#they also digged a hole in my house and buried my dog in there
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playing Minecraft with my friend :3 (it's me on the picture)
#were in a server with some of his friends (idk them)#and when my friend wasnt online#they started to punch me but fly away super quick so i couldnt catch em#and then when i said “hey stop punchjng me” they just said they didnt do anything and that it wasn't them#and that i was making it up#very annoying 🥱#they also digged a hole in my house and buried my dog in there
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Can we have some more omegaverse stuff pretty please? (◕દ◕)
This is sfw, but just an idea I had rolling around in my head...the last one was a little alpha dom heavy, so this one is a little omega dom heavy
Alpha (Jagger) x tough omega female
Word Count: 2.5k
W: omegaverse fluff, threats and descriptions of violence, implication of nsfw at the end, but sfw
“I’d point your nose in another direction if I were you, alpha,” you said, cocking the shotgun you’d bought specifically with rounds that would take down an alpha for this reason. It was also the reason you lived in this far out location, in a cabin in the woods, away from people and anyone who could give you up to someone who would try to take you captive. You were an omega, but you weren’t just going to be someone’s pet.
The blonde alpha limping up to your porch covered in blood panted a little and leaned on his knee at the base of your porch. Your five bull mastiffs, Biscuit, Waffle, Cake, Toast, and Cookie were barking their heads off but staying where they were trained to stand in front of you.
“Come on doll face,” he said, flashing you a smile, surprising for his condition, “can’t I come in for just a minute for a cuppa water? I’m a little outta sorts here.”
A red trail followed behind him. You clenched your jaw and shook your head.
“Stay right there,” you said, “the dogs are trained to maul you if you move after I turn my back.”
His eyes got wide, looking at them and he nodded. You hurried inside and gathered some of your precious medical supplies. You weren’t cruel, you weren’t going to leave him to die, but you were sure as hell not letting him in your house. The last thing you needed was alpha pheromones fucking your head all up.
When you got back outside he looked a lot paler, the pool of blood around him growing. The dogs were getting triggered by the blood, starting to tap their paws.
“Sit! Stay!” you told them and they obediently stopped barking and sat at attention, watching you for your next command.
You groaned as, with a massive thunk, the fucking alpha collapsed on your front lawn.
“Motherfucker,” you cursed, dropping your shotgun against the side of your house.
The guy had to weigh 500 lbs, so when you’d patched up the deep wounds riddling his body, all you could do was use your truck to drag him into your barn. Your lady goats that were milked and in their pens for the night didn’t like his intrusion anymore than you did, bleating their displeasure.
“Chill out girls,” you hollered at them, not that it helped any, “he’ll probably be dead in the mornin’.”
His presence worried you. Two people knew you were out there, the omega butcher you sold the goats and milk to and her alpha mate. You didn’t believe they would give you up, but without asking him you couldn’t explain the alpha’s presence here or why he was all cut up.
Whoever had worked him over was having fun with him. They weren’t jagged, random wounds from a fight. The cuts were clean and precise, in places that would bleed heavily but not immediately kill him, the worst ones right across his cheeks, marring his pretty face. You were starting to think he’d been dumped out here to die.
While you looked at him passed out in the hay, you couldn’t help but notice how pretty he was for an alpha. Most of them looked like monsters with giant teeth and wide jaws, but this one had more of a pretty look to him, even though his jaw was still wide. His lashes were long and his lips had a nice bow, like a young Vincent Price. You wondered if the two nasty slices running diagonally across his cheeks to take up the most space possible had anything to do with that. Seemed maybe a little intentional.
You tried to sleep in your own bed after the sun set and you’d eaten dinner, but you were too anxious, wondering about the alpha. What if he died? What if he lived? What were you going to do with his body? Drag it out to the road and dump it? It’d take you days to dig a six foot hole big enough to bury him. The morbid thoughts kept you up and you found yourself in the barn with your shotgun at your side watching him.
He was still breathing and he stayed like that for the next day and the next. Each night you set yourself up on a barrel of hay and fell asleep watching him with your gun at your side and the dogs piled around you.
The third day you woke to the dogs growling and you instinctively snatched your gun and cocked it, aiming at the alpha who was sitting up on his elbows smiling at you.
“Morning doll face,” he said grinning, “looks like I lived motherfuckers! Hahaha! Cock suckers can’t kill me! Jagger’s back from the graaaaave!”
You had no idea what he was so happy about, he looked like shit. You’d cleaned the blood off of him, but he had hay stuck all over him and his face was half stitches.
“How are you smiling right now?” you asked.
He grinned even wider which had to hurt.
“I’m lookin’ at the prettiest face I’ve ever seen, babydoll,” he said, “I’ve never been happier to be breathing!”
You blinked at him, for once, unsure what to say. Your cheeks warmed just a bit and you shrugged your shoulders, trying to brush it off.
“What’s your name, alpha?” you barked.
“Jagger,” he said, “what about you?”
“You don’t need to know,” you said, “you’re not stayin’. When you can walk you’re carryin’ your ass outta here.”
He put up a hand, schooling his features.
“Yeah, okay. The pretty lady with the gun is the boss, I get it,” he said, “you got any food around here?”
He glanced at the goats.
“Preferably not still moving,” he said, frowning at them.
“Watch him,” you told the dogs and they took the stance they’d been taught, eyes laser focused on their target. If he moved, they attacked. That’s what you’d trained them to do.
“Motherfucker!” you growled as you carried a bag of food back to the barn.
All five of your vicious dogs, who could and had mauled and killed two alphas before you’d moved out here, were belly up around the alpha getting pets.
“Hey! Attention!” you snapped at the dogs and they reluctantly hopped up, sitting dopily next to him with their tongues hanging out.
“What’d you do to my dogs?!” you snapped.
He smirked and shrugged.
“Everyone loves me,” he said, “it’s a curse, honestly.”
You rolled your eyes back in your head and counted to five.
“I brought you food,” you hissed, tossing him the bag, “and obviously somebody doesn’t like you very much. Wanna tell me why you’re half butchered?”
“Mmm,” he nodded, as he shoved the sandwich in his mouth and chewed.
“It was all a big misunderstanding,” he said, “I had a very brief, but fiery relationship with an elegant woman and when I happened to be out of town with some of her belongings, she misinterpreted the situation and thought I seduced her and robbed her.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Which you didn’t do,” you said.
He shrugged.
“It’s really a matter of perspective,” he said, “it was a torrid love affair and she said what was her’s was mine…so…I took her word for it!”
“What belongings, exactly?” she asked.
“Nothing special…just some baubles…jewelry and the like…I think she was a bit more upset at how our relationship ended than exactly what I took. When she found me I happened to be with another woman…for purely platonic reasons. She didn’t see it that way.”
You rolled your eyes. So he was a con man.
“So she had you sliced up and tossed in the woods to die, huh? Sounds like a lovely lady,” you said.
He shrugged.
“Well she didn’t cut off my cock,” he said, leaning back on his elbow, his blue eyes sparkling at you, “so it’s not that bad, really.”
You shook your head at him.
“Look, I don’t like people knowin’ I’m out here, so when you go, keep it to yourself, alright?” you asked, “if I see you again, I’ll shoot you on sight.”
He smirked at you and pet one of your dogs.
“But the pups would be so upset,” he said, “they like me.”
You rolled your eyes, and called your dogs to you.
“I’ve got things to do,” you said, “stay here.”
“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, babydoll,” he said, putting arms behind his head and laying back in the hay.
—
Click. Click.
You pulled the pieces of your gun apart as you cleaned and oiled them, your legs hanging off of your back porch.
“Even when the sky comes falling, even when the sun don’t shine, I got faith in you and I so put your pretty little hand in mine!” you sang to it.
“Do you really sing to your gun? You’re too pretty to be lonely, doll.”
You jumped a foot into the air and spun around to find the alpha behind you.
“Anybody ever tell you not to sneak up on somebody holding a gun?” you snorted, catching your breath.
“If you can assemble that fast enough to get me before I get you, I deserve to die,” he chuckled, sitting down next to you.
“I thought I told you to stay in the barn,” you grunted, putting your gun back together quickly and loading it.
“Wanted to see if you needed help with anything. Should probably pull my weight if I’m gonna stick around here,” he said.
You frowned.
“You’re not staying here,” you said.
“No?” he asked, looking at your five dogs, totally not trying to intimidate him at all, playing on the lawn, “dogs like me. You like me. Don’t see why I can’t.”
“I don’t like you,” you pointed out, “you’re a con man and I’m going to shoot you.”
He shrugged.
“Can’t be worse than my last girlfriend. At this point a clean shot is probably better than getting sliced and diced,” he grinned at you, “and you do like me, I can smell you.”
You knew you were putting off omega pheromones. That’s why you’d wanted him to stay in the barn, away from you.
You lifted your head as your dogs drew to attention. Someone was approaching your farm.
“Stay behind me,” you snapped at the alpha as you followed your dogs to the front lawn, where you found a beautiful, tall woman exiting an expensive car.
You raised your gun and your dogs formed a defensive line.
“Who are you?” you snapped, “this is private property! No trespassers!”
She scoffed, glancing behind you at your alpha companion.
“Jagger!” she crooned, “there you are! I was worried you’d died or something. I didn’t find you where I left you…have you learned your lesson? Ready to come back home?”
A snarl escaped your lips as the omega part of your brain, drenched in Jagger’s pheromones went nuts. Your body was already attaching yourself to him, drawing the two of you together. You instinctively cocked your gun.
“I told you, no trespassers, lady,” you snapped, “you’ve got five seconds before I start shooting.”
She frowned, her eyes focusing on you.
“I’m here for my boyfriend,” the beta woman hissed.
“You cut all your boyfriends up?” you asked.
She snorted.
“Only when they misbehave,” she said innocently.
“Well you dumped him on my property, so he’s mine now,” you told her in no uncertain terms, kicking yourself even as the words left your lips.
Behind you Jagger made a noise of approval.
Underneath your clothes, your skin was starting to burn as Jagger’s pheromones sank into it. As annoying as the sensation was, you were getting more and more agitated. Your omega instincts offended that she was trying to approach your alpha.
You knew wealthy beta women like her liked to keep the strapping alphas as pets…as long as they could manage to and the thought enraged you.
“Jagger…” she hummed, turning her attention back to him, “you and I both know you’re not going to stay here with this…farm girl…you have expensive tastes. Let’s get you cleaned up and into a proper set of clothes…”
Without another word you fired a warning shot close to her feet and she jumped.
“Your five seconds are up,” you snarled.
She glared at you, refusing to move.
“You don’t want him,” she spat, “he’s sneaky…don’t you want to know why he got his punishment in the first place? He needs to be kept on a short leash.”
“Don’t care,” you said, firing another shot to the other side of her, careful to miss her tires so she could hurry up and go, “find yourself another toy.”
She huffed, angry she wasn’t gaining any ground.
“Fine!” she hissed, “keep him! He’ll run out on you just like he ran out on me!”
She gave you the finger before she got into her car and peeled off, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her.
By this point your need for your alpha was making your mind hazy. You knew you weren’t thinking straight, but your biology couldn’t be denied. The damn woman had sent your whole body into a state of frantic need.
“That was amazing!” he beamed at you, his eyes filled with stars, “I’ve never seen anyone talk to her like that before!”
Your eyes locked onto him and you swung your gun around to him and his hands shot up, the look on his face draining to concern.
“Strip!” you growled, “and then go inside!”
His eyes got wide and he hurriedly took off his clothes.
You marched him into your bedroom and nudged him onto your bed with the barrel of your gun.
“You’re mine now, alpha, you do what I say when I say it,” you snarled, “run out on me like you ran out on her once I've taken your bite, I won’t bother cutting you up…it’ll be a bullet to the brain. Got me?”
He blinked at you and a smile formed on his lips as he leaned back on the bed. Jagger had no intention of ever leaving you. You were the most impressive little omega he’d ever come across. He was in love.
“Yes ma’am,” he agreed, his eyes practically forming hearts. You couldn’t help but notice his rather large cock was growing.
“Good,” you snapped, dropping the gun, stripping off your own clothes, and stalking across the room to do exactly what alphas and omegas were made for.
#omegaverse fluff#alpha x omega#alpha x reader#x reader#monster x reader#alpha man#soft yandere#female omega#omegaverse
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Heyyyyyyy do you have any funny head canons on the children :-9 if they squabble and stuff in your opinion. Give me the sillies !!!!! (I do too but I wanna hear urs)
YOU HAVE OPENED THE GATES OF HELL PREPARE FOR MY BORDERLINE SEVEN PAGE ESSAY ON THESE RANDOM FUCKING CHILDREN
I decided to do the ones that get less attention in general, especially since I have the most thoughts on them
HCs under cut because I may have gone overboard with the length
Ghost kid
Best friends with a batmin ball that had a very poorly drawn face on it from the age of six to eight.
Sebbo (spoon girl) buried the batmin ball using a spoon as a shovel after it got neutered by the barber (he thought it was a bug and shat his pants)
Not a native of the nowhere and was taken to the nowhere on Halloween, hence the ghost costume
Lost their arm pretty quickly after being taken to the Nowhere. he’s quite a friendly child and is very compassionate towards animals, but unfortunately, this has its downsides as not all animals in the Nowhere want help.
Friends with Sebbo
Has been squatting in houses since day 1 of living in the Nowhere and has no plans to stop
Would go CRAZY for squishmallows
Doesn’t have well formed empathy/sympathy for humans but is super compassionate towards animals
Zero concept of gender and doesn’t care what you call them, he just want to pet your dog
Nonverbal but has very expressive body language
Spoon girl
Her name is sebbo (based off of game files)
She sneezes like a middle aged divorced golf dad and due to her nose bleed these sneezes are NOT victimless
LEGENDARY rage tantrums
Literally only wants to watch gen 1 my little pony, Formula One, or a very specific documentary about some random Swedish sheep wool factory
Swedish
If you compare her to pippy longstockings you will end up needing to go to urgent care for a rabies shot
Calls ghost kid Ande (sounds like Andeh) which means spirit in Swedish. (His file name is actually spöke for anyone wondering, which also means ghost/spirit in Swedish. The only reason I’m not giving him the Sebbo naming treatment is that spöke absolutely does not sound like it’s spelled (sounds like Spurkeh) and Ande actually sounds like a name. I’m a quarter swedish and have a very Swedish family on my white side so I got the most incomprehensible Swedish lessons in the car ever, so please don’t roast me in the reblogs if I got this wrong, I remember like five words and this is one of them, same thing with Korean😭
Living embodiment of “ANDE WE’RE 10 NOW, WE SAY CRAP, NOT POOP”
Broke one of her legs at some point in the Nowhere and ended up in the hospital (HC based off of concept art where she was in a wheelchair and using crutches)
Has severe trauma revolving around doctors and medical stuff
Has never seen another ginger in her entire life but will fight to be the alpha
Warrior cats kid
Expert at digging and climbing out of holes, THE CHILDREN YEARN FOR THE MINES!!!
Rusty
Has a cleft lip
This isn’t a HC but something that not a lot of people realize; he has a lisp
Only reason I’m not drawing him as ginger because of his name is because I also designed Noone as ginger and he lost in a 1v1 to a rabid cabbage patch kid. He’s been through enough
He’s around 14
Very lithe
Despite being a trapeze and tightrope performer, he is TERRIFIED of heights, making his experience at the circus even worse
The dummy has been malding over Rusty for a ridiculously long period of timeand bro had no fucking idea and nobody even knows the reason why 💀
Also a warrior cats kid but kept in on the downlow. Yes he did name himself Rusty after firestar but if you tell anyone he will cry
Noone
A nice kid but will deadass ask some of the most insensitive questions and has NO idea. Also verbally cooked a middle aged man and spent like a whole episode sassing him so she can definitely be mean if she wants to
Also has really severe medical trauma along with trauma from being paraded around on TV because she was the first person to be cured of whatever the shit water sickness is
Her real name was Ruth, but once she started forgetting her parents (they basically ditched her anyways 😭) she started just using Noone as her real name
Master of inappropriately prolonged periods of intense eye contact
Really dislikes/is afraid of dolls/dummies because of what happened to Rusty/in JuJubee’s toyshop
Very untrusting of people post Nowhere abduction because of how Otto treated her and because of the ferryman. Plus basically every kid she met in TSON was met with a terrible fate (Goo kid is probably alive but she doesn’t know that)
Autism (all these children got some sort of neurodivergence though, I mean just look at them)
WORST BACKSEAT DRIVER EVER (ASKED TO LEAVE THE ROWBOAT)
Has a few scars on her face from her right before she had a seizure when getting clockwork oranged. She tried to take the mri suction thingies off her head but she ended up scratching up her face in her panic
#little nightmares#little nightmares 2#little nightmares comics#little nightmares 3#Rusty TSON#noone the sounds of nightmares#tson noone#noone tson#ghost kid little nightmares#the spoon girl little nightmares#sebbo little nightmares#I also just don’t want to name ghost kid after a part of a bike#ghost little nightmares
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Garden Report & Frugal Living 24.05.25
The weather has been about as predictable as my vigor and agility. Some days I garden from the window, moaning about why do all the limbs that need to be trimmed are the only ones with an abundance of fruit? where did that plant come from (did I really plant that there?!!). Getting actively passionate about the rodents not only digging up the beans and sweet peas but literally throwing them almost a meter away from where I had planted them. Then getting sidetracked with the wonders of the rhododendrons that are blooming overhead or the wondrous green hazel leaves creating a dancing dapple shade... so much to do.
I need to be out in the grow boxes but limited on my part. Staying closer to the house, I have to be content with creating a couple of window boxes. One is full of overly gaudy and bright flowers and the other dainty fairy like blooms. I still have some veg starts to lay in. I need some help with sawing brush piles and beating back bamboo and vinca periwinkles that are a raging horde.
The hens are outraged that I won't let them out every time I appear for a moment outside. There is just too much chaos with the neighbors and their animals to let me feel they are safe unattended. More than once I have had to rescue a frightened hen due to the neighbors and their dog. Not being a trusting person of other's abilities/ lack of doing the right thing, it is too much stress letting the hens run about. I am contemplating Escallonia shrubs for a hedge barrier. Wonderful for bees and birds, evergreen which unfortunately the rodents like to live under unless trimmed up which defeats the properties of a dense ground to sky thicket like hedge. But then, that is just more things to tend and trim.
The cherry plums are almost ready. If we could get a couple of warm days, we'd be in them. The nettles are not as thick as last year. The shade has gotten deeper over their bed so they are not as robust. Its might be time to lift them and move to another space.
Got some recycled cinder blocks and considering making a tower of sorts ... a nest for my poor little crambe who is languishing away in an inadequate plastic pot .... sorry and neglect amoung the Chinese chives! But with all the roly poly pill/sow bugs to eat soil matters and plants from the bottoms up, its a matter not only of aesthetically pleasing but easy lift and replenish as the soil that magically gets digested away in a million little tummies. Sun is also a must which is at a premium in the garden. News flash: Black salsify, also known as oyster root, viper's herb, Spanish salsify, or a serpent root (formerly known as Scorzonera hispanica) that I planted long ago (like years!) is so robust and may bloom! This is exciting as that it has struggled for years. I let a burdock root take hold in the same pot last year and it must have stimulated it. I wish my camera worked! It is so exciting to me and I wish I could share the joy through pictures!
So my frugal tip is again garden bound ... I really hope I haven't told you about this (I think about things too much then get lost in the 'did I say that out loud already?'). Anyway, for deeper watering needs/ prevent water run off cut the bottom out of juice/water bottles jugs (plastic), dig hole and bury with just a little lip showing. Water through filling the home made root funnel. You can fill with small stones/pebbles or glass bauble blobs from florist/craft store if you don't like the open pit look or even scallop/ lace cut the funnels for a more decorative frill.
Garden on my friends, whether its from the grow box, window box, little pot, counter top sprouts or your imagination in a dream, get out there and enjoy it.
#catholic garden#garden#gardening#urban homesteading#permaculture#flowers#window boxes#fairy flowers#fruit#pollinators#hens#rodent#pest control#root vegetables#garden report#frugal living#root funnel
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I gotta get this out
tw for animal death
Our neighborhood has a bunch of feral cats. There were three orange kittens that lived under our house specifically, and they were the sweetest little things. (By kittens I mean a year old).One was more friendly than the others. Mama and I called that one Pumpkin. Pumpkin would let me pet him and would flop over to show me his belly and just. Was the sweetest little thing.
Today, this morning, Mama heard something and called me into the den. After making sure the inside cats were all okay, I went outside.
Outside I saw two dogs, and an orange cat dangling from one of their mouths. With walking stick in hand I yelled at the dogs and ran after them. Basically our entire front yard is a hill and I had stepped out wearing only slippers. As I stepped off the porch, my slippers came off. I didn't care and ran through the cold grass barefoot.
The dogs dropped the cat after a little bit, and I stopped to see Pumpkin. He was still alive, but would not live long. Unsure of what to do, I picked him up as carefully as I could and brought him to the porch. He was completely limp.
There I laid him on the ground, keeping my hand under his head so he wasn't laying on the cold tile and telling him it was okay. Mama came out with a towel, and we both sat in the cold with Pumpkin. One of my hands was stained with his blood. We only saw one side of his injuries, not willing to turn the poor thing over. I imagine the other side was worse.
I cried loudly, as I tend to do. All I could say was "it's okay".
After a while I got up as Mama held his little head and put on a jacket. Got shoes. And went to work digging a hole. We knew that Pumpkin wouldn't be with us for much longer. We switched at one point so Mama could see if the hole was deep enough. As my hand moved under Pumpkin's head, I could feel it. Rigor mortis had set in. He's gone.
Eventually an animal control man came, since Mama called them earlier. These wild dogs in the neighborhood are a known problem.
The man was nice. Mama didn't like him, but I understood what he was saying. I'm not mad. He's right. I can't fault the dogs for being dogs, even if they hurt a creature I was emotionally invested in. I'm angry at the dogs, but I do not wish any harm upon them. They need to be trapped and taken care of. Not in a "kill them" kind of way. Taken care of in a "stray animal needs a loving home" kind of way.
Pumpkin was buried, and we went inside. The both of us were freezing. I threw my clothes in the wash and just. Sat. Took my medicine. Cried a little more.
There's just. A lot of things in my heart. While I was digging the hole, I saw one of Pumpkin's siblings sniffing the spot where I put him on the porch. There was also a bloodstain in that spot. I could barely handle it.
Pumpkin is gone. There are two kittens now. Along with a whole colony of cats. We can't help them all. Mama rescued two kittens two years ago, and I've got Baby. Not to mention Jack was from outside too. We've taken on more than we can actually handle, and we can't take anymore.
I'm very tired, but I'm okay. Hurt, but okay.
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hello my dear followers, i am once again blogging abt my life bc i would lose it if i put it anywhere else. namely my mc escapades w wilbur Yay
- we first begin our journey in a humble plains biome. wil accuses me of walking outside its render distance (true) running away on purpose (also true) punching it for no reason (definitely true). we exchange rage-filled blows
- nighttime falls and we are chased by mobs. i unhelpfully contribute to this situation by running out of our Hole tm and straight into a pillager outpost in hopes of killing the nearby pigs for food. by the time i finish running around, it’s daytime. wil accidentally befriends a dog
- this becomes a problem when we inevitably come to blows over wil thieving my crafting table. as a free and mature agent of chaos, i alone am responsible for being punched. however, punching wil immediately set its pink dog bff on me. i logged out and back in to diffuse the situation but that dog had an unnaturally long memory, and also wilbur called me a coward for combat logging. overall i failed at life
- wil buries its feral rabid problem causing dog ‘like joe biden’. ‘joe biden buried his dog?’ i say. ‘yesss’ wil says. ‘okay joe biden’ ‘me when’ wil replies
- Wil Runs Away: pt 1/23746: to the tulip valley
- So one thing u need to know about wilbur is that it likes to cause trouble
- Wil Runs Away: pt 2/23746: to the savannah
- eventually wil tells me to just tp to it because i’m picking up its location hints the same way my hedgehog picks up on potty training (not at all)
- turns out i ran way past the hole it was hiding in. we fight for a bit
- Wil Runs Away: pt 3/23746: ??
- Now you may be wondering. spooky, if wil runs away so much, why don’t u just keep an eye on it? the answer is that wil BLENDS IN WITH THE LANDSCAPE AND I AM BLIND
- we make it across a river, start punching each other while swimming, wilbur drowns because of lag, more to come
- wil puts a ring of flowers around me while im cooking food and i say that im trapped in a ring fae-style. wil’s response? to dig a hole under me, cover me with pumpkins and dirt, and claim that it’s dancing on my grave. and THEN it stole my food
- the good thing is that we somehow make it to a jungle with a big ravine cutting through it like a mouth. wil’s like: lets build our starter base here. im like.Sure why not. we can mine adventurously by jumping down 200 blocks every morning
- iron and diamond veins being changed to fit copper veins remains the greatest loss to the minecraft community. i fly too close to the blazing sun with mining and get obliterated by a baby zombie and creeper
- wil is hanging out in the darkest possible cave with only three torches. ‘a bit hard to get out of this cave spookystew’ it says (i imagine despondently. in reality it’s probably just neutral). ‘we’ll see’ i say unimaginatively. thankfully, my stuff is all there
- wil: did you just see me struggle to mine a block in the most pathetic way
me, who hasn’t seen wil in 5 minutes: yep i saw everything. Ur over
- we built a house made of pumpkins with two very strange entryways. in the spirit of not being attacked by phantoms, i constructed a noble jungle plank roof. wil said Wow. i said I Know Right
- i tried to fit jungle wood doors into our very wide and diagnonal entryways while wil chased down a bird and befriended it with seeds. freakshow the blue bird flapped all around while wil tried to get it to sit on a platform (L+ rip bozo).
- ending this abruptly bc im tired
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Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 1)
part two here
part three here
word count: 1860 words
TW: language, angst (?)
let me know if you want part two, I’m somehow still not sure
...
It was so hot that day. The movers were already gone, the place feeling empty without all the furniture. In a few hours, you'd be long gone, flying far away from Chesterfield.
Some small part of you felt sorry for selling your parents' house - the house you spent your whole childhood living in. But they moved out a few years ago and told you many times they didn't mind at all selling it.
Wiping the sweat off of your eyebrows you made your way through the blooming garden, trying to memorize every little detail. You remembered climbing this tree, you remembered the hole in the fence you made so the neighbour's dog could come play with you, you remembered the time capsule you and Matt buried here when you were fifteen.
Until now, you completely forgot about that. Even though you two didn't talk after he got drafted, it'd be a good idea to meet again since you might never see him again. You might be moving to Calgary but that city was so big it'd be a miracle to meet Matthew somewhere.
So you scrolled through your phone, praying he didn't change his number after all those years as you dialed it.
The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.
"Yes?"
Matthew's voice was so different since the last time you talked.
"Hey Matt, this is Y/N, I'm moving out today and I thought we could dig up the time capsule we buried at my place as kids before I leave. Are you in town?" It was off-season so you might get lucky.
"You are moving out already? But yeah, I can meet you in an hour if you have the time."
"Yes, I'll still be here, don't worry."
"Okay..." There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of you knew how to break it. Was it a bad idea? Of course you wouldn't be as good friends as you once were. But you didn't know it would be this... weird. He didn't say goodbye back when he left to Calgary and didn't answer to any of your calls or messages. What were you thinking? That he wanted to see you?
"So, where are you moving to?" Matt finally continued, making the conversation more bareable.
"Calgary, they offered me an amazing job there."
"Really? I've been there for a few years."
"I heard." Not from you, was what you didn't say. It seemed like he'd heard it nonetheless.
Silence. You hated how distant you've grown - once, a long time ago, you were best friends. You went together to kindergarden and since then you've been the best of best friends. But even after all you went through, you didn't know what to say.
"Nevermind, I have to get going. I'll be at your place at three, okay?"
"Okay. I'll meet you there."
As you hung up, sadness enveloped you. Maybe you shouldn't have called. Maybe it'd be better to never meet Matt again, to remember only the good old times.
But he might be already on his way and you wanted to say a proper goodbye before going far, far away.
You loved him once, you recalled. It broke your heart when he left without looking back.
It irritated you that you couldn't do the same as easily.
...
"Y/N?" a now familiar voice called, the sound of closing car doors echoing through the silent street.
Matt looked same as he did four years ago and still totally different. It was like staring at a stranger you could swear you've already seen before. The curly, those pretty grey-blue eyes and the crooked smile you remembered and thought about too often. He got taller and more mascular over the time he played hockey professionally.
"Hey," you said nervously, tucking your slightly trembling hands into the pockets of your shorts.
Again, that uncomfortable silence took place.
"How long is it?" Since you've last seen each other. Since he'd ignored your calls and messages. Since he'd left you crying as he left this town - as he left you.
"Five years," you said.
Regret flashed in those pretty eyes as he took you in. Did you look to him the same as you did the last time he saw you?
"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was it? After five fucking years of silence, this was his apology for everything. This was a mistake. You didn't think it through when you called him today. Just now you started remembering all the things he's done to you.
"That doesn't make it hurt less, does it?" You whipped around, going to the line of fruit trees where you left the two shovels you borrowed from the neighbour.
Matt's hand slightly gripped your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.
"I know that I made a bunch of wrong decisions before I left."
"I've been trying for 6 months to reach you before giving up completely. And you? You've been living the best version of your life anyone could ever imagine."
"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said and you wanted to leave right then, forget this stupid meeting.
"I do not." you hissed, trying to calm down your rising temper.
Matt sighed, not wanting to argue over this. So he made his way to the tree line, picked one shovel from the ground and started digging where he remembered the time capsule was.
You didn't help him dig it up. You were too lost in memories, clinging to the past as you thought of younger version of Matt.
The clang of metal on metal attracted your attention back to him. He grunted as he pulled up the metal box and laid it on the grass.
You ducked low next to him, dusting off the dirt of the box. It was an old, weirdly dented thing. Your eyes laid on the lock and you nearly sighed in annoyance just when Matt grabbed at his necklace, the key dangling from it. When you two buried the capsule, each of you got a key made for it. You had yours somewhere in the boxes that had already been shipped to your new apartment and Matt's... he didn't forget. He kept it through the years, guarding it and not losing it as you expected.
You didn't say anything, just patiently waited for him to open the box.
There was a letter inside, along with a bunch of things you thought of as long forgotten. Your bracelets of friendship, the colors faded already; a puck with which you and Matthew played your first hockey game together when you were six; so many polaroid photos with your faces on them; USB with a playlist you two always danced to.
Your eyes watered - how were you supposed to say goodbye to all of this?
Silently, you looked over all of the photos - you and Matt in the rink with small hockey sticks and skates, you and Matt sticking out your tongues colored blue with slushies, you and Matt, you and Matt, you and Matt...
Then Matthew's hand found yours, your fingers automatically intertwining with his. You started crying, first silently but then the sobs shook with your whole body.
"Come here," he murmured, hugging you. His body was so soft and warm, as if begging you to lean into his touch.
"How- how could you leave this all behind?" you mumbled between the sobs.
"It's not leaving if you don't say goodbye." Matt said, his fingers playing with yours.
"Then you are a fucking coward, Matthew."
Silence. He didn't argue with you on that, so you must have been right.
You stopped crying after a while, checking your watch while wiping your nose.
Shit. It was so late already - you had to call an uber to get you to the airport in the next hour or you'd be super late.
"I'll have to go," you said quietly, but Matt interrupted you.
"You are right," he tucked on the edge of his shirt, clearly nervous. He was nervous. "I was a coward. I thought that if I didn't say goodbye to you as I left, it'd hurt less. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward for not picking up your calls or replying to your messages because it would make it so real - that I was leaving and probably never coming back. But I want to make it all right again, I want to be a part of your life - if you will let me."
You thought about his offer and still, you couldn't answer. You weren't sure about letting him into your heart just for him to storm out again without a goodbye, leaving you behind, broken.
"Can I at least take you to the airport?" To that, you nodded, picking up the time capsule, putting all the items back in. Then you gave back the lent shovels to your neighbour and with a last glance at your house, you got into Matt's car.
...
On the way to the airport Matt played the playlist from the USB that was in the time capsule and the nostalgy hit you hard.
You remembered the lyrics, the melody; you remembered everything.
The drive was too short and you started panicking as the engine stopped.
Matthew helped you with your suitcase and went inside with you. The two of you stopped at the first gate.
"Here," he said, giving you a piece of paper. "It's my adress. Hopefully, you won't live so far away, so we could meet there if you wanted to."
You tucked it in your pocket without a word.
"Also, take this. I wrote it in ninth grade so don't think much of it. But I want you to read it, Y/N."
It was the letter from the time capsule, with your name on the blank envelope.
"I will." you promised.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time.
"I'll let you know my decision about what you said earlier. I just... I need some time."
Matt noded, giving you the space you so desperately needed.
"So, until we meet again - goodbye, Y/N."
"Goodbye, Matt."
...
The plane took off and you finally had the time to read the letter he gave you.
You immediately recognised his scrambled handwriting and you smiled at how messy it was before you started reading.
Dear Y/N,
I'm writing this in case I leave. Dad has been telling me for some time already that if I'll get drafted, I'll have to leave. He also said that if I'll be smart, I will never look back at my past.
I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future.
He said I'll meet a lot of girls but I know that none of them is going to be like you.
So, I promise you, I will never say goodbye to you.
I love you,
Matt
With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone, the tears already staining the screen.
That's why he never said goodbye. Because of this stupid letter and his stupid promise.
The phone rang once before he picked it up.
"Y/N? What is it?"
A ragged breath escaped you and you laughed and cried at the same time.
"I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future."
"Oh, that was cheesy, wasn't it-"
"No, you dumbass. That's my answer."
#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#nhl imagines#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#nhl story#Hockey Fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey imagines#hockey#hockey fanfiction#hockey imagine#matt tkachuk#calgary flames#nhl blurb#nhl one shot#matthew tkachuk imagine#matthew tkachuk#matty tkachuk#matthew tkachuk oneshot
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Southern Generation - Part II
Summary: Working for Lily is going well for Sy, but he wants her to meet a special lady in his life, and manages to get her out of the house.
Pairing: Syverson/OFC
Word Count: 5,698
Rating: PG - Language, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Angst
Inspiration: An old fic I wrote and wanting to write a Sy fic.
Author’s Note: Thank you to @wondersofdreaming
“You've been getting here more early than usual.” Lily commented, handing Sy his usual morning coffee as he arrived on the property. “You fly here like Superman or something?”
She teased him as she sat down on the brand new porch swing that Sy had built with the scrap lumber from the porch and siding.
Sy laughed and leaned back against the porch railing. “No, I've been staying at the Sunway Motel in Celina.” He confessed, crossing his ankles. “I've been too tired to drive back to Austin most days, I don't want to fall asleep at the wheel or anything. So, I've been crashing there to keep it safe, and it just makes getting back here a sight easier, than a three-hour drive.” He told her, shaking his head.
“One-way.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lily frowned, offended to hear it.
“Well, I don't want you paying that out of your pocket.” He replied, frowning back at her. “It's not a big deal for me.”
“I do technically pay you to stay there, Sy.” Lily answered, shaking her head at him.
“True.” He nodded, staring at the tips of his boots. “But, I also have a Military paycheck.” He informed her. “Again,” He sighed, pressing his lips together. “I didn't want you paying for something I can pay myself. You buy enough things as is.”
“Well, I would have offered to pay for it.” She started, folding her legs. “But, I also would have offered you one of my guest rooms.”
Sy blinked at her, he hadn't expected that from her, it seemed a bit toward. That thought made him paused, blinking at himself. Did Austin 'Fuck and eat you out til you can't walk' Syverson just have an abstinent thought.
Holy fuck, I did! He thought, staring at her.
And it wasn't because Sy wasn't attracted to her, because he very much was.
She was a beautiful young lady. The way her eyes lit up, every time she smiled, even when she was being shy. She came just to his shoulder. Her hair looks so silk and soft, that it took everything in Sy's power not to reach out and caress his fingers through it to find out just how pillow-y soft it was. She was dainty, but had curves in all the right places, for Sy to hold onto her. He bit the inside corner of his lip, thinking about gripping those hips of hers and kneading them in his big mitts, to rub up against that plump, heart shaped ass, to grab or bury his face in those matching breasts.
Sy cleared his throat and took a deep gulp of his cooling coffee, praying his growing erection wasn't too obvious to her.
What a way to ruin it, Syverson. He berated himself, trying to rein himself back in.
“Anyway,” She said, breaking the silence and getting up off the swing. “The offer stands, if you want it.” She told him, and went back inside.
He stayed there long after she had gone upstairs to her office to start her own workday, even after his coffee cup was empty. He turned around, setting the empty cup on the railing and watched the sun slowly climb higher into the sky, before sighing and getting back to work, siding the back portion of the house; thinking he might start working on the roof next. Since Spring was due soon and the weatherman said it would be a cold and rainy one.
“I'm going to be late tomorrow.” Sy said, that afternoon.
“Okay.” Lily smiled, taking up his empty lunch plate and turned towards the sink. “Everything okay?” She asked, turning the faucet on to do them and the ones from breakfast.
“Everything's great.” Sy smiled, leaning back in his chair and grinning.
“I've never seen you smile so big, since we met.” She teased him, chuckling.
“I made a friend in Baghdad.” He explained, giddy. “She's finally over here in the States, so I need to pick her up at the airport.” He was excited about getting Aika again, even more so for Lily to meet her.
“I want you to meet her.” He added.
Lily's stomach clenched hearing him talk about whoever she was, a bit down to find out he apparently had someone special in his life. “I look forward to it.” She said, focusing on the plate in her hand.
“Great!” He beamed, getting up from the table. “I'm sure the two of you will be two peas in a pod!” He said, heading out the back door to finish his work.
“Totally.” Lily sighed, frowning to herself.
The next day, Lily was a complete wreck about meeting Sy's friend.
She had tossed and turned all night, barely getting any sleep as she kept thinking about the meet. She knew the woman was going to be gorgeous, why wouldn't she be, if Sy had been so excited about her being in the States and she was able to capture the attention of his ocean blues. Eventually, Lily got out of bed, tired of not finding a comfortable position and peace of mind to fall asleep. Besides, knowing her luck, she'd be subjected to dreaming about meeting the lady and all her, super model glory.
So, she padded down to her office and flipped on her computer, deciding to get her day started early and finish the few projects she had going on with a couple of clients. But, not even that helped her forget about the situation, if anything it made it worse, her leg impatiently bouncing to the tune of her agitation and self-pity. Running a hand through her hair for the hundredth time, before putting it back up, yet again, she huffed and stood up, pacing the floor of her office, from the window to the door, and back, biting her fingernails and mumbling to herself.
“Why would you even have the remotest chance with a guy like Austin Syverson?” She berated herself, yet again. “Good lord, look at the man! He's an actual man and you've never even kissed a boy. He's the whole package and you're just full of baggage. This is definition of friend zoned, and you bloody well know it!”
Sy had driven back to Austin after leaving Lily's place the night before. He was so excited to retrieve Aika from quarantine. It felt like an age since they last saw each other, but not as long as it might have felt, if he hadn't had Lily for company and the work on the farm to do, day in and day out.
“Fuck,” He huffed, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. “I really hope the two of them get along.” He mumbled to himself, fidgeting in his seat. “Maybe, I should have told her about Aika. What if she's allergic to dogs, or doesn't even like them?” He questioned, suddenly doubting himself. “I know she likes horses, but a dog isn't a horse, and the horse isn't on her property.” He glanced at his mobile phone in the passenger seat, questioning if he should just call Lily and tell her he's bringing his dog to the farm, for her to meet.
“No.” Sy shook his head, brushing it off. “It'll be fine. This will be great! They'll get along perfectly and it'll be a happily ever after.” He nodded, pushing himself to be positive as he pulled into the facility to pick Aika up. “Captain Austin Syverson, here for my dog, Aika.” He told the lady at the front desk, then signed the release paperwork, while they brought her out to him.
“Hey, girl!” Sy called, as Aika charged for him. “Oh, I've missed you so much, bug!” He said, rubbing her erect ears and scratched down her back, making her back leg go wild. “I've got someone special I want you to meet.” He said, getting the German Shepherd into his truck. “You're going to love her.” He smiled at Aika, who licked his scruffy cheek.
“And she's probably going to spoil you rotten.” He chuckled, pulling out of the parking space.
“Oh shit.”
Lily gulped seeing the kicked up dust cloud on the driveway, as Sy's truck approached the house and felt her heart stop, knowing at any moment, she would be meeting his special lady in a matter of minutes. She had been trying all morning to put on a brave and supportive face, not wanting to make herself look like a fool in front of them. “I can't do this.” She gulped, running into the bathroom upstairs and vomited into the bowel several times, before quickly brushing and rinsing her mouth out.
“Afternoon, Lily!” Sy yelled, getting out and giving her a wave as she stepped out onto the porch, he was positively beaming. “You ready to meet her?” He asked, gripping the handle of the passenger door.
“Yep!” She called back, forcing a smile. “As I can be.” She mumbled under her breath as Sy opened the door.
A bark filled the humid air and a big German Shepherd jumped out of the truck, jumping on Sy a few times, before noticing Lily and bee-lining for her.
“Oh.” Lily gasped, surprised that Sy's special lady, was a dog. “Hey.” She grinned at Aika, bracing herself has Aika put her paws on her chest. “Aren't you a beauty.” She said, scratching her erect ears and relieved beyond all belief.
“See, I told you the two of you would get along.” Sy said, stepping up on the porch, relieved as well.
“That you did.” Lily agreed. “What's her name?” She asked, looking up at him.
“Aika.” He replied, scratching Aika all over. “I found her as a stray during my last deployment, she was just a pup. So, I took her in and took care of her. She's been stuck in Quarantine since before I got back, and they just released her today.” He explained as Aika bolted off the porch and zoomed around the front yard.
“You don't mind me having her here, do you?” He asked, biting the corner of his lip.
“Are you kidding?” Lily laughed, watching Aika disappear in the tall grass. “She's more than welcomed here.” She assured him, with a sweet smile. “Any time.”
“She's not really used to grass.” Sy laughed, as Aika attempted to pee on every blade she could. “You might get a few holes as well.” He added, knowing the Shepherd's like to dig.
“Please, I doubt anyone will notice.” Lily giggled, looking around the neglected yard.
Sy went to work on his latest project on the property and Aika spent most of the day running around the land, investigating what Sy was up to or lounging on the floor in Lily's office upstairs. Lily sighed and rubbed her face as the phone downstairs in the kitchen rang. She pushed back in her office chair and carefully stepped over Aika, to pad down the small set of stairs that led directly into the kitchen from the upstairs.
“Hello?” She chimed, pressing the receiver to her ear with her shoulder, waving at Sy as he passed the kitchen window and rounded the side of the house, then frowned, when no one answered her greeting. “Hello?” She repeated, a little bit louder. “Are you there?” She asked, checking to make sure the call was connected properly.
“What's wrong?” Sy frowned, stepping into the kitchen as the receiver fell to the floor at their feet.
“Nothing.” She squeaked, quickly bending to pick it up. “Just being clumsy.” She told him, hanging the phone up.
“Well, who was it?” He asked, tilting his head at her strange behavior.
“I don't know.” She replied, shrugging her shoulders and ran a hand through her hair, not turning around to look at him. “They never said anything. Must have been a wrong number or something.” She told him, heart thundering in her chest. “I need to finish my work.” She said, then rushed upstairs, leaving Sy staring up after her.
“I talked to your neighbor, Billie Marlowe.” Sy said, tugging a cloth out of his back pocket and wiped his face and head with it.
“Oh?” Lily replied, stirring a bit of honey into her tea.
“Yeah, he said, his daughter, Skylar, would be competing in a barrel racing competition this Sunday, in Dallas.” He told her, studying her carefully. “I was wondering, if you had thought about, maybe, going with me?” He asked, licking his lips.
Lily froze, the container of liquid creamer hovering over her steaming cup as she stared across the table at him, eyes wide. “I-”
“Oh, come on.” Sy pressed, brow creasing. “It's my treat. I'll drive and everything. It'll do you some good to leave the house.” He tried coaxing her. “Just for an hour or two.”
Lily continued to stare at Sy, her hand growing sweaty around the plastic container, before she set it down, her shoulders slumping as she did. “All right. Only for a few hours, then we come back. I have a deadline.”
Sy burst into a grin, his blue eyes bright. “Great.” He said, rubbing his hands together. “It doesn't start until eight and her competition doesn't start until eight-thirty. So, we'll have plenty of time.” He told her, excited to go to the fair with her.
Three days later, Sy got Lily in the car and they drove forty-five minutes from Celina to Dallas. The first few minutes in the car was quiet, until Luna's nerves got the best of her.
“When was the last time you went to a fair?” She asked, looking at him.
“Oh, man.” Sy huffed, frowning out the windshield as he considered it. “I think I was sixteen, it was an end of the year thing for my Junior year at high school. I didn't go to my Senior one, since I was getting ready for basic training.” He told her.
“What about you?” He asked, glancing at her.
“Never.”
“You've never been to one?” Sy snapped, shocked.
“Nope.” She shook her head at him.
“Not even for school?”
“I was home schooled.” She explained. “My dad thought they were a suck and waste of money.”
“That's the point.” Sy laughed, shaking his head. “Wasting money on artery clogging food and probably unsafe rides. It's a rush, but mostly from all the sugar.” He grinned at her, amused.
“You'll love it, I swear.”
“I'll take your word for it, Captain.” Lily smiled back, hoping he didn't see how freaked out she was.
They finally reached the fair grounds and a place to park, Sy got them all access bracelets, so giddy as they entered the fair grounds. Lily took several deep breaths as the crowd around them thickened and stuck close to Sy. She really didn't want to ruin Sy's fun at the fair, he had been jabbering about it since she agreed to go with him, telling her about the all fun rides and food. He was like a little boy, reliving his first fair experience, and she knew it had been over ten years since he had been to one. So, she put on a brave face and tried to smile, every time he glanced at her.
Which was every few seconds.
Sy and Lily got on several rides to kill the half hour until the barrel-racing competition started under one of the big tents set up in the huge field. She rather enjoyed the Ferris wheel, just her and Sy in one seat, spaced out from everyone else on the ride. She did think she was going to throw up on the sudden drop ride, but managed to keep it down, making Sy laugh at her as he saw her face from the corner of his eye as the two of them got off the ride.
“You all right?” He chuckled, resting his hand on the small of her back.
“I think, my stomach is somewhere between my brain and my toes.” She chuckled, despite herself.
“It'll even out again.” Sy laughed with her, rubbing her back.
“Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls,” the fair announcer came over the intercom system throughout the fair. “The Barrel-Racing Competition is due to start in ten minutes, in tent number six! So, find your seats now!” He informed the herd of fair-goers.
“Oh, we should head out that way.” Sy said, pulling out the little fair map and directed them towards the tent. “Why don't you find us a place to sit and I'll go get us something to munch and sip on.” He told her, at the tent's entrance.
“Sy..”
“It'll take two minutes.” He told her, squeezing her shoulder, then disappearing into the crowd that was trying to funnel into the tent.
“Fuck, Austin.” Lily gulped, starting to tremble as she turned into the tent and looked for somewhere to sit, before finding a place in the second row, near the exit.
Sy weaved around the countless people in the main walkway of the fair, before spotting a food vendor with something he thought Lily would love to try out and headed that direction, to standing in line. He was only in the line for a moment, when he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see who it was, breaking out into a smile.
“Mr. Marlowe.” He greeted the farmer, sticking his hand out to the other man.
“Please, just call me Billie.” Marlowe replied, smiling up at Sy and shook his hand.
“Sy.” Sy answered. “You must be excited to see your little girl compete.” He said, as they stood side by side and progressed through the line.
“That I am.” Billie beamed, like the proud papa he was. “I am surprised at you though.” He added, pulling off his John Deere hat, ran his hand through his short, salt and pepper hair, and rubbed the over-tanned skin of his neck.
“Why's that?” Sy frowned, shaking his head.
“I saw Ms. Lily with you.” Billie replied as they got to the counter. “My farm has been in my family for four generations. I knew the couple that lived at Ms. Lily's place, when I was a lad. They passed away and their kids didn't want to be farmers, so they sold the place and Ms. Lily bought it a few years back. In that time, I have never seen her leave the property. The closest I've ever seen was when she fetches the mail, and she does that in a jiffy.” He laughed, stepping up to one of the two cashiers, while Sy went to the other.
“What do you mean?” Sy frowned, then gave the cashier an order for two elephant ears, a coke for himself and a Dr. Pepper for Lily.
“Oh.” Billie frowned, realizing Sy had no clue.
“'Oh', what?” Sy pressed, annoyed.
“You don't know about Ms. Lily being Agoraphobic?” Billie asked slowly, blinking at Sy with a shocked look. “I thought you knew. Practically everyone in Celina knows about it. My boy, Travis, who works at the Celina supermarket, even gets her groceries for her and delivers them, and everything.”
Sy floundered, his mouth opening and closing for a moment. “I didn't.” He sighed, clearing his throat. “I just thought she was a home-body.” He said, shaking his head. “Well, I suppose she is a home-body, it's just a bit more complicated than that.”
He felt silly, all of the signs were there, right in front of his oblivious face. He had never seen her leave the property in the weeks he was there working. She was always, either, in the house or on the porch, the furthest from the house he had ever seen her was the mailbox. She got clearly anxious about any mention of leaving to go anywhere, and her car hadn't moved since the first time he saw it in the dirt driveway. Everything made so much sense to him now, with the sudden realization he had left her, alone, in a tent full of complete strangers.
“Shit!” He barked, taking the food and drinks and rushing back to the tent. “Are you okay?” He asked, as soon as he found her in the crowded stands.
“Other than starving, I'm all right.” She replied, looking up at him.
“You're sure?” He asked and sat down beside her, he could see the tremble in her shoulders. “You're shaking.” He pointed out, his brow creasing with concern.
Why did I push her into this! He berated himself mentally.
“I'm just cold.” She frowned back, which wasn't a complete lie, it was rather nippy out and she had left her jacket in the truck.
“Oh.” Sy gulped at her, setting their snacks down on the empty bench in front of them and peeled off his Five Finger Death Punch hoodie. “Here.” He said, handing her the toasty warm garment.
“Thanks.” She blushed, pulling it on.
The comforting warmth of the fabric settled around her, wrapping her up in Sy's scent of dark vanilla, the fresh cut pine boards he had been working with, fresh air and patchouli, from his beard oil. The tremor vibrating through her body instantly subsided as she huddled herself up inside Sy's hoodie, suddenly feeling safe, safer than she had ever felt in her life before, the murmur of the crowd vanished and everyone melted away, but Sy.
Sy smiled at her, watching as she stopped shaking. “Are you still hungry?” He asked her, picking up the heavy paper plate with the lumpy and sweet pastry dough on it, covered in butter, cinnamon and brown sugar.
“What in the world is that?” She frowned down at it.
“It's called an Elephant Ear.” He chuckled, letting her take the plate from him and picked up his own. “It's delicious.”
“It's as big as one!” She chuckled, balancing it in her lap and pushed up the oversized sleeves of Sy's hoodie, not wanting to get it messy as she tore a piece of the dough off and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm.” She melted, licking her coated lips. “That is sinful.” She moaned, smiling over at Sy, who simply folded his and took a massive bite out of it.
“I told you!” He mumbled around his mouthful, grinning ear to ear.
“I might have to learn how to make these.” Lily said, tearing off a bigger piece and licked her fingers clean of the cinnamon and sugar combination.
“Oh, don't threaten to spoil a man!” Sy laughed, gently touching his shoulder to hers.
“Hey, here she is!” Lily called out, pointing to the girl entering the center of the tent atop a horse. “They look so good together!” She grinned, beaming with her own dose of pride in Skylar and Juniper.
Lily lifted her hand and waved as Skylar looked out over the crowd, she spotted Lily and waved back at her, smiling. Skylar got herself and Juniper into position, taking deep breaths to try and settle her jittery nerves and focus on her task ahead. Skylar was given the signal and she was off, speeding as fast as she and Juniper could go towards the first barrel in front of them. Lily scooted towards the edge of her seat, her half eaten elephant ear forgotten in her excitement. Skylar seemingly sailed through the cloverleaf pattern she had to make around the barrels and back to her mark.
The crowd clapped as she went out, letting the next rider and their horse take their turn at the competition. Lily finished off her elephant ear and sipped at her Dr. Pepper, eyes glued to the beautiful horses and focused riders as they went around and around the barrels, kicking up dirt as they went.
“I really hope she wins.” Lily said, looking at Sy, only to realize he had been watching her the whole time, and not the racers. “What?” She squeaked, eyes wide. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No.” He smiled back, then chuckled. “Well..” He picked up the paper napkin he was given with the elephant ears and gently brushed off a line of brown sugar and cinnamon that Lily had on her cheek. “Just a little sugar.” He told her, softly.
“But, other than that, you're...” He paused for a moment. “Perfect.” He whispered, breathlessly.
Lily gulped and her cheeks warmed, biting the inside of her lip and fidgeted inside Sy's hoodie. “Thank you.” She mumbled back. “For the..” She motioned to her cheek, shyly.
“Of course.” Sy nodded, a tender smile on his lips. “But, I hope she wins too.” He added, turning back to the event.
“All right everybody, it's time to announce the winners for first, second and third place!” The announcer said, standing in the middle of the racing area, a microphone in his hand and a big cowboy hat on his head, as his boots shined with their spurs.
Lily crossed her fingers, making Sy chuckle at her.
“In third place is,” the announcer said, lifting a clipboard he was holding. “Paige Whitley with thirty-four seconds!”
The crowd clapped and whistled as the girl came up and took her ribbon for third place, then stood to one side of the announcer.
“In second place is, Ainsley Ortega with twenty-eight seconds!”
Another round of claps, whistling and yells from the crowd as she took her place beside Paige. There was a moment of pause and the suspense was starting to drive Lily stir crazy as they waited for him to announce the first place winner.
“and the first place winner of the Dallas Heritage Fair is,” He paused for a dramatic affect. “Skylar Marlowe with twenty-one seconds!”
“Yes!” Lily shouted, her arms flying up as she bounced in her seat, overjoyed. “She did it, Sy.” She grinned at him, throwing her arms around his neck, in her moment of overzealous excitement, forgetting herself.
“She did.” Sy grinned, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her back.
He unconsciously turned his face into her hair and took a deep breath, smelling her Lavender and Rosemary shampoo in it. They stayed like that, in a timeless bubble, before they recalled themselves and pulled apart again.
“I'm sorry, I was excited.” Lily blushed, brushing her hair behind her ear.
“Same.” Sy replied, clearing his throat. “I should get you back home now, it's been two hours.” He said, picking up their empty plates, napkins and soda cans, standing.
“I-” Lily froze, watching him dump them into a trash bin nearby. “I don't—mind—staying another hour, if you're not.” She told him, a hard lump in her throat. “I mean, there's so much of the fair I haven't seen, since it's my first time, and you spent a pretty penny on our access bracelets.” She said, lifting her arm, the sleeve of his hoodie slipped down her arm, revealing her red bracelet.
“Be rude and a shame to waste it, don't you think?” She asked, staring at him, shyly.
Sy studied her for a moment, weighing what he knew of her now, but she looked and seemed all right, for the most part, just her usual shy and withdrawn self. “If you want too, Lily. Then, I'm more than all right with staying and showing you the rest of the booths.” He said, his voice soft and—protective.
“I would like that.”
Sy smiled at her, gently, then offered her his arm, which she took. He escorted them out of the tent, with the rest of the fair-goers. Sy took her around the fair ground, stopping at booths that Lily showed interest in. He paused at one booth, seeing all the stuffed animals that were hanging around it and pressed his lips together, before glancing at her and deciding to give it a shot, wanting to win something for her, so when she saw it, she'd remember the fun she had at the fair; and think of him.
It was a shooting game booth, giving the player a minute to hit as many targets as they could, each target was worth a certain amount of points and moved quickly. But, Sy wasn't at all worried, this was his element, his military career made something like this easy. So, he took up the bee-bee rifle that the booth runner gave him, slotted it against his shoulder and held it through pure muscle memory. He patiently waited for the signal for him to start, watching the painted metal targets move on their tracks.
“Ready!” the booth runner called, standing to the side. “Set! Go!”
Sy's body instantly tensed and he started firing, his movement was sharp, quick and calculated, hips and shoulders pivoting as he hit each of the targets, only missing two in the full minute he had. Lily stood beside him, fully impressed by his skill.
“Seven hundred and forty-nine points.” the booth runner read off the scoreboard at the back of the booth. “That's the highest score yet!” He said, impressed himself. “You have a pick of whatever you want, sir.” He told Sy, motioning around to the stuffed animals, some were super teeny, while others were nearly Lily's size.
Sy surveyed the selection of stuffed animals, before a certain one caught his attention and smiled at it, it was perfect for why he wanted it. “That's the one.” He said, pointing out the medium sized, curly furred and light tan, teddy bear.
“A perfect choice, sir.” the booth runner praised him, taking it down and handing it over to Sy.
“Here.” Sy smiled, turning and holding it out to Lily. “He's for you.” He told her, gently, as his heart thundered in his chest.
Lily slowly took the bear from him, it was silk soft and plush, it felt nice under her hands, making her instantly smile as she stared down at it. She was touched that Sy had gone through the trouble of winning the game to get her a prize, no one had ever done something so kind, sweet and thoughtful for her before, it made her a bit emotional.
“Thank you.” She whispered, hugging it to her chest and looked up at Sy. “I love it.” She assured him, seeing the concern in his blue eyes that she wouldn't.
“Good.” He beamed, his heart still thundering, but it felt light and hopeful. “I'm glad.”
It was nearly dark by the time Lily and Sy finished their tour of the fair grounds and headed back to the house. Lily convinced Sy to stay for dinner before he headed back home, wanting to thank him in someway for taking her to the fair and showing her such a good time, something she hadn't had in as long as she could remember.
“Your cooking never fails to amaze me.” Sy chuckled, popping the last bit of his biscuit into his mouth. “It's the definition of a great home cooked meal.” He praised her, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his lean tummy through the fabric of his shirt.
“Well, you have the appetite of a Viking.” She giggled back, blushing at her plate.
Sy laughed again, his own bearded cheeks coloring. “True enough.” He agreed, smiling brightly at her.
“Thank you for taking me today.” Lily said, speaking softly. “I really did have a lot of fun.” She confessed, shyly twisting her napkin in her hands, and thinking of the teddy bear that now took up a prized spot on her bed, upstairs.
“I did too, I'm glad you agreed to go with me.” Sy nodded, tilting his head at her. “Did us both a great deal of good to get out and do something fun.”
“I should let you take off, before it gets too late.” She answered, after a brief moment of silence. “I know it's a long drive.”
Sy cleared his throat, biting the inside of his lip, he didn’t want to bring up staying at the motel down in Celina, so the drive was easier to make and gave him more hours in the day to work on the seemingly endless list of projects that needed to be done, to get the farm back into running order, again. He didn’t want them to argue after such an amazing day.
But, he knew she was right.
“Thanks for dinner.” He said, taking his plate to the sink, wanting a reason to linger a second longer. “Good night, Ms. Lily.” He smiled at her, as they stepped out onto the porch. “I'll see you in the morning.”
“I'll be here, with coffee and breakfast waiting, as always.” She replied, standing barefoot on the smooth and solid board of the porch.
He chuckled, bidding her good night again and got into his truck. As he drove to the motel, he recalled all the smiles she had given him throughout the day and the sound of her victorious laugh, when she beat him at the ring toss game, but sweetly gave him the bracelet she won, making him glance at the macrame, blue and gold turquoise beads weaved with black thread and tied with a slip knot, that hugged his thick wrist. His skin tingled as it remembered the gentle touch of her dainty fingers as she slipped it over his hand to his wrist and tugged it secure.
Sy wasn't a jewelry person, other than his watch and his dog-tags, but for as long as he lived, he vowed to never take that bracelet off.
#Southern Generation#Southern Generation *Fic*#viking-raider fics#HenryCavill#Henry Cavill#captain syverson#Sand Castle#agoraphobia#fair#Syverson#Austin Syverson#Syverson/OFC#Syverson x OFC#Fluff#anxiety#social anxiety#barrel racing#Texas#Dallas#Celina#Austin#Hurt/Comfort#language#slow burn
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Every time someone from my neighbourhood posts a "found my chickens bitten to death/stolen by a fox(or some other predator) this morning😢🙁is already the third time 😬😩anyone else also missing chickens?" On our fb group I am so close to losing my marbles. And for every comment that says 'me too! It's really getting worse now' I physically have to restrain myself cuz no it's not. There have always been foxes here and your chickens have been slaughtered forever. Be happy that wildlife can still survive in the hellholes of cities and suburbs. This 'uwu my poor chickens'-narrative only fuels claw traps, glue traps, poison traps-perpetuators. Stuff you don't want in the wild cuz besides wildlife your cat or dog could also encounter it!
If I tell them they should just invest in better infrastructure they insult me or ignore me which only shows that they don't care about chickens. Just about cheap eggs and garbage dispossal. Otherwise they would have upgraded after the first chicken slaughter.
So, for the sake of my mental health and the physical wellbeing of chickens everywhere I'm gonna share the setup that has kept the ladies safe for the last 3+ years in these 'predator infested' times and regions.
There is a coop with iron wire. None of that stretchy rope crap, anything with teeth can bite through it in minutes and other birds can get tangled in it. Burn it. Some nice quality chicken wire does the trick. Use a decent skeleton that is anchored solidly in the ground (we used some iron pole holders of 50 cm deep). Make sure it is sturdy. You don't want anything pushing it over or out of the ground. The top is also covered in case something would try to climb in it. Half of it is a roof in case of rain or excessive sun but you do you. Just cover that shit. Have door with a decent lock. Not some textile rope, it will weaken. Just sth too advanced for smn without tumbs.
Around the whole coop there are concrete lawnborders of approx 50 cm dug in and fixed with quick cement and also attached the wire. It runs all along the coop. It prevents foxes from digging underneath the wire. It has to be deep enough. If it is just a brick as I've seen often they can move it or dig it up. But if it's deep and fixed they will give up and move on to easier prey. Undeneath the door we buried a big slab of rock with the same result.
The chicken house is raised and gets locked every single night in case sth does get in the closed coop (never happened so far) and the nesting box has a loop-hook systems and two stones to keep it closed. The gnomes are the guards but they are optional.
In this area, all predators hunt after dusk so if the ladies are closed up after nightfall they should be fine. During the day we let them stray in the garden freely. We have no more slugs (or rhubarb, our mistake). They often get mowed grass or a new tree trunck to play with. The strong underground inforcements also prevent them from digging a hole underneath the wires themselves for their fancy dust baths. Apart from the house, everything took 1 dry afternoon to build by two people.
So, just use your brain and hands that have especially evolved to outsmart predators and protect your ladies. Predators will hunt and you should let them. Humans should use their brains and outthink them.
#gardening#gardencore#garden#cottage#cottagecore#cottage garden#grandmacore#grandpa#farmcore#farm#farming#chicken#chickens#eggs#foxes#wildlife#evolution#diy#pets#happy pets#homestead
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Forgotten
Summary: you’re left at school while your mom and stepdad have left for a weekend getaway.
Pairing: Stepdad!Chris Evans x Stepdaughter!Reader
It’s been a bad day. It’s raining hard as you stand outside. You don’t know anyone at this new school. You’re already the target of some bullying from the popular girls at the school which of course happened today. You missed your bus due to not knowing which one you’re supposed to get on. You did send your mom a text but you don’t know if she got it because your phone died. It’s a bad day.
You give up after two hours of waiting outside the school for her. You sort of know where Chris lives. You just don’t think it’s gonna be a safe trek. You hope to god you don’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere. You hope pedophiles and serial killers are put off by the bad weather today.
You get lost a couple times which has made you start full on crying. And thankfully Dodger’s in the window letting you made it to Chris’s place but sadly, the door is locked and nobody thought to give you the key. And it seems like it’s just Dodger home.
“It’s o-okay, Dodge, I’m gonna try the garage,” you sniffled putting a shaky hand on the window where his paw is.
You move away and head to the garage. You try opening the door but it won’t budge. You kick it out of anger and go to the side door. Its locked.
“Fuck,” you said.
You go to the fence gate. You have to scale it since it just won’t budge out. You fall onto your hands/elbows and along with your knees onto the hard ground. You pull yourself up to find that a mud pile has blocked the gate because Dodger loves to dig holes and he dug one off the side. It just seems like the world is truly against you.
“Hey, buddy,” you whimpered greeting the pooch who stands at the glass door.
You try it. It’s locked. You just break down on the deck as the rain keeps pouring down.
“She hasn’t texted me yet,” your mother said worrying.
“She’s probably fine, Amy,” Chris said.
She straddles his hips and said, “when I was a teenager, I threw parties, Chris. And she’s home alone. She’s just like me. I don’t want her to be getting knocked up by some boy like I did when I was her age.”
“I’ll call Scott to check on her and Dodger and the house,” Chris said.
When Scott gets to the house, you’re sitting on the porch right by the window where Dodger barks at his presence. You look miserable. Your cheeks are tear stained. You’re shaking like twig in the wind. Your shoes are muddy along with the sleeves. You’re still soaked. Scott’s heart just breaks. He’s talked with you a few times if he’s ever over. He can get more out of you than Chris can. But it’s still very clear that you have some huge walls up.
“W-Where’s my mom?” You asked.
“Chris and her are on weekend getaway— wait, did they not tell you?” Scott asked.
You shake your head no and said, “I- I didn’t know.”
That doesn’t sit well with Scott at all. He helps you up onto your feet.
“I- I tried all the doors but- but they’re locked,” you cried. “I don’t have a key- a-and my phone died. I- I- I waited at the school.”
Scott unlocks the door and pulls you inside as you tell him what happened. He feels just awful about what happened and you managed to slip out that you don’t have any friends at school and that other kids are just cruel in your need to make that you don’t get blamed or yelled at by Chris. It’s clear you feel like he doesn’t like you at all.
“Hey, know what? Go take a shower. Get some clean clothes on. I’ll handle Dodger. I’ll order us some pizza and I’ll let Chris and your mom know what happened,” Scott said.
You nod as tears streamed down your cheeks and your lips tremble. He gives you a brief hug before letting you up the stairs. You trip up the stairs and just keep going and disappear from his view.
“C’mon, bubs, lets get you fed,” Scott said heading off to the kitchen.
He feeds Dodger and lets the pooch out. He orders a large pepperoni pizza knowing you both share the same tastes. He makes sure to hear the shower running before he gives a snarky report to the couple who clearly forgot about you but then again, you just didn’t have the right cards playing in your favor and it was a last minute trip planned by Chris. Your mom had been stressed out about everything and especially with work. She needed to get away. It’s completely understandable. But you probably do too.
“Is there a party at my house?” Chris immediately asked.
“No, you ass hat. I get to your stupid ass place to find the poor girl soaked and crying on the porch because she can’t get into the house ‘cause everything was locked up,” Scott said and he’s very livid.
“She has a key, Scott,” Chris said.
Scott scoffed and said, “then she would’ve been in the house, Chris! I’d be dealing with a pissed off teenager who wasn’t invited to go to the beach with you two. She also didn’t know you two were going off to the beach house.”
Chris looked at Amy and said, “I thought you told her.”
“I told you to tell her,” Amy said.
“I don’t care who told who to tell Y/n! You both fucked up. She waited two hours at the school to be picked up in the rain because she doesn’t know what bus she’s supposed to be on,” Scott said. “But nobody would get her because you two assumed that she knew. I get that you two have been stressed out and shit but my niece is having a rough time too.”
He lets them know what else has been happening and how it’s quite clear that you believe that Chris doesn’t like you at all. It’s far from the truth.
Soon enough, you come back down the stairs in a hoodie and sweatpants. The phone call is over and the pizza just arrived. You both eat on the couch with Deadpool playing on the TV. Scott also makes sure that you’re wrapped up in a blanket. You seem to be cheering up a bit —well, as much as you can after a hellish day.
~~~
It’s a little after 11pm when they come home. Dodger doesn’t greet them. He’s in your room with you and Scott. The couple head up the stairs. Your mom opens the door to see that you’re curled up to Scott asleep. Dodger is laying on the foot of the bed.
“Chris!” Scott whispered.
“What?” Chris said.
Scott motions him to come closer. Chris comes closer. Scott has Chris switch places with him. It involves them arguing in hushed whispers. Your mom gets after them. You wake up to your head on Chris’ bicep and he’s partially on your bed.
“Get out,” you said trying to push the giant log of a human being.
“Nice going, Chris. You woke her up,” Scott sassed.
Chris rolls to his side. You push against his chest but he doesn’t budge.
“Chris, just get out of her bed,” Amy said.
“No.”
He pulls you against his chest. He tucks your head right under his chin. You try kicking him but it does nothing except get Dodger off the bed. You’re getting frustrated. Scott sneaks away knowing that he should let his brother and your mom handle this on their own. They don’t need his input.
“I’m sorry about what happened today,” Chris said.
“Yeah, honey. It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” your mom said getting into your view.
“Oh so you two were supposed to be fucking on the beach and drinking margaritas while I’m stuck with his dog?!” You hissed with tears burning your eyes.
“Hey! Dodger is a great dog,” Chris said.
“He’s not my dog!” You yelled looking at him. “He’s not my responsibility!”
“You’re right,” Chris said wiping away some of your tears. “I didn’t want you being all by yourself in my house. We should’ve brought you with us. Blame it on me. I didn’t think you’d want to come with us. I thought that you might enjoy having time to yourself without me around, Y/n.”
“No! Y-You don’t want to spend time with me,” you insisted crying. “That’s why.”
“That’s not true at all, honey,” your mom said as Chris holds you tightly.
“I do want to spend time with you, Y/n. Know what? You and me will go out tomorrow. Just the two of us,” Chris promised as you cried. “We’ll do whatever you want.”
He pulls your blanket more to make sure you’re covered and he rubs your back. You bury your face into Chris’ chest. Chris looks at your mom and she looks very worried and tired.
“I got her, babe. Get some sleep,” Chris said.
Amy sighs and leans over her man. She presses a kiss to your head and she kisses Chris. She leaves the room closing the door. Chris starts talking quietly about whatever he can think of. You fall asleep.
“Don’t you worry, kid. We’re gonna have fun tomorrow,” he whispered.
#chris evans x female reader#dodger evans#chris evans fluff#chris evans oneshot#chris evans x daughter!reader#chris evans#chris evans x y/n#stepdad!chris evans#chris evans x stepdaughter!reader#angst#chris evans x you#chris evans and reader#chris evans x teen!reader#scott evans#chris evans angst#chris evans and dodger#stepdad!chris evans x stepdaughter!reader
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Dean tries, really tries, to think of it as a present. Finally, his dad is letting loose on the ropes a bit, finally letting him hunt on his own. But it’s kinda hard to convince himself when his dad sent him in with the case already figured out, with everything but the manual labor already done.
It’s more like an errand he wants me to complete, Dean thinks resentfully, digging his shovel into the soft dirt. Happy birthday, go dig up two graves. Have fun!
Dean huffs and pivots to the grave beside the other one. According to Dean’s research, the nuns had wanted to be buried together, but when the convent found their bodies they hadn’t really gone for that option. They had been buried next to each other, though, which makes Dean’s job just a little bit easier.
He starts digging, even though he hasn’t finished digging out the first grave. You gotta dig ‘em up at the same time, ‘cause if you gank one then her lover gets angry, and the last thing Dean needs is an angry ghost harassing him while he digs up a grave. He can’t help but think that those other nuns should’ve buried them together. Not just because it would make Dean’s life easier, but because they wanted it. Because they were in love, and they killed themselves, and the convent owed them that much.
Dean inhales, then exhales, his breath escaping in a little white cloud. It’s chilly, ‘cause it’s January, but it’s not too cold. He’s not wearing gloves or anything but he can still feel his hands. He shifts to the other grave and starts digging.
He remembers what Charlie at the last school said about what his dad got him for his seventeenth birthday--a new car. Lindsey got a fancy necklace. Jake’s birthday hadn’t come up yet, but he’d been hoping for a dog. All Dean has is blisters on his fingers and a sore back from when the ghost of Sister Felicity threw him into a bookcase while he was retrieving the prayer book the nuns’d passed notes to each other in. That book, which had notes in the margins of their love, is gone now. Dean burned it.
Tears sting at Dean’s eyes. He must’ve been too soft, about Jake. He must’ve--something must’ve given him away. Why else would he be punished like this?
He knows, Dean thinks. He knows, he knows, he knows. It becomes a mantra, moving in time with his shovel. He switches graves.
It’s just that it’s his birthday. The message--the warning--would’ve gotten across regardless, Dean thinks. But why, of all days, why his birthday? Why can’t Dean have a fucking break for once?
Seventeen sucks, Dean thinks, hitting the first coffin. He climbs out of the hole and switches to the other one. It supremely sucks. Sixteen you get a drivers’ license, eighteen you can, like, vote or whatever, but seventeen is nothing. Just a bunch of shit.
He knows, he knows, he knows.
Dean hits the second coffin and breaks it open. The bones are like the ones in Sister Perpetua’s grave--pale and gross, just like most bones are. Dean doesn’t know why he kind of expected different. He climbs out and throws his shovel aside, picks up the thing of salt. He dumps it on one grave, then the other. Lighter fluid, next. Dean’s done this before. Even if Dad and Sammy are usually here, Dean knows how this goes.
He takes the matchbook from his pocket, strikes one and drops it, then the other. The graves light up, the flame flickering bright and warm, and Dean thinks he hears screaming. He drops to his knees and whispers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
He realizes that he’s still crying, that tears have run down his face, and for the first time on this supremely shitty birthday, he’s glad to be alone, kneeling between the graves of two women who were in love, twin fires burning bright on either side of him.
-
Dean wakes up slowly, as he often does these days. There’s a warm blanket around his shoulders, and under that a heavy arm slung over his waist. Sometimes Dean remembers the days he was too antsy to even get under the covers, ready to jump into action at any minute, and it all seems so absurd.
Light trickles in softly from the window across the room, and the arm around Dean’s waist tightens. Dean turns, slow, smiling already at the sight he knows will greet him.
Cas is kind of awake, squinting at him but smiling, his hair ruffled and sticking out everywhere, and Dean feels sort of like he might burst.
“Mmm,” he says. “Good morning.” He stretches his own arm around Cas’s shoulders and draws the man closer to him, Cas’s arm shifting from it’s loose hold to pull their chests together.
“Happy birthday, Dean,” Cas says, his voice even lower, rough from sleep. Dean grins, tucks his face under Cas’s chin to hide it.
“Every day’s my birthday when I get to wake up to the best present ever laying in my bed,” Dean says, even though that’s ridiculously sappy and also doesn’t make sense.
“I am not a present, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean makes a ‘hmm’ noise.
“I was talking about Miracle, dumbass,” he says, nudging the sleeping dog in question with his toes.
“Of course you were,” Cas says indulgently, like he’s just humoring him. Which is fair, possibly. Dean thinks that Cas spends a lot of time just humoring him.
“Do you know what time it is?” Dean asks, shifting his arm to touch the back of Cas’s neck, right at the spot where his t-shirt meets his skin.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cas says, holding him tighter like he thinks Dean will get out of bed, which is quite frankly an absurd idea. It’s a Sunday, and it’s his birthday. Dean has nowhere else to be.
“It might, since Sammy’s coming over today,” Dean says, even though Sam and Eileen are coming over in the late afternoon and it’s definitely still morning.
“Well, it’s not time for them to come yet,” Cas says. “We can get up later.”
Dean definitely agrees, and he snuggles back down into Cas, getting even more comfortable. He’s just thinking about falling back asleep, maybe, deciding that this is his best birthday ever, even though it’s only been like ten minutes, when he remembers his worst birthday and has to pause.
“Dean?” Cas asks. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m…” Dean noses against him, taking a deep breath. “You read my...my dad’s journal?”
“Yes,” Cas says warily. The journal is usually safe, but Cas can get pissy when John Winchester is mentioned.
“You remember my seventeenth birthday?” Dean asks, and then all of a sudden his angel is trying to squeeze the life out of him. Dean appreciates it, even though he can’t really breathe.
“I remember,” Cas growls, and Dean pats his shoulder.
“I was just thinking about how that was the worst, and this is the best,” Dean says, and Cas relaxes his hold a little. “I, uh...that day felt like a huge warning. And now I’m here, with you, and, uh, it’s pretty awesome, not gonna lie.”
“John Winchester deserves to rot in hell for eternity for what he did to you and Sam,” Cas says. “But I am glad to be here with you, and I agree that it’s pretty awesome.”
“I love you,” Dean says, helpess as he always is in the face of Cas’s protectiveness.
“I love you too,” Cas says, moving a hand to tenderly cradle Dean’s jaw. He begins to guide Dean’s head towards his, and Dean is so sorry to interrupt, but--
“Do you smell pancakes?” he asks, and Cas pauses, considering.
“Yes,” he says finally.
“Well, if I’m here in bed, and you’re here in bed, and Miracle, I’m pretty sure, can’t make pancakes, and is also in bed, then who…”
“Jack,” they say together, and Dean laughs.
“Do we trust Jack with the stove?”
“He is God,” Cas says, but that doesn’t sound like a ‘yes’. They look at each other and then sigh, rolling apart so they can get out of bed.
“We’ll continue this later,” Dean says, pointing at Cas, who nods.
“Of course,” he says, and he reaches out and grabs Dean’s shirt, pulling him in for a sadly-brief kiss. “Happy birthday.”
Dean beams at him, and then they go downstairs to help their son make pancakes without burning the house down, Miracle bounding down the stairs beside them, and Dean can’t help but agree with his earlier assessment--that this is his best birthday ever.
(ao3)
#this is so fluffy byeeee#long post#deancas#supernatural#dean winchester#castiel#destiel#uhh this is 1.4k words if anyone is like curious
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Trying - Mammon x Reader
A/N: ok, so this is another song fic b/c i can’t help myself lmao. also, i decided to say ‘guardian’ instead of ‘parent(s),’ so you can insert whoever, like maybe a grandparent or a foster parent or whatever. you can even insert your parent(s), if you feel comfortable doing so. it was for the comfort of the reader, just like the gender neutrality of the reader character. the guardian is only mentioned like once, but i just wanted to point it out.
WC: 2520
Warning(s): Reader deals with depression/anxiety and has a meltdown (kind of panicky, but not to the extent of a panic attack), Mammon sees the reader nakey, but there’s nothing spicy
fic is below the cut
I’m not really sure if my words make sense to you, but I can’t really find any other way to form these feelings into cubes and sort them in my mind…
Breathe. Just breathe. An involuntary function that you shouldn’t find it so hard to do, yet you feel your chest tightening as you hyperventilate and sob in the bathtub. You feel as though you’re dying, tears streaming down your face, blurring your vision. The water in the bath chills you to your core, and you just want to hide under your covers in your bed, but you remain in the tub, unmoving.
A knock on the door pulls you out of your haze. You wipe your face as the knocking gets louder, sitting up. Your breathing slows, but your nerves are still shot. Someone wants your attention, but you don’t respond. Instead, you pull your knees to your chest, shivering as the icy water seeps into your bones, freezing them solid. The knocking refuses to stop. It only gets louder the longer you sit there, but your body, crafted of lead, remains still, and you stay in the tub.
The negative thoughts go on the left and the happy things on the right, and there’s a little corner saved just for you…
“Hey, Y/N! What the hell are ya doin’ in there? Masturbatin’? Ya been in there for like two hours and I’ve been waitin’ for ya!” Mammon. One of the more sympathetic brothers, yet despite that, you can’t bring yourself to tell him about your anguish, as you let out silent sobs in the bathtub. Hell, you can’t even bring yourself to speak. You’ll just leave him with that imagery instead. Eventually, he’ll get bored and leave you alone. It helps that he has the attention span of a dog on a walk, especially one that has just spotted a squirrel.
Please let me know if you change your mind, ‘cause inside I’m falling and I need you to pull me out of this decline…
Only, your assumption about him getting bored and leaving cannot possibly be more incorrect. He needs your attention and he needs it now, the clingy sonuvabitch, so good luck getting rid of him. “Ya can’t just ignore the Great Mammon like that! I’ll break down this damn door if ya don’t open it, ya stupid human!” The doorknob jiggles, as if he’s first trying to see if he can even open the door, except it’s locked, because who the fuck leaves the door unlocked when they’re bathing? It won’t open until you’re ready to leave, since you can’t see him actually breaking down the door, therefore, it will remain locked until you unlock it. His words are most likely an empty threat meant to scare you into opening the door for him. Except, you feel no fear as you listen to him, since Mammon and fear pair together as well as toothpaste and orange juice. In fact, if you weren’t in such a sorry state and having a meltdown, you probably would laugh at his futile attempts to enter your bathroom.
I realize how hard to you this must seem, but trust me when I say it’s far, far worse for me…
Instead of opening the door, you just close your eyes and lay back down in the tub, wiping away the tears that refuse to stop vacating your eyes. Not too long after, Mammon’s knocking on the door again. Only, it’s louder and harsher than knocking. Is he kicking the door? You never thought he would hold true to his threat, but it sounds like he’s trying to break down your door. That ass.
You jump as the door swings off its hinges, crashing into the wall. Now, not only is your door destroyed, but there is a gaping hole in the wall. How the hell are you even going to respond to this? Mammon broke your damn door and now he’s in your bathroom, where you’re crying and naked in a freezing bathtub. He’s never even seen you naked before and this is not how you imagined it would go. This is so fucking embarrassing.
Please, please be here for me, dear, ‘cause I’ve never needed a friend more and I can’t stress how much it means to me that you’re trying…
His blue eyes widen as they drink in the scene in front of them. “Why the hell are ya cryin’? Is it ‘cuz I broke yer door? I’ll jus’ take some cash from Levi to replace it. I’m sure he won’t mind.” The way he’s staring at you makes you want to sink lower into the tub or disappear completely. Not only that, but Levi would most definitely mind if Mammon ‘borrowed’ some money from him, considering how often the latter had done it in the past without paying him back. “Why didn’t ya respond when I was callin’ for ya?” He steps inside the bathroom to sit on the edge of the tub. If he couldn’t see your body from the doorway, he can definitely see it now. You suddenly feel extremely self-conscious as you lay in the tub, thinking of how to respond. Quietly, he watches your face, waiting for your reply.
And I don’t mind if you can’t hold me like you used to, ‘cause I’ve never hated myself more…
Your voice is hoarse. “I don’t know. I guess I thought you would get bored and leave if I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think you’d really break my door down.” The water splashes over the side of the tub, spilling onto the floor, as you sink lower into the tub. You close your eyes as you sink to your ears in the tub, tilting your head so that your face isn’t submerged. Mammon’s voice sounds akin to the buzzing of bees as he speaks to you once more. Why can’t he just leave? Isn’t it obvious you don’t want him there, in your bathroom, where you’re naked and crying? Why is he so damn nosy?
His hands are gripping your biceps, nails digging into your skin as he pulls you out of the icy water. You don’t bother opening your eyes to look at him, but you feel him wrap a towel around you, holding your shivering form against his chest. “The hell are ya doin’, Y/N? What’s goin’ on with ya? It’s gotta be more than just the door. Were ya in here crying in this fuckin’ freezin’ water before I got here?”
But this is just a bump in the road and I promise I’m trying…
Nodding your head, you swab your tongue on your lips before speaking. “Yeah.” That’s all you say in response as your teeth chatter uncontrollably. The water was hot when you first got into the tub, but you guess you were in there for so long that the temperature lowered a substantial amount. Still, you weren’t glad to be out of the tub now. Under the water, you didn’t have to answer his probing questions. Now that you’re out of the tub and in his lap, you have no choice but to answer the questions he throws your way. You don’t know how to explain it to him. Your thoughts and feelings, and how they’re sporadic, like a scribbling on a child’s drawing. The child’s drawing is of a dog, only it looks like it’s just a bunch of scribbles.
I promise I’m trying…
Not only that, but you’re naked and in his lap, a towel serving as the only thing separating the two of you. You start crying again, burying your face into the soft fluff of the towel, your shoulders shaking. Your eyes are closed, but you feel Mammon pull your head to his chest, seemingly indifferent to your sopping hair drenching his shirt. “Y’know, I always wondered why ya stupid humans gotta cry n’ be sad n’ stuff. Ya have such short lives and ya spend them cryin’ in bathtubs. I’ve been alive for I don’t even remember how long and I ain’t never once cried in a bathtub.” Mammon speak for why are you crying? I care about you and want to help you. He would never actually say that, though, since he likes to pretend that he doesn’t have feelings for you, even if it’s obvious to literally everyone, including yourself. Whatever, you’ll just let him live out that fantasy for as long as he pleases.
You wipe your face on the towel, peering up at him with glassy eyes. There’s a look of discomfort on his face, like he wants to help you, but doesn’t know what to do. “I’m crying because…” Why are you crying? Originally, you were kind of panicking, but it was something so small, and you weren’t sure that he would get it. “I was having a meltdown and just kinda sad in general. It just kind of happened while I was in the bath. I didn’t really expect anyone to come in here to check on me. Or y’know, break down my door.”
Give me a moment to get my cards in line, ‘cause I’m still trying to figure out in what kind of order I should set them out…
He chews on his lip, silent for a moment. You feel as if this is the most serious you’ve seen him. A frown spreads across his face after a few moments of silence. “Y’aint got nothin’ to cry or be sad about, human. ‘Course, if you were hangin’ out with Satan or Lucifer, I’d understand, since bein’ around them makes me wanna cry. ‘Specially Lucifer. Don’t tell him I said that, though. He’ll throw a hissy fit. Thinks he’s so cool, but he’s a damn stick in the mud.”
If there was a way to explain everything without a word, I’d have a full house right now, without a doubt…
Sniffling, you wipe your nose on the towel, pretending that you don’t leave behind a disgusting trail of snot as you do. Ignoring what Mammon’s remarks about Satan and Lucifer, you say, “can you take me to my room? I just want to lay down in my bed right now, if you don’t mind.” Your hands are shaking as you speak, and you attempt to get them under control, but the effort it takes drains you, like trying to scoop water out of the Titanic with a plastic pail.
I’m trying to tear the wool from your eyes, but part of me wants to let you be, ‘cause then you wouldn’t see what I’ve become…
A slow nod from the demon comes after a few seconds, as if he needed time to process your words. He hooks an arm under your knees and lifts you up, holding you as a groom would his bride, and carries you out of the bathroom. Stepping around the splintered pieces of door, he loses his balance, almost dropping you when he steadies himself. In response, you dig your nails into his arm, bracing yourself for smacking the ground. Mammon hisses in pain as you leave small, crescent-shaped indents in his flesh. Yet, he holds onto you, miraculously managing to not drop you on the floor.
I’m trying to shout, but no sound comes out…
Gently, as if afraid to break you, Mammon sets you down on your bed, towel and all. After that, the bed shifts as he too lays down, pulling you to his chest. For a few seconds, there’s nothing. Just him holding you against his chest, seemingly unwilling to let you go, not that you want him to. His breath is warm on your damp hair, as his fingers tangle in it, massaging your scalp with his fingertips.
As he massages your scalp with one hand, the other rubs slow circles on your back. You can fall asleep right then and there, with the silence and his soothing touches, but you want to lay awake with him. Despite being a demon and the Avatar of Greed, he is always kind to you, even if in his own way. His inability to admit his feelings may make him appear cold towards you to an outsider, but you know differently.
It’s like we’re in a dream state, but I should have woken up, woken up by now…
After a long, drawn out silence, he finally breaks it. You figure he would give into his impatience eventually. “Are ya feelin’ any better? I don’t know too much about humans, but I know a lot of ‘em like physical contact when they’re feeling down, at least in my professional experience.” Professional experience. The words almost bring you to laughter. You can’t picture him having really any personal, or ‘professional’ experience with humans, much less ones that struggle with mental health issues, such as anxiety or depression.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” you reply. Your head aches and your mood is still damper, but you know that Mammon is attempting to make you feel better, in the best way he can. The demon, always greedy for your attention, is probably thriving from all the attention he’s getting at the moment. Only the two of you are in your room, so he can be the sole recipient of your attention and you can tell he’s soaking it up.
“Good.”
Please, please be here for me, dear, ‘cause I’ve never needed a friend more and I can’t stress how much it means to me that you’re trying…
Even if Mammon often drove you to near insanity with his crazy ‘money-making’ schemes and pranks, you’re grateful for his presence. Warmth radiates from him, a welcome change from the icy water of the bathtub that you were in some time ago. His clothes are soaked from your towel, pressed against his body, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When you try to point it out to him, he ignores you, continuing to rub circles into your back.
And I don’t mind if you can’t hold me like you used to, ‘cause I’ve never hated myself more…
Having your back rubbed relaxes you, and you find yourself almost drifting off to sleep a few times. You’re reminded of when you were a small child and your guardian would rub your back to get you to sleep, especially when you had trouble sleeping. In order to keep awake, you lightly pinch your skin, leaving behind faint pink marks. Normally, you’d go to sleep no problem, but you feel an obligation to stay awake with Mammon, especially after all that he’d done for you in the past hour or so.
But this is just a bump in the road and I promise I’m trying…
Your eyelashes, like butterflies, flutter as you fight to keep them open. The hand in your hair stops its movements, just gently resting on your occipital bone. You continue to fight sleep, but eventually, you give in, feeling it wash over your body. When you eventually wake up, you’re still wrapped in your towel, with Mammon asleep by your side.
I promise I’m trying...
#obey me fanfic#obey me#swd obey me#swd#shall we date#mammon x reader#mammon x gn reader#mammon#obey me mammon#obey me lucifer#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me beelzebub#obey me beel#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie#angst#fluff
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Episode 6: Normal Life.
Yes, I already watched the episode... Not sure what to think. Yes, it's Axel-Pol centred, that's why I don't know what to think. If you think Axel is hot and so on (as Hector seems to think), then you would love it.
I'll be posting the summary some time in the evening but it's difficult because I have a lot of things to do in the real world today.
Sorry!
Ok, let's start.
First edit: Intro.
Pol is at the doctor's and the doctor tells him that he's doing really well (the viral charge has gone down so much) and he encourages him to begin living a "normal life".
Pol asks him what is that supposed to mean since nothing that is happening to him is "normal". "Can I tell people? Can I fuck the person I like? Can I have a boyfriend/girlfriend? Can I tell them this, just like this?".
The doctor tells him that a lot of couples live with HIV and that if his viral charge is this low, he can even have sex without a condom :-O.... Pol is not convince at all, he thinks that people are only going to see him as the AIDS guy.
The doctor tells him that if he wants anything with anyone, he is going to have to tell them. Pol says that for him, that "normal life" is cohabitate with the fear.
Second edit:
Pol arriving home from the doctor and Alfonso asking where he went.
Pol tells him that he went to collect his notes to a friend's house and Alfonso gets mad because he knows he's lying but cannot say anything.
Alfonso asks him once again if he's ok and Pol tells him yes, he is ok and also, he got the scholarship.
Pol leaves to college and Alfonso and Gloria talks about Alfonso confronting Pol when he's ready....
Bolaño's class. She asks if it is correct to keep on listening to Michael Jackson's music after what it was discovered about him molesting children. Most of the class is against it because they think it's unmoral.
They talk about the justice in judging the work of a person through his private life.
And of course, Rai doesn't agree with the rest of the class. He separates the work from the person. They all agree that everything is rotten and nobody is free from having a censurable behaviour. Oti says that her granny is the only one who is really honest. And Rai gets mad and says that she cannot know that even because she could get excited by throwing stones to the rabbits when she was a little girl.
The class is over and Axel is waiting for Pol in the corridor to invite him to go to the Ampurdá to meet his parents. He wants to take Lucky to meet them and he thought that Pol would like to come too... as friends. Axel says "you wouldn't come as my boyfriend because you're not.... right?"... NO COMMENT.
Axel tells him that there are plenty of beds at the house, that he should not worry about that....
Pol tells him that he doesn't know if that would be the normal way to do it and Axel asks him what normal means to him...
Pol hesitates for a second but agrees to go with him.
Third edit:
Rai's home. Alfonso and Vicky bonding.
Minerva's flat. Amy and Arnau are half naked and in bed but they have not fucked because Amy just says that it wouldn't be right to fuck a flatmate. (I really don't understand what is the reason for these two to even appear...).
Meeting with the dean at college and Biel tells Bolaño that Pol is not coming (because he's with Axel in the Ampurdá). Meeting is boring af and I'm not going to describe it.
Pol and Axel get to Axel's parents home. And WHAT A HOUSE... WOW.
Pol meets Axel's mum and grandpa first. When Axel introduces him and Lucky to them, Axel's mum says "Let's see how long this one lasts this time" and the grandpa says "Yeah, she's not talking about the dog, you know that, right?"
Axel goes to see his father and they talk. BLAH BLAH BLAH.
Axel'm mun asks Pol for help to dig out a hole for a tree. She explains him that the thing they have tomorrow is a memory ceremony in the name of her mother, who would turn 90 that day and that they are going to plant a tree to honor her. It was Daniel's idea, Axel's ex, to give her a tree as a present.
Axel calls out for Pol. Pol tells him that his mum has told him about the ceremony and that it was Daniel's idea. And Axel tells him that Danuel was his ex, and asks him if he doesn't have any exboyfriends Pols says NO, HE DOESN'T HAVE ANY EXBOYFRIENDS... (CLARO QUE NO, CHATO....).
Axel tells him that he's really glad he's there and they go for a walk by bike.... (Hector Lozano has seen "Call me by your name" too many times and he believes he's a Guadagnino because the following montage is just the same as when Elio and Oliver ride their bikes to the river.... just identical... in fact, we can call Luca right now, show this to him and he could claim author property rights for this one.... like really....).
Fouth Edit: (OK, this part is really difficult to sum up but I am going to do my best).
Pol and Axel at the beach.
Pol tells Axel that he doesn't understand why he lives in Barcelona if he has this and Axel tells him that he doesn't want to live with his family. Pol tells him that he lives with his dad and Axel answers "Wait a couple of years....".
Axel kisses him.
Pol seems kind of lost and Axel asks him if he's OK. Pol shakes his head no and suddenly Pol gets up and says "It's been a while since I swim in the sea...." (YEAH, WE KNOW HOW LONG, POL DARLING... WE ALL KNOW HOW LONG AND BRUNO DOES TOO....). Axel tells him that the water should be really freezing.
He stars pealing his clothes off near Axel and Pol asks him if he likes his body. Pol takes good care of his body and at first look Axel couldn't tell that he's sick. And he runs to the water, where he screams underwater, and cries and kicks... Underwater Pol montage.
Axel sees this and asks him loudly if he's OK and Pol goes back to him and tells him that he's HIV positive. Pol tells him that he doesn't know why he's telling him. Maybe it's because he likes him and he has the right to know.
Pol start to cry and he says that he doesn't understand anything. He doesn't understand this has happened to him and that Axel sees his body and Pol knows that he's attracted to him because he sees how Axel looks at him and Pol only wishes he didn't have that body. Pol just wants to escape from himself. And even though he takes care of himself, he exercises, he eats well and the doctor tells him that everything's going ok, he has to get used to the infamous "Normal life", in Pol's case means don't tell anyone because if he does tell anyone, then it wouldn't be normal...
Pol says that he is so tired of growing up the hard way. He doesn't remember his mum, he keeps loosing people (WHUUUUUT????? I CHOSE TO BELIEVE THIS IS A REFERENCE TO BRUNO AND NOBODY IS GOING TO BLOW THAT UP, OK???? THANK YOU!) and when he gets the diagnose he though "Fuck Pol, you too?", but it seems he can live with that and if you have someone to fuck, it's better to say it. Pol tells Axel that that is what he has been wanting since the day the went to collect Lucky.
Axel kisses him hard and hugs him and tells him: "Look, greyhounds are blue and melancholic but they learn how to be happy really quickly. Maybe you're like a greyhound somehow". Pol tells him that maybe he's right and he promises that he'll be more discreet with Axel's family and Axel tells him that it's OK as long as he doesn't tell his father he doesn't like classical music.
More kisses and hugs.
(AND WE'RE NOT EVEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EPISODE)
Fifth edit:
Rai's home. Vicky and Alfonso bonding.
University: Maria and Silvia cross ways in the hallway and they have a little talk. Seems nice. Silvia asks her if she's ok and Maria tells her that she's better....
University bar: Oti, Biel and Rai are talking. Biel wants Rai to enter the debate thing.
Maria and Laura and Laura's boyfriend keep looking for flats for them to rent. Still no luck.
Alfonso and Gloria at a hospital. A nurse comes to them. She's a friend of Gloria. Gloria leaves so that her friend and Alfonso can talk. Alfonso wants to know if Pol is going to die and Gloria's friend tells him that there are more than 3000 HIV positive patiences in that hospital and all of them are living a "normal life", some of them are more optimistic, some are more pesimistic but none of them have been admitted in the hospital and as far as she knows, Pol is ok.... (don't aks me how she knows it)...
Axel's parents house, at the dinner table. They are talking Mozart and so on and so forth...
Axel's grandpa wants wine.
Axel tells them that Pol studies Philosophy.
Axel's grandpa asks if Daniel is coming the next day and Axel tells him that of course he's not and that he doesn't know anything about Daniel for quite a while now.
Axel's grandpa says that there was a philosopher who predicted his own death. They all think about who this might be and Pol says "Democrito". Axel's grandpa says "that's him, yes!!!".
Axel tells Pol that he has won his grandpa heart.
After dinner, in Axel's room (there were a lot of beds, of course....). Pol asks about Axel's granny and Axel tells him that she died 8 years ago and that his grandpa still doesn't want to bury her ashes.
Pol asks him if he comes to the house often with his hook-ups.
Axel tells him not with hook-ups but that he did come very often with his exboyfriend, the one that is not well, asks Pol. The one with depression, yes, answers Axel. Pol asks him how long they were together and Axel says that he doesn't want to talk about him and kisses Pol hard. Pol breaks the kiss and looks worried and Axel tells Pol that he doesn't want to fuck or pressure him in any way....
And they kiss again, Pol asks him if he doesn't have anything and if he gets tested regularly, Axel tells him that he doesn't have anything and that he gets tested, yes... and one thing leads to another and they start to make out big time. There is a moment when Pol hesitates a little but then he recovers and he takes the lead...
Alfonso and Gloria are in bed and Alfonso says that Pol has told him that he was going to spend the night at a friend's parents house and wonders if he has taken his pills with him.
Alfonso is really taken back and starts saying that young people are supposed to be given all the sex info and STD prevention in the world, that they have access to it. He doesn't get where HIS Pol went to get the HIV. Gloria just hugs him and he starts to cry. It's a really sad scene.
Next morning, they plant the tree. Axel doesn't want to participate in the ceremony.
Sixth edit:
On the way back, Pol asks him if the reason he didn't want to participate in the ceremony was because it was Daniel's idea to plant the tree.
Axel asks him what he wants to know. Pol says that it's normal that he wants to know things since he feels that Axel's family really love Daniel. "Well, I don't", says Axel.
Pol asks him how long they were together - 7 years.
And you were living together? - Yes, we lived together, then he started with the depression and I left him. Do you want to make me feel bad just like my parents?
Axel is an asshole, mind you... He tells Pol that he is treating Pol really tactfully and he has no reason to complain.
Pol tells him that whether Axel thinks he has to be grateful for Axel to accept him as he is...
Axel tells him that not everybody would be so understandable.
Pol gets pissed. Of course. Pol tells him that Axel is complaining because he cannot handle sick people.
Axel tells him that if Pol is the victim now.
Pol tries to explain to him that he is not comfortable with what Axel has told him. "you had a boyfriend, you were together for 7 years, you had your life built and then, he gets sick and you leave him" (BRAVO POL, OLE TUS HUEVOS!).
Axel tells him that Pol hasn't lived with another person as a couple, he doesn't have any idea of how it is, so he cannot talk about it.
Pol is really pissed and tells him that Axel should look for another guy because clearly Pol doesn't suit him at all. Pol feels good with him but Axel should find someone who not only sucks him but also can fuck him. And he shouldn't worry about him because he will fuck someday.
Axel says that ok and that he will leave Pol at college because he surely has homework to do.
Rai's house. Vicky is talking to her posh friends about her vertigos. She tells them that Alfonso took care of her and the posh friends start gossiping about that. Vicky tells them to shut up because Alfonso is a better person than any of them. Of course, Alfonso is listening.
Pol arrives to class... Silvia is talking about Descartes. BLAH BLAH BLAH.
University corridor and Pol meets up with Axel. Pol asks him if he is calmer and Axel tell him fuck you. Pol tells him that he wants to focus on his degree and that's it. Axel tells him that he is going to be his unsolved issue (asignatura pensdiente in Spanish).
Maria is in her office and Octavi comes saying that Laura is waiting outside for Maria. Octavi says that Laura told him that she thinks that Maria is fed up with her because Laura doesn't make things easy with the flat hunting (it's the opposite, of course.... it's Maria who is being a pain...).
Silvia and Octavi blah blah blah. Silvia has asked Octavi to take care of Maria for her....
Maria at her house, going through all Laura's clothes when she was a baby.
Minerva's flat. BLAH BLAH BLAH... Biel and Amy hook up.
Oti and Pol at the library studying. Rai comes and tells them to go to study somewhere else because that place is pathetic. He takes them to the W lounge at the W Hotel, I believe because I was there and it looked familiar. And Pol talks about love, happiness, life...
FIN.
OK, I don't know why but I've got the feeling that Pol is beginning to miss the people that are not in his life anymore. Like you never know what you had until you lose it" kind of feeling.... AND YES, THAT MEANS BRUNO... OF COURSE IT MEANS BRUNO... WHO ELSE?
#merli sapere aude#merli sapere aude season 2#merli sapere aude spoilers#pol rubio#it's sucks#really sucks#and why not?#BRUNOL#merli: sapere aude
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Chapter Four - Part 6
Anti finds out about the missing medication.
Tws for severe abuse/torture, bruising, blood, imprisonment, and hypnosis.
Part 6 - Grantaire
“Ro?” says Blue carefully, stepping slow so as not to disturb a potentially out-of-his-mind older brother. “You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing?”
Red laughs. “You sound like you’re wondering if I’ve lost it.”
“I might be.”
“Well, I might have,” replies Red cryptically, and then turns to grin at him. He puts the shovel into the ground beside him and smacks his gloved hands together to rid them of dirt, standing over the hole he’s made in the front lawn.
One of at least five you can see.
“Diggin’ traps!” says Red. “So if anybody tries to come to the house, they’ll break their dumb-ass ankles.”
Blue breathes out an amused snort, shaking his head at him. “Better than doing nothing, I guess.”
“You doing okay? Come sit with me and I’ll dig if you want.”
Blue wants to tell him he’s okay, but it’s not been true for a few days. “Yeah, I’ll sit with you. Need some sun.”
“You do,” agrees Ro, frowning over at his moon-pale twin with his foggy, tired eyes. “Yeah.”
pine-storm-season asked: Hello Red, and hello Blue! Has today been uneventful so far?
“Yeah, pretty quiet, which I am more than grateful for,” says Ro, brushing sweat off his forehead. There’s exercise equipment in the basement and the motivation to be strong and fit again is one of the small things that keeps him going. “I think Dapper’s the only one who’s not going a little nuts with the confinement, though. None of us have, like, things to do, really. Usually we help Dok with a clinic or Anti sends us out to do shit. But now we’re just stuck. I gotta get out of this houseeeeee.”
He draws the word out, stabbing into the earth with greater ferocity, but he keeps a warm smile on his mouth, because in all honesty things could be a lot worse. Blue looks at him, thinking. He doesn’t really know where his brother’s at in his head these days, really - he just knows that Red tries to pretend he’s not as sad as he is, and that his priority is always their safety, and that he hasn’t laid a cruel hand on anyone since the day Anti stole him away again.
“If you have any other ideas for how to keep people out, please let me know,” says Red. “I’ll do it. At this point I’m up for anything. I think Dapper’s sharpening spikes on the porch, but in all honesty, I didn’t even think to question the little nightmare.”
Anonymous asked: Where's trick now? Is he still with Anti?
You find Dok at the bottom of the stairs.
He doesn’t even look up at you, just nods.
—
“There are reasons I do the things I do, you know,” says Anti.
You only have to look once to see that he has Trick in a deep thrall. Trick is practically in his lap, letting Anti sew up a hole in his shirt, his arms around his brother’s neck.
“You slapped Dapper,” says Trick, unhappy despite the glaze over his eyes and the faint sway of his head. “Please don’t hit him. I think maybe you’re also… I need you to not do that.”
“Tricks, if there isn’t a little force, everybody falls out of line. There’s a lot of control issues in this family, a lot of personalities that clash and problems in their heads. If I didn’t use a little force here and there, everyone would fall apart, pet. Dapper would have to go to a mental hospital and Red would run off with that guy he barely remembers and Dok - well, you’ve saved him from himself enough times to know what Dok does if no one’s there to save him from himself.”
Trick shivers, shaking his head. “I don’t want Dok to get hurt.”
“Okay, so don’t be so scared when I have to shove everybody around a little or when you have to shove somebody around a little, for that matter. Weren’t you obedient for Red when he used a little force?”
“Yeah, always.”
“You’re Red now. So don’t be so chickenshit. You have to protect the others from themselves. You’re right. If Dok would just take off those necklaces, wouldn’t everything be so much easier?”
“So much easier.”
“Don’t let him get all weepy with you just cause you had to put him in his place. He’ll get used to it. Without it, he would run off or hurt himself. All of them would. And then you’d be alone, Trickshot. You’d be all alone in the world again. No one would care about you. Is that what you want?”
“No,” insists Trick, shaking his head harder. “No, no.”
“Okay, then,” purrs Anti, stroking his hair, his pretty green hair, curling at the front. “Then everything’s good, my darling, isn’t it?”
Trick smiles at him, touching his cheek. Anti closes his eyes at the feeling of his little brother’s fingers in his beard, tangled up with him.
“Everything’s good,” agrees Trick. “Everything’s perfect, Anti.”
Anonymous asked: Geez Anti, you really got him in the palm of your hand uh? That much hypnosis can't be good for trick in the long term
“Hmmm,” grumbles Anti, dissatisfied. He hates thinking about that. Right now, he just wants to know that one of them is his without a doubt, without hesitation. And he will keep this one close to his chest - no matter what it takes. “He’s okay.”
“I feel good,” chirrups Trick. “I feel okay.”
“Yeah, sweet boy. You’re okay.”
Anonymous asked: Hey, Dok. You doing alright, bud?
“Everything’s great,” he says.
And it’s probably meant to be sarcastic, but really he just looks tired. Dapper ducks his head into the entryway, finding his brother sitting alone on the stairs, as he has all morning, without moving.
Anonymous asked: Oh dok... I'm so sorry. It seems like Anti keep burrowing his hold deeper into trick. You're probably going to be alone for a bit
Dok buries his face in his hands.
Very tired. Very tired of this fight. Very ready to be gone. Maybe for good. Very ready for something to change. But it never does. It never does. It never -
A hand descends on his shoulder, enveloping it. He looks up, eyes wide.
“You’re not alone,” signs Dapper, sitting down beside him. “You are never alone.”
Anonymous asked: Is blue alright? ":(
“This is my fault. I should have been watching you. I should have known the sun would be too much for you. It’s like thirty degrees out here.”
Red helps Blue towards the house, clutching him to his chest. Blue wants to tell him his constant self-blame is hardly ever deserved, but he’s feeling - hell, he doesn’t know if unwell even begins to cover it anymore. He’s faint and nauseous and that feeling is back - like there’s something beneath his skin. Like there’s something inside the folds of his brain. Like he’s a stiff white puppet on taut, tight strings, choking.
He’s tough. He is. He always has been. He always tries to be.
Right now, he just wants his big brother to make everything stop hurting.
“Red,” he cries, slumping down against his bed. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Red paces around the room, stressed, wetting a washcloth in the bathroom next to the sink.
“I want to stop feeling bad, Red, please touch me, please put your hands on me, this isn’t my skin…”
Red recognizes the mantra with a sharp fear. He had hoped that night where Blue was clinging to him and begging for his hands on him would be the only one of its kind.
The realization that the damage Anti is causing could be lasting terrifies him.
“I’m here,” he says, putting a washcloth on his head and his hands on his sides, stroking him through his shirt. “I’m here and so are you. Blue. Azul. My twin. My brother. You’re the only one here with me.”
Anonymous asked: So when is trick going to be allowed back downstairs? Are you going to keep him with you for much longer, Anti?
“I just want to hang out a little,” says Anti, setting Trick down beside him as he finishes the hole in his shirt. “Play a game with me, Trick. Or play a game and I’ll watch. I like to hear you talking. Sometimes it’s quiet with just Dap and I up here. I like to hear you talking.”
Anonymous asked: hey, blue, love. it's just you. it's just you, buddy. how about you curl up with red and we can talk to you, and try to distract you. would you like that, blue?
“Fuck, I can’t think straight,” whispers Blue.
“But that’s not new,” whispers back Red.
There’s a moment of confusion from Blue - and then the most begrudging smile Red’s ever seen.
“Fuck you,” laughs Blue, touching his hair. “Goddamn. When I throw up all over you, it’s because of that.”
Red snuggles down next to him in bed. “That’s fair.”
“You can talk with us as long as you like,” says Blue.
His voice is weak and tired. Pressed against his ribs, Roser can feel just how thready his heartbeat is.
It’s a new kind of fear for him. In the past, the best way to survive has always been to outlast Anti’s temper tantrums, protecting his siblings as best he can as they happen and taking care of any injuries, trusting that Anti and Dapper would not let one of them die, no matter how cruel their master can be.
But ever since that night Blue wouldn’t let him let go of him, Red has begun to wonder -
Maybe this is a storm we cannot sail through.
Maybe we should go.
He loves Anti.
But not enough to let him do this to his heart.
Anonymous asked: hey, blue! birds or reptiles? (in other words, the cat-or-dog question but with animals you probably hadn't thought about before.) and what about you, red?
“Ah.” Blue laughs weakly. “Um, birds, yeah. For sure.”
“I want a snake,” says Red.
“Fuck’s sake.”
“I do.”
“You’d have to feed it little baby mice.”
“That’s nature! I am ready and willing! Or maybe a skink.”
Anonymous asked: hell yeah, bird gang! snakes are pretty cool though, too. my family has a bunch of really silly chickens, sometimes they'll do stuff like sleep outside in the rain,,, while literally sitting on the door to the henhouse,,,,, or steal all the plums from the plum trees we have. they're good birds though, although they are dumbasses sometimes. does noodle do dumb cat things like that, too?
“I don’t know, I think he does,” says Blue, shaking his head a little. “Um. He falls off the bed sometimes.”
“Let’s let Blue have a lie-down for a while,” sighs Red, sitting up beside him. “You’re looking so pale.”
“Really don’t feel well,” he murmurs. “Really don’t.”
Red looks down at him, his hand across his white face, his eyes closed.
“Okay,” he says, beneath his breath. “We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow, then. And if Dark catches me… then Dark catches me.”
Anonymous asked: Yeah, we're here, Dok. We're with you, bud. We're supporting you however we can.
“Thank you,” sighs Dok. “You, at least, never seem to fall for his tricks. I’m grateful.”
Red steps into the hallway, a slightly dazed look in his eyes.
“Red?” asks Dapper, cocking his head at him. “Everything okay?”
Red blinks and then nods. Dapper doesn’t need to know. It’s safer if he doesn’t. “Yes, buddy, no worries.”
He’ll pack. He needs til tomorrow to try and steal the IDs out of Anti’s room - assuming he’s made new ones since the fire. He’ll get snacks and ready a lie.
He’ll get his twin help. No more waiting around. He is big brother, and he makes his own decisions.
Anonymous asked: do you want to try to sleep a bit, blue? that might help.
Blue does end up sleeping. He sleeps deep and hard, and Red is grateful. He hopes Blue is getting used to being himself at night again. He is still sleeping while Red gets his backpack and begins to shove things inside.
He puts brownies and apples and granola into their own little ziploc bags, and damn, isn’t that a privilege in its own right after all this time? He never thought he’d feel rich holding ziploc bags. A couple changes of clothes for both of them follow their snacks in, as well as what little money he has - Colombian pesos, already near worthless in their own country, now worth even less wherever he is now. He gets a camera and a charger and tucks it away just in case. Their toothbrushes. A comb. Deodorant. A blanket. Bag’s full.
“What else, what else?” he mumbles. “Can you think of anything? I’ll need to get the IDs out of Anti’s room if he’s made more. Most of the time, I’d try to go without them, but my fear is - ”
He gives a deep, mournful sigh, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
“My fear is we might be in America.”
“Dun dun dun,” mumbles a sleepy Blue from his bed, and Red barks out a laugh.
“Go back to bed, dumbass. I got this handled.”
“I just let you do your own thing.” Blue turns back over and goes back to sleep.
Anonymous asked: what's your plan here, red? that might help with figuring out anything you've missed.
“I just - I’ll just get him to the hospital. I know where the road is, I think I remember. I can carry him if he’s tired. I’ll carry him the whole way if I have to, but I’m hoping we can hitchhike. We’ll get to a hospital. Sneak him out if I gotta cause we don’t have insurance. And if Anti comes to get us, at least he’ll have gotten a little help by the time he - ”
There’s a crash from upstairs and a short scream.
Red stiffens and stills, listening.
Anonymous asked: bringing him into the forest? do you think that is a safer option than waiting another few days?
Red sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “I… I don’t know. Maybe I’m being hasty. I - ”
Trick rushes past the door. Red looks up, startled. “Bud? What’s going on?”
“Where’s Dok?”
“Downstairs, I think. Hey, wait! What’s happening?”
“Dude,” says Trick, shaking his head. “Man, I’d hide.”
He tears down the basement stairs.
Red looks up.
Anti’s staring down from the banister upstairs, holding a half-empty bottle of small, white, anti-psychotics.
Anonymous asked: what is it, anti?
“Oh, nothing much, nothing much, nothing much,” says Anti, voice completely unglitching. “Not that much at all.”
Red backs up and returns to his room, standing in front of Blue as he sleeps. Anti stalks down the stairs step at a time, step at a time, step at a time. He puts his lips together and whistles a pretty old song you’ve heard Dap whistling a time or two - daisy, daisy, give me your answer, do…
“Where’s my little boy at?” he says, but the whistling keeps going even as his mouth moves, echoing around the walls of the house. “Where’s my dapper darling? That was silly of you, Monochroma. That was silly. Thinking you could steal from big brother.”
Anonymous asked: dapper did nothing, anti. he did not steal from you.
“Mm-hm, mm-hm, mm-hm,” nods Anti. “Definitely. Definitely. There you are, sugar.”
Dapper looks up from the piece of sourdough bread he’s eating, covered in golden butter. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter in Dok’s shorts and one of Blue’s t-shirts, his hair curling up from his eyes, his black eyelashes shining in the morning light. He sees the look on Anti’s face and sets his bread carefully down beside him, sitting up straight on the kitchen counter.
Anti steps forward and pulls him down by the collar until they’re nose to nose. He grins coldly at his pet, stroking the soft curls on the back of Dapper’s neck.
He leans in and puts his mouth against Dapper’s ear.
“I’m going to ask you this once,” he whispers, voice jovial and easy-going. “And you’re going to tell me. Or you won’t like the consequences very much at all. Where’s your Haldol, little mister? Huh?”
Dapper does not swallow or shake. He stares dead ahead, silent, unmoving. Trying to find a way to answer.
Anonymous asked: ??? Anti are you not HOLDING his haldol right now? What are you talking about?
“Don’t play dumb,” growls Anti, the faux pleasantry wearing off a little. “I know there was more. I have footage.”
Your screens all flash and you can see him the morning before Red stole it, sitting in his bedroom, sulking and rolling the Haldol around in his hands. “There was more of it. You disobeyed me directly. That wasn’t very clever.”
Dapper stares at him, pursing his mouth.
pine-storm-season asked: Is it not with you, anti? If it's not, i don't think Dapper knows where it is.
“No,” signs Dapper, shaking his head. “Okay, I give up. I’m sorry. I stole it.”
“So where is it?”
Dapper is stuck again, letting out a low, trembling breath.
“Unless someone else stole it for you?”
pine-storm-season asked: Red, where's Dapper's medicine? Anti's questioning him.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” whispers Red, pacing for a second before he darts out into the hall and stands in front of the kitchen, trying to get a look. Anti turns and looks right at him. He’s pressing Dapper into the back of the wall behind the counter, his hands gripping too tight at their little brother’s knees. Red feels a wave of revulsion for him and can’t even put a finger on why.
pine-storm-season asked: Anti, can you let Dapper go? I'm sure he gets the point.
“He’ll get the fucking point if he doesn’t start talking,” snarls Anti, slamming Dapper back against the wall.
There is a weak clattering as eleven more Haldol pills fall onto the table. Dapper and Anti turn to look at Red, holding out his hand.
“It was me,” he says. “Dapper didn’t have anything to do with it. Punish me, Anti, not him. He didn’t even know. He didn’t know where I hid them or that I was going to steal them. Leave him alone.”
Anti steps back from Dapper, letting him go. He stands in the middle of the kitchen, staring down at the little white pills. He pauses and turns to the sink, spitting out blood. It tastes like betrayal in his mouth. Like weakness in his mouth. He straightens up again, eyes gleaming, and Red feels a chill up his body.
“First I’m going to torture you,” he says, pointing at Red. “And then I’m going to string your little brother up to show you what happens when you work against me.”
“No! Anti, he wasn’t a part of - ”
Anti slams into Red and grabs him by the head, tearing out strands of his hair.
pine-storm-season asked: Dapper was not involved, Anti. Dapper didn't even know it was happening until it already had.
“He should have goddamn told me,” yells Anti. “He would have known the second that Red gave it to him what had happened! He thinks he can pretend he’s always so fucking innocent! He’s sneaky, I know that, you think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know, you little brat? You get it from me!”
Dapper is on Anti’s shoulder, trying to yank him off his older brother. Anti slams his elbow into his face and throws him back, dragging Red towards the stairs.
“Ro!” croaks Blue from his bedroom door. “Anti, don’t!”
“You want to be involved, you little witch? I’ll use you for goddamn kindling. Come here, Blue, I need a body.”
Blue’s eyes widen in alarm and he rushes towards the basement.
“You can’t get away from me! You all belong to me! You’ll do what I fucking say! Little traitors, little rats! You think you can outsmart me, think you can beat me down to the earth again? I’ll strip you into leather! Think Jack made you all stronger than me? Clever? More sly? I’ll rip you apart!”
bupine asked: trick? where are you? anti's upset, your brothers are in trouble. i suspect you can calm him down.
Trick is in the guest bedroom, him and Dok playing with pieces of string for Noodle to chase. He knows his brother hasn’t heard the commotion upstairs, because he looks happy and calm, laughing when Noodle leaps after his piece of string. Trick gets up and goes to the door. He hears the dull thud of someone striking the floor and steps back, looking at Dok.
“Haha, he gets so frustrated, look at his face!”
Dok is smiling, wide and calm. He hugged him when he came back downstairs and won’t stop holding his hand. He’s here. He’s okay.
His twin is okay. Sometimes the others need a little force.
“Haha,” repeats Trick flimsily. “Ah, yeah. Yeah. He’s cute.”
He shuts the door behind him and goes back to sitting with Dok.
cest-mellow asked: trick you NEED to go upstairs. anti is going to possess blue again and he’s gonna torture red. is that the force you think they deserve? all for getting dapper his medicine he NEEDS? should they be punished for taking care of one another? is this the force you agree with??
“There’s nothing I can do,” whispers Trick, pushing you away.
Anonymous asked: Trick, the scar on your hand, the sting in your cheek, he slapped Dapper right in front of you. He's not "using a little force". He's hurting them because he's angry and violent and he wants to see them in pain and no other reason! He's done the same to you and your twin for years.
Trick rubs anxiously at the burn on his hand, using his other hand to rub at Dok’s shoulder. They’re so used to casually touching each other it doesn’t even make his twin look up.
Yes. Anti has hurt him and his twin for years. But not today. Today, he is the favorite, and he can keep his zwilling safe.
Anonymous asked: Trick I need you to understand that whatever anti told you, this isn't "force" or"punishment" he explicitly used the word "TORTURE"
Trick’s face seems to break. He grits his teeth hard, shaking his head and curling in on himself.
“Hey,” murmurs Dok, looking over. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Trick doesn’t answer. Dok glances over at you, seeing the camera flash, and takes it carefully into his hands. Within moments, he is on his feet, headed to the door.
“No, no,” cries Trick. “Stay down here, Dok.”
“What’s going on?” Dok’s voice is afraid.
pine-storm-season asked: Trick, Anti's mad because Red got Dapper his medicine, and I think he might go after Blue, who did nothing. At least calm him down so he won't hurt Blue too, okay? Blue did nothing to deserve that, even if you believe the others did.
“Shit,” hisses Dok, tearing open the door.
Trick is there, grabbing him, a second later.
Dok stares down at the hand wrapped around his bruised wrist, his heart thudding hard in his chest. Slowly, he turns to his twin. Trick’s eyes are blue flames.
“My love,” says Henrik. “It is time you start making choices about the man you are becoming.”
“Don’t go,” says Trick. “This isn’t about morality. This isn’t about me. He will hurt you again.”
Something inside Henrik’s chest breaks clean open.
“Again?”
Trick turns his eyes away.
“You knew. Or guessed, anyway. You suspected.”
Trick cannot look him in the eyes. Something in Henrik’s chest is oozing hurt. Crimson as the sun when the trees are burning.
Anonymous asked: Trick, I know how much Dok means to you. Trust me, I know how much this kills you. You just want to do what you can to keep your twin safe. But everyone else, they're your brothers, too. Red sat with you at night, y'all talked about serious stuff and silly stuff like the dorks you are. Blue sat with you after YOU attacked Dok. They don't want you to be hurt. They would try to keep Anti away if he ever wanted to "punish" you, or worse. Brothers shouldn't hurt each other, Trick. I think you can believe that if you really try. Brothers shouldn't hurt each other. And you can help.
“I don’t - I don’t want…”
Dok can’t tell if he’s stammering or just trying to find the words. Trick is looking at him. Trick’s hand rises slowly and his fingers touch Dok’s throat, wrapping loosely around, but just like the other night, Dok doesn’t protest or fight. Trick pushes him back just a little and Dok goes, hitting the wall.
“I don’t… want to be something that hurts you. Or any of them. I don’t… think brothers hurt each other?”
Henrik doesn’t know why he sounds confused, but he sees the truth still alive in his brother.
“Let me go, Chase,” he says. “Please.”
cest-mellow asked: trick, loving your brothers doesnt just mean cooked sausage and cakes and holding them in their sleep. it doesn’t just mean getting them water when their hands have been mangled and it doesn’t just mean calming them down. you have to protect them and defend them from what’s hurting them. and what’s hurting them is anti. he told red “i am going to torture you, and then string your little brother up.” protect. your brothers.
“But that - that - that’s what I want it to mean, Deutsch,” Trick says. “That’s what I want it to mean cause then nothing would ever have to change.”
“Was that happiness, Trick?” asks Dok, shaking his head. “Was that all you hoped for?”
“You besides me while I sleep? Your hands against my shoulders while I keep guard over us? You eating sausage and playing with our cat? Yes, that’s all that I hope for. That’s everything I hope for.”
Dok’s face contorts with tears, but still he smiles.
“I want better for you - for all of us - than having to live in fear all the time. I want you to want for more than my companionship. I want you to hope for things, to live for people other than me. I want you to know you’re not so worthless that you have to chase the love of someone who hurts you all the time.”
Trick shakes his head hard, tears running down his face. “He does love me.”
“I want you to find your babies again, if you can.”
“No, don’t talk about them!” cries Trick, letting go of Dok’s neck and falling back. “Stop it, Dok! My head hurts!”
“I think you do want for greater things, desperately so. I think you just pretend because you’re scared of things not staying the same. But Trick, no matter what happens, I’m here and I love you.”
“No, you’re wrong!” shouts Trick. “You’re wrong! There isn’t anything more than this for me! If you leave, if you all go, if Anti lets you escape - I’ll be alone! Don’t go! I just want you to stay. I just want everyone to stay. Stop talking about things beyond this. There’s nothing beyond this.”
“Then here we are,” says Dok, his voice raw. “But one way or another, whether or not things are changing, Blue and Red and Dapper are upstairs, about to get hurt, and it would be wrong of us not to try and help them. I’m going upstairs. Are you coming with me?”
bupine asked: trick, this is really serious. red, blue and dapper are in danger and you're anti's current favourite, so you could maybe try to help. please, trick. i know you're having fun and i'm sorry to have to intrude, but they're going to be really badly hurt. red especially. he took medicine for dapper to prevent him from going into a psychotic episode and anti's very, very angry. is there anything you can do?
“Does Dapper deserve to be without his medication? Can you call that right? Acceptable, appropriate? Do you think Red deserves to be hurt than for no other reason than that he tried to keep his youngest brother healthy?”
Trick turns away from him, shaking his head, rubbing at his temples.
Dok turns his eyes away and steps through the door.
Trick’s hand is on his wrist again, stopping him.
Anonymous asked: Henrik, stay here please. It's safer for Trick to go, yeah? Trick will help them.
“I’ll go,” says Trick. “If you stay.”
Dok’s tongue flicks out to wet his tongue. “You promise me you will try to help?”
“I promise,” says Trick. “On my life.”
He touches his hand to Dok’s chest, above his beating heart.
“On my life.”
Anonymous asked: trick, i'm worried. i know you want dok safe and protected, but you deserve to be protected too. you deserve to not hurt. and i'm worried anti will hurt you, either physically because he doesn't want you to try to help or by hynotizing you again, really badly. he's already the reason it's so hard to keep your thoughts sometimes, and to imagine better things for yourself. if you and dok are together, you can have each other's backs. your safety is not less important than dok's.
“Well, theirs isn’t worth less than mine either,” says Trick, heading up the stairs. “So if I can share the pain with them a little, or at least make it less, I will try. Or we just all get hurt. But sometimes you die with your friends instead of running away, yeah? Let Dok be Marius and I’ll be that loyal drunk-ass Grantaire. Cause you know, Grantaire didn’t ever give a damn about the revolution, not really. He just loved his friends that much. Deutsch loves that book, you know. He loves a lot of books. Nerd. I had to make him stop reading Hamlet so much, once… he would whisper the lines to Horatio when he thought I was sleeping. Had them memorized. Had the whole thing memorized. Horatio, I am killed… ah, let Dok be Horatio for a hot minute, and the rest of us all go down in pointless sword fights. But not pointless, either. Not pointless. Or that’s what Dok said.”
cest-mellow asked: thank you trick. but. please hurry.
Upstairs, Anti is already wearing Blue’s body, and any fatigue he had seems to have fallen away - to be remembered, of course, next morning, with interest added. He has Red in the bathroom upstairs, the rosey one that stinks of lotions and bathbombs, holding him over the tub to let the blood fill it up, the tub stoppered and filling with dark lines of venomously dark crimson, the lot of Dapper’s white pills scattered along the porcelain floor. Red bleeds from a deep cut in his throat, his eyes closed, his face silent. He has always survived like this - sitting as quiet as he can, not protesting, waiting for Anti’s rage to blow over. It’s the closest thing to safety he can have right now. He knows that through long years of experience.
In his head, he’s far away. Dermot Kennedy is playing. Max’s hands are at his waist. There’s still the pain, and the sticky sensations of blood and skin against his own, but they’re more bearable with the image of Max in front of him, smiling at him, swaying. He leans close and whispers something Red can’t hear. Ro tastes Starbursts.
“You think you’re better than me?” shrieks Anti, scratching Blue’s white nails down the cut in Red’s throat. “Cause he made you so perfect? You think you can disobey me? I’m the one in control now, Jackie! I’m the one who won! You’re nothing! Look at you! Pathetic! Lying there as I bleed you. I’ll teach you to try and undermine me, to try and hurt me. You’re never pulling that hero shit again. Fucking traitor. You belong to me, not him! You’re never making me mortal again!”
Dapper is slumped against the bathroom floor, unmoving, his eyes closed, a yellow bruise appearing on the whole left side of his face.
Anonymous asked: Okay. Thank you, Trick. We'll be with you, bud.
Warm arms wrap around Anti’s shoulders, pinning his arms to his chest for a second. He whirls, snarling - and Trick’s eyes, unhappy and scared, look back at him.
Jack’s eyes.
“You gotta stop, man,” says Trick, and that’s all. “You gotta stop, like, yesterday.”
Anonymous asked: Anti stop it. Dapper had nothing to do with it first of all. Second, what good is possibly going to come from torturing your two strongest when you're playing games with Dark? You're just handicapping yourself by injuring Dap or Red. Plus, it'll drive them away, make it easier for Dark to worm their way in because they have a hatred for you already.
Anti grinds his teeth so hard you do, in fact, see one fall apart. He regrows it as a fang, a deep growl thriving in his chest.
“You shut the fuck up,” he hisses. “And you get off me. Right now, Trick.”
Trick shivers, but doesn’t let go. He hides his face between Anti’s shoulder-blades, whimpering.
Anonymous asked: Anti, please leave Red be. I know you want him to suffer, and to punish him for what he did, but this could easily kill him. At least, if you will not stop, do something else to hurt him? This is going to seriously damage him, and I don't know how long it's already been happening.
“I - I wouldn’t kill him,” protests Anti in a snarl.
“You can be a little out of control sometimes,” mumbles Trick against his back. “You could.”
“Well, if I did…” Anti trails off, looking down at Dap, unconscious at his feet. No turning back til he wakes up.
Anonymous asked: please, anti?
“Please,” snarls Anti. “Please, they say. As if that… as if… please, they say. Huh.”
But his voice is getting weak and he knows it, so he shuts himself up. For a moment, there’s just Anti with his eyes closed, and Trick rubbing his hands into the muscles of his back, just like Dok always did for him. Anti leans back slightly, his head faltering onto Trick’s shoulder.
“You did used to just say that, when I was scaring you,” he says. “Like you had nothing else to say.”
Trick doesn’t know what he means. He just stands there, massaging his back. He lets one of his hands intertwine with Anti’s hair, hoping to keep him in place.
Anonymous asked: Blood loss is a dangerous thing, Anti. Red might end up struggling somewhat to survive, and he's one of your strongest. I know you wouldn't purposefully kill him, but you might not catch yourself until too late.
“You have to be careful,” agrees Trick quietly. “I don’t think this is what you meant by force.”
Anti stares down at his hands for a second, riddled in blood. He has cut throats too deeply before in the past. And he wasn’t able to amend for that.
He just wanted to feel that Red was as weak as he sometimes feels. Being weaker than Red is not an option. Not again. Never again.
But at least he has his little brother under his heel. Anti rubs distractedly at Trick’s waist, panting harshly in the cold emptiness of the bathroom.
Anonymous asked: Come on, Anti. Let's let Dok bandage Red up now, and he'll most likely survive, okay? Red has suffered enough for what he did. You beat him, yeah? Let Dok help him now.
“No, no,” growls Anti, shaking out his head, stepping away from Trick a little. “No. You don’t have any control over me. Any. You or you.”
He turns and gives Trick a dark look. His little brother makes his posture small and re-buries himself in Anti’s back, hugging him around his waist. Anti fumes, torn. Now that he’s stopped he’s a little worried that Dapper hasn’t woken up. Did he drop him that hard?
No! He shakes it off again, snarling and biting his teeth at nothing at all, because he sees threats everywhere and always, and any amount of control shared is weakness to him.
“I’ll get chain. Stay here.”
“No, please, Anti, please. Let Dok see them. And let Blue go, please.”
“Trick,” he warns, voice low and dangerous.
Anonymous asked: No one is trying to control you right now, Anti. We're scared, we're the weak ones begging at you to just not kill them. To just not hinder your assets like this. No one is trying to control you, we are literally simpering and grovelling.
Anti stares at you for a second.
Then he laughs, shaking his head, and suddenly he just looks bewildered and tired and maybe a little younger than he did a moment ago.
“I don’t… get it?” he laughs. “I don’t… I… you never stop trying to help? Fuck’s sake, I had thought you would all fall off, one by one, as you realized you couldn’t do anything. But fuck, you’ll do anything for them. What the hell? It was going to be my last little defeat over you. Not just that you lost them, not just that Jack’s story stopped. You walking away from it - giving up on them - moving on? That would have been the sweetest victory. But you never do quite go. I don’t get it…”
He drops his knife on the ground, shaking his head.
Dapper and Red said that maybe, with the timeline broken, only the people who really loved them could still remember who they are.
What does that make you?
Anonymous asked: Anti, we're asking you because you have all the control here. We don't. We're asking to let Red be helped, because we're very worried about him, but we can't do anything if you say no. I just think that Red might die if you don't let him be helped.
“But I can’t just let them go, no way,” says Anti, shaking his head and sighing. “They still gotta learn their lessons - and you pansies never like to let them sit with a little well-deserved pain. I’ll go get chain and I’ll look after them myself. Trick, don’t go anywhere. You can be a little shit too, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
Anti paces off, running a shaky hand through his wild green hair.
Trick falls to his knees at his big brother’s side, taking Red’s face between his hands and trying to lift him up without hurting him worse. The wound bleeds heavy, but it isn’t as deep as it could be. Trick feels carefully around the cut and knows that it won’t be fatal. Dok taught him how to check. How to look after them.
“Oh, Ro, fuck, it must hurt like crazy. Are you okay? Are you with me?”
Red smiles faintly, eyes still closed. Max is kissing the side of his hair.
“I’m with you,” he whispers.
pine-storm-season asked: Anti, can you at least let Dok or someone bandage the cut on his throat? It'll still hurt just as bad, but it'll stop bleeding.
Trick tears his shirt apart without hesitation, tying the closest approximation to bandages he has without leaving this bathroom.
“Won’t be perfect, but it might slow it down a little,” he soothes.
“Ohh, no, Trick, please, I’d rather have the pain than a tight collar. I hate things rubbing against me that tight.”
Trick winces. “You might not like what Anti’s got planned for you, buddy.”
“Just check on Dap, I can take the rest…”
pine-storm-season asked: Red, hang on, buddy. You'll be okay, yeah? You'll be okay. Can we help you with anything, Red?
“I’m good, I’m good, I’m bleeding, what else do you want from me?”
Anonymous asked: ohh, man, well done trick. scary as shit. i'm glad you're okay. itll mean a lot to them that you're there and watching over them how you can, thank you.
“I don’t know that I did much at all,” says Trick. “But I think things could have been a lot worse.”
Anonymous asked: Have you noticed some of us haven't given up on /you/ either, Anti? We always mediate and try to calm you when you rage because some of us haven't given up on you either. Always searching for good somewhere in that sewage pit heart heh.
“Awww! So stupid of you!” He shape-shifts his pupils into sweet black hearts and then rolls his eyes.
pine-storm-season asked: We just want to help. Is there anything Trick can do to fix the makeshift bandages on your throat, Red?
“He, um. He put them on me! They are there and slowing down the blood loss. But if you have any ideas - ” He coughs as his voice breaks. “I am open to them. Fuck, I think I better sign.”
pine-storm-season asked: When Anti comes back, we can try to convince him to let someone bandage your throat properly. And we can talk to you unless Anti takes the cameras. Does that sound alright, Red?
“Okay, buddy,” he signs, giving you a fragile grin.
Anonymous asked: i guess just take deep breaths for now, red, buddy. keep moving that oxygen around. try not to move a lot, and focus on keeping calm. uhhh as much as you can. because, granted, shit's fucked atm
“In my family, when is shit unfucked?”
“Lie still,” begs Trick. “Come on, man.”
But the reality of what happened is beginning to hit Red. He leans back against the tub, eyes welling, and sighs as he tries to stay calm.
Anonymous asked: Feckin A+ with the heart-eyes-motherfucker move, mr. sewage pit. 10/10.
“Thanks,” answers Anti testily, taking thin chain from the drawer beside his bed.
Anonymous asked: things definitely wouldve gone way worse if you hadn't come, tricksy. you came up here to help, that's so huge. and you helped calm anti down a little, kept his focus away from them for a bit. you did a lot, trick. i'm sorry the burden was put on your shoulders but you handled it as well as you could, and i'm really really happy you didnt get hurt
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I should have… I should have come sooner, but…”
He turns away from you, shaking his head. Not ready to talk about it.
cest-mellow asked: dapper? are you awake too?
“No, he’s out,” mumbles Trick, touching his little brother’s neck for a pulse. “Oh, tell me he didn’t…”
Turning Dapper onto his side does not make things look better. He kicked him, curled up there against the floor, until Dapper could barely breathe, and then slammed him down against the ground. Dapper is bruised black and blue, his whole body looking small and fragile, and the gash in his wrist has come open and bleeds slowly against the floor. Trick pulls his little brother to his body, hot shame washing over him. He should have come up sooner. He wasn’t going to come at all. He could have killed him. What does Anti know about ribs piercing lungs and head trauma? He reaches down to begin re-wrapping Dapper’s wrist, but then Anti is back, silver in his hands.
Anonymous asked: All this screaming about traitors and sneaks sure does make you seem... weak, honestly. Like you don't even trust that your own strings are still wrapped tight. Like come on Anti, this is the smallest ""betrayal"" that I could possibly imagine and you're having a temper-tantrum. It's okay man, chill down just a bit.
Anti’s face draws back in a snarl - an expression that is fast becoming his norm. His nails dig into his palms as he glares at you, drawing his own blood.
Anonymous asked: Heads up for a bit of maybe-too-soon humor, Red, but last time I gave blood, I got to eat starbursts after to keep my blood sugar good! So, once you all get out of this, I'll owe you some starbursts. You can eat all the pink and red ones but I demand the orange. And Max gets stuck with the yellow ones 'cause he didn't get his throat slit and he can deal with it. Very exclusive club of blood-losers-getting-yummy-candy.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Red whispers before Anti kicks the camera away from him, scowling. You sit across the room, spun around to look back at the tub where Red is lying, coughing.
Anonymous asked: Anti, dude, are you literally so paranoid and overdramatic that Red just getting some pills for him counts as "working against you" in your brain? Calm down, man, you're making yourself look weak.
“I’ll show you goddamn ‘weak,’” hisses Anti, grabbing Red by the hair and dragging him up, to his feet, shoving him down in the tub.
“Anti!” begs Trick, but his brother ignores him. He wraps the chain tight, tight, tight around Red shoulders and legs and shoves the other side against the metal of the tub faucet, using Blue’s fire to melt the two together, chaining Red securely to the tub. Red is crying by now despite a firm, defiant smile on his mouth, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Anti huffs out a bitter laugh and shoves his head before turning to get Dapper too.
“Don’t chain him in there, come on.”
Anti shoves Dapper’s body against Red and ties him into the chains. For a moment, Dapper, disturbed by the movement, awakens and looks dazedly up at his brother, wondering if this is real - he’s never been tied up with anything more than a little rope for as long as he can remember, and Anti hasn’t done much more than slap him around a little or, once, toss him down the stairs since his snap. Usually he’s too scared to do anything more than that. Dapper feels a thrill of alarm. Anti’s fear of Dapper snapping has finally been out-weighed by his fear of losing control over him.
“What?” bites Anti, slapping him. Dapper jolts and shivers, sinking down against Red’s body, letting himself fade away again inside the belly of the bathtub.
scunneredzombie asked: Anti, please be careful with the chains on Dapper... He could potentially have cracked ribs that could puncture his lungs with any excess pressure and kill him, and with that level of head trauma something could be seriously wrong. All I ask is that you let him see dok soon as you feel... okay with that. He could die from this, and there would be no way to fix it.
“It’s just around his neck,” sneers Anti, as if that makes things any better. He rises to his feet and beckons to Trick.
“You. Come with me.”
“Anti, I…”
“I said. Come with me. NOW, Trick.”
Trick hastens to his feet and, trembling, follows after him, casting one last look on his tired brothers, who have fallen quietly together, Dapper unconscious, Red weeping in silence, in pain.
Anonymous asked: yeah, i know, red. we can distract you, if you'd like. do you want us to do that, or to just leave you with trick?
“I… I think,” says Ro, his voice whimpering. “Um. I think I’m just going to take a nap, if that’s okay. I don’t want to be awake right now.”
aether-mae asked: Red buddy, it’s best you do that with all the brothers (minus anti) for the best results. They all need it
Best you run with all his brothers, you mean.
Not just Blue. Not just a short trip to the hospital.
Take all your brothers and run.
Ro turns his head, his breathing struggling with quiet sobs no matter how quickly he tries to bite them down.
“I was just going to take Blue away for a few days,” he cries. “And then maybe come back, if he was okay. Or find a way to get him out of here and then come back myself, to keep looking after the others. The best way to protect them has always been to weather the storm, to weather as much of it for them as I can. Always. Always.”
He turns his head as best he can, coughing on his weak throat, and if he twists his body, he can see: bruises, black and yellow, bruises and blood from the open wrist of his little brother. Tears pour down his cheeks. He rocks himself carefully in the tub, trying not to cry out aloud. Pain and fear. Pain and fear.
That’s his brother.
That’s his lonely, brave, funny, disabled, beautiful, courageous, kind, deadly, perfect baby brother.
And Anti beat him til his whole body was one big bruise.
Jackie opens his mouth and lets himself cry loud and ferocious, tears making his face hot, sobs ripping from his ripped throat. His whole chest shakes with it. He cries so hard it hurts.
“JJ, I’m going to get you out of here,” swears Jackie, pressing their heads together. “My little brother, I promise. We’re all getting the fuck out of here, and we are never coming back.”
Anonymous asked: If you torture or hurt Trick (or Dok for that matter) for doing quite literally nothing but stopping you from killing your two strongest, then I hereby proclaim you have officially lost your gourds. You've won already tonight, Anti. You've won, and they are all hurting and weak. Let it rest.
“No, no, no,” purrs Anti, drawing Trick carefully into his bedroom and putting a hand on the back of his neck, stroking gently at his hair. “No, you stopped me before I did something stupid. That was probably good, huh?”
Relief washes over Trick. He nods eagerly, touching Anti’s arm. “Yeah, I just didn’t want you to hurt anybody!”
“Innocent enough for now,” says Anti, a little bit of a growl in his voice making Trick grovel politely a little, smiling sweetly up at Anti, like a kid embarrassed but also proud to have been caught doing something both clever and against the rules. “But let’s not pretend that you didn’t let the cameras and Dok talk you into this.”
Trick’s faux innocence - a trait he is learning much as Dapper once learned it - falls swiftly away, leaving him nervous and small. “Sorry, Anti.”
“It’s okay,” sighs Anti, stroking his hair. “It’s okay. But I can’t just let this… rift in you continue. You belong to me. Not to Dok. Not to them. To me.”
Trick nods quickly, pursing his mouth and stroking his fingers along the bend of Anti’s elbow. “Okay, master, yes. I’m sorry.”
“No worries, darling. I just want you to do something for me that’s going to be good for everyone involved, alright?”
“Oh?”
Anti smiles, humming. He leans forward, knocking their foreheads together, and looks Trick dead in the eyes.
“Get those necklaces off your twin in the next three days,” says Anti, sugar-sweet, his eyes drizzling to black. “Or I will murder him in his sleep and leave his corpse in the bed beside you.”
Trick freezes solid, eyes blown wide. He looks into Anti’s eyes and finds no lies.
Not this time.
“Okay, pumpkin?” chirps Anti, pulling back. “How’s that sound?”
Trick opens his mouth to protest - and then the power of Anti’s eyes drowns him, and he hears himself giggle without any reason to laugh, and feels himself lean eagerly forward, hugging Anti earnestly to his heart, his arms wrapping deliriously around him.
“There you go,” sighs Anti, sinking back onto the bed and bringing Trick with him, holding his warm body to his chest. “There’s my Jack.”
Anonymous asked: That's okay, Red, love. You sleep. We'll do our best to keep you safe.
And Red sleeps.
Pressed to his little brother. Chained up, cold, in that bloody bathtub, agonized more by the sensation of the chains than of the cut in his throat. But he dreams of Max and safety and his siblings, and that is all that matters.
Dapper, in his sleep, shifts closer to him.
You will do your best to keep them safe. You promised.
From this point on in the story, it will be possible to permanently lose major characters.
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Finding Love In Legacy Oaks pt. 7.5
Title: Finding Love In Legacy Oaks pt. 7.5
Fandom: Kingsman
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader
Author: @sheerfreesia007
Words: 2,208
Warnings: Fluff
Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @synystersilenceinblacknwhite, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo
Author Notes: Was able to get this done this past weekend. I think I lost it half way through but I’m happy with it. I love Esme and seeing things in her perspective. It was different to write in her point of view. Probably could’ve made it a little less adult minded but we’ll just pretend she’s much more mature than others. Haha! Anyway enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated.
The sun beamed down on the large open field in the middle of the community as the neighbors milled about grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for each other. The happy atmosphere was relaxing and peaceful, and the warm sun was making everyone lazy as they all gathered in their lawn chairs around each other. The soft voices and happy laughter played as a nice background noise for others who had decided to lay out in the grass and just enjoy the nice day that they were having.
Bunny looked over from where she sat in a lawn chair one of the neighbors brought to where Esme was sprawled out in the grass with Butter next to her. She grinned softly as she saw Esme had an arm lightly draped over Butter and was idly scratching his belly while she gazed up at the sky. Butter was laid out on his side panting softly while he faced Esme, he would occasionally scoot closer to Esme so that her fingers would hit a certain spot on his belly and make his tongue hang out of his mouth. Shaking her head Bunny turned back to the neighbors and rejoined the conversation knowing that Esme and Butter would be just fine laying out like that in the grass.
*-*-*-*
Esme watched as the large fluffy white clouds slowly moved through the bright blue sky. Her mind was growing foggy with relaxation as she scratched and tickled Butter’s tummy. The dog next to her huffed softly and wriggled on his back until he was pressed as close to her as he could. Giggling softly Esme felt Butter turn again on his side and his hot panting breath ghosted against her ear.
“Butter, your breath is gross.” Esme said softly as she turned her head to look at the dog. As another pant of breath graced her nose she scrunched up her nose and jerked away. “And stinky!” She cried laughing happily. “Didn’t Bunny brush your teeth last night?” She asked knowing full well that Bunny had in fact brushed his teeth last night.
Butter huffed again and rolled onto his other side so that he was facing away from Esme making the little girl laugh brightly as she too rolled over and lightly wrapped her arm around him to tug him flush against her chest. Butter let out a soft grumble as he wriggled and got comfortable against her.
“You’re so weird. But I love you Butter.” Esme said softly as she buried her face in his fur on his back. Sighing softly Esme nuzzled into Butter’s fur and began to relax like that feeling the dog take in breaths and let them out. The feeling of his body moving with his breaths against her put her in a sort of trance as her mind began to wander.
Just as she began to think about her Dad and that he was coming home tonight, Butter growled low in his belly making his whole body vibrate. Esme focused her eyes on Butter who had turned his head to stare at where Bunny was sitting. Esme followed where Butter was looking and saw Cynthia was walking over to Bunny. Butter growled once again low in his belly and he flipped onto his belly to be more alert as he watched.
“You don’t like her, do you?” Esme asked softly as she also rolled onto her belly and watched Cynthia talk to Bunny who sat in the lawn chair. Butter huffed softly as he watched Cynthia and inched closer to Esme. “You’re right she’s not a nice lady. She only cared about where my Dad was earlier.” Esme said huffing next to Butter.
As Esme watched Cynthia continue to talk to Bunny she began to think about how Butter would react to certain people who would come around Bunny. Esme rested her elbows in the grass and propped herself up on her folded arms as she watched Bunny talk with Cynthia before Cynthia laughed brightly and then walked away from a bewildered looking Bunny.
“Yeah she’s not a nice lady.” Esme said softly as she turned and looked over at Butter who was still watching Bunny avidly. “You’re very protective of Bunny aren’t you?” Esme asked softly with a wide grin on her face. Snuggling closer to Butter she wrapped her arms around his body and rolled until he was pressed close to her own body once more. “I’m glad you can protect Bunny. She needs someone to protect her since she lives alone.”
Esme laughed as Butter just became dead weight on top of her. She thought back to her week long visit with Bunny and Butter and how the two of them interacted all the time. Butter did tend to be a little overprotective of Bunny especially with new people. She remembered when one time when they went to the playground together there was a man who came over to talk to Bunny and Butter wouldn’t stop barking and running around Bunny’s feet as the man tried to talk to her. Bunny had laughed at his antics and the man had quickly left her alone after Butter wouldn’t stop. Bunny had rewarded Butter with an ice cream cone after the park.
Esme laughed softly as her thoughts then turned to how Bunny and Butter would interact with each other throughout the week. Bunny liked calling Butter lazy and while it was true Esme knew that Bunny said almost as if it was a nickname for Butter. The little dog would often be found lazing about in his dog bed in the kitchen whenever he wasn’t with either Bunny or Esme in the house. His normal position was flopped on his back snoring away. Esme giggled softly when she remembered one night that her and Bunny were in the living room after eating dinner and they both heard a strange sound coming from the kitchen. When they went to investigate they found that it was Butter’s snoring that was making the noise. He had managed to contort his body in such a weird position that his nose was pressed up against the dog bed and he was snoring through his mouth. Bunny had laughed as she teased Butter by calling him a lazy layabout.
Butter shifted on top of Esme and grew heavier as he settled on her chest and snuggled his head under her chin. Esme grinned and hugged the dog closer to her body. She remembered how whenever Bunny would be sitting on the ground or floor Butter would sneakily worm his way into her lap and sprawl out as she would pet him. And whenever Esme would get close to Bunny while she was petting Butter he would become jealous that Bunny would pay more attention to Esme. Giggling again Esme remembered when the three of them had been hanging out in the backyard after the pirate play Butter had managed to sprawl out in Bunny’s lap. Esme had come over to talk to Bunny about the play and when Bunny had stopped petting Butter he had crawled up onto his little legs and stood on Bunny’s chest trying to get her attention. Bunny had easily scooped Butter into her arms and teased him about being jealous and having to share her with Esme for the week.
Just then Esme heard Mr. Quinten call out to Bunny from over by the grill asking her if she wanted anymore food. Esme didn’t hear Bunny’s response but the sound of Mr. Quinten’s voice reminded Esme about the times that Butter would wind up in his backyard by digging holes under the fence between Bunny’s and Mr. Quinten’s yards. Mr. Quinten would call or yell for Bunny to come get her “chubby dog” out of his yard and Esme had watched once from Bunny’s yard as Bunny tried to wrangle Butter in Mr. Quinten’s yard. She giggled again as she remembered watching Bunny chase after a running Butter in Mr. Quinten’s yard. Bunny had only managed to grab Butter when he got distracted by a fluttering butterfly.
Esme laughed as she remembered that after Bunny had gotten Butter back into her own yard that the little dog had run around all crazily. The dog had done laps around the yard at such a high speed while barking that it was hard for Esme to keep track of where he was. Bunny had told her that those were called “zombies” and that it was when Butter got overly excited and needed to burn off some energy. Esme had thought they were hysterical as she and Bunny just stood by the steps watching as Butter ran and ran around the yard. Butter had done zoomies a few times when they were all playing out in the backyard and every time Esme was left laughing so hard her sides hurt.
Just then Butter began to wiggle around on top of Esme and she tilted her head back to see Bunny was walking over to them with a happy smile on her face. Butter’s little feet began to wiggle in a familiar fashion and Esme laughed out happily as the little dog tried to wiggle out of her arms. As Bunny walked closer Butter was able to get out of Esme’s arms and stood next to Esme bouncing on his feet doing what Esme had dubbed his “tappy toe dance”. Bunny and Esme laughed as the dog continued to dance on his little feet as Bunny came closer. Esme smiled as she realized that Butter would only do the little dance for certain people. So far those people were Bunny, Jeremy, and Esme.
“Easy there you little ball of crazy.” came Bunny’s soothing voice as she finally came to a stop next to Esme and Butter. Esme tilted her head up to Bunny and grinned widely. “Enjoying the day huh?” Bunny asked as she grinned down at Esme.
“Uh-huh. Butter’s been staying with me.” Esme said happily and Bunny nodded her head at her easily as she looked down at the two of them. Butter started rubbing up against Bunny’s legs and she chuckled softly as she reached down and began to pet him on his back.
“You’re so needy you little butter ball.” Bunny teased him softly and he wiggled further against her as she squatted down to hug him tightly. “So we’re going to start turning off the grills now would you like anything else to eat Es?” Bunny asked as she tried to hold Butter still as he wiggled in her arms trying to get up to her face where he kept trying to lick her. Esme laughed softly as she watched Butter try to lick and kiss Bunny who tried to keep him away. “Butter ball easy, you crazy little thing.” Bunny said softly as she grinned before hugging him tightly making him huff out a breath.
“No I’m not hungry anymore.” Esme responded easily as she shook her head.
“Okay, yes yes I will get you a hamburger. Geeze, relax Butter.” Bunny said as Butter wiggled in her arms even more as she tried to stand up. Esme laughed and patted the ground next to her for Butter to come lay next to her. “Alright, I’m gonna grab Butter a hamburger and then I’ll be back. It looks like everyone is going to start packing up soon to head home.” Bunny said as she finally stood up and Esme nodded at her solemnly.
Esme was enjoying herself and she didn’t really want for the day to end. While she was excited to see her Dad again, she had had so much fun this past week with Bunny and Butter. She didn’t want it to end.
“Hey what do you say we watch some movies tonight and bake some cookies to make ice cream sandwiches?” Bunny asked as she smiled softly down at Esme.
“Really? Homemade ice cream sandwiches?” Esme asked excitedly. Bunny nodded her head and Esme nodded her head in response making Bunny laugh softly.
“Ok sounds good let me get the hamburger for Butter and then once everyone starts leaving we’ll take Mr. Quinten and Jeremy home then we’ll bake and make homemade ice cream sandwiches.” Bunny instructed her and Esme nodded her head along with her words until she had a brilliant idea.
“Can Jeremy join us?” Esme asked shyly and Bunny looked at her surprised before a bright happy smile graced her lips.
“I’ll ask him. If he’s free I’m sure he’d love to.” Bunny responded knowingly. Esme grinned and watched as Bunny walked away over to the grills and where Jeremy was sitting with Mr. Quinten. She watched as Bunny asked one of the parents who stood at the grill for a hamburger for Butter and then turned back to Jeremy. She stood there talking to him and Esme watched as Jeremy’s eyes lit up with excitement before he turned to her and grinned really wide.
“I would love to Esme!” Jeremy called loudly making Bunny and Esme laugh. Turning back to lay in the grass Esme smiled to herself as she cuddled Butter close to her once more just enjoying the sun and relaxation that the day brought her.
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Tomorrow is a Hundred Years Away
And even as I’m pouring the last drops of our second pot of coffee in your cup I’m still trying to tell myself that I’m not going to make another pot, but even my own mind can’t keep a straight face at the thought. I decide to pretend a third pot was the plan all along and pour the water in for another go before bringing your coffee back and setting it down with a little flourish.
You sit as you do, as we do, every morning, at our big ugly kitchen table: two 30 somethings who are more than happy to slowly sink into the staid portrait of a classic old married couple. We sit side by side, our legs touching, comfortable in the warm silence our two bodies create. The very thing that my teenage self feared most has come to pass: I'm living the life of a happily married woman, wife to a man I adore. The horror of comfort! The terror of wedded bliss! All of those years spent scared of being tied down, of being locked in a marital prison; all for naught. My life, this life, here with you - the whole thing almost feels like too much to wish for.
I watch as you gaze out the window, trying to burn it into my memory. “Remember this, Stephanie.” I think. “Remember, remember, remember.” I try to lock this moment, this one perfect moment, right now, here, of you and I just like this, away down deep where it can’t be touched. Where it can live, somewhere inside of me, forever.
Of everything I’ll lose in the next few months, moments like these are what I’ll miss the most.
I remember when you and I sat here - looking out this window, just like we are now - for the first time. That first early morning, having our first coffee together in this house, looking out at the tendrils of early morning mist still stubbornly clinging to the tops of the pines; I remember how the trees seem to stretch out forever like a lush green carpet across the valley before disappearing off into the low hanging clouds in the distant sky. It felt like all the good in our lives was laid out right there in front of us, just waiting for us to step forward into the future and live it.
“Would you look at that” you said on that morning, a little kid giddy with excitement. “The trees, the clouds, the sky, the world, the planets, the stars; all of it right out there, right outside our humble kitchen window. The whole sum total of existence, all trapped behind a single pane of glass.”
We sat there in quiet reverence, knees touching, marveling at the vast beauty of the world beyond our window - breathless at the thought that nothing less than the all of existence was sole spectator to you and I, and that moment: Our first morning spent together. I remember gently knocking wood; a quiet wish that this moment would last forever - or that somehow, in some future life, I could live this moment again, Over and over and over, for eternity.
“What a sight.” I said.
And then you leaned over and kissed me.
Looking back at my life, at our life, that moment is maybe the happiest I've ever been. I wanted to trap it like a firefly in amber and live inside it for a hundred million years. But, of course, the Great Unspoken Tragedy of Time is that it keeps gently nudging us forward, ushering us past what truly matters while muddying the clear waters of purpose with petty wishes and self-important worries. Eyes up! Face forward! Onward! Onward! A brighter future lies just around the corner, it says! A better life! All the while, the happier tomorrow is quietly slipping by the beautiful present into the yearned for yesterday. The next moment is always only a moment away - whether or not you want it to be. We cannot make a home in the present, so we must make that home in our memories. And to lose that home is to lose everything.
Not wanting time to push me forward into the next few minutes and the confession I have to make, I look down and watch my fingers trace the raised patterns of thick paint on the table. God. This table. If there is anything in all of creation that is completely impervious to time - and not to mention ugly - it is our kitchen table.
This thing must weigh a million pounds. A heavy hideous stout old beast slathered with cheap white paint, it’s almost pretty. Like one of those ugly dogs that are cute, it’s where hideous and adorable meet back on the other side. It’s my secret hope that the table is actually made from some kind of beautiful wood; Walnut, or Rosewood. Something valuable. Or Teak: The wood of royals. Wouldn’t that be a trip? Something majestic under all this crap paint? As the doctor visits have mounted and my life has started to come apart these past few weeks, it’s been all I can do to not take a steak knife and scratch off a little of the paint to take a peek underneath to see if my suspicions are true. I can just see the Antique Roadshow now:
“Stephanie: Good news! Your boring old kitchen table is actually a teak treasure from the jungles of India, brought by the explorer Francisco de Almeida in the year 1505! How did you come about it?”
“Well, Mark, it’s a funny story; it was actually our kitchen table for years and years, just sitting there, quietly, as we had our coffee every morning. Anyway, one day - ”
“Wow. How funny.”
“Right? Anyway, one day I had been going through a lot of medical trauma and so to distract myself thought just popped into my head: What if there was something special about our ugly table?”
“Something special, Stephanie?”
“Yes! Something special - you see, it used to be covered in this awful white paint.”
“Thick, cheap, white paint?”
“Yes, Mark. Exactly.” (audience laughs)
“Oh no!”
“Oh yes! And I just started thinking: This table, this ugly, heavy, but otherwise rather unassuming white table - what if there was something more to it? Something special, underneath? Something more beautiful than what we could see on the outsi - “
Hey, what are you thinking about?
I blink quickly, and look up, returning from the Roadshow set to your kitchen. Our kitchen.
Nothing, I say. Why?
You just looked like you were thinking of something funny.
I look back down at the table, at the white paint. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
I open my mouth to tell you my theory about the table and its secrets, about the Antique Roadshow bit with the 1505 Francisco story in this Mark voice I made up - but instead what comes out of my mouth is not the theory about our (your) table and its exotic secret, but instead it’s the thing I need to tell you. The thing I’ve been needing to tell you for weeks. The Truth.
I’m sick.
I’m really really sick. Like, the kind of sick where people don’t get better sick. I hear myself using some of the same words the doctors used when they told me: Rare, Degenerative, and eventually, the only word that matters in these sorts of cases: Terminal.
You look at me in disbelief, your wide, beautiful eyes not wanting to accept what I’m saying - much the same way, I imagine, as I looked at the doctor when she told me the news. Only she also used other, bigger, more doctory words like “transmissible spongiform encephalopathy”. I don’t tell you these words; it feels like to say them aloud would be too much like dark magic; too much like summoning an evil I don’t want. Although, at this point, what’s one more curse on top what I’ve already got?
You look down at your hands. You look at them for a long time. I wonder what you’re thinking. Then you quietly ask how much time we have left. I notice you say we, not me. You’re sweet.
I press my bare feet into the cold kitchen floor, trying not to cry and trying to figure out how best to tell you the truth without actually having to say it out loud. The silence settles around us like a dark cloud; a flock of big black birds, all watching with their beady eyes, waiting for an answer. Minutes pass. The clock ticks quietly in the hall.
It’s when I tell you how long that you finally start crying. We lean into each other, our bodies comforting each other in their own way. Our coffees sit on the big ugly table, untouched, steam rising lazily into the cool morning air.
Definitely shouldn’t have made that third pot.
***
When I was a kid, I lived next to this kid named Phillip. It was never Phil, just Phillip. One Summer, Phillip and I for some reason became obsessed with digging this hole. I don’t honestly remember how it started; maybe one of us had seen something on time capsules, or maybe we wanted to try to find out if the water table really existed. Whatever. Kids are stupid.
What I do remember is that, one day after school, Phillip and I for some reason started digging this hole on the side of his house. And every day after that, after school, we would run home, go back to the side of his house, and work on The Hole. Deeper and deeper. Wider. Steeper. Down down down. You’d think that we’d get sick of it - after all, you’re just digging a deep dumb hole, there’s nothing down there but more dirt you dummies - but that wasn’t the way we saw it. To us, it wasn’t just a hole; every spade of earth we turned over was a chance for a new forbidden discovery, a new illicit thrill. Arrowheads! Haunted pottery! Old machine parts! Every day we ran to The Hole, shovels in hand, with the same thought: What new thing would we discover today? What new piece of magic lay secretly buried, all these years, just out of sight, waiting to be discovered and pulled up into the light to be born into a spectacular new life? What beauty lay hidden just under our feet, lost down there in the cold black earth?
Our all-consuming daily digging obsession went on and on past the end of the school year and well across that whole summer; The Hole got so big and deep that we started putting a tarp over it to keep the rain out so it wouldn’t become a flooded mess. In the end though, it met its fate like all childhood adventures: Boring reality butted in. One day, Phillip’s dad walked around the side of the house, found the hole, and made us fill it in. When we protested, he just shook his head: “You spent your whole summer on a hole. Youth is wasted on the young.”
***
My brain is so weird; sometimes I think it knows things that I don’t. For instance, I’ve recently started catching myself thinking of “our” things as “your” things:
Your car.
Your house.
Your bed.
Your ugly kitchen table.
Your life.
Your life after me, of course I mean. What will that be like, I wonder? My life always felt so rushed: I dashed to work, I hurried home, I raced to the store, I ran to the bus, I worried about missing the train, the dinner, the movie. Why? Why did I do that? Why was I worried? My whole life I’ve had plenty of Life left to live, but I spent it all driving a million miles an hour to a million different places - only to get there and be worried about what I was doing next. Onward! Onward! Missing out always felt like a fate worse than death. How wrong I was.
Now that my life is ending, and there’s an actual clock counting down, I couldn’t care less. I don’t rush anywhere. I don’t race to any event. I don’t worry about making the movie or missing the bus. There will be other movies, other buses. Now that my future has fled, what’s most important is what’s around me, right now. It’s only at the end of my life that I’m realizing that life really takes place in between the times we think will matter; the moments I didn’t pay attention to were the ones that mattered most. Turns out the real beauty in life was there just underneath the surface after all.
They say those who fail to learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them - but that’s wrong. No one gets to repeat anything. We should be so lucky to given such a chance; mistakes or not.
***
My first thought is that I am freezing cold. Why am I so cold? And why is everything in my bedroom orange? I look around, and it takes me a second to realize that I’m not in my bedroom. I’m outside. What am I doing outside at night? The orange glow from the streetlight throws wild, unfamiliar shadows on the trees by the side of the road. What is this? I hear you screaming my name from somewhere far away. As if in response, the icy winter wind gusts out from between the black trunks of the barren pines, pushing me in your direction. I turn, my legs stiff, and begin walking towards where I think you are, but it’s cold and -
I wake suddenly in our (your) bed. It’s morning. I look around, slowly. The terror of the bad dream slowly drains out of my chest in the white glow of the morning. I look over; you’re still asleep. I desperately have to pee - a side effect of the medication - so I slowly pull the covers back and roll to the side to get out of bed without waking you. As I put my feet on the floor, I notice they are bloody and scratched; black with dirt. Not a dream after all.
***
One night, I call my mother for our weekly catch up - but her phone keeps ringing and ringing. This never, ever happens. She always picks up. Concerned, I find you in the living room half watching the TV while doing your crossword.
I’m worried about my mom. I say. I think she’s in trouble. Maybe hurt.
You look up, sharply. Hurt? What do you mean?
I just tried to call her. It just keeps ringing and ringing. Should we call someone to check on her?
Your face changes. I can tell you don’t want to do this, that it hurts you to do this, but it’s something you feel that you need to do. You pause, then carefully put your crossword aside.
I think your mom is okay. Come here for a second.
You stand, and I follow you into the kitchen. There is a piece of paper taped to the wall next to the phone that I’ve never seen before. It is written in all caps with a big black marker and says:
CALLING YOUR MOM?
LOOK AT THE CLOCK.
IS IT AFTER 8PM? ------> YOU HAVE ALREADY CALLED HER TONIGHT.
IF YOU HAVE ALREADY CALLED, SHE WILL NOT ANSWER.
DON’T WORRY, SHE IS FINE.
You look at me, and at the clock. My eyes follow yours. The clock reads 8:34. I slowly nod. As I put the phone back on its cradle, I read the note again. It’s in my handwriting.
***
Even as I’m pouring the last drops of our second pot of coffee in your cup I’m still trying to tell myself that I’m not going to make another pot, but even my own mind can’t keep a straight face at the thought. I decide to pretend a third pot was the plan all along and pour the water in for another go before bringing your coffee back to the table and setting it down with a little flourish.
You sit as you do, as we do, every morning, at our kitchen table. It’s a heavy old thing slathered with cheap white paint. It must weigh a million pounds. I secretly suspect (read: hope) it’s actually something beautiful underneath; walnut, maybe. Or teak. The wood of royals! Something exotic - wouldn’t that be a trip? These past weeks it’s been all I can do to not give in to the thought and scratch a little bit off with the butter knife to take a peek. What if it’s something valuable? Like really majestic? Hidden under all that hideous thick paint uncaringly slopped on. The more I think about it, the more positive I am: Someone, at some point in history, decided to cover this regal, majestic table in terrible thick white paint. But did that change what the table was, underneath? It changed the way we (I) looked at our (your) table, but didn’t change what the table was, inside. What an epic crime it would be if the table believed that it was just this white coated monstrosity. That it forgot what it truly was, underneath the thick paint. Does it still count as something beautiful? Even if I’m the only one who knows it?
Not wanting time to push me forward into the next few minutes and the confession I have to make, I look down and watch my fingers trace the raised patterns of thick paint on the table. My life, this life, here with you - the whole thing almost feels like too much to wish for.
I watch as you gaze out the window, trying to burn it into my memory. “Remember this, Stephanie.” I think. “Remember, remember, remember.”
***
It can be hard to see yourself as you really are. To try and see the truth of someone else? Nearly impossible.
So years ago, I came up with a neat little trick: whenever I would a take photo, I did something sneaky: I would count to three, and then pretend to take the photo. Everyone would smile. Then, believing it was done, they would relax - and that’s when I would really take the photo, capturing everyone in that one unguarded moment. We are really only our true selves when we believe no one is watching. Those moments that are in-between; those are only real moments that matter.
***
I am outside, in the darkness. No orange light, now. On all sides, I am surrounded by branches that claw at me with their long, sharp fingers. No matter which way I turn, they are there, raking their nails across my cold, tender skin. When I was younger I used to live in a hole with a kid named Phillip - not Phil, but Phillip - and every Christmas morning, Phillip would hide under his bed, hysterical, refusing to come downstairs and open his presents. He thought that Santa Claus was a giant bearded fat man in a red suit with long, sharp claws who would crawl down the chimney into the house while you were sleeping. We would sit in our hole, in the dark, and Phillip would tell me in a high whisper about Santa: That he could see deep into your soul with his ancient watery yellow eyes and knew in your heart how you felt - if you had acted bad. If you had darkness in you. It petrified Phillip. Silly Phillip, I think, as I stagger through the cold forest in the dark, the branches scratching my arms and face. The bearded man only wanted to bring you his gifts. The bearded man. With the claws. He would crawl down the chimney while we were sleeping, he would slither into our heads with his long claws and wrap himself around our hearts, knowing how we truly felt. Click click click his claws tapping against the old wooden floors in our house in the night, scratching and scurrying over to the plate of treats we had left out for him; an offering to the long clawed greasy red shadow that came every year in the night. Traveling on the night air, high up in the black sky, soaring on the sharp cold winds that roar right at the edge of space across the slumbering world, the only witness to his flight the endless flickering points of pale flame, flickering white stars long dead, like the countless white grubs in the steaming fresh earth of endless turned spades, that one hot sticky summer we spent digging our hole. Phillip died not long after we filled in our hole; died that winter, his blood leaking out into the bright white snow. His dad put him in a different hole, down in that cold dark earth where everything is alive and nothing lives. Phillip, not Phil.
A sudden winter wind knifes through the dark woods, scattering a small flurry of snow and bringing a gasp to my lips. There is rot in these woods, I think, suddenly afraid. It feels like something is watching as I stumble around; something ancient and hircine, watching with watery yellow eyes, crouched somewhere I can’t see. A low sob escapes my chest. I don’t want this. Please. Long brittle fingers eagerly scrape against each other, somewhere high above against the black night sky. It’s cold. So cold. Off in the distance, a faint voice screams for Stephanie. Who is Stephanie?
***
It’s morning.
I am sitting in your kitchen, at your table, as you set a cup of coffee down in front of me with a little flourish. It’s cute. Our first date, and already the consummate host! You will make some woman very happy one day, I think. Knock wood that it would be me. It would be nice to sit here with you, morning after morning, day after day, and have this sort of life together. My younger self would recoil at the thought - me? A happily married woman? Content with starting my every day off like this with you - I can just picture my younger self screaming bloody murder. I laugh at the thought. Us, every morning, like this, at this table? A dream. Almost too much to wish for.
Although, this table… It is hideous. Who would paint such a beautiful table with this cheap white paint? A shame. A crime. It has the look of such a pretty, ornate table; you can nearly see the beauty, just underneath the surface. But in your home, this ugly table stands alone - the rest of your house has the look of a woman’s touch. Tastefully decorated, but lovingly lived in. I wonder who you used to live here with. How it ended. Did she break your heart?
My eyes wander back to the table. I wonder what really is underneath? I can’t stop thinking about it.
When I was young, my neighbor and I spent the summer digging a hole. To everyone else, it was two weird kids digging a weird hole. But we did it because we had a crush on each other and didn’t know how to say it. So, instead, we spent every day together, digging - it was as good a reason as any to be in one another’s company and not have to awkwardly talk about it. When the hole got deep enough, we would sit in our hole, our special place under the tarp, and make up stories about the things we were going to find; buried treasure, magical pottery; old robot parts. One day, when I was in the middle of a story about a bank robbery and how the gang had no choice but to bury their loot and split up before they were captured, he leaned over and kissed me. It was my first kiss; a small moment in the middle of an unbearably hot, sticky Midwestern Summer under a tarp in a big wet hole next to a house - but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. I kissed him back.
There are few things more true in this world than the beauty of a small moment.
When you’re not looking, I take your butter knife and scrape some of the paint at the edge of the table. The wood underneath is dark. Excited, I try to press into it with my thumbnail. It’s hard! Teak, I’ll bet! I love teak. How beautiful! I smile to myself. A teak table painted birdshit white. Who knew? The wood of the royals, right here under all this cheap paint. A thing of beauty, just waiting its turn to be rediscovered and once again have its moment in the sun.
I look over to see you watching me, smiling with your big wide eyes. Did you see me scratch your table? I smile back. What a beautiful smile you have - and I tell you so. It’s flirting, shameless; I know. But what do I have to lose? A handsome man like you, single? Inviting me here, into your home? Making me a morning coffee, of all things? Almost too much to wish for.
You ask if I’m hungry; I’m not, but I want to stay with you here in your house for as long as I can, so I say yes. An obvious trick. You laugh and pull out a pan to make some food. It’s quite the production; you drizzle oil into the pan like a ballet dancer; you crack the eggs like a ninja; you drop the salt and it spills all over the floor. I love it. I love it all. I am laughing hysterically, in spite of myself.
I look out the window: The trees, the world, the sky, the stars; all trapped behind one single pane of glass. All of it just a spectator to you and me and this moment - this one, lovely moment. How can I be so lucky, I think, to live a life that would have just a single moment like this. How lucky to be alive at all. So many years I lived rushing from place to place, right by moments like this, instead of living in moments like this. Youth is wasted on the young.
You look up from the sizzling pan. Ugh, that smile again. Lord. I can’t. My heart beats faster. Do I have a really have a shot with this man? This wonderful man, as I sit at his ugly royal teak table in his beautiful house? Expertly assembling my breakfast on a plate, you glide over with a little dance, and set the plate down. Suddenly, I’m starving. Pulling your chair close, you sit next to me, our bodies almost touching. It is sublime.
You run your finger over the edge of the table, over the small scratch I’ve made in the paint. I didn’t notice before, but I see now that it’s next to countless other small scratches made by someone else. Sadness flickers across your face, and you look up. Our eyes meet.
It's teak! I can't help but exclaim. The wood of royals!
You break into a laugh.
What a perfect moment, I think. Time pushes us forward - but please, just this once, let it wait. Let me live right here for just a moment more: in our house, at our table. Here, with you. Silence settles around us like a warm blanket. The clock ticks quietly in the hall.
I look out the window. The trees, the world, the sky, the stars; all is still.
What a sight, I say.
And then you lean in for a kiss.
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