly shutting ended the sickeningly sweet moment, and they jolted apart. Lillian stood there, wide-eyed.

“Uhhh. Mom told me to come get you two, the main courses are out...” She blinked a few times. “Are you guys... lesbians?”

“Lillian,” Cornelia started, voice strained.

“I'm a lesbian,” Irma said with a shrug and an awkward chuckle.

“So you called me ignorant earlier even though you really are gay?”

“Ignorance is ignorance, sis.”

“Lillian, please don't tell Mom and Dad about this,” Cornelia pleaded. “I'm going to tell them myself, I just haven't had time to yet.”

Lillian folded her arms and huffed.

“I can't believe your mystery guy is just Irma.”

“Oh, ouch?”

Cornelia let go of Irma and approached Lillian.

“I'm serious. Can you please promise me you won't say anything?”

Lillian shrugged.

“I guess. I mean, I don't care about it. Not like they'd believe me anyway.” Seeing Cornelia's pinched expression, she sighed loudly. “All right, no. No, I won't say anything. So you can stop looking at me like that! Now come on, or Mom will be next to find us in here.”

As she pushed open the door to leave, she turned back.

“Also, Irma, you've got lipstick on your face. Hard to play dumb when the evidence is right there on your forehead.”

“When did she become such a smartass?” Irma muttered as Cornelia fished around in her clutch, bringing out a make-up wipe. “Look, don't panic. Lillian might be a pain, but she respects your business. Probably. I mean, I don't know her that well, but it's none of her business right? She knows that.”

“How did she seem to you?” Cornelia asked, chewing her lip. “Uncomfortable? Freaked out? D-Disgusted?”

“None. It was the same kind of grossed out she got when she caught you making out with Peter for the first time, I reckon. It was sibling disgust, not, y'know, her being a phobe.”

“Are you sure?” Cornelia fretted.

“Super sure. Now come on, you heard what she said. Lets go back before your mom drags us back by the ears.”

Irma reached over to squeeze her hand and didn't let go until they were out of the bathroom and in sight of the Hales. Elizabeth turned and shot them a disapproving look, motioning them back over, and Harold's face lit up with a delighted smile.

“I was starting to think the two of you had fallen in!” he joked, as they took their seats. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, everything's fine,” Cornelia promised, a lie rolling effortlessly from her tongue as Irma stared down at the steak au poivre in front of her. “Irma just smudged her mascara and needed me to come to her rescue.”

“Ah, I see. Surely it shouldn't take that long though?” Elizabeth turned to Lillian. “Were they taking selfies?”

“Oh, they were having a gay old time in there,” Lillian deadpanned.

Cornelia froze. Irma dared to look up from her food to stare daggers at Lillan.

A moment passed, and Harold shrugged.

“Well, I'll never understand it, myself. But the youth of today are always finding beauty in everything! They can make moments last a lifetime! And I'm envious that an entire generation has learned to take pictures from an angle that certainly appear more flattering in post-production...”

As his speech continued, the tension melted away. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the two of them, as if to silently chastise them for sending Harold on a spiel about technological advancements, before tucking into her food.

Cornelia swiftly kicked Lillian under the table, but all she got back in response was an impish grin.

…

“Urgh, I'm full to burst.”

A now pyjama-clad Irma flopped face down on the pull-out bed, before rolling onto her side and burping softly into the back of her hand.

“I told warned you against dessert, if you recall,” Cornelia said with a grin, pulling her nightgown over her head.

“Yeah, but they had cheesecake. You know I'm weak for cheesecake, Corny.”

“That I do.” Cornelia lay down beside her. “I was a bundle of nerves the whole night.”

“Aw, come here.” Irma pulled Cornelia close, combing her fingers through her hair. “Lillian was just being a brat, that's all. She's got dirt on you, of course she's gonna poke a little fun. But she wasn't about to out you or anything.”

“I know,” Cornelia groaned. “I know. But she's on thin ice, I'm telling you now!”

“Well, the sooner you get it off your chest, the sooner she'll lose that power over you,” Irma pointed out. She yawned. “I'm pooped. Can you turn the light off? And then come spoon me?”

“Sure, your highness,” teased Cornelia, prying Irma's hands off her waist. As she wandered over to the light switch near the hallway, she caught sight of Lillian leaving the bathroom. The two stood there in silence for a few moments, before Cornelia uttered, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Lillian shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Hey, Cornelia?”

“Yeah?”

“Um. I know I didn't say it at the restaurant, but... I don't like, mind or anything. About you and Irma.”

Relief washed over her.

“You don't?”

“No! And you should stop caring that somebody does, you know? Mom and Dad are whatever. I don't know if they'd care about it. But, it shouldn't matter if we mind or not, that's my point. It's about you and Irma, not about the rest of us. Although, since you're a lesbian now, I wish you had better taste in girls. I've seen her eat peanut butter out of the jar with her fingers,” Lillian pointed out, pulling a face.

Cornelia, stunned by the overload of information, leaned back against the wall.

“With her fingers?”

“Yup. It was our house peanut butter, too!”

Cornelia buried her head in her hands. “Oh my god. If I didn't love her so damn much that would for sure be a deal breaker. Also, I'm not a lesbian.”

“You're not?”

“No. I loved Peter, remember?”

Lillian pouted. “Yeah. I miss him.”

“I know you do, you remind me all the time.” Cornelia squared her shoulders. “Lillian, I'm pansexual.”

Lillian raised an eyebrow. “Pansexual?”

“Yes. Pansexual. I... fancy people regardless of whether they're a guy, a girl, or nonbinary.”

“Nonbinary?”

“The internet is a great place to learn about this stuff, since you're on the track to being an ally now.”

Lillian giggled.

“Yeah, I guess. Well, okay. So you're not gay, you're... what's the short of it? Pan?”

Cornelia nodded wordlessly.

“Okay. Cool. You're pan. And Irma's your girlfriend. And she's a lesbian?”

“Yes. You caught on fast.”

With a shrug, Lillian said simply, “It wasn't that hard to grasp. You're pan, Irma's gay, you're dating. That's that.”

Cornelia's mouth opened and closed a few times. At last, she uttered, “You made that seem really easy.”

“I'm a smart and socially aware kid,” Lillian said proudly, hands on her hips. Her smug expression softened. “And I'm happy you're happy. I was kinda thinking, cause you never mentioned your 'mystery uni boyfriend', that maybe you didn't really like him. I'm glad it's just a mix up.”

Cornelia's heart swelled, and she stepped towards Lillian, hugging her tight.

“You're a good sister.”

“And you're a clingy sister, god!”

They bid goodnight and Cornelia climbed into bed beside Irma, who had her back to her and was softly groaning. She yelped as Cornelia wriggled under the covers.

“Holy crap, Corny, your feet are colder than Mount fucking Thanos!”

“So warm me up.”

“Sorry, you got the wrong guardian for that party trick.”

Cornelia rolled her eyes fondly and reached around to spoon her.

“Geez, you ate too much. Your stomach feels like a rock.”

“Don't bully me, that was rich people food! How many times am I gonna get to eat like that again, huh?”

“If you'd just let me take you fancy places-” Cornelia pointed out.

“You know I hate fancy places!” whined Irma, punctuated by another burp. “Ugh. Just cuddle me to sleep, jerk.”

“Who are you calling a jerk, jerk?”

Cornelia obliged nonetheless, letting her body wrap around Irma's with a familiarity that had adapted over the years; from guardian sleepovers to family vacations to just the two of them drunkenly sprawled out in Cornelia's dorm. And now here they were, fitting together like jigsaw pieces, water and earth.

“Sweet dreams,” Cornelia whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Irma's neck.

“Keep your lips to yourself, Corny,” mumbled Irma sleepily, snuggling closer all the same.

#w.i.t.c.h.#w.i.t.c.h #cornirma #irmelia #femslash february #cornelia x irma #irma x cornelia #cornelia hale #irma lair #irma/cornelia #cornelia/irma #writing

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end-o-the-line · 6 years

Text

Trying to track the Winter Soldier through both canon and history....god help me....

As a follow up to the First Avenger timeline, insomnia brought us here.

February 1945 - Bucky falls from a goddamn train in the Alps. We've gone over this.

Okay, we know Bucky was in Russian/Hydra hands by early '45. The first thing to look into is Operation Paperclip. You may recognize this from TWS, but it was not made up by the MCU, it was a real thing. In May of 1945, a U.S. Army Major Robert B. Staver sent a telegram to the Pentagon, pushing the idea of capturing and using German scientists toward the war effort in the Pacific. They proceeded to do just that, housing captured scientists in southern Bavaria. So smart, keeping the Nazis in Germany and stuff. By November, the project had been renamed Operation Paperclip. For secrecy?

Most of the early objectives of this operation were to keep the German scientists from emigrating to non-’murica friendly countries and continuing their work. Eventually, the US realized it was just fine for them to continue their work, as long as it was for them. By the end of the war, Germans with 'marketable' knowledge were being 'recruited' through ‘orders’ for their families and such to report to Allied bases; the important ones were then moved to ‘secret’ locations (one was code-named DUSTBIN and it was proooobably in the desert near Los Alamos idk) and ‘questioned’; detained for months at a time.

Some of these scientists were later removed and charged for their war-time actions. Since we know Zola was still part of SHIELD when he built the nightmare computer in the 70's, he obviously wasn't one of those charged with the atrocities he committed. None of the scientists were free to roam until at least '47. That leads us to believe that Zola couldn't have gotten his hands back on Bucky for at least 2 years, likely more. It's possible Zola never got his hands on Bucky again, if you take Bucky's memories as more like amalgams and assume he just uses Zola as the face for any and all faceless scientists he encountered. It's not out of the question.

Moving on. Bucky is found by Russians, and since we've been over that too, needless to say it's highly unlikely that many Russians were deserting the Red Army to go be buddies with a mostly Nazi-associated Hydra operation at the end of WW2. The Russians and the Nazis were not friends, mmkay, Russia lost nearly 40 million people during WW2, and only 9 million of those were in combat. But, by the time the first traces of the Cold War come around, Russians in Hydra would definitely be a thing, just like Americans in Hydra would be a thing. Again, the date 1947 comes into play, as that's a pretty accepted start date of the Cold War tensions. But.

But.

Bucky was found by some very lost Russians and brought in, where they took him fuck knows where to pimp his ride. There's not much we can take from the MCU with the meager flashbacks, but there is a very clear timeline from Captain America: Winter Soldier Vol. 2. I'll fill in what I can from the MCU, since that's what this is focusing on, and rely on the comics for what I can’t.

March 23, 1945 - Bucky's KGB file is created by the KGB branch in Dnepropetrovsk Region, USSR, which in 2016 became known as Dnipro Raion, Ukraine. (**Thanks to Morrighan on AO3 for this translation!) Of note is the giant Dnipropetrovsk Automobile Factory, built by German POWs starting in December of 1945, which was planned by the Russians as a secret military machining plant. It wasn't under way at this particular date, but the supplies for such large industry were, and it stands to reason the future Fist of Hydra would have been brought to a place that was intended to become the center of the Soviet secret weapons think tank.

May 7, 1945 - Bucky dies. Like, literally. The comics are clear on this, that when the Russians found him he was frozen solid, and dead. One of them had been on a mission with the Commandos, though, and after seeing Bucky in action, suspected he had the serum just like Steve (he didn't, he was just a badass), so they thaw him like a Thanksgiving turkey to try to get tissue and fluid samples. When he's thawed, he's dead as a doornail. They revive him, though, and even the scientists are kind of shocked it worked, since he did not, in fact, have the serum. What he did have was the memory of how to kick ass, which they learn the hard way haha, so they sedate his ass until they can get all their samples from him. Having said that, MCU canon directly controverts this. MCU Bucky DOES have the serum, that's been made very clear from several of his feats of strength that did not include the metal arm, and he was obviously not flash frozen in the Alps because he remembers shit. So. Do with that dichotomy what you will, just thought I'd share.

May 21, 1945 - After determining that they can't recreate the serum from him, and that he's gonna kick their asses if they let him stay conscious, Bucky is put into cryo-freeze. Even the scientist making the notes is all IDFK about the order when it's given by Karpov, he's like birch is crazy.

In the flashback scene from TWS where Bucky's metal arm is being attached, the doctor uses a handheld electric bone saw.

The patent for the first hand held reciprocating saw was filed on June 27, 1952. Trust me. You do not want to try Googling that, okay, let me take the hit on those visuals. I spontaneously became a vegetarian. Anyway, it's safe to assume the flashback scene of Bucky getting what remained of his arm cut off was at the least 7 years of captivity later. Since Bucky hasn't aged any more than the Capsicle did, it's safe to assume, and mentioned in those pieces of comics canon, that the Russians essentially said *shrug* and stuffed the half-dead American soldier they found in the fridge for a decade like my grandmother used to do to the stuff she canned every summer.

Since the cryo containment they stuff him back into after he has the metal arm was actually in the operating theater, hence already tested and in use (and mobile, apparently? what did they do push him around on a handcart?? that would be the worst job) it's a pretty safe assumption to make that even MCU Bucky was almost immediately put on ice after being captured because he kept trying to kill folks, and kept that way until at least mid to late 1952, if not later.

Personal tangent? If the Russians/Hydra already had a Cryo tank to conveniently throw Bucky into, one can assume they had a use for it, right? My personal theory is that it was for Super Soldiers, meaning someone had at least theorized that a Super Soldier could be frozen. How many fucking Cold War resources do you think were put toward hunting for that fucking Valkyrie in the Arctic?

June 1954 - The date comes from Captain America: Winter Soldier Vol. 2 again, and it gels with the info above about the arm-attachment so I'm going with it. Bucky becomes the 'Fist of Hydra' and is then put back on ice because the Fist of Hydra tries to strangle his doctor. It would be super easy to split his time and say he was with the Russians until the dissolution of the Soviet Union, then was transferred to Hydra's control, but this Fist of Hydra line makes that impossible. So even though the Russians in the form of the KGB had him, they were obviously still working under or with the Hydrapus. Bucky worked for Department X in the Comics, but that's not an MCU thing, so. That's where the MCU and the comics diverge wildly, and make this a migraine-inducing task. Right after they let him out of Cryo, Bucky escapes, but since he's in the middle of the goddamn Soviet wilderness, he doesn't get far.

1959 - The first page of the file Steve receives from Natasha about the Winter Soldier is probably dated 1959, from the KGB branch in Lvovsky Region, USSR, which is the Lviv Region in Ukraine. The area is super varied in landscape and population, which could have served as a proving ground of sorts for a weapon like the Winter Soldier. This can probably be taken as a pretty clear date for when the Winter Soldier officially became 'active' under the direction of the KGB. That's five years from the metal arm being attached to becoming the Asset, during which you can only assume they were working on the base programming for what would later become the wipes.

1964 - This is technically when the Winter Soldier's kills start being counted, if you take Natasha's 'the last 50 years' literally. So I'm going to ignore pre-64 history, pretty much, and assume that the 5-10 years after June 1954 were spent turning Bucky into The Winter Soldier with mindfucking, training, languages, ect. It's important to note that in the comics, Bucky was never tortured, per se. Not physically, I guess, though the defining line of ‘torture’ here is thin. He was already an amnesiac, so they used a combination of sensory deprivation and 'Mental Implantation' experiments to make him loyal to them. You don't make someone loyal by beating the shit out of them, you know? There's also evidence in the movies in the way Bucky reacts to people; he is clearly in charge of the STRIKE team, not taking their orders; he doesn't flinch when Steve touches him, nor does he mind one bit the Wakandan doctors who are hooking him up to IVs, ect. He does not outwardly behave like a man who was subjected to decades of beatings or what have you.

Look at that cupcake, Jesus.

Since MCU canon is sparse with language info, I'll go with Comics canon on this; Bucky has stated that before Hydra, he spoke six languages. Hydra's own notes state that he spoke four. We'll go with Bucky on this one, since he would know amirite. I can't figure out what all 6 were for sure, but there is solid evidence that he spoke fluent English, German, and Russian. The other educated guesses would add Japanese, French, and Italian to that tally. It's also possible his sixth language was cursing, because even Deadpool is shocked at Bucky's language when he goes back in time and meets him during the War. Those are the most likely, simply because they were the relevant ones to the War effort and where he was deployed. There's a panel with War-dressed Bucky speaking Chinese, but wtf dude I mean....he was too young to be sent to China at any point before the War broke out, and there's no reason the War Department would have taught him fucking Chinese in the 40's when he was up to his ass in the European Theater, so that panel might be an alternate reality thing, idk.

After Hydra, he was additionally fluent in Chinese (probably post-Hydra, fuck that panel), Spanish, Polish, Romanian (MCU canon), and he became passable in Kree. At one point when he is Bucky!Cap, Steve seems to be under the impression that Bucky can also understand a dog barking. I don't know if that's a Bucky thing or a Steve thing, but it's apparently canon that Bucky talks to animals like a crazy cat lady enough that Steve thinks he's understanding them. Idfk dude.

Sooo, TL;DR:

WW2-era: English, German, Russian, Japanese, French, Italian (probably), and foul language.

Winter Soldier-era: Chinese, Spanish, Polish, Romanian, Kree, and dog? Probably a lot more, probably ALL the Soviet Bloc languages, tbh, I just don't have hard evidence of them. Ehhhh.....

.....while I at first assumed he was talking about the other Soldiers collectively in this scene, we could also assume that Bucky is telling Steve and Sam all that info about the other Soldiers because he's listing his own stats. So it's possible Bucky himself speaks upwards of 30 languages by the time he breaks free from Hydra. In addition to the Soviet Bloc, if he also spent a lot of time in Asia, the Middle East, and Africa, all those different dialects could easily add up to 30+ languages.

Most of the 'training' he was given during that proving ground period would basically have been the Russians field-testing him and being all WOO he already knows this, because Bucky was already a Grade A Badass. They would have updated him on new technology as soon as it was available to him, because he can obviously fly SHIELD fighter jets without blinking an eye and is rather fond of commandeering random flying machines . . . I imagine he’d only be able to steal one of those and then realize he doesn’t know how to work it once.

1959-1964 - I got sidetracked. Anyway. There is some chatter in the fandom that Bucky killed Kennedy. If we take the 50 years thing literally and go with the 1964 date, he probably didn't. If we take it almost literally and infer the 1959 date on his file was from his first field test or mission, he . . . really could have killed Kennedy. I do like to mix my movies, though, and imagine that Bucky was sent to Dallas, met up with Magneto trying to stop him, hai there metal arm, and got wrapped up like a burrito in a chain link fence before he could fire a shot.....

Anyway....despite how well-armed the Winter Soldier is . . . jesus I just re-read this and realized I made a horrible pun but I'm not changing it because it made me laugh, most political assassinations are not usually by gun or knife. You can't have plausible deniability if you shoot someone in the face. That's why the Winter Soldier's reputation is as both assassin AND spy.

So I’m going to highlight some real-world events that you could ascribe to the Winter Soldier through the years, if you are so inclined to write these things in stories. Dates and locations are between the spades, for ease of tracking this sneaky bastard's possible real historical movements. Bold dates are confirmed by MCU canon.

♠ September 11, 1973 - Santiago, Chile ♠ The apparent suicide of Chile’s president, Salvador Allende - with an assault rifle – during the Pinochet coup. Being honest, this was probably the CIA, but still.

♠ early December 1977 - Cairo, Egypt ♠ David Holden - a writer, journalist, broadcaster, and possible CIA agent - was the Chief Foreign Correspondent of the Sunday Times, and is shot in still unexplained circumstances just before the peace talks between Egypt and Israel. With his connections, and possible CIA ties, there is no telling what this guy was up to, or who would have wanted him to stop doing it.

♠ April 17, 1978 - Kabul, Afghanistan ♠ Mir Akbar Khyber, an Afghan intellectual and a leader of the Parcham faction of the People's Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA), was killed outside his home. I don't know how. His death led to the overthrow of the republic, and to the advent of a socialist regime in Afghanistan.

♠ December 23, 1978 - Phnom Penh, Cambodia ♠ Malcolm Caldwell, a British lecturer in southeast Asian studies and a Marxist writer who was a vocal supporter of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, was killed for no apparent reason other than being a douche. This one's interesting because there was a witness: About 11:00 p.m. that night [Elizabeth] Becker was awakened by the sound of gunfire. She stepped out of her bedroom and saw a heavily armed Cambodian man who pointed a pistol at her. (Sounds familiar right??) She ran back into her room and heard people moving and more gunshots. An hour later a Cambodian came to her bedroom door and told her that Caldwell was dead. . . He had been shot in the chest and the body of a Cambodian man was also in the room, possibly the same man who had pointed the pistol at Becker. Three days later, Vietnam invaded Cambodia and ended Khmer Rouge.

In comics canon, the Winter Soldier goes rogue some time in the 70's - I think, I cannot find it - on a job in NYC after seeing his little sister Rebecca on the street. Hydra tracks him down and pets him on the head and takes him back because he doesn't know why he bolted. After it becomes obvious that he's having issues, he shadows the head of the program (Lukin, the dude from Civil War) for two years as his personal bodyguard, then is put back into cryo. It isn't until after this stretch that the mind wipes start, because his behavior is degrading more and more and he becomes harder to handle. There is a ten year stretch here in the late 70′s to mid 80′s, basically, that this could have gone down.

♠ August 17, 1988 - Bahawalpur, Pakistan ♠ President Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq of Pakistan dies in a plane crash, along with 31 others, including a shitload of important politicians I don't want to bother listing. Witnesses report the plane flying erratically, then nosediving and exploding on impact. An investigation concluded it was a 'criminal act of sabotage'. Zia-ul-Haq's most enduring legacy was his indirect involvement and military strategies against the USSR's war in Afghanistan.

♠ November 24, 1989 - Peshawar, Pakistan ♠ Abdullah Azzam, a Palestinian Islamist leader - who Wikipedia claims is also known as the Father of Global Jihad - was killed with his two adult sons by a car bomb. In a narrow street across from a gas station, a bomb that had a 50-metre detonation cord led to the sewerage system where the assailant presumably waited. He literally laid in the sewers waiting, that's hardcore. Anyway, Azzam both controlled the jihadi forces who had fought against the USSR in Afghanistan and opposed the extension of the Islamist war to targets in the non-Islamic world. His protégé was a man named Osama bin Laden.

♠ December 16, 1991 - Upstate New York like a goddamn hipster ♠ Yeah, Mission Report and stuff. Howard and Maria Stark are murrrrrderrrrred in a car. (I have actual real meta that circles around this but that’s for a different bout of insomnia I guess).

♠ December 25, 1991 - Siberia, probably, jesus is anyone still reading this? ♠ The USSR is dissolved. It's likely they moved all their Hydra assets into Pierce's control shortly after this, meaning the Soldier became 'the Asset' and moved to DC like a politician. The scenes from Civil War with the other Soldiers going all Mutiny on the Bounty had to have happened somewhere in December of 1991.

♠ 6 April 1994 - Kigali, Rwanda ♠ The plane carrying Rwanda’s and Burundi’s presidents, Juvenal Habyarimana and Cyprien Ntaryamira, is shot down as it prepares to land, precipitating the Rwandan Genocide and the First Congo War. That's one hell of a precision strike, if you want chaos.

♠ November 11, 2004 - Gaza Strip, probably? ♠ Yasser Arafat dies in a Paris, France hospital, for reasons that are still not clear but apparently began to develop on October 25, 2004. Many believe he was poisoned by polonium laced into his clothing and belongings, which is why this one is sort of hard to place for a Winter Soldier location. I'm assuming he would have at least accessed the home in Gaza City, Palestine?

♠ July 30, 2005 - a mountain range in southern Sudan near New Kush ♠ John Garang, leader of the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) and Sudan’s new vice-president, dies in a helicopter crash after the January 2005 peace agreement, which leads to rioting in Khartoum.

♠ 2009 - Odessa, Ukraine ♠ The Winter Soldier visits Odessa so he can shoot Natasha Romanov in her bikini line, plus an engineer dude or something I'm too lazy to go looking for the story tbh, we've all seen the movie.

♠ May 4, 2012 - just outside nuke range of Manhattan, New York ♠ The Battle of New York. If I was Hydra, I'd have my greatest weapon poised and ready to go kick some alien ass if all else failed, kwim, but not so close as to be exploded. You can't rule the world if someone else has already conquered that shit.

♠ within a week of Monday, Memorial Day, May 26, 2014 - Washington, DC ♠ (brilliant date analysis from Katie_P on AO3!) Nick Fury is almost killed, twice. It's apparent that the Asset's home has moved from Siberia in the 90's to a bank vault in DC at some point in the last . . . IDK, 23 years. . We all saw the chase in the street, but the Soldier takes his shot through one of Steve's walls using thermal imaging on his scope, then plays ultimate frisbee with Captain America for a minute before saying fuck it and going back to the bank where they keep him.

Then some moron doesn't read his instruction manuals thoroughly and sends Captain America's dead best friend to kill him without anticipating the inevitable joint Cap/Asset system error.

Anyway. The Soldier saves Steve's dumb ass one more time, then bolts and heads back to the bank to utterly fuck that shit up, but he doesn't kill anyone there. He specifically says he has enough blood on his hands, and lets them all live. Then he ghosts and doesn't resurface until he smells plums two years later. As settled as he was in Romania, he probably spent at least half a year of those two years there.

That's all I got.

Okay Jesus, so that was a lot of work. Comics mentions that I didn't include? Steve and Bucky knew Wolverine during WW2. They fought together several times. And later, the Winter Soldier helps Wolverine escape from the Weapons X Facility, which Wolverine doesn't find out until much later. I don't know when that is and . . . God help me, I kind of don't care at this point? Also, one panel has Bucky claiming that he killed Hitler. If so, good.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #history nerd rants #research #fic reference #history sorta #timeline #meta maybe?#captain america #MCU detail references

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spearxwind · 5 years

Text

ask stuff!!

first i wanna apologize for letting some of these sit in my inbox for a while :’) i didnt have the time or energy to answer before

----

hdkjdgkfjh do it coward make all the bug ocs

bold of you to assume bugs don’t have finger sensitivity... but also the bugs making passive aggressive comments back like “imagine having singular lens eyes”

4060 x 2560 pixels in size and at 600dpi which is absolutely ridiculous btw

then i crop it or enlarge it depending on what im drawing

khjgdkjfhdfjghk god you’re so valid

i realized i was a mimic when i had to teach myself to not be a motionless slab of concrete when paying attention in class. i used to just sit there yeah motionless, not doing anything but looking right thru the teacher until one of them went “windy, whenever i look at you idk if you’re paying extreme attention or if you’re secretly plotting to backstab me with a tomahawk” (spoilers i was just paying hella attention) but ever since he called me out in the middle of class i was like man........ ive been a fuckin creepo this whole time

and i had to forcefully teach myself to do other things while paying attention to something like moving my leg or my arm or switching positions, looking away and then back again, fiddling w my hair or my rings or anything

nah they just have their 8 functional “anthro” arms and their 4 legs to stand on, all the other legs are more akin to a centipede’s and cant do much

also for some reason everyone keeps misgendering tenten as a dude and i want to explicitly state that tenten is NONBINARY and uses THEY/THEM thank you

its cool its cool i assumed you really meant nothing much by it, but tone matters when writing things on the internet sadly since we cannot hear each other

at the same time oc lore and such, especially for this one story, is something i personally am very touchy about since... i have a lot of people wanting to know about it and i keep changing things a lot. it takes a lot of self control for me to not post about everything i think of because id just be retconning my stuff constantly. i try to only post about my stuff when i make definitive decisions or run them by my friends so they can tell me if its any good or not but i still go back on some of those decisions eventually so i just dont want to confuse people further :’))

but!! in better news!! that story finally has plot!! after literally three years of being [vague hand motion]. its not all built yet, but i do have a good thread to follow, with a beginning and an ending which is a lot more than what ive ever had for any project jkhf

tbh id have talked about it already, but i literally just made a post like this a couple months back where i redid a lot of my lore and such (for the 50th time since i decided this was a story) and it feels kinda ratty to come back from dead silence about this, months later, to say hey so everything i said back then? just forget it lol

my dude ive been playing dnd for a couple months and i still suck at it but if it helps any: check for fucking traps.... oh my god

oh thats me!!! im the bitch!!! (bug witch)

hell yeah dont fucking let anyone declaw your ocs,,, they’re your murder machines. who cares if theyd be more popular if they had a love interest or fucking whatever. ive already had my fair share of ‘i made this character softer to please certain people’ and you know what? im absolutely done w that

best example i could give you is adri. i cannot tell you the amount of people ive gotten and still get that ask about him + love interests or “but would he ever feel bad? would he ever spare people? would he ever catch feelings for someone?” and my personal favorite “so would he fuck anyone [before eating them]” nuh uh. nope. absolutely not. fuck off w that shit

i have no idea my dude. i have 5 people who i promised slots to who have been waiting since the beginning of february but i havent been able to do anything for them YET bc my fucking school workload has been ridiculous out of the blue

but at the same time i really do need money to save up for things... i might have to look into opening a patreon/tip jar/other things for it :’) maybe gonna open up exclusive titty commissions

but uh. to answer you its honestly just sometime SOON, but could be “next week” soon or “in two months” soon, because i super depend on my uni not holding me by the fucking neck to be able to have time for these and i want to get to the people already in my queue before doing more.

also i still have a shit ton of commissions that i havent posted that im waiting on posting when i finish these as well so i can do it in sets

#ask #ask dump #anon #some wild variety in asnwers here jkdfdfhjf

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boy-above · 5 years

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What’s the tea on your psychiatrist sis

ah pls don’t call me sis. but i am ready to spill the tea. he’s super pretentious and doesn’t listen to a word i have to say. he thinks that bc i can maintain eye contact and force myself to appear “normal” for our 20 minute appointments that i must not be “that anxious”.

even though i don’t even do a good job of appearing “not anxious” in front of him bc im always bouncing my legs, fiddling with keychains on my bags or squishies, or rubbing my arms until they’re raw with nervousness, and sometimes im even like lowkey shaking so like, that seems pretty fucken anxious to me idk about you.

and ive had a problem my whole life where i just can’t sleep, it takes me about three hours minimum to fall asleep even when im super exhausted or didn’t even sleep the night before. but he won’t listen to a word I say about it or even humor the idea of prescribing me sleep meds. he just gives me a lecture abt how i need to wake up at the same time every day, as if i haven’t tried that in my 21 years on this earth. waking up early even when I’ve had little or no sleep doesn’t help me fall asleep early the next night, it still takes hours for me to fall asleep and the cycle continues, all that does is make me run on low sleep and makes me feel like shit! getting three hours of sleep every night is not healthy!

and finally his biggest offense is that today, May 2nd, is the first time since December that ive been able to get an appointment with him. he cancelled an appointment in february last minute and said he couldn’t see me again until may. he literally left me hanging for almost half a fucking year and he expected me to stay on meds that made me feel like shit that entire time, and had i not been assertive and demanded treatment from the nurse i would still have been on those meds until today.

#be quiet marshal #marshal gets harshal #ask the marshmallow #anonymous #ask to tag

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andronauts · 5 years

Text

more feelings on roy endoza/dnd

yeh so as expected i already knew how shitty i was gonna feel after the last session

pretty much was talking abt this shit forever ago but YKNOW people still think i didnt “expect ppl to react like this” or “didnt consider ppls feelings” bRUHHHHHH............ OF COURSE I DID........

i had a lot of stupid moments as a player that i wish i remembered in time but its kind of too late for it now ig. and im not talking about my godmove play about using my godtier artifact as a powermove for my own personal mission no im not talking about that stupid moment bc i honest to god think that was a powermove on the campaigns part. on behalf of the party it was a shitty move on behalf of the gods and the villain himself it was a fucking powerplay so yeah. very double edged sword that also heals as well.

anyways. i have a lot to word abt... im still upset! i have been about this specific scenario happening ive literally been crying about this scenario since february so like idk man i never underestimated how much it was gonna hurt when ive written 1000 diff scenarios of it playing out and imagined 1093924829385 diff scenarios of how it would play out and all of them SUCKED there was no good reveal.

everything ive done i have felt SO GUILTY ABOTUJKSDFDSFS... like REALLY iv vent and i rant about it and i crytpe about it and i feel shit as a PLAYER but roy as a character is SO dedicated he’s so persevering he’s true to his goal and ME as a player care more about staying true to my character than how i affect my own mental state or whatever... THIS is the character i wrote i dont care if what he does to achieve his goal is shitty like THATS what i wrote and keeping that was so much more important to me than making myself feel better about my choices as a player... character integrity is so important to me

and i know there are a lot of times when i(as a player)have made a lot of ooc choices... i can name so many. its either me being selfish of things wanting to happen or just overall having an adhd moment but like. in the overall sense of the campaign i did not want MY selfish needs as a player to make ooc decisions just because *i* didnt want my character to be doing a certain thing. as much as i’m the one playing, this is HIS story, HIS choices to make, HIS life... and i hated the idea of making ooc decisions as his player jsut bc i couldnt handle it.

and i know it might have been easy as just not doing things to not hurt ppls feelings but staying true to my chara is just :((. idk i hate the idea of playing ooc and theres literally nothing that can make me make strong decisions like roys to change it. smaller ones i can make but when im in the game all the big decisions are roy’s and not mine. i didnt Want to hurt any of the players feelings.. its SUCKED. MAJOR TIME.

ive hated every single session knowing i was gonna hurt someone in some point of time and i just wanted to kill my chara so many times... i wanted it to end so i wouldnt have to think abt it anymore... i wrote angst, wrote songs, made sad playlists, made awful memes all to cope with the horrible decisions roy was making..

dnt get em wrong i love playing dnd but,, wowie my chara is just.... how do i explain uhhhhhhh

he’s?? not a good person?? i’ve said this from the very beginning that he wasnt a good person... in the past he practiced necromancy time to time and he eventually stole,,corpses...from the hospitla.... yeesh. what a madman. killed milo bc of it. and then wanted ot fix it....

and he’s’;;;;;;.. still good hearted. he wants people to live... he wants to save people.... he doesnt want people to die. as much as he is a necromancer he is still a doctor.... and bringing back milo was like his redemption after killing him. he couldnt deal with the mistakes..

and so he did whatecver it took.. using the keys, lying about everything, and even....using ayce as shitty as it was.

and ik me as a player didnt have to do that but i fucking literally cried thinking about how horrible it was.. i literally dont even know how i made a character this good yet shitty at the same time.

anyway idk nothin i say is gonna look good bc he’s well.. he’s not a bad person.. all he really wanted to do was save lives and bring one back... but he’s not good either... he sucks.

im getting off track i have a million thoughts abt dnd i couldnt even begin to type all of them

#roy #dnd

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doctortreklock · 5 years

Text

I’ve Been a Fool and I Have Been Blind - February 20, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: Phil goes on five dates...and marries the man of his dreams (summary of x - title x)

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Words: 3665

"You need to get out more," Nick informed him flatly.

Phil scowled. A little. With a twitch of his right eyebrow. "Just because I leave the office before 8 once or twice a quarter does not mean I have time to date," he told his best friend flatly.

Nick blinked his eye once, attempting to make it look casual, but Phil knew he was surprised. "When was the last time you got laid, Cheese?"

Phil's entire face scowled this time. "None of your damn business, Marcus."

Fury whistled. "A while then."

Phil huffed out a breath and settled back into the chair across from the Director's desk. "I need a drink," he admitted, loosening the knot of his tie an imperceptible amount. He paused, then loosened it several inches more.

Nick frowned in concern and pulled a bottle of scotch and a pair of glasses out of the bottom right drawer of his desk. He poured them both a finger, then - when Phil's eyebrow glared balefully at him - added two more to the senior agent's glass. He slid it across the desk towards Phil. "You need a date," he countered.

Phil snorted and snatched the glass from the edge of the desk before draining half of it in one go and sighing deeply as he relaxed further into the recesses of the chair. "And where do you suppose I go about finding one of those?" he asked. His tone was flippant and casual, but he kept his gaze fixed on the amber liquid he swirled in the glass.

Nick retreated back into his own chair and sipped his scotch before humming in consideration. "You could go somewhere new and see who you find there," he offered.

Phil's mouth twisted. "And where am I going to find the time to go to new places?" he snapped. "Barton and I have a mission in Chile tomorrow."

Fury smiled enigmatically. "I'm sure you'll think of something," he drawled.

The "new places" thing Nick had come up with had absolutely not worked.

Phil had ventured to a new coffee shop the next morning and had doggedly attempted to "see who he found there." What he'd found were co-eds, failed screenwriters, and a hoard of busy businesspeople, none of whom gave more than a passing glance to a balding, middle-aged man in a suit.

There had been one woman there who had given him the half-interested once-over that had defined his social life to date. His dating history skewed male, but he had dated one or two women before (he considered himself a solid Kinsey 5), so that wasn't necessarily a deal-breaker. He had smiled and she had blinked, then returned it. He had flirted and she had responded and he had asked if she wanted to get a drink sometime. She had looked at him appraisingly and had agreed and they had set a time for drinks three days later. Phil had made his excuses and hurried back to HQ so he could get on a plane to South America.

Evac had been scheduled for thirty-six hours after they arrived in Chile. Phil's drinks date with Susan had been scheduled for seventy-four hours after they arrived in Chile.

Thirty-nine hours after they arrived in Chile, Phil successfully rescued himself and his bleeding sniper from the clutches of the local cartel. Forty-three hours after they arrived in Chile, they finally made it to the secondary evac point. At fifty-seven hours, Clint was safely ensconced in medical. At fifty-eight hours, Phil settled himself, his work tablet, and his book next to his agent's bedside for the long-haul. At fifty-nine hours, Phil started enumerating to his unconscious agent all the reasons why a, Phil had never been to South America, and b, why Phil would never go to South America again, complete with addendum c, why Clint would never be allowed to return to South America on his watch. At sixty-one hours, Clint woke up from his medically drugged sleep and shot a sleepy smile at his handler before falling unconscious again. At sixty-five hours, Clint woke up again and told Phil that he needed to go lay down before he fell down and get some honest-to-god sleep. At sixty-six hours, Phil flopped down on the couch in his office and fell instantly asleep.

Seventy-eight hours after they arrived in Chile, Phil blinked himself awake, yawned drowsily, checked the time on his phone, groaned in realization, and gave up on the whole date as a bad idea.

But now that Nick had gotten the idea of dating stuck in his head again, Phil found it was remarkably difficult to shake loose. Every time he thought about it, though, it got more and more terrifying.

"Do you know how many people there are in New York?" Phil demanded. "How are you supposed to find someone it might work out with from a pool of 8.6 million? And that's just limiting it to one city! There is a literal world of possibilities."

Jasper ignored him and poked around in his cheesy fries for the one with the most bacon on it.

"I'm serious," Phil told him, kicking him lightly under the table. "Jasper."

His friend sighed and abandoned his quest. "Phil, most of the people in New York are too old, too young, seriously taken, or not attracted to your gender," he explained flatly. "Your eligible dating pool is much smaller than you think."

Phil groaned and buried his face in his hands. Jasper selected the nearest fry with at least two pieces of bacon on it. With the rate Phil was going, they would all be cold before he got a chance to finish if he persisted in sorting through them.

Before his friend could have the uncharacteristic meltdown that Jasper could see brewing (and that would subsequently ruin his chances for even semi-warm fries), he tossed out a suggestion. "Try finding someone you have something in common with and start there."

"Maybe," Phil said, his voice muffled by his hands. Jasper shrugged and ate another fry.

His name was Marco, and he owned a complete run of 1975-78 "Captain America's Howling Commandos" kids magazines, complete with tear-out trading cards.

They had met once briefly at a convention in '07 and had frequented the same forums for a decade. Phil had first noticed Marco when he had written a long, well-annotated post about Peggy Carter's role in the formation of modern intelligence agencies and had cited three of Phil's own posts on the subject. One comment led to another and the two had kept up an amicable, if casual, relationship since. It wasn't more than a half-dozen conversations a year about collectibles that popped up on the market and the rudeness of some of the new Cap fans, but it was some form of human interaction outside of work.

Phil had carefully considered Jasper's words, and had brought up the idea of coffee with Marco. The other man had seemed open to the idea, so the conversation had proceeded to planning. Marco consistently had time Tuesday mornings and Thursday evenings, but Phil was usually on the practice range with Clint Tuesday mornings and they usually watched new episodes of Dog Cops Thursday nights. Marco had some time next week, but Strike Team Delta was going to be in Pakistan. Phil could have an evening two weeks after that, but Marco had a work conference.

After two months of conflicting schedules and last-minute cancellations, they quietly and mutually agreed that it was best to just ignore the whole thing.

Melinda had no patience for any of Phil's whining today.

She rarely had patience for complaints from anyone except, on occasion, her boyfriend, but dear gods in heaven Phil Coulson was not usually this irritating.

After the fourth time she put him flat on the mat in fifteen minutes, she gave up on any hope of a good workout today.

"Try dating someone with a schedule as weird as yours," she snapped as she stalked out of the room, leaving Phil wincing on the mat behind her.

Chris was an FBI agent.

Phil's work was focused on international threats, with the occasional homegrown mad scientist. The FBI's jurisdiction was strictly domestic, which meant there wasn't much chance of conflict there. Between their schedules, the pair had only been on three dates in five months, but Phil still thought it was going well. Chris knew how to handle a firearm and one of their dates had been at a gun range, where Phil had shown off his aim with a sniper rifle and his date had shot increasingly tighter clusters of bullet holes into paper targets.

Chris was just beginning to break in a new promotion when Phil got called in to take care of an 084 in South Dakota. Chris had the same instructions and Phil didn't hesitate to go toe-to-toe with his datemate and ruthlessly exclude them and their team from the site with nothing more than a coolly raised eyebrow and a smug smirk.

Phil didn't hear from Chris again after that.

"Well," Maria said thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. "I think I know where you went wrong there."

"Please tell me," Phil said, staring morosely at his coffee mug. "I thought it was going well."

Maria snorted at that. "C'mon, Phil. Just because it hadn't been a train wreck didn't mean it was going well."

"I was having fun. I thought they were having fun." The coffee was still vaguely steaming. Phil wondered how hot it was.

She shook her head and pursed her lips at him. "How many dates did the two of you even go on?"

"Three," he said defiantly. It was more consecutive dates than he'd had with anyone since college. "One dinner, one movie, and one trip to a gun range."

"A gun range," she echoed.

"Yeah. Clint was showing me the--"

"I'm going to stop you right there," she interrupted him. "Did Chris actually want to go shooting?"

Phil frowned. "They weren't opposed to the idea."

She sighed. "Phil...maybe you need to be looking a little closer to home."

Now he was just confused. "Where? Like Manhattan?"

"Like SHIELD," she said pointedly.

Phil considered the idea. "Maybe. I'm pretty sure inter-agency cooperation is a myth, anyway."

He sipped his coffee. It was cold.

Phil carefully considered Maria's advice.

The problem with dating inside of SHIELD was that he was a senior agent with level 7 security clearance. There were perhaps a dozen people he could date without there being any potential for conflicts of interest or coercion. Noah Petersen was the head of SHIELD's financial division, overseeing budgeting, HR, and office management.

He was also gay.

It was late on a Friday when he knocked on Petersen's office door.

Petersen took one look at him and said "You better be here about next quarter's projected budgetary deficit, Coulson."

"Actually," Phil started smoothly, "I'm here to ask you to dinner."

"No," he said flatly, then went back to reading through the open file on his desk again.

Phil blinked. "May I ask why not?"

Petersen looked at Phil, sighed heavily, and rubbed the bridge of his nose before waving Phil in. "Let me explain something to you, Coulson. I have worked too hard to get where I am to play second fiddle to anyone. I won't date someone who's hung up on someone else, and trust me," he leveled a knowing look at Phil over his glasses, "you don't actually want me anyway."

"Chris and I weren't--"

But Petersen was waving off his excuse. "I'm not talking about you screwing so-and-so at the FBI," he said.

Phil was lost. "Then I have no idea what you're talking about."

Petersen just looked at him with pity. "You really don't, do you. You poor bastard." He shook his head and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Unfortunately for you, I really don’t have time for this. Now if you'll excuse me, I have the next eighteen months of SHIELD's budget to completely overhaul. Again."

As Phil neared the door, Petersen glanced at him again. "Call if you magically find 3.8 billion dollars."

Phil just nodded and left.

Phil was still very confused when he arrived back at his own office.

When he unlocked his door, he found Natasha standing in the middle of his office next to his desk, her arms casually crossed. "That didn't go well," she told him, as if he didn't already know that.

Phil didn't bother asking how she knew what had happened in Petersen's office. She always knew. Though usually when she turned up in his office with obscure knowledge that could only have been gathered by eavesdropping in ventilation ducts, she had Clint in tow. The archer was nowhere to be seen now. Phil frowned slightly at that. He hadn't seen Clint in a while, actually.

"I am aware of that," he told her tersely as he walked around her to sit at his desk, beginning to mentally sort through the files he could take home for the weekend's entertainment.

She didn't reply and he looked up to find her appraising him with one manicured eyebrow slightly raised.

"What?" he asked her defensively.

She put her palms flat on the edge of his desk and leaned down so her face was six inches from her own. She stared coolly at him. He stared blankly back at her.

"Maybe you should try looking closer to home," she told him pointedly, pushing herself vertical again and turning to slink out that door.

"Maria already suggested that," he told her quickly.

Natasha looked back with a sly smile. "Hence Noah Petersen, I take it." She tilted her head, then turned to look him fully in the eye. "Find someone who knows you, Phil. Someone who makes you laugh and knows you inside and out, all the good parts and bad."

Her eyebrows seemed to be trying to communicate some idea to him, but he had absolutely no clue what it could be. He felt like Natasha's meaning was going so far over his head she might as well be having a conversation with the ceiling, but then he usually felt like that when talking to her.

She was searching his face for something, and she must have found it, because she smiled her enigmatic Black Widow smile and vanished through the door.

Clint and Jasper were having a late dinner in the caf when Phil found them. He'd spent half an hour staring at the narrow strip of wall above his door and wracking his brains for what Natasha's eyebrows had been trying to tell him. He thought he might have some semblance of an idea.

"Hey, Phil," Clint brightened when he saw him, putting his fork down on his near-empty dessert plate.

"Hey, Clint," Phil replied warmly. "Hey, Jas." He took a seat next to Clint, their shoulders bumping companionably. "What are you guys up to?"

"Barton's telling me about Brussels."

Phil smiled at the memory. "With or without the lemur?"

"Without," Clint said. "We'd be here til next week if I included the lemur."

Phil hummed in agreement, then turned his attention to why he was here. "Jasper, would you--"

"Not a problem," he said cheerfully, standing up with his tray. "I'll be out of your hair in a jiffy."

Phil frowned blankly at him. "Why would I want you to do that? I wanted to ask if you'd consider going on a date with me."

Next to him, Clint froze in the stillness that only a sniper can reach.

Jasper gaped at him. "If I would-- Okay, even if Melinda wouldn't kill me, the answer's still probably not."

Phil squinted at him in confusion. "Melinda?"

"Yes," Jasper said slowly. "Melinda May, my girlfriend."

"When did you start dating Melinda?" Clint rasped next to him in a poor facsimile of his usual energy.

"Seven months ago," Jasper said, but Phil wasn't paying attention. He was looking at Clint in concern, noting the paleness of his face.

"Are you alright, Clint?" he asked in an undertone.

Clint nodded. "I'm fine," he said quietly.

"Phil." Jasper eyed him shrewdly. "Why did you ask me out?"

"I--" Phil reluctantly allowed his attention to be drawn away from Clint. "Everyone's been giving me dating advice. Natasha just told me to find someone who knows me well, and you've been one of my closest friends since Academy."

He could almost see Jasper internally rolling his eyes and letting out a huge sigh. As it was, the other agent closed his eyes for a brief moment before zeroing in on Phil. "Let me tell you something, Phil Coulson," Jasper began, slamming his tray back down on the table and looming in Phil's direction, an unconscious mimicry of Natasha's pose less than an hour before. "You are an idiot."

At this point, Phil was convinced he had absolutely no evidence to the contrary.

"You are," Jasper continued, "without a doubt the most stupid man I have ever had the pleasure to watch sabotage his own love life."

Phil thought that might be going a little far.

"Finding someone to date isn't actually that hard. All you do is look at the people you know. Find someone who knows you so well, they can pick up on your signals from three-quarters of a mile away in the rain."

"Jasper," Clint said softly.

Jasper ignored him. "Find someone who makes you laugh so hard you start chuckling over live comms."

"Jasper," Clint warned louder.

Phil watched Jasper with wide eyes, his brain kicking into high gear as he tried to parse what his friend was telling him.

"Find someone who can do one little thing and make you so happy the junior agents get nervous."

"Please," Clint said.

Phil thought about perfectly completed files in his inbox after every mission, no matter how bad it had been. He thought about waking in medical to a friendly face every time he was injured. He thought about spending the whole day whistling and sending baby agents fleeing before him when Clint first called him "Sir."

"Find someone who you love spending time with so much that they fill up all the blank spots in your calendar before you even noticed they were there."

Phil thought about lessons with sniper rifles and nights watching Dog Cops. He thought about lazy afternoons in his office talking about everything and nothing. He thought about downtime on missions spent wandering foreign cities and staring at cloudless night skies.

"I can't--" Clint broke off.

"Find someone who's so beautiful that when you look at them, you feel like you're staring at the sun."

"Jas," Clint tried again.

Phil thought about strong hands with knobby knuckles and long graceful fingers. He thought about lean athleticism better suited to gymnastics than brawling, but brilliant at both. He thought about the poetry of an archery shot that never missed.

"Find someone who trusts you enough to give you the most painful parts of themselves."

Phil thought about stories of lion tamers and elephants. About orphans and foster homes. About the way seeing a child's face through a sniper scope can change a life forever.

"Don't," Clint told Jasper, almost pleading.

Jasper wasn't swayed. He stared at Phil. "Find someone who cares enough to let you go."

Phil thought about flying to Chile and telling Clint he was thinking about dating again. He thought about never finding Clint when he wanted dating advice. He thought about all the people he'd tried to connect with and how none of them worked out and how Clint seemed to be a common factor in all of them.

"Please," Clint breathed. Phil wasn't sure who he was talking to anymore.

"Find someone who loves you exactly as you are, idiot and all."

"Oh," Phil whispered in sudden, breathtaking realization, and thought about love.

He thought about grey-hazel-blue-green eyes and fresh cups of coffee on his desk. He thought about blood on the floor of a cartel's cell and the subsequent blood that had stained his hands. He thought about trusting an archer enough to feel fletching on his cheek from a half-mile shot.

He thought about three years of tracking and six months of training and seven years of working together. He thought about "trust me" and fifteen hours of silence and a Russian assassin brought in from the cold. He thought about the possibility of someone else asking before he did and the immediate, fierce jealousy that bubbled up.

In short, Phil thought about Clint.

The sniper next to him was still and quiet. Not the heartbreaking stillness of before, right after Phil had asked Jasper out - oh Jasper was right, Phil was such an idiot - but an inward quiet with hunched shoulders and a dipped head, his hands loose in his lap.

He was still breathtaking.

Phil's hands were trembling, but he reached one out and gently touched Clint's arm. The muscles twitched under his fingers, but Clint didn't pull way. Phil slowly trailed his fingers down Clint's arm until he reached his hand. He carefully slipped his fingers across Clint's palm, holding his hand. The archer's hand tightened quickly around his own and Phil could feel Clint take in a deep, shuttering breath.

He squeezed Clint's fingers a little tighter, and Clint leaned into his shoulder.

"Clint." Phil's mouth was dry. "Clint, will you--"

"Yes," Clint rasped.

"My work here is done," Jasper said, brushing his hands off. His loud voice was a jarring contrast to the thin, fragile moment that had built between them. "Ciao!" He picked up his tray again and sauntered away from the table, one hand raised in a jaunty farewell.

Neither man watched him go, both focused on the ball of warmth in the pit of their stomach and the feel of a hand in their own.

#Resolution19 #marvel #mcu #phlint #clint/coulson #c/c #oblivious!Phil #okay #so it doesn't quite match the prompt #but i'm tired and sick and i wrote this Saturday and i'm not writing another one #you can't make me #so this is the prompt that sort-of inspired it #so i'm going to count it #5 and 1 #Amanda writes things

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