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aliwritesfic · 3 years

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The Night Shift part 5 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Quick summary: You learn the meaning behind Frankie's nickname

Warnings: None, I think, please let me know if I need to add some <3

W/C: 1.7k

Spotify (mainly just vibes, some songs have meaning, also updated regularly)

Part 1 Part 6

The smell of cooking bacon made your stomach growl as you entered the diner on Tuesday evening. You hadn’t eaten much all day, just a piece of toast and a handful of stale cheerios. Frankie was in the kitchen, his back to you. Your throat dried at the sight of him, remembering what you had done and how you had fantasized about him only a few hours earlier.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said, pushing thoughts of what you wanted him to do with his hands out of your mind. Stop being such a hornbag! You scolded yourself. Then he set those dark brown eyes on you and your brain ceased to function. Could he see your secret written on your face?

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at you. “You look tired.”

You almost sighed in relief. Maybe he couldn’t tell at all. You grabbed the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “I didn’t sleep much today. I was . . . worried about the kitten.” It wasn’t a whole lie; you really were worried about the kitten. The vet hadn’t sent you any updates, and you hoped that was a good thing.

“Are you gonna keep the kitten, if she lives?” Frankie flipped eggs as he spoke and set up a couple of plates.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “Kurt would never go for it. He’s not really a fan of pets.”

Frankie made a face. “Not even adorable kittens?”

“Not even then,” you sighed. “It’s fine, though. It’s not like I have the time to properly care for one. I’m here most nights and I’m so busy with housework during the day when I’m not sleeping that it just- it just wouldn’t work.”

You kept your tone light, aware that customers could be listening. You didn’t want to scare off any tips with how miserable the subject made you. Frankie seemed to understand, because he didn’t bring the subject back up.

You were surprised at how easily you two worked together. Completely in sync when you had to be, entire sentences seemed to be translated through quick looks and raised eyebrows. This guy is a serial complainer. Want me to do something about those frat boys? Can you pretty please make me one of whatever this lady’s having?

All too soon it was 5:30 and the morning crew was there, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You found yourself lingering again, although you weren’t sure what for. You didn’t exactly need to stay. But still.

~*~

Frankie was shocked to see you still there. He was pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket when he saw you, standing outside, shivering in the early spring air.

“Thought’d you’d be halfway home by now,” he said, but he was still pleased to see you. He had come to the conclusion last night that you had a boyfriend, he would respect that and not make any untoward moves on you. Friendship suited him fine, even if he did think your boyfriend was a bit of a freak for not wanting a pet.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” Frankie prompted.

“How’d you get the nickname Catfish?”

At this, Frankie’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Before we were deployed, the boys and I went on a fishing trip. Well, one thing led to another and I had a huge catfish on my hook. This was a catch and release type of situation, you know?” When you nodded, he continued. “So, I reach in this creatures mouth to unhook it, and the bastard clamps down! Whole hand, in its mouth! And the thing about catfish, is they don’t have teeth, so they can’t technically bite, but they suck. It was like my hand was in a vacuum seal. When I eventually managed to get it out, no help from the boys mind you, it looked like a giant hickey on my hand. So, that’s where the nickname comes from.”

You snorted with laughter, and Frankie began to laugh too. At the time, it hadn’t been funny but looking back, he knew he would have been laughing his ass off if it happened to any of the other boys.

“I think Santi got a photo of it, I’ll try and find it for you if you want,” Frankie said. You nodded eagerly, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Please do, I’d love to see it,” you said with a grin that made his heart do something it really shouldn’t. Frankie nodded, making a mental note to call Santi and demand that the bastard rip apart his house to find it if he had to.

You turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, he was asking “do you want a ride?” Friends gave each other rides when they needed it, he reasoned. You hesitated, and Frankie kicked himself. Of course he’d overstepped. You didn’t know him that well, he was just the fry cook.

“Uh, yeah actually. It looks like it might rain.”

As if you had summoned it, thunder rumbled low overhead. Fat drops of rain began to fall slowly painting the ground. Frankie jangled his keys and you both sprinted to his truck. He opened your door for you, and ran around to his side. He didn’t miss that you sat with your back ridgid, your hands curled so tightly your knuckles were white.

“You okay?” he asked, although you obviously were not.

“Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You’re aware your truck looks like a death trap?”

Frankie snorted. He was very aware of this, but he was also very aware of what was under the hood. He trusted this truck more than any fancy modern car. Still. He decided that this was the perfect opportunity to mess with you. Just to see how you responded.

“Have you ever seen The Fast and The Furious?” He began, and you raised an eyebrow at him, your face skeptical. “Tokyo Drift, specifically. Well, this truck won me the title of Drift King several years in a row. That’s how well she runs.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You rolled your eyes, but you were laughing. “That’s not even slightly believable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But how cool would it be if it were true.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling as you did it, and Frankie counted that as a victory. You gave him directions as he drove, surprising him with how close you lived to him. Only a five minute drive away. How long had you been this close? How had he never noticed you in the neighbourhood? Had he been blind, all these years?

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he pulled up outside your building, a three story walk up with a faded brick facade. The rain was coming down hard now, and lightning flashed.

“Anytime,” Frankie said in a tone that he truly meant any time. You nodded and ran through the rain, disappearing into the building. Frankie idled for a moment, wishing he could call you back and kiss you goodbye.

But he didn’t, because it wasn’t decent and it wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t crush on their friend like a fucking idiot kid.

So Frankie drove himself home and drove all thoughts of your mouth out of his head. That was until he checked his phone, and saw a text from an unknown number.

Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it :) sent 5:57AM

Frankie quickly saved your number in his phone, not taking the risk of losing it somehow. A second message from you buzzed through.

Oh and lunch on Sunday is at Taylor’s Bistro, on High Street if you still wanna come sent 6:01AM

Frankie wrote his message quickly.

Wouldn’t miss it x

He stared at it for too long, erased the x, replaced it with a smiley face and hit send before he could overthink it entirely. Then he remembered his promise to you, and called Santi almost instantly.

“Fish, what the fuck man? It’s four in the morning,” Santi groaned into the phone.

“It’s six you dope, but I need a favour,” Frankie said.

“Money?”

“No, man, nothing like that. Do you still have that photo of the catfish on my hand?”

“Yeah I’ve got a copy in my wallet.” Santi sounded more awake, and Frankie could hear his fancy espresso machine whir to life.

“Why do you- nevermind. Look, I need a copy ASAP.”

“What for? If it’s to destroy it just know I’ve thought ahead and I’ve got four physical copies and one in the Cloud.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s for a girl at work, she asked how I got my callsign and now I’ve gotta show her the photo.”

“Oh?” Santi sounded intrigued. “Who’s this girl?”

“A friend,” Frankie said a little forcefully. “She has a boyfriend.” As if that closed the matter. Apparently, it didn’t.

“Why should that stop you?” Santi asked. “You’re hot, I don’t know this chick but she’d be blind to not be into you.”

“Well, for one, my brain isn’t directly wired with my dick.” At this, Santiago scoffed. Frankie continued, ignoring him. “Secondly, she’s like, twenty five or six. She’s probably not into old guys.”

“You’re thirty-three, you’re not old. Also, chicks dig DILFs.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“And yet you still have big DILF energy. I wonder if there are any little Francisco’s running around that we have yet to discover.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, it’s bad luck to say that kind of shit. Just get the photo to me, please.”

Santiago roared with laughter as Frankie hung up. Trust Santiago to work one of his deepest fears into conversation. Frankie wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: having children, or having children and having no clue they existed. It wasn’t that he was against having kids altogether, it was just he knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to take care of someone who depended on him entirely. Some days he forgot to take care of himself, he didn’t want a kid to suffer. It wouldn’t be fair.

He brushed the thought aside as he climbed into bed. It was bad luck to linger on bad thoughts, at least, that’s what his abuela always told him whenever he complained about something as a kid.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had told you that there was photographic evidence of a catfish latched onto his hand. Maybe he wanted to impress you? But no, he reasoned, there was nothing impressive about that. It was just plain embarrassing. He realised with a start that what he wanted was willing to do anything to hear your laugh again.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish

#the night shift #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

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andrew2luv · 3 years

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The Angel Next Door - Chapter 3

“This was fun. Thanks for showing me around.” Asher pulls into the driveway.

“I really only showed you a playground and an ice cream place.”

“Where else would I want to go?”

“You’re so going to be getting lost a lot.”

“Just another reason for you to drive me around again.”

“Yeah. Sure. I would tomorrow but I’ve gotta go to the studio.”

“Studio?”

“Yeah. I’ve been working on a new album for a while.”

“Cool. I’m so going to look you up on iTunes the second I get in my room.”

“Really? I’m scared.”

“Good. And I’m definitely watching some Andi Mack.”

“Oh god…” I laugh as he looks nervous.

“Don’t worry. I’m very kind. Not judgy at all.”

“Somehow I don’t believe that.”

“How rude.”

We both step out of the car.

“Should I expect to hear you sneaking out tonight?”

“Maybe.” He looks at me. “Probably.” We laugh. “You’re welcome to come with me.”

“Probably not.”

“Not yet.”

“Lord you’re pushy.”

“You know me so well already.”

“Just go inside. Your moms probably wondering where you’ve been.”

“Doubt it. Bye.”

“Bye.”

We separate and I walk into the house. I see my mom and Dave eating at the kitchen counter.

“Hey! We’re you out? I didn’t hear you leave.” My mom stands up.

“Oh, I just went for a walk.”

“Yeah. Sure. Try not to fuck up here like you did last year.” Dave continues eating and my mom just stands there.

“Yeah. Whatever.” I just walk straight up to my room and jump onto my bed.

I look back and to Asher’s window. He walks into his room and spots me. He smiles. And I just close the blinds.

3 DAYS LATER… 1 am…

Sometimes I wish I could sleep. I haven’t slept more than five hours a night since I was seven and had gymnastics practice at six every morning and had to stay up until midnight to do homework.

Sadly I don’t have much to do late at night or early in the morning these days. So I usually go out. I find somewhere to go. Someone to be with. And then I try and stay busy until I’m truly ready to collapse in bed.

And then we moved here. I know no one. I know nothing. And I can’t really get around with a car. So unless I want to spend money on a ride, I’ve either got to walk or stay in.

Tonight I decided to stay in, kinda. I’m on the roof. Just enjoying the silence of the night, looking up at the starry skies, and smoking a beautiful spliff. It’s relaxing.

“I thought I smelt you.” I nearly throw my spliff and slide off the roof as Asher steps out his window.

“Lord you’re creepy.”

“And you’re high.”

“Really?”

“What’s going on? I texted you the other day. Did you give me a fake number?”

“No. I just didn’t respond.”

“Wow.” He sits on his roof and faces me. “Did I say something the other day? I’m sorry if we got a little deep or something.”

“Do you ever just relax? Have a little fun?”

“Do you ever get serious? Be real?”

“Wow. Look who’s all funny now.”

“Look who’s being a dick.” He gets up and starts moving towards his window.

“Oh come on. Don’t run away.”

“Goodnight. Try not to hurt yourself.”

“Boo, you whore.”

10 am…

So… I woke up and immediately felt like shit. Not physically or anything, but because of what happened with Asher. I was definitely not in a great headspace when I started smoking and I’ve been told I can be quite a bitch when I smoke. So I know that I need to apologize… if Asher will even give me a minute… or second.

I basically wait all day hoping to see Asher either in his room or somewhere outside his house. Sadly his curtain is closed. And no sign of him anywhere.

The Next Day… 6 am

He’s taking his dog for a walk! It’s early and the sun has just started to rise, so it’s still pretty cool out. And I waste absolutely no time putting my shoes out, slide out my window and run to catch up with Asher.

“Hey.” I catch up to him, casually walking up. “Hey boy.” His dog comes up to me. “You’re so cute.” Asher is still silent. “Hey.” I stand up and face Asher, who doesn’t look amused. “I’m sorry.”

I honestly don’t know what else to say. I’m very nervous and I’m not used to feeling this way. I’m just usually not someone to apologize. Mostly because I’m right. But this time I’m not.

“By now you know that I’m not the emotional type of person. And if you tell anyone I said this I will deny it. But… you’re probably the kindest person I’ve met so far in my life and somehow are able to make me open up by some sort of miracle. I don’t get it, but I don’t hate it. I actually kinda like it. So I’m hoping that at some point, whether in a minute, two weeks, or ten months that you will be able to forgive me and we can continue hanging out.” I stand there for a few seconds as his dog licks my leg. “Um… have a good walk.”

I turn around and start walking off.

“Spencer.” I immediately smile, but then hold it in and turn around. “Wanna walk with us?”

“Sure.” I walk back to him and we start walking.

“How many times did you practice that speech?”

“What? No! That was completely spontaneous.”

“Yeah. Sure.” We both laugh.

“So what are your plans today?”

“Actually I’ve got to go do some things for Shazam 2. That’s why I’m awake so early.”

“Bummer. Tonight?”

“Family dinner.”

“Damn.”

“But I could always check to see if you can come along today.”

“Yeah. That would be great.”

“I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try.”

As I sit in my room I’m shocked to hear a little clink on my window. I turn and see Asher over on his roof.

“Hey. Look who’s trying to get my attention now.”

“Well, I don’t have to give you the good news then.”

“Oh just spill it.”

“Well there’s good and not so good news.”

“Oh no… should I get my flask out.”

“Shut up! Throw that flask away.”

“No, but I promise not to take it out if you just get to the point already.”

“So if you want to come today you can. We’re going all over the place to do all sorts of things. But we can make it fun.”

“Great! Anything to get out of this house.”

“Oh wow. So you’re just using me?”

“Oh calm down princess.” He laughs and I realize I’ve missed hearing his laugh.

“The other news is that… my mom has invited you, your mom, and Dave to family dinner tonight.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah… but hopefully we can sneak away early in and maybe go out for a little.”

“Go out?”

“Yeah. I’ll let you choose where.”

“Anywhere?”

“Within reason.”

“Oh, it’s cute you think there’s any reasoning with me.”

“Oh lord. Be ready to go in ten.”

I just give him two thumbs up before he goes back in.

It’s honestly a lot. Asher has to do more than I thought just for a movie role. We went and picked up some revised scripts that involved me sitting in the car alone for nearly 45 minutes. Then we moved on to some building where we went in and Asher got measurements taken, tried on at least 50 different outfits, and had many pictures taken of him. That part wasn’t too bad. I liked seeing him in these adorable outfits. He got excited over it and had a bunch of fun getting his photo taken.

From there we went and got a quick lunch.

After lunch, we went to his manager’s office. I had to sit out in the waiting room as he and his mom went in. They were in there for a ridiculously long time. All Asher told me was that they were planning all his flight dates, dates for PR stuff, and some future projects.

From there, our last stop was a quick stop at the dry cleaners. We grabbed a shit load of clothes then headed back home.

“Sorry ‘bout all that. I thought you would’ve been able to join in on more of it. Have a little more fun.”

“It’s fine. Kinda interesting to see how much it takes to get ready for a movie.”

“Yeah. It’s very interesting.”

“So when does filming begin?”

“Well not filming, but I have to be there for rehearsals in a month.”

“Okay… and how long will you be gone?”

“Three to four months. Depends on reshoots.”

“Shit.”

“Well, you’ll have to come down and visit at some point.”

“Yeah. Sounds fun.”

Then the doorbell rings.

“The neighbors are here.” Asher stands up.

“We could still jump out the window and run.”

“No… come on.”

“Ugh.” He yanks me up from the ground. “This is gonna be a nightmare.”

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thatgoblin · 3 years

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Small Town Affairs Chapter 3

I called in sick for Saturday and Sunday at the club. It was stupid, what with Brock demanded double the payment, but I couldn’t bring myself to go there. Clint kept messaging me and calling me, but I didn’t pick up. I had to cut ties with him before his pack got in trouble. Maybe it was time to leave town. Just pick up and go without saying goodbye or anything.

Peggy would be sad, but she would probably understand. Brock wouldn’t care. John though, he’d track me down and bring me back. Unless I left on his terms, he would never let me go. The stress had a hold on me and the very thought of going to work on Monday had me nearly vomiting. What else could I do?

Monday rolled around and I felt awful. I almost gave in to calling Peggy, but I forced myself to go in. Instead of coffee, I opted for tea in hopes of it settling my stomach. It would leave me exhausted all day, but I knew coffee wouldn’t be a good idea. I made sure to cover any marks Brock may have left behind with foundation before heading out.

“Good morning, Hazel,” Peggy said from her office as I walked in. “How was your weekend?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I said as I grabbed my paperwork and drawer.

“What’s happened?” She asked, standing up and following me. “Did Brock or John do something?”

“Peggy, it’s fine, I’m just tired,” I said with a groan as I put my things away.

“No, what have they done? Have they said something? Did John show up at your home?” She asked, pushing it.

“Peggy, please!” I cried, slamming my drawer shut. “I cannot talk about it. If I do then I will not be able to work, so please just let it go. I know you mean well, but I am not in a good headspace and would like to just get through my day with mind numbing work.”

She was quiet for a moment, not used to me snapping at her. I felt bad, she was just trying to look out for me and there I was being an ass to her.

“Alright then. If you decide to actually ask for help for once, you know where I’ll be,” she said curtly, her own voice wavering a bit. Turning on her heel, she went right back to her office to sit and work. I would talk to her later, maybe over dinner or something, but right then it was not good for me to open up about anything happening.

The morning rush came and went with no one asking about why I looked like the undead, but then again that’s probably why they didn’t ask. I had just finished my first break, having some tea and a danish helped my stomach settle as I was able to pretend nothing outside of work existed. But then the outside came in to burst that bubble.

We were slow, Peggy had gone to the bank for change and deposits, and there were just a few people getting small drinks from the vending machine in the back. It was quiet and I was able to calm down further, until John showed up. I knew my luck was running out because he wasn’t even giving anyone else a courtesy nod and smile.

“John, just leave,” I sighed as he came to stop at my register.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, his voice low and hard. “He should have never laid a finger on you like that, Hazel.”

“You know damn well why he did it because you’re doing it right now,” I hissed back, looking around to make sure no one was paying us mind. “If you would just leave me alone, there wouldn’t be any issues.”

“He told me he was charging you double next time. I told him not to, that it wasn’t the deal and he knew it,” John said. I knew what he was doing, he always did it before when I was having issues with others. He would be the knight in shining armor and I was his damsel in distress.

“The reason this mess happened was because of you two, so stop acting like you’re innocent,” I snapped. “Now I am trying to work, so leave me alone and we can go back to the way things were with us pretending we didn’t exist to each other.”

“What if I don’t want to?” John said. His mouth was set in a firm line, his brow furrowed as he stared me down. “What if I don’t want to go back to pretending you don’t exist?”

“Well that’s too damn bad because I want nothing to do with you or Brock. Is it that hard to understand? You two blew it and no amount of crying or begging or bribing is gonna change that. We are through and if I could, I would have left town to never see either of you again,” I said. “So get it through that thick, stupid skull John and leave me the hell alone.”

“That’s how you want it?” He scoffed, sneering at me.

“That’s exactly how I want it,” I nodded.

“Be careful of what you wish for then.” Stepping away, he glared at me before leaving. I was shaking, full of anger and fear and frustration. It was a wonder I didn’t break down right there. That would be later in the afternoon when I was on break and Clint found me.

Sitting at the patio set that was behind the store, I was exhausted and just done with everything and everyone. All I wanted to do was go home and take a long, hot bath and have a few beers. Something simple that would let me quiet my head.

“Hazel?” Clint called as he rounded the corner to wave at me. I glanced at him before knocking back the rest of my tea. “Hey, how’s it going? Peggy said you were on break out here.”

“It’s going,” I said with a heavy sigh.

“Are you okay? I mean, Howard. . . He filled me in on what happened this last weekend and you weren’t answering my messages or calls-”

“Clint, we have known each other barely a week, what the hell do you think we are? Best friends? We tell each other every little secret and gossip about boys? I gave your mate several lap dances this weekend and he paid good money for them, maybe instead of bothering me with wanting to help, you should focus on your own pack because someone is obviously wandering,” I snarled. It was cruel and mean and the look on his face said it all. This wasn’t Clint’s mess and he was like Peggy, just trying to help. I had no right to talk to him like that, let alone throw his mate going to a strip club in his face. Howard had even said that Clint knew because he recognized me from the website.

“I get it,” he said softly. “You’re going through something. It’s scary and you’re angry and all your instincts are saying to lash out at everyone, even if they’re friends. I don’t know the details of your situation, but if you wanna talk or need a place to crash or any help I’m here.”

“You don’t even know me, why are you offering so much? What do you get out of it?” I snorted, shaking my head as my eyes stung.

“You’re a friend. My friend and if my friends need help, no matter the length of our relationship, I’m gonna be there. I needed someone when shit hit the fan for me and I didn’t have a friend or pack to help me, so if I can be at least one person in your life that offers you some support I’m gonna do it,” he said, taking the seat next to me. I was torn between pushing him away and falling into his arms because even with Peggy I had no one.

“I don’t. . . I don’t want you and yours in my mess,” I said softly, looking down. Sniffling I was on the verge of breaking down. “It’s just so much shit and it’s not worth getting hurt or worse over.”

“I will be the judge of that,” Clint said, knocking our knees together.

“No, Clint, it’s a lot and I can’t even ask Peggy for help. I can’t do that to her, let alone you,” I said.

“Then do this one thing for me,” Clint said. “If you just want to talk, I won’t follow up with any actions or tell anyone else, I’m here. You’re my only friend in this town and I appreciate you.”

“God, you city people are too nice,” I said with a snort, pulling my sleeves down to wipe my eyes.

“That’s kinda our thing. Well, our pack’s thing. You’d be surprised that half the time we find new people by accident,” he said with a chuckle.

“Somehow with the way things have gone, I don’t think I would be,” I said. Taking a deep breath, I stood up. “Well, my break is over and despite my emotional breakdown just beginning, I have to go back to work.”

“How about I bring you lunch tomorrow? We can have anything you’d like, I’ll even drive out of town for it,” Clint offered as he stood as well.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “But since you’re persistent, just a chicken sandwich special from the Maple Grill. It’s nothing fancy, but it beats a bologna sandwich.”

“Chicken sandwich special,” Clint nodded. “I got it. Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, noon, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here,” I said with a nod. My chest wasn’t so tight and my stomach didn’t hurt so bad anymore. I was scared to think things might be turning up for me, but I wanted them too. “Clint, wait,” I said, grabbing his arm before he could go too far. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It wasn’t okay and you were just trying to help.”

“Water under the bridge,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” I said, letting go to give him a wave.

Back inside, I ducked into the washroom to pat my eyes with some cold water before I went back to work. Peggy gave me a look as I came back to my register, but didn’t say anything. The rest of the day went by smoothly, some of the weight on my chest was gone and it was easier to breathe again.

“Need anything else, Peg?” I asked as I handed in my drawer and deposit.

“No, I think that will be all for today,” she said, opening the safe to put the money away. Spinning in her chair, she looked up at me as she took off her reading glasses. “I ran into John earlier today when I made some deliveries.”

“Oh God,” I groaned. “Peggy, I already told you-”

“No, listen,” she said, holding up her hand to stop me. “He’s worried about you and so am I. He told me about your conversation earlier and how you had a run in with Brock this weekend. I know you want to be on your own and have your own life, but maybe consider spending time with someone. Anyone. You’re isolating yourself and while I wasn’t going to say anything, you coming in upset this morning made me decide otherwise.”

“I know that you mean well, but I need you and John and Brock to let me be,” I said, forcing myself not to blow up at her like I did Clint. “I am trying to move on past them, but if everyone keeps trying to make me talk to them and act friendly with them it makes it so much harder.”

“If you still love them-”

“I don’t! God, Peggy, please!” I cried. “I don’t love them! They don’t love me! I was property to them! It may have looked so nice and happy on the outside, but it wasn’t! Towards the end of the relationship I wanted to die! They are not the good people that everything chooses to think they are!” I was losing it. Nearly a year of people trying to push me gently back to John and Brock had been tiring, but now with Peggy thinking I still loved them and that’s what I was struggling with on top of the past weekend had been my breaking point.

“Hazel, it couldn’t have been that bad,” she said, frowning as she looked at me confused.

“Not that bad?” I laughed. “Not that bad?” Shaking with tears no longer held back, I pulled off my long sleeved shirt despite Peggy protesting. “Does this look ‘Not that bad’!?” I cried, showing off the multitude of bite scars across my shoulders and back and neck. The short, half moon dips in my skin from nails digging in and tearing my neck, arms, and belly were on full display.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, covering her mouth. “Hazel, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No one does except me and them,” I said, pulling on my shirt. “Did you not think it was weird when I started wearing my hair down and long sleeves all the time? No one did. They didn’t bat an eyelash.”

“I just thought you were more comfortable,” she said softly. “It never occurred to me that they were abusing you.”

“It never does. Everyone has it set in their head that they’re the good guys and I’m this poor, pathetic Omega that was mentally unstable that they just wanna look after,” I snorted. “Even if people knew, they would still side with them because they like them more. John’s the sheriff and has been for the last five years and probably still will be for the foreseeable future. Nothing will happen to them, they’ll be fine.”

“But what about you? You won’t be fine. I’m sure that if people knew-” Peggy said before I stopped her.

“Think about it Peggy. Whenever an Omega comes out against an Alpha, especially a prominent one, what happens? Specifically in small towns,” I said. “What happened in your hometown?” She was quiet, realizing the answer. For as ‘liberal’ as she was, Peggy was still a product of her time and area.

“They were either called a liar and ignored till something worse happened or were forced to move due to the stigma,” she said.

“So what should I have done when the damn Sheriff is the Alpha that abused me? Because I would have loved for someone to tell me,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Hazel. You shouldn’t have had to go through that. No one should have to,” she said, pushing another rolling chair over for me. Taking it, I sat down to collect myself.

“It happened and there’s nothing I can do to change that,” I said, letting out a deep sigh.

“I know, but at least you’re not alone now,” Peggy said, reaching over to take my hand. I wanted to believe her, but then again she still didn’t understand it all. Clint was ready to lend an ear without giving advice or trying to fix things for me. It was strange to suddenly have this support after going it alone for so long. Almost like it wasn’t real.

“I should go home. I’m a mess and exhausted,” I said, standing up and pulling away. “Don’t say anything to anyone, okay? Brock doesn’t bother me and John only has a few times, but I don’t put up with him. It’ll be fine.”

“Then what were you stressed about from this weekend? What was that show of scars?” Peggy asked standing up. “If you’re fine, then why are you having a meltdown.”

“I’m not having a meltdown! If I was then you would know it,” I snapped. “Look, I just need to go home, okay? I don’t want to talk about it anymore, I don’t want anything done about it, so let’s just move on.”

Peggy was quick a moment before nodding.

“If that’s what you want,” she said softly.

“It is,” I said with a sigh.

“Very well then. I’ll see you tomorrow morning then,” she said, turning away from me.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I replied. Grabbing my things, I left the store feeling almost as miserable as when I had arrived. I hadn’t wanted to hurt Peggy’s feelings, but it just felt like she was barely understanding what I was going through. I had to show her the scars left behind to convince her that I didn’t love John or Brock anymore.

The drive home was quiet and by the time I pulled into my driveway my stomach had finally settled. It didn’t last long though. There was a letter on my front door from my landlord, I knew his handwriting and he always left messages stuck in my door frame. I plucked it from the chipped wood to tear open the envelope.

‘As of next Monday, 5/29/2021, your rent due will go up $400.’

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” I snarled, opening my door as I pulled out my phone. When I called my landlord, he didn’t answer which I expected. However I did leave a lengthy message about how stupid this was and he couldn’t do that as well as hollow threats of getting a lawyer. There was no way he could have raised the rent so much suddenly without me signing something. Then again, did I have any money to fight it?

Stupid Brock and stupid John and stupid rent. I would have to just come up with the money. Sitting in my kitchen, I called Nick in hopes that I could start coming in more often. It would suck and I would be dead tired, but I wouldn’t be homeless.

“Sorry, no can do. All our dancers are showing up and doing extra shifts now. I was gonna give you a call to let you know that we didn’t need you this weekend. The owner is wanting me to lay off the part time dancers because we don’t have room anymore,” Nick said.

“Come on, what about serving? I can do that, I know you always have an extra need for those during the week,” I pleaded. “I’m desperate here, Nick. I got rent to make and my other job isn’t cuttin’ it.”

“I can see what I can do with that. It’s a downgrade in tips, but if you’re willing to work it I can see about getting you on from 9pm to close,” Nick said with a sigh. “That’d be everyday too. We can’t have part timers anymore. Owner wants us to cut down as much as we can.”

“Nick, I’ll take anything at this point,” I said. “Maybe. . . Do you know of any other clubs in the area?”

“Same owners, Hon,” he said. “It’s not just here, it’s everywhere.”

“Fuck, okay. Uh, let me know about the serving or if you need me to come in because someone else called out, just anything, please,” I said.

“I do what I can, but I can’t make promises. I’ll get back to you in a day or so,” Nick said. He was trying and that was all I could ask for.

“Thanks. Let me know when you find out,” I said, before hanging up. What the hell was I going to do?

#john walker/oc #john walker/brock rumlow #brock rumlow/oc #john walker/brock rumlow/oc #helmut zemo/bucky barnes #helmut zemo/oc #bucky barnes/oc #helmut zemo/bucky barnes/oc #marvel #fanfiction

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babysizedfics · 4 years

Text

Little Accidents, Big Developments

Chapter 5: A Little Reconciliation

[This is an age regression story]

Chapter Summary: Roman mollycoddles his brother, Patton makes a suggestion, Logan is perceptive, and Virgil is brave.

Chapter word count: 8,500

Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Content warning: This chapter addresses (and resolves) some negative self-talk with regards to age regression, as well as alluding to cyberbullying. Please proceed with caution if you are sensitive to either of these topics.

Also, there is some swearing at the start - what else would you expect from adult Roman and Virgil?

oOo

Roman marched up the stairs armed with cookies, milk, and fierce determination.

The events of the previous day had left him wallowing in regret all night, and he was tired of it. No matter how much his caregivers had both made a significant dent in the cloud of guilt that fogged his mind, he could not stop replaying his own laughter in his head. He had been awful to Virgil the day before, and Roman had known he could not truly feel at ease until he had apologised to him properly and earned his little brother’s forgiveness.

He had been prepared to partake in all manner of valiant acts to prove his loyalty; he was willing to slay the Dragon Witch in Virgil’s name, to erect a statue in his likeness and honour, even to let Virgil get the first pick on movie nights for a whole month.

He had said as much to Virgil in the kitchen that morning. In response, Virgil had nodded, said “It’s cool,” and then left the room.

It’s cool?! Roman was quite frankly appalled by the lack of dramatic flair. Where were the tears? The arguments? The emotionally-overwhelmed collapse into Roman’s waiting arms? It had not gone as he had rehearsed in the mirror at all.

When Roman complained about this to Logan, the logical side had; 1) asked why Roman wanted Virgil to cry, yell, and/or faint, 2) reminded him that Virgil had forgiven him and had clearly done so in whatever way he deemed fit, and 3) told Roman to stop being so dramatic.

Needless to say, Roman was no longer on speaking terms with Logan.

Never one to give up in the face of a challenge, Roman had found Virgil in the living room and apologised again (an abridged version of his speech this time around). He received a small smile and thumbs up in return before Virgil went back to scrolling on his phone silently.

Once again, Roman was surprised. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be forgiven, but it had been far too easy. It was not satisfying. And so he continued to apologise throughout the morning whenever he saw Virgil - which incidentally happened a lot since Roman sought him out constantly.

It was around the fourth apology that Virgil had stopped smiling and nodding and instead simply rolled his eyes or walked past Roman without a word. Roman was wont to call it rude, but he couldn’t really comment on it given his behaviour a day before. The logical conclusion was that Roman’s courageous offers were simply not pleasing to Virgil.

Upon review, Roman begrudgingly accepted that Virgil wouldn’t necessarily care much about an imaginary monster being defeated for the hundredth time, or for a statue of himself given how self-conscious he was. As for the movie nights, Roman didn’t necessarily mind that he would still have the first pick on the films, so that really wasn’t worth complaining about. He realised he had to make his repentance more personal.

And what was more personal to Virgil than his littlespace? The boy adored it when Logan and Patton took care of him so (against all instincts) Roman resolved to prove himself through caregiving. As uncomfortable as it had made him when he had attempted caregiving all those weeks ago, it seemed the most effective course of action. And wouldn’t the fact that Virgil knew he didn’t enjoy it just prove Roman’s point even more? That he was willing to go above and beyond to show Virgil how much he cared about him, despite his own discomfort!

He had waited for Logan to disappear from the kitchen to load some cookies onto a tray, along with one of Virgil’s sippy cups full to the brim with almond milk. Now, standing outside Virgil’s room, Roman smothered the inkling of dread in his stomach and rapped on the door heartily.

‘Oh, Virgil,’ he sang, ‘Will you grant me entry to your kingdom?’

There was quiet for a moment and then, muffled through the wood: ‘Only if you promise not to apologise again.’

‘Damn…’ Roman whispered to himself, taking a moment to reconsider his plan. Well, he could still practice it without technically apologising. Years of improv work hadn’t exactly taught him nothing of adapting to unexpected situations. ‘All right, I promise,’ he yelled back confidently.

‘Fine,’ Virgil groaned and Roman lowered the door handle with his hip, being careful not to jostle the tray in his hands too much.

‘Greetings, Grumpy Space Princess!’ Roman called as he waltzed into the room with a wide grin.

Virgil was lying upside down on his bed with his head hanging off of the end, his Nintendo Switch held up in front of him. ‘What’s up, Princess Bubble-head?’

Roman smiled, appreciative that Virgil was a truly worthy opponent when it came to the Great Nickname Games. Though he did not let himself dwell on that for long and internally shook himself into his role, taking heavy inspiration from Patton.

‘Nothing much, kiddo,’ he said gleefully. ‘Just thought you might want a little snack!’

‘Kiddo?’ Virgil repeated, slowly lowering the game console from his eyes. Though they were upside down, Roman clearly noted the suspicion on Virgil’s features.

Roman continued smiling regardless, walking over to the bed. ‘How’s milk and cookies sound, Vee?’

‘But we haven’t had lunch yet.’

‘Yeah, don’t tell Logan,’ Roman whispered with a conspiratorial wink

‘Is this a trick?’ Virgil immediately asked. He squinted at Roman in suspicion. ‘What did you put in the cookies?’

‘Absolutely nothing and I resent the question,’ Roman couldn’t help but gasp in offence. As if he would stoop so low as to… what, poison Virgil? He had half a mind to turn back and eat the cookies himself. If only he weren’t utterly desperate for Virgil’s forgiveness.

‘Right, no, yeah,’ Virgil hurriedly backtracked, seeming humbled. ‘Sorry.’ Then the younger side sat up and spun his butt on the bed so that he faced Roman with his legs crossed. ‘Do you wanna…’ He indicated the other side of the bed in invitation.

Roman beamed. Clearly, this was the go-ahead for his plan.

‘Thanks, Stormcloud!’ He settled onto the bed beside Virgil, placing the tray in front of them both.

‘Thanks yourself for the cookies,’ Virgil smiled meekly. His gaze trailed over to the sippy cup on the tray and his eyebrows furrowed a little.

‘Anything wrong, sw-sport?’ Roman asked, cursing himself for chickening out at the last second. He had meant to call Virgil “sweetheart” as Patton so often did. Though while he was no stranger to using the nickname during courtships, it felt strange to call Virgil by it. Still, he had a role to fill and forgiveness to earn, so he couldn’t afford another slip-up like that again.

‘Nah, it’s cool,’ Virgil muttered and reached for the sippy cup. His movements seemed halted and his eyes briefly darted between the cup and Roman for a second before he sheepishly sipped at it.

Those words again: It’s cool. They infuriated Roman! But he took a steadying breath and pushed his irritation down. He had a baby to coax out, and anger would surely be counterproductive.

He reached forward for one of the cookies and snapped it in half, then held one piece up in front of Virgil with a smile.

Virgil frowned and lowered his sippy cup from his lips. ‘You wanna share one?’

‘No, silly!’ Roman giggled, putting all of the energy he usually observed in Papa Patton into his tone. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Ready for what?’

‘Here comes the cookie train!’ Roman sang, slowly pushing the cookie forward towards Virgil’s mouth. ‘Chugga chugga choo choo!’

Virgil’s eyes widened and his free hand flew up to grab Roman’s wrist before he had a chance to press the cookie to his lips. ‘I can feed myself!’

‘Oh…’ So apparently that technique wasn’t the way to go about it. ‘Apologies,’ Roman said. He pulled the cookie piece back and shoved it between his lips.

Virgil sighed quietly and reached for the other half of the cookie. He threw it into his mouth and munched on it as he pulled his Switch into his lap, resuming the game.

Meanwhile, Roman chewed thoughtfully. Perhaps Virgil wasn’t up for a baby headspace but would rather be a young child who was still able to feed himself. Though it was uncommon for him to be in a comparatively older regressed headspace, it wasn’t unheard of. And if Virgil was not comfortable with Roman feeding him, it didn’t automatically have to be the end of his plan. But what could Roman do to make it easier? What exactly was it that Patton did differently to be able to make Virgil regress in an instant?

Roman thought back to all the times he had witnessed it happening, quickly noticing a pattern. Patton always complimented Virgil (usually by calling him “cute” or “pretty” or “my little sweet and sour dumpling”) and touched him in some way (either with a nose boop or gentle tickles or head strokes). Roman would be a fool not to apply this knowledge, and a prince was no fool.

He decided to go about a subtle route, not wanting to startle Virgil again as that would probably hinder his regression.

‘Oh, that looks like a cute game,’ Roman said casually, pointing at the console balanced on Virgil’s knee.

‘You don’t know this one?’ Virgil asked, sounding surprised. He played with one hand as his other gripped the sippy cup.

Roman leaned closer, observing the colourful, animalistic characters who walked aimlessly around what appeared to be an island resort.

‘Ohh, is this the one with the capitalist raccoon who forces you to labour all day then takes all of your money?’

Virgil snorted. ‘He’s a tanuki, not a racoon. But yeah, essentially,’ he shrugged and tipped the sippy cup up to his lips.

Roman scooted closer on the mattress, trying to initiate casual contact. His thigh brushed Virgil’s and the other didn’t seem to mind it. With an internal hurrah, Roman initiated part two of his plan B.

‘Aw, is that you?’ he asked in a slight baby-talk voice, pointing at the chibi character on the screen. They had lilac hair and were sporting a rather intricate gothic dress. (For such a basic character design Roman was massively impressed by the attention to detail on the costume. He resolved to investigate it later as he had a job to do at the present moment.)

‘Mhm,’ Virgil hummed through a mouthful of milk then swallowed, ‘that’s me.’ He twiddled the joystick so that the character did a little spin.

‘Adorable!’ Roman gushed, and it was only half put-on (the game really did look sweet). Then he turned to Virgil, glad that their faces were mere inches apart. It would surely create intimacy and trust between them and hence spur on Virgil’s headspace. ‘But y’know what’s even more adorable?’

‘What?’ Virgil questioned, turning to look at Roman then freezing. A faint look of worry graced his features, though Roman assumed he was simply nervous about regressing around Roman alone. ‘What are you -’

‘This little Virgil right here!’ Roman smiled and wiggled his fingers over Virgil’s side.

Virgil broke into muffled titters. ‘S-stop,’ he stuttered, unable to get through the word without laughing. ‘R-Ro-ho-man!’

‘Aw, listen to your little giggles,’ Roman cooed, pushing an adoring tone past the strange heaviness in his chest. He just didn’t feel right doing this. But it had to be right, Virgil was laughing and smiling and had always enjoyed it whenever Patton did the exact same.

So Roman continued. He forced his own small laugh and doubled down on the tickling, jiggling his hand quicker over Virgil’s ribs. The boy squeaked and dropped his sippy cup to the mattress. (The cup was non-spill, gladly.)

‘No-ho m-more,’ Virgil pleaded through his giggles and pushed on Roman’s wrist firmly.

‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ On a whim, Roman went to poke Virgil’s nose with his free hand. Twice the contact probably meant twice the likelihood of regressing, going by his logic.

At the very same moment that his finger pushed forward, though, he must have unwittingly hit a sensitive spot on Virgil’s ribs because the younger side’s face unexpectedly lurched forward with a gasp. Roman’s finger ended up poking Virgil’s eye.

‘Ow!’ Virgil whined, shoving Roman’s hands away harshly. ‘What the heck, Ro?!’ He raised a hand to cover his assaulted eye while the other stared at Roman in shock.

Roman was stunned for a moment, feeling suddenly small. He had messed up again. He had hurt Virgil. Again! He just wanted their caregivers to make it better like they always did, but this was Roman’s mistake. He couldn’t always rely upon Patton and Logan when he accidentally hurt his brother. He had to learn to do it alone.

‘Shit, I -’ Roman clicked his mouth shut and shook his head. (Back into character, goddamnit!) ‘Oh, poor baby,’ he pouted in sympathy.

Virgil only looked more indignant, his hand lowering from his eye which was, thankfully, uninjured. ‘What?’

‘Don’t worry little, uh, guy.’ Roman winced at his phrasing. ‘Uncle Roman will kiss it better!’

Roman started leaning forward, his hands held out in a placating manner - though they trembled slightly.

‘Stop!’ Virgil yelled, placing his hands firmly on Roman’s shoulders and keeping him at arm’s length.

A glimmer of relief flickered in Roman’s chest.

‘What are you doing?’ Virgil asked clearly, his expression a mix of confusion, irritation, and concern.

‘I - I’m trying to kiss your boo-boo better, kiddo.’ Roman attempted to smile, though even he had to admit his acting was no longer up to scratch. He was feeling jittery. This wasn’t right!

Virgil’s eyebrows raised and he offered no further response. How on Earth did he master those nuanced expressions so well? Roman almost wanted to ask for tips.

‘Fine,’ Roman sighed, throwing his arms up into the air as he dropped the act. ‘I kinda thought maybe I could babysit you for a while.’ Despite his words, he knew the pout on his face must not have commanded much respect.

‘I…’ Virgil paused, blinking slowly. ‘Princey, you hate caregiving,’ he burst out, incredulous. ‘I thought we established that weeks ago. And anyway you’re shit at it.’

‘Charming,’ Roman grunted, crossing his arms and diverting his gaze to the mattress. He didn’t need to be good at caregiving, he didn’t even necessarily want to be good at caregiving, but he would be damned if he actually admitted to being bad at something.

‘Why are you babying me all of a sudden?’ Virgil’s voice was softer now.

‘I just wanted to make up for yesterday!’ Roman cracked, though he was conscious to not outright yell, knowing Virgil’s sensitivity to loud noises would not do him any favours. ‘I want to prove to you that I’m sorry about what I did, but you barely acknowledged my other apologies,’ he explained, annoyance seeping into his tone. Virgil’s eyes dropped to his lap. ‘And you obviously didn’t care for my other ideas for acts of chivalry, so -’ he flailed his arms around in frustration ‘- I’m making do!’

The silence in the room somehow rang louder than Roman’s outburst, and he felt a knot of embarrassment start to clench his stomach.

Before it had time to grow any bigger, Virgil spoke up: ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What?’ Roman frowned and looked back up to him. Virgil looked horribly guilty. ‘No, I think you’re confused. I’m here so that I can apologise.’

‘Yeah, I got that.’ Virgil’s lips pulled into a small smile, then it dropped again. ‘Listen… I’m sorry for being kind of flippant earlier.’ He looked down, shrugging his shoulders up to his neck and holding them there. ‘I do forgive you, I just -’ he paused and Roman noted his cheeks had turned rosy. ‘I just didn’t want us to make such a big deal out of what happened, y’know?’

‘Oh…’ Roman breathed. This type of forgiveness was unexpected (not unlike anything else that had happened that day, so really shouldn’t he have expected it to be unexpected?) but nonetheless acceptable. If Virgil truly did forgive him then that should have been enough for Roman.

‘I mean thank you for apologising. Like, twenty times,’ Virgil said hastily, clearly noticing Roman’s surprise. ‘I do appreciate it - even if I never want to experience “Uncle Roman” ever again in my life.’ He looked back up at Roman shyly, ‘But can we please just pretend it didn’t happen?’

‘Uh, yeah. Sure. It - it’s cool,’ Roman replied with a weak nod, distracted by the persistent emptiness in his chest.

Virgil bumped their knees together amiably then went back to his game.

After a minute or so of the controller clicking and the cutesy music blaring from the small speaker, Roman realised he was still unsettled by the situation. He communicated this to Virgil in the most effective way he knew how: by groaning loudly and forlornly.

‘What is it?’ Virgil asked in his most dramatic, long-suffering whine. It was a little teasing quirk they had picked up together that was entirely well-intended. The familiarity of it made Roman feel somewhat better about admitting the issue.

‘It’s just this niggling feeling, you know?’ he asked, fully aware that Virgil did not know. ‘I have to do something. I have the rich blue blood of a prince, for heaven’s sake.’ His eyes wandered around the room as if looking for a solution to his lament. ‘If I cannot defeat a villain in your honour or commit some other brave, valiant act of -’

He paused abruptly as his eyes settled on something. A stuffed raccoon lay abandoned on the floor by Virgil’s bed, torn in two. Roman was sure he remembered Virgil naming it Meeko, after his beloved character from Pocahontas.

‘Dear Zeus, I believe I have it!’ Roman cried triumphantly.

Virgil startled at the sudden noise and Roman turned to him with an apologetic smile. The emo only looked vaguely miffed.

‘Glad you’ve reached a solution, but do you think you could have a dramatic epiphany elsewhere?’ Virgil mumbled, eyes flitting back to his screen. ‘I have debts to pay here.’

Normally it would have annoyed him to be pushed aside for no more than a video game, but luckily for Virgil, Roman had a new job to do. He just needed to sneak Meeko out unnoticed.

‘I thought you said you paid off your debts last week,’ Roman said easily, subtly dropping his leg over the edge of the bed.

‘Yeah, but now I have more,’ Virgil shrugged, unaware of Roman’s movements. ‘It’s kind of a constant in this game.’

Roman hooked his socked toes around one half of the plush on the floor and silently dragged it closer. ‘Doesn’t living in constant debt stress you out though?’ He hooked his toes around the other piece of the toy, looking carefully out of the corner of his eye.

‘It’s actually super chill. You, like, go fishing and catch bugs and stuff.’ Virgil carried on talking, though Roman’s attention was quite preoccupied. ‘And you meet these animals and invite them to your island. You’d like them, they’re really sassy.’

‘Uhuh, uhuh,’ Roman hummed noncommittally, slowly inching his hand down to grab the stuffie pieces and trying to act as if he was just itching his leg.

‘You plant flowers and craft furniture and stuff. Then there’s this cool museum.’

Roman hurriedly stuffed the plushie pieces inside his jacket, masking the movement with a cough. He hazarded a glance to Virgil, glad to see that he was completely enraptured by the game, seemingly unaware of anything that was not pixelated.

‘You can design your own clothes too, look.’ Virgil pushed the screen in front of Roman and showed that his character was now wearing an in-game replication of his signature purple and black patched hoodie.

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh my goodness, that’s brilliant,’ he whispered, partly impressed by the game, though mostly impressed by the incredible idea that just popped into his head.

‘You should totally get the game. We could play together,’ Virgil said, smiling when he brought the console back to his lap.

‘I would like that,’ Roman said sincerely. ‘Though for now, I must be off.’

He rose from the bed, being careful to keep his left arm clutched tightly to his side to avoid dropping the toy and ruining his plan. He was ready to go and settle down to hours of work, but the child in him begged him to do one last thing before he left.

‘Still brothers?’ he asked hesitantly.

Virgil immediately looked up from the screen, his expression soft around the edges. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly with a smile. ‘Still brothers.’

‘Yes!’ Roman cheered, punching the air with his right hand. It was followed by a huff of amusement from Virgil. ‘Love you, Virge,’ Roman said offhandedly as he turned away, ready to leave at that.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Virgil mumbled.

Roman paused on his way out. He knew Virgil fairly well, having spent so much time around him during the previous few months, and so he liked to think he had a fairly decent amalgamation of the varying tones of Virgil’s mumbles and what they meant. The wheezy ones showed distress, the stunted ones showed annoyance, the lowest ones showed reluctant happiness. This particular brand of mumble, quiet and high-pitched, projected Virgil’s embarrassment. And honestly what kind of big brother would Roman be if he missed such a harmless opportunity for teasing?

He spun back around with a smirk which only grew wider when Virgil saw it and groaned.

‘Say it,’ Roman insisted, holding back a laugh.

‘Go ‘way,’ Virgil whined, pulling his console up to cover his face, though Roman could still spy the blush peeking from behind it.

‘Aww, come on.’ Roman stepped closer to the bed, giggling when Virgil brought the Switch so close to his face that it touched his nose. ‘You said it yesterday,’ Roman sing-songed, kneeling down right in front of Virgil on the bed.

‘Then you shouldn’t need to hear it again,’ Virgil grumbled.

‘Oh, but I’ve forgotten what the pure adoration in your voice sounded like,’ Roman teased, reaching forward to lower the gadget from Virgil’s face. He bit his tongue in amusement when Virgil glared at him past bright pink cheeks. ‘How did you say it? “Wuvoo, Wo-Wo”?’

‘You’re no longer welcome in my kingdom.’

Roman shrugged, still being careful to keep his left arm secure over the stuffed racoon in his jacket. He swivelled his legs to plop down onto the bed.

‘Not leaving until you say it,’ he proclaimed proudly.

Virgil growled (adorably) and dropped the console to the bed, crossing his arms. An unintelligible mumble left his lips.

‘Hm, what was that?’ Roman asked with a giddy smile. He held his ear forward with his free hand. ‘I couldn’t quite hear -’

‘I love you, you weirdo!’ Virgil said loudly, seemingly agitated, though Roman knew there was no real heat behind it (he was well-versed in recognising Virgil’s playful irritation versus his real, leave-me-alone-right-now-or-suffer irritation). ‘Now get out of my room.’

Roman stood and bowed regally, ‘As you wish, Princess Bitter-cup.’

Something small and soft was hurled at his head.

‘Wow,’ Roman chuckled, picking up the tiny giraffe stuffie from the floor with his free hand and chucking it back onto Virgil’s toy pile. ‘Even when you’re a bitch you’re adorable.’

The pout on Virgil’s face was not a dangerous one so Roman winked. He sauntered off towards the door, finally satisfied that the guilty fog in his head had blown away. ‘See you later, lil bro.’

‘Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, big bro,’ Virgil responded sarcastically behind him.

Roman gasped, turning back around in the open doorway. ‘Umm, rude much - Ahh!’ He had to hurriedly jump back into the hallway to avoid being hit in the face by the door, which had suddenly slammed shut.

Waiting a moment for his heart to stop beating so hard from the spike of adrenaline, Roman heard muffled laughter coming from the bedroom. He scoffed and shook his head.

One of their house rules was to not use their metaphysical powers in the mindscape unless entirely unavoidable. Logan reserved his powers for actual emergencies, such as when the kitchen had set on fire. Patton only stretched the rules a little by using his powers to clean parts of the house that were difficult to reach or otherwise highly inconvenient. Roman used his powers only for absolute dire needs, such as summoning medical aid after an arduous adventure in the imagination (though on one occasion he had summoned puppies for desperately-needed snuggles). And Virgil, coming from years of living with the Other sides who used no such rule in their establishment, respected the rule for the most part, though renounced it on occasion in favour of performing relatively harmless pranks.

Roman could have tattled on him to Logan, though they had only just reconciled, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been the wisest decision. Plus, the next few hours of his time were decidedly booked.

He made his way down the hallway, already drawing up designs in his head. Being so inspired by his ingenious ideas, he almost bumped right into Logan at the top of the stairs.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Roman muttered, wondering how many more times he would utter that word that day.

When Roman looked up, he was unsurprised to see that Patton stood right beside Logan. The two had been almost inseparable for the past two weeks when they weren’t caring for Roman and Virgil, and Roman was absolutely enamoured by their adorable attempts at keeping their budding relationship on the subtle side. They were obviously failing miserably.

What he was surprised to see, however, was a very large cardboard box huddled in both of Logan’s arms. ‘What’s in the box, specs?’

Logan and Patton looked at each other with unreadable expressions, then turned back to Roman and spoke simultaneously:

‘Stationery.’

‘What box?’

The two looked back at each other with wide eyes. Roman frowned, mind reeling with what two people in a new relationship could possibly buy together, have delivered in discreet packaging, and not want to tell - actually yeah, he didn’t want to think about that.

‘Well, that was disturbing.’ Roman cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact as he hurried past them. ‘Forget I asked,’ he called back.

He had no time to worry about their stumbled defences. His sewing machine awaited!

oOo

Later that afternoon, Logan readjusted his position on the couch and crossed his legs with a sigh. He was feeling unusually restless.

Patton and he had efficiently hidden their package some hours previously, thankful that Virgil did not witness their secrecy. It was all for his benefit, though the anxious side could be suspicious at the best of times. They could not afford for his defences to be raised any higher than they were already bound to be for the conversation they had planned.

As Logan waited, he breathed evenly, hoping to dispel his nerves before the other two joined him. Patton had left the room a minute previously to fetch Virgil for the chat.

There was no use in feeling nervous about it, Logan knew. It was only a conversation and truly there was nothing threatening about that. Still, the idea that Virgil could be upset by it disturbed Logan somewhat. He could not predict how the regressor would react to what they had to say. Though, as he so often said to Virgil, unpredictability should not be cause for worry. He took a steadying breath and uncrossed his legs.

Within a few moments, the door to the living room eased open and Patton stepped into the room with a quick nervous smile at Logan. After he had entered, Virgil shuffled in behind him, scratching at his hoodie sleeves and chewing his lip. Logan crossed his legs again.

‘Virgil, have a seat,’ Logan said gently, indicating the spot beside him on the couch. Patton had settled in the armchair.

Virgil’s eyes darted between both of them and the seat in quick succession.

‘You are not in trouble,’ Logan said, hoping that his smile was reassuring.

With a shaky sigh, Virgil perched on the end of the couch. He had sat as far from Logan as he possibly could.

‘Patton said you, uh, you wanted to talk about something?’ Virgil muttered.

‘Yes,’ Logan said. He internally made a note to talk to Patton about open-ended requests and how they could exacerbate Virgil’s anxiety, though pushed the matter aside for now. He carefully angled his body toward Virgil, trying to use more engaging body language as he could sense Virgil might try to close himself off. ‘We need to talk about your recent bathroom issues.’

As predicted, Virgil wrapped his arms tightly around himself and sunk further into the couch. Though he didn’t try to leave (for which Logan was grateful). ‘Oh.’

‘You are aware that Patton spoke to me about you two’s discussion, are you not?’

The question was met with a slight nod from Virgil. Logan did not miss the tremble in his fingers which clawed at his hoodie sleeves.

‘Virgil, I’d like to remind you that neither Patton nor I are in any way angry or disappointed with you,’ Logan said, knowing that Virgil’s anxiety must have been wreaking havoc in his mind.

‘Absolutely not,’ Patton agreed fervently. ‘We love you so much, Stormcloud. This doesn’t change that.’

‘Okay.’ Virgil did not meet either of their gazes. ‘Can I leave now?’

Logan sighed, knowing the conversation was bound to be difficult given Virgil’s attitude. ‘That wasn’t what we wanted to talk about.’

Virgil slumped in defeat.

‘I told Logan about everything you said to me yesterday,’ Patton started gently, ‘and we think we might have a solution to -’

‘You can fix it?’ Virgil asked, finally raising his gaze from his lap to look at Logan pleadingly.

Guilt flooded the logical side. It was not often Virgil felt hopeful about anything. In fact, Logan and the others had been trying to convince him to accept more optimism into his thought process, though unfortunately in this situation it had to be shot down.

‘Not exactly.’ At the look of hurt in Virgil’s eyes, Logan had to contain a wince. ‘You cannot always fix something,’ he explained. ‘Sometimes, the situation is unavoidable and the only option is to adapt.’

‘Adapt?’ Virgil echoed uncertainly.

Logan’s eyes inched over to Patton. They had agreed it might be more agreeable for Virgil to hear the suggestion from his lips.

‘Sweetheart,’ Patton said gently, ‘how would you feel if whenever you regressed you wore a diaper?’

‘No!’ Virgil immediately yelled, his voice cracking.

Logan shared a quick, bewildered look with Patton.

‘No, no, no, no, no,’ Virgil rambled frantically, his hands fisting in the cushion beneath him. Logan was shocked by the abject horror on the younger side’s face. ‘No, I can’t! I can’t, no, no -’

‘Honey, honey, stop. It’s all right,’ Patton hurried to soothe him, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘It’s completely okay if you don’t want to wear one.’

Patton was correct. It would have been completely acceptable had Virgil not wanted to try diapers. But - Logan noted with curiosity - Virgil had not said he didn’t want to. He had said he can’t. The small slip-up suggested that (even if only on a subconscious level) Virgil perceived the concept as unattainable, as opposed to undesirable. Logan felt an obligation to investigate further.

‘Why?’ he asked simply.

‘Logan,’ Patton whispered sharply, sending him a reprimanding look.

‘I won’t have any more accidents, I promise!’

Both caregivers looked back at Virgil in surprise.

‘Virgil,’ Logan said carefully, wary of the panic in Virgil’s eyes, ‘we understand that you do not do it on purpose, hence the term “accident”. We all know now that when you are regressed you cannot control it. Now I am sorry, but you simply cannot keep that promise.’

Virgil squirmed in place, his whole posture tense and alert. ‘Th-then I won’t regress anymore.’

Patton gasped, and Logan could hardly blame him. Though Logan had been prepared for Virgil to turn down the idea, the intensity of his reaction was entirely unforeseen.

‘Why would you say that, Virgil?’ Patton whispered, sounding heartbroken.

Virgil was trembling. He clearly had no answer. Though Logan was not convinced he would be able to reply even if he did have one.

‘Your regression is not voluntary.’ Logan spoke in a calm, low voice. ‘You have no say in whether it happens or not. You yourself told us this.’ He frowned in confusion. Virgil’s reaction was so fraught that it seemed to be inflicting his capacity for rational thinking.

To his vague relief, Virgil did appear to have gotten through the worst of his panic, though he still glanced between Patton and Logan nervously. ‘I can hide in my room,’ he suggested shakily. ‘I won’t bother you anymore, I’m sorry for burdening you, I -’

‘Stop,’ Logan said firmly. He could not bear to listen to the anxiety-driven drivel any longer. ‘I want you to take a deep breath.’

Virgil did just that, and the result was instantaneous. As he exhaled, his shoulders dropped from his neck and his hands eased their grip on the couch.

‘Good, keep going,’ Logan murmured, sharing a concerned look with Patton as Virgil took another shaky breath. When Logan had deemed it safe to do so, he continued.

‘We do not want you to hide in your room,’ he said clearly, being cautious to keep his tone gentle. ‘You do not need to hide your regression from us. You are not a burden.’

Virgil bit his lip but did not protest.

‘You could never be a burden,’ Patton said softly. By the jitteriness of his fingertips, Logan could tell that Patton was eager to reach out and hold Virgil, though he held back. ‘Please don’t hide this part of yourself again, sweetheart. You don’t need to.’

Even as his silence persisted, Virgil gave a stiff nod.

Now that Virgil had calmed down, for the most part, Logan launched into his investigation.

‘Could you perhaps explain why you are so adamantly against the idea of using diapers?’ It was met with bewildered looks of varying intensity from both of the others, so Logan elaborated, ‘In no circumstance would we ever force you into doing something against your will. That is not my intention for this conversation. I would merely like to examine your thought process surrounding the concept.’

Virgil looked imploringly to Patton, though was only met with an apologetic smile and nod.

‘Virgil,’ Logan called softly and was hurt to see the look of betrayal that turned onto him. ‘Please.’

He insisted on holding Virgil’s gaze until the younger side looked away with a sigh.

‘I just…’ Virgil pulled his knees up to his chest in a defensive pose. ‘It’s just weird,’ he mumbled.

Good, they could at least get somewhere with that.

‘Sweetie, it’s not -’

Logan held his hand up, silencing Patton. Though the reassurance was well-intended, Logan believed that simply disparaging Virgil’s views would be ineffective. They had to address the root cause of the issue.

‘And why is it weird?’ Logan prompted.

Virgil’s brow furrowed and he looked up at Logan with wide eyes, apparently (unreasonably) taken aback by the simple question.

‘I-I dunno,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Adults shouldn’t need -’

‘Some adults require incontinence products.’ Logan nipped that train of thought in the bud right away. ‘It is beyond their control, and yet you would call it weird?’

‘N-no!’ Virgil hurriedly defended. ‘No, of course not. That’s not - I meant I shouldn’t need… those.’

Logan muffled the growing satisfaction in his chest as they inched closer to the crux of the problem. ‘And why is it weird for you specifically and not those other adults?’

Virgil’s arms squeezed around his legs, pulling them tighter against his chest. ‘Because it’s, um, not a medical issue?’ he asked quietly, seeming more uncertain of his own argument with each passing second.

‘That is unimportant,’ Logan said. ‘Regardless of the cause, you are still unable to control your bladder on occasion.’

The tension in Virgil’s posture was painfully visible, as was the growing flush to his cheeks.

‘So, I will ask you again.’ Logan scooted himself slightly closer to Virgil on the couch, hoping that the closeness would bring Virgil some kind of comfort. He did not move away. ‘Why would it be weird for you to wear diapers if it is not weird for anyone else to do the same?’

Virgil blinked quickly and opened his mouth. Then he shut it, blinked, looked to his knees, opened his mouth, and shut it again. After a repeat of this cycle, he groaned quietly and buried his face against his knees.

‘You cannot think of an answer because it is an incorrect statement,’ Logan said. Looking at Virgil’s hunched form, he realised that being proven right was not nearly as satisfactory when it caused such distress to someone he loved. ‘I can assure you that your worries surrounding this matter are unfounded.’

‘He’s right, Virgil,’ Patton added. ‘You don’t need to be embarrassed about this, it’s all right.’

Virgil shook his head, though his face was still concealed by his knees. ‘Is not.’

‘It is,’ Logan insisted. ‘Your mental state regresses to that of a toddler’s, so why should we expect every aspect of your physical state to be any different? A toddler cannot be expected to have such a high command over their body.’

‘But I should,’ Virgil argued weakly into his jeans.

‘Not when you’re regressed, sweetheart,’ Patton said. ‘You’re just a baby, you can’t -’

‘I’m not a baby, I’m a pervert!’ Virgil shouted, his head snapping up from his knees fiercely.

Logan’s breath rushed from his lungs, his stomach lurching at such intense self-deprecation coming from the person he had come to see as his child.

‘Stormcloud…’ Patton whispered, sounding close to tears.

Virgil beat him to it. His “sweater paws” (that had been a highly useful vocab card) scrubbed harshly at the tears that fell to his cheeks. The image made Logan’s heart sink.

‘I’m a freak,’ Virgil mumbled into his sleeve. ‘I’m just gross and messed up and attention-seeking and…’ His voice had become squeaky and broken before he trailed off.

‘Baby, no, no, no,’ Patton cooed sadly and rushed to his side at break-neck speed. Squeezing in to sit between the regressor and the armrest, Patton wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders and pulled him to lean against his side. ‘Virgil, honey, none of that is true. None of it.’

Virgil sniffled as Patton kissed his head.

Following Patton’s lead, Logan closed the distance between them on the couch. He placed one hand on Virgil’s knee and squeezed while his other settled on Patton’s forearm gently.

‘Please understand that there is absolutely nothing wrong with your regression or with how your body reacts to it,’ Logan pleaded, feeling strangely helpless. He had been so certain that Virgil knew his regression was valid. What had changed to make him spout this nonsense? ‘As you have informed us and as I have ascertained from my own research, age regression is by its very nature entirely non-sexual.’

Virgil nodded against Patton’s shoulder.

‘It is and always has been a natural state for you,’ Logan went on, sure that Virgil was aware of this already.

As suspected, Virgil nodded again.

Logan frowned. Where could this all have been coming from? ‘And you are aware that it is highly beneficial to your emotional wellbeing.’

‘Yeah,’ Virgil said, his voice wet and choked.

‘And you enjoy it!’ Patton said, injecting joy into his words. Logan saw how his arms tightened around Virgil’s form. ‘That’s as good a reason as any.’

Once more, Virgil nodded.

Logan considered why Virgil might have had such a sudden change of heart towards his view of age regression. It was, of course, possible that he had simply kept these views hidden up until that moment, though they had addressed his insecurities surrounding the matter on multiple occasions over the past three months. With a heavy heart, Logan realised that if these opinions had not originated from Virgil himself, they had to have originated elsewhere and been figuratively drilled into him.

‘Who called you those words, Virgil?’ Logan asked delicately.

Virgil angled his head further into Patton’s shoulder in avoidance.

It was an unusual experience, watching the realisation dawn on Patton’s face. His eyes lost their joyful sparkle and his concerned expression melted into one of pure indignation and - most uncharacteristically - rage. The moral side pushed gently at Virgil’s shoulders, getting him to sit upright to reveal his face.

‘Who was it?’ Patton asked, his voice shaking with what Logan suspected was carefully concealed anger.

Virgil hunched in his seat and met Logan’s eyes for a split second before hurriedly looking down at his knees. ‘No one.’

‘Falsehood,’ Logan said sternly. He did not want to make Virgil anxious at all by prying, but he could not afford for this topic of conversation to be shrugged off so easily. ‘Who was it?’

With a deep, shaky sigh, Virgil rested his chin on his knees and muttered, ‘I mean no one I know.’

Patton sent a confused look to Logan over the head of purple hair.

‘Could you please elaborate?’ Logan asked.

A moment of silence passed, and just as Logan was preparing to ask again, Virgil inhaled sharply, paused, and then spoke.

‘A couple weeks ago I made a Tumblr post about my regression.’ Virgil’s voice was quiet enough that Logan had to strain to hear it. ‘About how I wasn’t ashamed of it anymore and - and about you guys,’ Virgil said. He tugged at a strand of his hair harshly.

Logan reached out and smoothed his fingers over Virgil’s hand, convincing him to release the hair. Their hands both dropped to the couch cushion, remaining joined at Logan’s insistence. He understood where the conversation was heading. ‘I am aware that there is an anonymous question function on Tumblr.’

Virgil’s fingers twitched against Logan’s palm. ‘S-someone kept sending asks saying it was just a… a fetish and telling me I was sick and weird and -’ he cut off with an audible gulp, ‘and a bunch of other stuff.’

‘They’re wrong,’ Patton stated without room for argument. Logan saw the muscle in his jaw jumping. ‘They - I can’t believe someone would -’ His voice was incredibly strained and it strangled his words so much that Patton seemed to almost gag over them. He blew out a harsh breath, the sound something akin to a hiss. ‘This is ridiculous.’

Patton was shaking with the effort to contain his reaction and looked about ready to burst. Glancing down, Logan realised with a hint of concern that Virgil was looking at Patton in surprise and, unfortunately, appeared to be nervous.

‘Patton,’ Logan said, ‘I want you to take a moment to -’

‘No, Logan!’ Patton whispered harshly, red in the face. He snatched his arm off from Virgil then clenched his fists in his lap. ‘They’re bullies. Horrible, mean, cruel bullies. I just don’t understand why!’ he broke into a shout. Virgil flinched and leaned into Logan’s side. ‘Why the hell would someone want to - I mean, how could - To our baby!’

Logan was in full agreement to everything that Patton was saying (even if most of it had to be read between the lines since he seemed so enraged that he could hardly get a full sentence out). But - Logan noted, seeing that Virgil was staring at his lap in shame - this was neither the time nor the place to display aggression.

‘Patton,’ Logan said more firmly, ‘I understand you are angry, but please be wary of the sensitivity of this situation. I am sure Virgil would appreciate calm right now.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Virgil sounded feeble at best.

‘Angry?’ Patton repeated incredulously, actually looking at Logan in shock. ‘I - I’m not angry, I’m just…’ He went silent, the fire dissipating from his eyes and being replaced by uncertainty. Then he whispered, all heat faded from his tone, ‘I’m not angry.’

Logan nodded slowly. It was evident Patton was having trouble identifying his negative emotions, though Logan did not feel it right to divert the purpose of the conversation. He would have to delay the talk with Patton until after they had resolved Virgil’s issue, especially since he suspected Virgil would not open up so readily a second time.

‘Now, Virgil,’ Logan said. He looked at Patton pointedly, conveying that they had to get back to the task at hand. Patton nodded, the tension finally dispelling from his form. ‘These strangers online do not see how this coping mechanism helps you.’ Logan squeezed the younger side’s fingers slightly, earning his attention through a hesitant glance. ‘Their opinions are uninformed and therefore worthless.’

‘I’m sorry, sweetie,’ Patton breathed. He was curled into himself slightly, clearly embarrassed by his loss of control. ‘I didn’t mean to - these people are clearly very damaged,’ he said the word as if it were a substitute for harsher language, ‘and, for whatever reason, they only wanted to hurt you.’ He cautiously wrapped his arm back around Virgil’s shoulders. ‘Those kinds of people don’t have any authority over you or your regression.’

‘I guess not,’ Virgil said. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, melting into Patton’s touch.

Logan sighed in faint relief, glad that Virgil no longer seemed intimidated by Patton’s outburst. ‘It is a futile task in pandering to these idiots’ prejudices. Your regression makes you happy and so it is indisputably perfect.’

The words earned him a soft smile from Virgil and Logan felt his own expression soften at the sight.

‘Thank you,’ Virgil said with finality.

‘Though,’ Logan started, something still eating away at him, ‘it remains unclear how these bullies made you feel bad about needing diapers specifically.’

Virgil bit his lip, then looked back at the floor. ‘I - I wanted to try them a while ago,’ he whispered.

From the look on Patton’s face, it seemed Logan was not alone in his surprise.

‘It was just so scary whenever I had an accident!’ Virgil quickly defended. ‘I - I didn’t know what else to do. I was stupid and -’

‘Try again,’ Patton interrupted with a squeeze on Virgil’s shoulder.

‘I was dumb and -’

‘Again.’

‘I… was uninformed and didn’t know how to buy them. So I made a post asking for advice.’ Virgil rushed through the words as if wanting them to be over as soon as possible. ‘Then there was a bunch of asks saying it was disgusting and pathetic and hilarious and -’

‘Imbeciles,’ Logan growled loudly, though took a steadying breath and left it at that. He would absolutely be having a chat with Patton later so they could release their frustrations in private, away from Virgil.

‘None of that is true,’ Patton said softly. ‘Do you remember what Logan said about toddlers not being expected to have such a high level of bodily control?’

Virgil nodded.

‘You aren’t aware of yourself when you’re regressed, so you have to trust us when we tell you that when you’re in that headspace you really are a toddler.’ Patton said it slowly and deliberately, not giving Virgil a chance to dispute the words.

Virgil looked up at Logan, seeking confirmation.

‘It was astonishing to experience at first,’ Logan said, ‘but I cannot deny it. It truly is remarkable. And wonderful,’ he added truthfully.

Patton nodded enthusiastically and guided Virgil’s head to look back at him with gentle fingers. ‘As surprising as it was, we can tell it’s very real and natural.’ Patton kissed Virgil’s head. ‘There is absolutely nothing about your regression or your body that’s wrong in any way. Do you understand that now?’

Virgil stalled for a few seconds, though when he finally spoke, Logan could hear it was sincere. ‘Yeah. I think so.’

‘And I’m so proud of you for trying to help yourself, honey.’ Patton pulled Virgil into a tighter hug. ‘I’m sorry we weren’t there to look after you back then.’

‘But you are now… right?’ Virgil pulled away from Patton and peered shyly between both of them.

‘Of course we are,’ Patton replied instantly.

Logan felt a swell of pride and love overtake him. ‘We always will be.’

Virgil hid a smile behind his sweater paw.

‘Kiddo… can you maybe turn off the anonymous option on your blog?’ Patton asked hesitantly, reaching out to card his fingers through the length of Virgil’s hair. ‘I don’t wanna control what you do but it really worries me that these strangers could make you feel so bad about yourself.’

‘Already did,’ Virgil mumbled.

Logan saw that the tip of Virgil’s thumb had found its way to his lips. He was not surprised that Virgil appeared to be slipping into his regression; it had been a distressing conversation for him.

‘Clever boy,’ Patton praised, lightly pinching Virgil’s cheek. He must have noticed the slip too.

A shy smile wormed its way onto Virgil’s features.

Patton gasped dramatically. ‘Oh my, there’s suddenly an adorable baby in the room! Where did he come from?’

The thumb that had rested on Virgil’s lips now pressed between them. Logan recognised the light blush on Virgil’s cheeks as indicative of his impending infantile headspace.

‘Before you regress completely,’ Logan said quickly, wanting to be concise lest he miss the remaining moments of Virgil’s adult mindset. ‘Will you please reconsider our suggestion? We have already purchased some diapers for you as a precautionary measure and I think it will be a good idea for you to wear one today.’

‘I think so too, sweetheart,’ Patton added softly. ‘Just to see how it feels.’

Virgil hummed, though it might have been a muffled whimper.

‘There is no pressure to agree at all. Similarly, if you do attempt it but dislike it then there is no need to continue.’ Logan hoped to reassure any of Virgil’s doubts that might have been inhibiting what was clearly curiosity, perhaps even desire. ‘Though I believe it will at the very least be worth a try.’

Virgil genuinely seemed to consider it.

‘Remember, we’re only doing this to help you feel safe, Stormcloud,’ Patton whispered, running his knuckle against Virgil’s cheek.

Logan gently took hold of Virgil’s hand and eased it away from his mouth so that his thumb left his lips. Virgil pouted at him, though Logan ignored it in favour of asking, ‘What would you like to do, Virgil?’

To Logan’s astonishment, he nodded.

‘Try,’ Virgil said, his voice babyish and muted.

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link | Next chapter

NOTE: Massive thanks to my friend Duckie for reading over the first draft of this chapter, giving me notes and cheering me on, it wouldn’t be the same without her! You can find her adorable age dreaming tumblr here: @duckies-little-pond 🐣💛

#agere virgil #little virgil #little roman #ts agere #sanders sides agere #cg patton #cg logan #little/big series #little/big series fics #little accidents big developments #agedre roman

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dionnaea · 4 years

Text

Melt | Kuroo x Reader

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x reader

warnings: literally just fluff

wc: 1.4k

a/n: i was in the mood for ice cream, and this happened. enjoy! also, i love you Kuroo, but why did it take me so damn long to find one (1) good manga panel of you.

haikyuu masterlist | general masterlist

You were getting paid.

That was the only reason you were existing in this ice cream shop, listening to kids drown out the playlist you had chosen with their laughter and screams. It was simple work, really, scooping ice cream into cones. Nothing was too tiring, mentally or physically, and your boss was nice, letting you pick the music everyday and eat ice cream for free. It also meant that you could space out pretty much the whole time you were there and get away with it.

That was the headspace you were in now as you sat on a stool behind the counter, digging a spoon into your mint chocolate chip ice cream and tapping your foot along to the beat of the song playing. It wasn’t your favorite, but it hadn’t been played yet today, so you tolerated it. As you were sliding the spoon out of your mouth, the cream landing deliciously on your tongue, the bell on the door rang, signaling a new customer for you to take care of.

You looked over to greet the patron with a smile when your eyes took in exactly who had walked into your shop. Exhaustion hitting you as soon as you met his eyes, you flopped back down onto your stool, and brought another spoonful of ice cream to your lips.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said with an overly confident smile, sauntering his way to stand in front of you, only the glass display of sweet treats between you two.

You sent him a look, biting the spoon between your teeth as you spoke. “I work here.”

“That you do.” He gave you a knowing grin before shifting his gaze down to the ice creams in front of him. You were well accustomed to his order, so you stood up, placing your ice cream where you previously sat, and grabbed a scoop from the clean water bowls. When you started to reach towards the strawberry swirl, he lifted a hand up to stop you. “Uh! I’m thinking about trying something new today.” He brought a hand up to his chin, index finger tapping against his pink lips. “What do you think about the vanilla? What does it taste like?” He met your eyes, flashing you a lazy smile.

“Vanilla,” you deadpanned.

“Ah, I should’ve guessed.” He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes at his antics. “Can I try it?”

You nodded, grabbing a sample spoon and dipping it into the white cream. You always gave too large of samples, and you had been told off for it before, but that never stopped you. The ice cream balanced precariously on the small spoon as you held it over the glass display. Instead of taking the utensil from your hand, Kuroo was quick to bend down and pull the treat into his mouth, as if you had meant to hand-feed him from the start. Your eyes widened, and you yanked your hand back, the spoon falling onto the floor with a light tink!

Glaring at him, you exclaimed, “What was that?!” The children had left when Kuroo had walked in, so you didn’t mind raising your voice a bit to get your point across. “You can’t just do that, Kuroo!”

“Why not?” He asked with a smirk. You felt your cheeks heat up as you watched him run his tongue over his lips just a little too slowly. His lips spread further at your reaction.

“Ugh! Just don’t!” You shook your head, and focused on the cooling sensation of the freezer air on your face. Taking a deep breath, you looked back up at the dark-haired pest standing in front of you. “Okay, what flavor do you want?”

Kuroo squinted, his eyes dancing over all of the flavors before landing back on your face. “I wanna try a few more. There’s 72 different flavors, right? Can I try each one?” He looked completely serious, hazel eyes wide and innocent, but you were well aware that he was just toying with you.

You blinked once before rolling your eyes. “I’m 72 different flavors of done with you. You’re getting the usual.” Kuroo let out a light chuckle as you scooped him a cup of strawberry swirl. It didn’t escape Kuroo’s notice how you added one more scoop than you were supposed to on top. He didn’t dare mention it.

He had been coming in for two months now, not being able to resist after meeting the cute girl behind the counter. Kenma had come with him the first few times, but after realizing Kuroo’s sole purpose for being there was to chat you up, he had started staying home, not wanting to be witness to Kuroo’s cringy pick-up lines and your rejections. At first, you had been as cold as the ice cream, but as time passed, you had started to melt. You bantered back and sometimes threw in a flirty comment if you were in the mood; you loved the look on Kuroo’s face when you gave him a taste of his own medicine. Still, you had yet to say yes to any of the dates Kuroo had asked you on. That didn’t stop him from trying, though.

As you rang up his order, Kuroo leaned into the counter, resting one arm casually on top of the glass display next to him and holding the ice cream cup in the other hand. He watched as you focused on the screen, entering your employee discount number just for him. “So, Y/N, what’re you doing Friday night? I know you’re not working.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, and tore his receipt from the machine. “And how do you know that? You stalking me now?” You grabbed a pen from the cup on the counter, leaning down to write something down.

Kuroo paid you no mind, looking at the wall behind you. “No, I’m just staring directly at your work schedule.” He leaned in a bit to get a closer look. “You sure do work a lot, don’t you?” Your name was on the list for six days that week, all at least five hour shifts.

You straightened back up, holding out the receipt for him and tucking the pen behind your ear. “You would know. You come in here literally all the time.” He took the paper from your hand, purposefully brushing his fingers against yours in the process, and stuffed it carelessly into his jeans’ pocket.

He put more weight onto the counter, leaning his body in towards yours. You fought the urge to lean back and remove him from your personal space. “I wouldn’t have to if you said yes to a date with me.” He smiled. “So… how ‘bout it?”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, biting your lip. You could tell he was starting to get antsy the longer you waited to respond. “No,” you simply replied.

Kuroo groaned, leaning his torso back and running a hand through his messy hair. Still, when he met your eyes once again, he was smiling that cheeky grin, undeterred. He was about to speak again when a family entered, the parlor now filled with the excited chatter of young children. You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he would do.

He sighed, but it was playful and light. “Guess I’ll have to come back tomorrow. I’m spending way too much money on ice cream, you know.”

You gave him a small smile, and his heart suddenly went wild. “I don’t think you’re spending as much as you think,” you stated with a subtle nod towards his pants pocket. The family had lined up to order, so you started to head over to them. Before you fully turned away, you called out to Kuroo, “See you tomorrow, Kuroo.” It was said gently, and it gave the boy hope for the next day.

“See you!” He called, ducking to avoid hitting his head into the bell above the door as he exited. Stepping outside into the heat and beginning his trek back to the train station, he took a bite of his already melting ice cream, thinking over your words in his head.

“I don’t think you’re spending as much as you think.”

What exactly did that mean? Kuroo didn’t know, but he figured he could ask when he saw you the next day. He was looking forward to it.

Only when he stripped off his jeans from that day and emptied the pockets did he figure out what you meant, the small receipt reading ¥0 followed by ten carefully written numbers, love heart beside them and all.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurō #mere writes

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vaguely-gestures-to-the-void · 3 years

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Hindsight: My thoughts on Loki (2021)

As always, thanks for being here my friends. There’s definitely more nuanced discussion of this show, but I’m here for the vibes. Anyways, here’s my thoughts on Episode 3 of Loki. Bear in mind I hadn’t watched episode 4 before I wrote the review for 3. No hate on anyone/thing, it’s all my opinion.

Episode 3: LAMENTIS

Pre-title scene

I rioted when I heard Hayley’s voice. It’s a win for all of us.

C-20! Sylvie!

C-20’s lil dance was adorable. I love her.

I want Sylvie’s tie dye.

Is that Ralph Bohner?

The same place, but at night. Coincidence? I think not.

Sylvie’s powers have limits. She can’t search someone’s mind and take information, she needs them to willingly tell her though she can use her powers to do that.

TVA

Sylvie’s experienced. Always tie your hair into a bun before a fight.

Her music is nothing like what we’ve heard previously. It’s the Sylvie show folks.

The mural on the left side of the hall is the one from the credits scene.

The plaque above the elevators says ‘FOR ALL TIME ALWAYS’.

Even in the mural on the right side, the Time Keepers aren’t equal, the middle one takes up the most space.

Ravonna!

I love how their movements are similar. The head-snap-hair-flip combo is nearly identical, reflecting how they are the same person to some extent.

2077 Lamentis - 1

“Get off my leg!” SiblingTM energy.

“Goodbye, variant.” She sure has the Loki drama.

I finally remembered it’s called a TemPad. Rip.

“Don’t ever call me that.”

“Tech savvy?”

That’s so Ragnarok.

I love the music as we pan up to the planet. It’s the familiar, anxiety-inducing ticking for me lads.

“You idiot! This is Lamentis - 1.”

“I don’t know what that means!”

My siblings when I can’t restart the router (every country has an AT&T).

I like that it’s a moon that’s inhabited. It’s nearly always the planet, still not great for the people on it.

That slide to get under the dump truck was so smooth.

“So we’re a team now?” Jesus Loki needs friends. Probably a good therapist too.

“Didn’t need your help!”

“You’re so weird!”

I like the way Tom runs. Don’t know why. Just do.

Sidenote, my favourite running form is Chris Evans’.

Sylvie’s magic flickered so I genuinely think the enchantment didn’t work.

“Well then I’ll cut it out.” I like the way she says that. I am questioning so many things rn.

“Just because I have to work with you doesn’t mean I wanna hear your voice.” It’s ironic since they spend so much time talking about themselves.

“Alright, well, slow down… Variant.” They really play off each other’s egos to find weaknesses.

“You don’t know what you want.” Sylvie’s more straightforward in everything she does. She efficiently points out Loki’s flaws but when it comes to a goal, she’s meticulous.

“...just walk away.” Loki stops walking, but Sylvie does walk away. There is distance between them (for now).

I’ve had experience with mining towns like this one and whilst they weren’t so out-of-this-world (ya know) there is a tendency for rural and isolated communities to struggle with old/not maintained infrastructure. This is not everywhere, but it’s not uncommon from what I know. Even though these towns are a source of wealth, there isn’t distribution of the money and it’s a grim reality that’s being shown. I appreciate it.

The shot of them walking past a slab of that planet towards the hut is incredible. Wow.

The person in there is just waiting for their death. I’m going to be addressing a lot of the harsh realities in this episode folks so it won’t be so cheerful.

I understand that people weren’t so happy with this being a filler episode, but I think they got it right. It’s strange that a literal planet-moon collision doesn’t bring the tension that the hurricane did in the last ep, but by having an atmosphere that wasn't so omnius, they conveyed (to me at least) that hope was already lost. In the Roxxcart Disaster, the people believed that it wasn’t going to be the end. There’s desperation on Lamentis - 1 but as Sylvie said, the collapse of society occurs. That’s a large group of people realising that class divides will cause slaughter. It’s greed portrayed in two different ways, one being the integration of excessive capitalism into society, the other being social structure based on oppression. Not everyone’s reading into Loki like this but it’s a change from how Marvel usually approaches conflict.

We learnt about the characters and whilst I’m not a fan of when a plot line is moot (my bet is that Loki and Sylvie will be rescued next ep, making all the attempts to get off Lamentis - 1 pointless), it’s necessary for the characters to develop. The way Loki and Sylvie end up on Lamentis - 1 makes sense and the plot doesn’t feel forced.

“It’s remarkable that you made it as far as you did.”

Devils is recurring in this episode. Maybe this has implications on future episodes?

“Which one was that, diplomacy?” Why are their interactions so funny?

I don’t think I need to comment on the significance of the train station scene.

I would like to acknowledge that though this is good writing that’s relevant in the time it was released, we shouldn’t forget it’s coming from large corporations who aren’t perfect.

How do they just walk past the line?

The people who snitched were right in front of them.

Did the cat get Loki’s silvertongue? That was the most graceless lying I’ve ever seen.

Sylvie not sitting with her back to a door makes sense, but why won’t Loki go backwards on a train? They both have little quirks.

“That’s not a plan. That’s just doing a thing.” Loki went to the Thor school of planning, it’s Get Help all over again.

Loki’s exaggerated nods at the other guards lol.

Sylvie growls whenever she’s mad, it’s hilarious.

The close ups of their faces when the conversation gets personal and isn’t just trading jabs is great for conveying the authenticity of their answers.

Loki not pressing Sylvie when she clearly didn’t want to talk about what happened to her mother is something I appreciated.

Here’s to Tom for having to do magic for more than 10 years now. He’s so serious, I can only imagine how funny it is without the effects.

“Well she did.” Yeesh, has Loki gotten time to grieve?

Sylvie is genuinely impressive.

“Pity the old woman chose to die.”

“She was in love.”

I don’t quite understand what they were talking about then, I guess we’ll find out later?

Loki, why are you so unnecessarily dramatic?

I laughed. Who am I kidding, they’re dorks and I love them.

Loki is trying to find out anything, anyone who could be used against Sylvie.

Here’s to the postman, they’re probably dead but we appreciate Sylvie’s happiness anyways.

“A bit of both. I suspect the same as you.” AND THAT’S HOW YOU WRITE IN REPRESENTATION FOLKS!

Let’s just take our scraps and be happy, eh? It made my week.

They both need real relationships of any kind, guys.

“Love is… uh, something I might have to have another drink to think about.” Me whenever anyone asks me about my love life.

“You do realise… ...a civilisation’s only hope?” I think this was Sylvie’s way of making sure Loki’s (albeit grey) morals and drinking habits don’t interrupt her plan.

The train sure gives me Snowpiercer vibes.

Do I have to talk about Drunk Loki?

Tom’s singing voice is lovely.

Sylvie’s eyes shift nervously to the door and then back to Loki. She’s initially tense but she relaxes slightly though she knows she’s gonna have to clean up the mess.

“Nobody cares. It’s the end of the world.” Again, Loki’s headspace is one where existence is futile.

The green walls contrast the purple lighting nicely.

You can see plants (?) from the outside if you look out the windows. Talk about attention to detail.

Bruh what is the dagger about? Drunk Loki’s a comedic genius.

The descending notes in the background of Loki’s fireworks.

Sylvie’s smile when she goes to attack is animalistic. I’d like to see her character explored more in terms of how she views violence.

YEET.

“You’re right. I’m a god.” Loki’s defense mechanism is to state that his motives are above the understanding of others.

“You’re a clown.” Sylvie tells it as it is.

Loki and Sylvie’s reactions to the TVA contrast the most here. Sylvie is potentially motivated by vengeance or a need for revenge whilst Loki has resigned to numbing the pain (for now at least) as he comes to terms with his reality. The question of what drives you is so important for these characters, I’m excited to see whether they’ll find a common ground and wreak havoc on the sacred timeline.

Loki and Sylvie both struggle with communicating in a healthy way. Sylvie calls him out on his directionlessness and Loki tells her what may be the harsh reality of her plan. Neither of them are willing to accept it, but there’s potential for a strong bond if they do.

Sylvie’s scream lmao.

I love the colour of Loki’s pants.

Problem? Solution! Do thing! Is Sylvie’s method of thinking when all is lost.

Gosh I love the shots in this episode.

“That’s a pretty good life.” Sylvie’s definitely not lived as a royal, or not from what she remembers.

“I just need to know if I can trust you.” Sylvie giving up how she enchants people is an olive branch because as useful as the things that Loki told her may have been for manipulation, they both know the importance of her upper hand. But she only relents once Loki doesn’t have the TemPad. Later, when she asks whether she can trust Loki, it’s more of a reassurance because he’s already been vulnerable around her.

The actor’s body language and facial expressions are incredible. Loki’s eyebrow’s furrow slightly when Sylvie mentions C-20’s mind but Tom takes a second for the information to be processed rather than instantly reacting to Sophia’s next line. She does the same when Loki talks about the TVA workers being created. What skilled people they are.

The city is a wonderful piece of set design.

“We do, and you can.” They step into the light, neither of them have tunnel vision and are able to see a bigger picture.

“They’re gonna let these people die.” This show explores a side of Loki we haven’t seen before, his morality and compassion. He has grey areas that could be explored in the next season. It also points back to how Sylvie and Loki differ in their view of others. I think this is partially because of their childhoods. Loki was raised as a prince and cared about his people, but Sylvie doesn’t share that perspective (“...they usually survive”), maybe because of her past. Hopefully in the upcoming episodes we’ll get a bit more of her backstory.

That sequence is beyond words. The constantly rotating and revolving camera really hammers home that it’s a disorienting fight for their lives at the end of the world. I’m speechless, just watch it.

The music in that blue-purple-pink club was banging tho.

Loki and Sylvie’s posture, facial expression and general body movement is similar. The variant point is hammered home here.

It’s interesting how Loki is in shock/denial of the Ark being destroyed whereas Sylvie immediately leaves.

The end music of this episode is beautiful. I love how it all builds to leave us on the soft tones of Dark Moon.

No one’s interested, but my mum and I bonded over the Jim Reeves version of this song and the Bonnie Guitar one.

Ep 3 review

Short episode with not much going on other than character development. However, if the first two were anything to go by, this episode will have greater implications on the plot. The pacing of this show is a bit strange, but we may see this change in the next season.

I mentioned previously that it would be a shame if the entire plot of this episode was made irrelevant by how they get off Lamentis - 1 next ep. This show has been really good at keeping us on our toes with the writing so they probably won’t take turns that have been speculated.

Happy mid-season guys! The following two episodes were apparently Tom’s favourites so we can expect some mayhem up ahead. See you next time!

Here's the link to my Ep 2 review

#loki #loki review #loki (2021)#i've stayed inconsistent in all these tags and i'm not about to change #my opinion #opinion #loki spoilers #spoilers #spoiler

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dailytomlinson · 4 years

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“I probably shouldn’t be talking about this but f*** it,” he tells me now. “My point is, I clearly wasn’t in the best frame of mind, you know? And the situation definitely got out of hand and people were goading me. It wasn’t my finest hour but it was a difficult time. I was already on edge and, in that headspace, it got the better of me.”

By “that headspace”, Tomlinson means that he was grieving. The airport incident took place a few months after his mother Johannah’s death from leukaemia at 43. (In March last year, his 18-year-old sister, Félicité, died from an accidental overdose. Quite reasonably, I’ve been asked not to bring this up.) Tomlinson, who is now 28, says his experiences of grief in the public eye have been “really tough. There have been mixed emotions. I’ve hated the fact that everyone’s talking about it, but that’s the way it is. I didn’t like the idea of people feeling sorry for me. But I’ve also felt the support from fans and people reaching out on social media or whatever… and I do feel I’ve got this ability to see the glass as half full. Because what else am I going to f***ing do?”

I meet Tomlinson in an upstairs room of a pub in a residential corner of London’s Notting Hill. He is dressed in jeans, a red tracksuit top and trainers. The only visible evidence of his previous life in One Direction, the biggest boyband in pop history, is his hair, which is artfully swept sideways as if he’s standing in a wind tunnel. An old hand at winning over interviewers, he greets me with a hug before sitting down, leaning back and putting his feet up.

Tomlinson is on the promotional trail for his debut album, Walls, which has been four years on the making. It includes “Two of Us”, a ballad which lays bare Tomlinson’s loss (“You’ll never know how much I miss you/ The day that they took you, I wish it was me instead”). In a change of mood, it also contains the Britpop-flavoured “Kill My Mind”, a throwback to his mid-teens and the indie night he’d go to with his friends in his native Doncaster.

Tomlinson grew up listening to Oasis and Arctic Monkeys, though right now he can’t get enough of Catfish and the Bottlemen: “I like anything with big guitars and a big chorus.” He reckons “Kill My Mind” will struggle to get on the radio but he doesn’t care since, musically, “I’ve often been swimming against the tide.”

He puts the album’s long gestation down to creative insecurity. “A good two years [was spent] treading water and trying to work out exactly what my sound was, and what I was capable of.” Clearly, One Direction, who sold 50 million albums, are a tough act to follow, though Tomlinson has also had to contend with his former colleagues putting out solo work before him (Harry Styles is already on his second LP, while Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne have all released debuts). But he rejects the suggestion that they are all in competition, remarking, “I don’t like to look at it that way.”

I ask if he and his ex-bandmates have a WhatsApp group. They don’t, he replies, “and we should, but we’ve never got around to it”. But he says they are frequently in touch, which must be something people ask a lot since, entirely unbidden, he gives me a breakdown of their recent activities. Let the record show that he spoke to Liam two days ago; he and Niall exchanged texts a fortnight ago; and Harry sent him a congratulatory message when he released his last single. There is no mention of Zayn.

Tomlinson says the face he presents to the public and journalists these days is fully unfiltered, a change from his One Direction days when he had to be careful not to cause inadvertent upset within the band or with fans. “No one was saying ‘Don’t do that’, but there was the [pressure] of being role models. So it took a second to understand that [as a solo artist] I could get away with completely being myself, even though I can sometimes be a bit of a dickhead.”

In fact, there are two Tomlinsons that emerge throughout our chat. There’s boyband Louis, full of sweet but bland blather about self-expression, his gratitude to fans, and the luck that he’s enjoyed as an artist. But another version of him frequently comes through who is funny, sweary and thoughtful about his decade in the limelight.

Tomlinson has had four years to digest his time in One Direction which I note, from the outside, looked a bit like being held hostage. But even with the fan fervour, the police escorts and the nonstop media glare, he says he wouldn’t change anything. “We were always in control of our destiny,” he explains. “We rose to fame pretty quick and, because of that, we had some power and some say within the record label and with management.” The sheer pace and drama of their day-to-day existence was, he says, “like a drug. It’s that feeling of heightened emotion and every day being manically busy, and the hysteria. Although you might complain about it, none of us said, ‘No we don’t wanna do that.’ We were just in it. We were f***ing loving it.”

Still, he says, the initial 18 months were hard as he struggled to see his value within the band. “I would wonder, ‘What difference would it make if I was there or if I wasn’t?’ Under the spotlight that was difficult, but that’s what gave me the fire in the belly to get right into it.” It was through songwriting that he found his place and his confidence – he has writing credits on 37 One Direction songs, more than anyone else in the band. “That’s something I’m really f***ing proud of,” he says. “Now I can say I made a difference.”

The end of One Direction was a shock to Tomlinson, even though he knew it was coming. “We’d done such a lot of work in a short space of time so a break was inevitable. But I don’t think I was necessarily ready for how long. We had a band meeting and everyone just said, ‘Maybe we’ll put it on the back burner for a bit,’ and I felt a bit petulant about that at the time. It actually hit me like a ton of bricks.” Now the band are officially on hiatus – “even though that’s a stupid f***ing word”, he says. “Truthfully, none of us truly know [if we’ll reform]. I just know what my gut says and my gut says we will get back together at some point. I think it was too magical for all of us to never do it again.”

The eldest of seven siblings, as a child Tomlinson says he was “well-mannered but a bit of a show-off. I was a lot cockier than I am now. Being in One Direction made me realise I’m not always the coolest kid in the room”.

He wasn’t good academically at school but enjoyed performing and, for a while, toyed with being an actor. Before auditioning on The X Factor, he did a string of jobs at weekends and in school holidays for some extra cash. One summer was spent as a waiter at his beloved football club, Doncaster Rovers. Another yielded a stint at a well-known cinema chain dispensing popcorn. There, he tells me unexpectedly, he was earning “an extra wage”. An extra wage? “As in taking a few quid from the till,” he says with a grin. “It all started because there was a McDonald’s over the road and I wanted money for my lunch.” His trick was to hand customers two boxes of popcorn but only put one through the system and put the money for the second in his pocket. “I didn’t want to short-change the customer,” he explains. “I’d take from the company. I’m a man of the people.”

It was his mum’s idea for him to try out for The X Factor, though it took three attempts to get through to the televised auditions. He says the experience of going on stage in front of the live audience, under the glare of the lights and with four famous judges looking back at him, remains the most terrifying of his life.

We talk for a bit about Tomlinson’s return to The X Factor in 2018 as a judge alongside Simon Cowell plus Robbie Williams and his wife Ayda Field. He asks what I made of the show so I decide to be honest and tell him that I thought the whole thing looked tired and Cowell appeared bored out of his mind. “Well I couldn’t possibly comment on [Cowell],” says Tomlinson, good-naturedly, “though I actually loved it. But yeah, I feel that, as a show, it needs a rest. There’s a place for a show like it and I’ve got my career to thank for it, but we’ve had a lot of it, so let’s just let it rest and make people want it again.”

Life has slowed down since the madness of One Direction but he still can’t find the time to read a book or watch a box set. Where, in his pre-fame days, he struggled to hold down a job, now he’s happiest when he’s busy. Should the singing career stall, he would like to run his own management company. Five years ago, he launched a record label, an imprint on Cowell’s Syco label, but life got in the way and his plans to create a girl band fell at the first hurdle. Originally he had gathered a list of 20 acts that he was keen to sign, and points out that “like, four or five of them are signed [elsewhere] now… I think I have an instinct for these things”.

I ask, rather unfairly, if the solo career of a former boyband member is ultimately a doomed endeavour – for every Robbie Williams, there’s a Howard, Jason and Mark whose careers sink without trace. For a moment Tomlinson looks stumped but then he prevaricates like a pro. “Of course, there are days where I might have unreal expectations and when I have to tell myself to stay grounded,” he says. “But I had a breakthrough moment last year about what success really means and I think I can look at it for what it is now. I have to look at how happy I am and remember that I’m lucky to be doing what I’m doing.”

#louis tomlinson #stunt mention #independent #wpress #250120

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safty · 6 years

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To the Rescue (Part II) Chapter 29: View From Below

New chapter is here, still no updates on this Ao3 scandal but I’m holding off on reposting the whole thing because it’s so much damn work.

Seth contemplates his new job and meets with Cesaro. What’s going on under the radar?

Striding fast out of P-pool and getting halfway to the front lobby was all the time if took for Seth to stop for a moment, thinking hard on what had just happened. To stall for time, he aimlessly turned left, walking toward the adult men's locker rooms and keeping his gaze forward.

Hunter and Stephanie had offered him a more permanent position. Salaried. But Seth didn't have the details yet. As of right now, nothing was certain. Though he was sure he wasn't going to pack up and move within the week or probably even over April, but it was difficult to say how much time he'd spend in Orlando is his grandfather's estate was finalized and Roman and Dean miraculously agreed to leave. Would it be a terrible thing to do? To be promoted and leave his bosses high and dry?

Pushing the door open to the men's locker room and walking to one of the bathroom stalls, Seth thought immediately to the massive amount of money that made up his inheritance. He didn't want to assume anything at that point, but still, he was pretty sure his resume wouldn't be nearly as important if he had that money. It was tempting to let his mind wander wildly to a much more relaxed state of being, but he reeled himself back in, biting his lip.

For now, Seth had to be smart. His heart was still beating fast from the excitement of the meeting but he took a deep breath and plopped down to sit on a toilet, just to steady himself. It was a good thing his boss wanted to promote him, he could use more money. At the end of the day, he probably would take the job. It was just another thing Seth didn't want to talk about yet, not until he knew what was happening. He sighed hard as the person in the stall next to him flushed the toilet and walked away, sure that he didn't want to hide everything that was happening in his life from his boyfriends, but he didn't want to feel stupid for taking a job and then completely dumping it if he was going to be moving.

It was too much to consider and automatically, Seth whipped out his phone and found Cesaro's contact info. It had been ages since the men had talked, but it was at least worth a shot. Sure that he didn't want to have a phone conversation in a toilet stall, Seth got back up again and quickly texted his friend before he made his way to the sink for the sake of habit.

Hey man are u busy this weekend? Its been a bit he typed out, quickly pressing send and feeling marginally better. Cesaro was a neutral party, and it helped that he wasn't currently at work, present for all the other dramatic minutiae of such a large facility.

"Eyes forward! Coming through!" Miz bellowed as Seth nearly walked into him. He started, quickly side stepping out of the way as his annoying coworker strutted past him, rolling a huge container of floatables down the hallway at a questionable speed. Seth's knee twinged slightly and he put his phone in his pocket, resigned to finish his power scrubbing duties before the late afternoon rush came and swim lessons got hectic. Perhaps it was the strangeness of the day's events of the sheer absurdity of it, but when Seth went down to the basement mop sink and found Dean crouching by it, he probably sounded more curt than he meant.

"What are you doing?" Seth scoffed, watching his boyfriend sit on the dirty lip of the mop sink and fidget mindlessly with one of the peeling stickers on the front of the power scrubber. Cool as ever, Dean barely reacted, toes wiggling in his flip flops and eyebrows invisible under his hair.

"You weren't outside earlier, it's hot anyways," he mumbled. "Kev said you were doin' this or somethin'."

"I was… about to start," Seth muttered, looking around to see if anyone was watching them. At least for the moment, they were alone in the stuffy, partially lit room. "I was in the bathroom…"

"Mmm," Dean said, standing up and moving aside so Seth could access the machine. It was totally weird, but if Dean wasn't smoking anymore, there really wasn't any reason for him to wander around outside in the heat of the sun. Taking his time to grab the cleaning solution and measure out a cup as Kevin had showed him, Seth wondered if Dean might have had something on his mind. His head was still buzzing about his job, but Seth was still sure that he didn't want to discuss it at the moment. Among other things.

"I might have to guard in the park in the evenings," Dean said, pouting a little and picking up a mop handle that was hanging from the wall. "Randy said they needed another hand… Unless they hire someone else after the fundraiser or somethin'."

Seth hummed, setting down the bottle of solution and analyzing the water level on the machine. "Suppose we'll have to take two cars?" He proposed. "Uce's been kinda going out of his way anyways. To pick us up I mean."

"Yeah," Dean said, facing the wall and kicking a small rock that was on the floor. Seth rolled up his sleeves and wiped his brow. He didn't really want to be in the basement, but he couldn't really take five in the breakroom with the work he still had to finish. Dean paused as well, as though he wasn't really sure what to say or how to say it. The conversation was pretty meaningless, but there was something hanging in the air, out of their reach.

"You notice anything about Uce lately?" Dean asked, clearing his throat a little mid sentence like it was dry. Seth paused, pushing back a length of frizzy hair that couldn't quite fit in his bun.

"Like what?" He asked, thinking hard and feeling anxious. "Did something happen over Easter?"

"Just… been drinking and stuff," Dean said, not facing Seth. "Don't wanna be a cop about it… just. I dunno if I'm supposed to worry or say somethin'."

Seth thought for a moment, thinking back to when he'd come across his boyfriends in January, after his last trip to Iowa. Back then, both of his boyfriend's had been in a much more difficult headspace, but Roman's drinking had been the most frustrating. Of the three, Roman probably drank the most on a regular basis. Where Dean could probably out drink him with beers on a single night, Roman was much more inclined to drink habitually. It was something they'd discussed before, but with everything going on in his life at the moment, Seth had barely processed it. He'd also made a fool of himself with alcohol on the houseboat anyway, so he didn't feel like he had much ground to stand on and preach.

"I don't care," Dean said quickly, shrugging and turning to put the mop handle back on the hook. "It's not a big deal."

"It's not like, healthy." Seth said, crossing his arms and looking at Dean. It was perplexing to see his boyfriend engaged where he might have usually been disconnected, but Seth didn't want to discourage it. "Did he drink a lot over Easter?"

"We kinda all did, I dunno," Dean said, looking at the ground. "Forget I mentioned it, it's fine."

"Nah, I mean..." Seth sighed, really wishing they could get out of the basement and back into air conditioning. The air was thick and the light kept flickering. "Let's just… keep an eye on it. He doesn't seem stressed out or anything, does he?"

"I don't think so," Dean said, shrugging again. He blinked and licked his lips, as though trying some sort of script. "How are you doing?"

"Me? I'm fine," Seth said, unable to stop himself from chuckling. "How're you?"

"'M fine," Dean said, blinking. He grinned a little and Seth came closer, sure that he'd hear any footsteps from a distance. The light flickered again and Dean wet his lips like he was anticipating something.

"Wish I didn't learn my lesson," Seth muttered darkly, squeezing Dean's thigh and planting a kiss on his matted forehead. His work shirt was sticking to him strangely with sweat, but Dean looked soft and happy. "Get outta here and let me do my job, Ambrose."

"Okay Rollins," Dean said, snarking his name and bouncing onto the balls of his feet again. In his pocket, Seth felt his phone buzz and he pawed it through his pants, sure it was just a text. Dean made a kissing noise as he hopped away at a light jog and Seth took a moment to let him go, sure that he didn't want Kevin or Hunter, or worse AJ, seeing them leaving secluded areas together.

How about tonight? Cesaro texted him back. I'm busy the next few days with PT and Sara :)

Seth smirked, wiping sweat from his forehead and listening as the water heater turned on, humming loud from the boiler room. It was too easy to imagine Cesaro's ridiculously sweet expression, thinking of his new girlfriend. It had been ages since they'd seen each other and Seth really wanted to go out with his friend. But in a hurry, he recalled the discussion that Seth had had with Dean and Roman the night before about possibly going to a gym. Nobody had mentioned it that morning… but Dean had definitely seemed alert enough to workout after their shift.

In the service elevator to the top floor, Seth's phone buzzed again and he looked down, feeling his heart rate ratchet up again with a text from his mother. The elevator dinged and he sighed hard, pushing the scrubber through the doors and flush with the wall so he could examine his phone.

Did you get the executor notices? Let me know ASAP! Love mom

Yes Seth texted back quickly, feeling enormously guilty for leaving his mother out of the loop, and yet unable to properly explain his reasoning. Back in Iowa, his mother was probably waiting for him to get his shit together, unable to proceed without his own consent for the operation. However, his paranoia dug at him again and he thought morbidly to the idea of his family trying to take his money in the fine print of the will. But as soon as he considered it, Seth blinked hard, trying to assess his fears honestly. He'd never imagined a time in his life where he couldn't trust his mother, but with so much money on the line, Seth wasn't sure if he could trust anyone.

I think I want to get a lawyer or something, just so I know what I'm looking at Seth messaged back. Or I want to call that lawyer we talked to, Is his number on all those documents?

It was a rather stupid question as Seth could just check his email, but he was at work anyway and obviously neglecting his duties by dividing his attention. Down the hall he could hear a group of very small children singing songs and yelling, their voices echoing off the hallways. There was still lots to do, and he pocketed his phone fast and dug in. As he walked fast behind the power scrubber, leaning into the machine and doing his best not to slip in the slight trail of moisture, Seth considered the holes in his knowledge and his mental state since he'd returned. Of all the things he wanted to do that night, a meeting with Cesaro sounded best. Seth desperately needed to hash this out and tell someone about what was happening.

Yes it is His mother replied to his text, after he checked it about twenty minutes later. Call him as soon as you can.

Okay thanks mom Seth responded, immediately returning to his conversation with Cesaro and looking around tentatively. Yeah lets make tonight work.

Seth felt a little guilty for flaking out on his boyfriends, but the more he texted Cesaro in the lead up to their meeting, the more he was sure of his decision. During the time he dumped the water from the power scrubber and changed out of his work uniform, the two men messaged each other back and forth over the phone. Apparently, Cesaro was trying to be frugal in between hanging out with Sara, but had a turkey loaf he was interested in sharing if Seth wanted to stay for dinner.

Re-tying his bun and making his way to the front, Seth pursed his lips as he saw Dean perk up from where he was sitting in the lobby. Sunglasses already fixed to his face, he shuffled to his feet, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

"I bet Uce's gym'll be all busy since it's big," he began without any hesitation. "My place'll be good if you want. I just wanna grab a bite quick."

"Yeah, about that," Seth said, hastening through the door his boyfriend was holding open. The day was unbearably hot and as soon as they were outside, it was a race to get to the Jeep. "I uh… I was texting Cesaro and the only time we could hang out would be tonight… so I think I'm gunna take a raincheck."

"What?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Man, I was getting all jacked to lift..."

"You can still go," Seth snorted, eagerly tossing his bag into the hatchback and tossing his body inside. "I just… I haven't seen him in forever."

"What's up?" Roman asked from the front seat, snacking from a bag of pumpkin seeds that was sitting in his lap. Dean mumbled something inaudible and Seth tilted the backseat fan grid toward his face, feeling shivers down his spine. If his boyfriends were going to be mad at him, Seth wasn't going to hear about it. They only saw each other constantly.

"I'm gunna go see Cesaro tonight for dinner," Seth explained. "I know we like… talked about doing something, but the only time we can meet this week is tonight… so. What with his doctor shit and the fundraiser on friday."

"Mmmmm," Roman hummed, looking behind him in order to make sure they weren't about to be clipped by a passing vehicle. "Suit yourself."

"I prolly will go workout… do something," Dean said quietly, looking through the window. The rest of the car ride was a little awkward and no one talked much as they idled in traffic for a few minutes.

Im home now, come over whenever you'd like Cesaro texted him. Seth stared out of his own window, trying to think of the best way to get to his friends house and if he had any gas in the tank of the Cadillac.

A quick shower and a change, and Seth deliberately tried to keep out of his boyfriend's way, skirting around the area of the living room where Dean plopped down, and not making eye contact with Roman in the kitchen as the man was staring into the fridge, pensively. Tossing on a snapback and sliding his phone and wallet in the back pocket of a pair of cargo shorts, Seth thought he could hear his boyfriend's talking from the other room. But instead, he focused on his dog, who seemed confused about the lack of affection he was receiving now that Seth was home.

"Need to buy chicken feed this weekend," Roman was saying to Dean as Seth walked past. "You think you could get some at the farmers market?"

"Mmyeah, just remind me or somethin'." Dean mumbled, watching Seth's progress to the shoes. He hated how awkward it felt. Couldn't he leave the house without feeling like he was in trouble?

"Have fun," Roman mumbled, gesturing to Seth with his beer and striding over to send him off. Kevin jingled around the entryway as though he was going for a walk and Seth nodded quickly, letting Roman kiss him on the cheek.

"I won't be long," Seth said, waving to Dean. "See you guys."

It wasn't enough to put him in a bad mood, but Seth hated feeling like he was in the wrong. Dean's face as he left hadn't been particularly mopey or annoyed, and Seth was sure that the man's evening would be just fine without acting on whatever lose plans they'd discussed. Of the three, Seth felt safe in assuming that he was having it the hardest at the moment and when he finally got around to explaining the situation, the other two would surely understand.

"Too fuckin' hot," he griped to himself, wiping his forehead and hating how obscenely warm his vehicle was, cooking in the sun all day. As Seth drove toward the highway in the direction of Cesaro's condo, he thought more and more about how nice it would be to live in the Midwest again, seeing the trees change and wearing light sweaters.

Nearly there he texted at a red light, almost taking a wrong turn as he forgot the pattern of the strange labyrinth that was Cesaro's neighborhood. Just as he was rolling up to the visitor parking area, Seth swore out loud, remembering that he'd had a gift for his friend from his vacation. The bag of coffee was still sitting in his bedroom, tossed onto the dresser after he'd hurriedly unpacked.

However, It didn't matter as he saw his friend, eagerly awaiting his arrival by the front door to the condominium. Seth didn't have a lot of friends in his life, and he had even less that seemed wholly unperturbed to go so long without contact without a shred of awkwardness. Cesaro was the exception, totally cool to pick up wherever they had left off.

"What's up?" Seth called, locking his car and watching Cesaro shuffle his weight between his two feet awkwardly. His friend was wearing a pair of mesh workout shorts and a tank top with his arm in a sling, smiling as wide as ever.

"Oh not much," Cesaro said, quickly opening the front door and letting Seth inside. "Trying my best not to melt."

"It's abysmal," Seth agreed, relieved to feel the air conditioning inside. It was the same neat, tidy and minimal space Seth had always seen it. Zoe the cat was laying on her back in front of an oscillating fan and the house smelled like the promised turkey loaf.

"It has been a very lazy day," Cesaro said, shutting the door and shuffling to the living room. "I will read a book until I get stir crazy from sitting, then I think of taking a walk, but then it is so disgusting out... " he sighed, looking to Seth with honest adoration. "Thank you for coming, how have you been?"

"Okay, it's no problem!" Seth nodded, sitting down as Cesaro went to presumably grab him a drink. He talked louder so he could be heard. "It's been forever, plus… I mean, I nearly went crazy when I was stuck at home with my knee. I get it."

"But how was the trip?" Cesaro called, returning in a moment with a glass of ice water. Gratefully, Seth took it, thinking hard. He hadn't told his friend anything yet. "When did you get back?"

"We were done in the Keys last week," Seth said, blinking hard and trying to remember. He threaded his fingers through his beard, thinking of the best way to explain all of it. "But… literally right as I was getting off the boat, I got this crazy text from my mom about how my grandpa died…" Cesaro's eyes widened and Seth heaved a breath, nodding. "Yeah… so I literally came back here, flew to Iowa and went to the funeral over Easter and then I was back on Tuesday."

"That's terrible," Cesaro said, fixing Seth with a look of concern. "I was a little puzzled that you did not text me… but I have been preoccupied as well."

"Yeah, no, obviously nothing personal," Seth said, clearing his throat. "I'm still just like… reeling from all of this, it's so crazy."

"How close were you with your grandfather?" his friend asked. Seth drank from his water and tried to relax a little. He felt more anxious than anything, but was sure he needed to go through this conversation with someone.

"Not as much as I would have liked recently," Seth admitted, setting down his glass and picking his fingernails. "When I was really little he was like another parent, but I think I might have told you about his memory problems… once I moved away and his wife died, he sort of spiraled I guess."

"That's a shame," Cesaro said, sympathetic. "I had to really make sure to see my grandparents when I went back home. They are getting very old now so I am always worried something similar will happen where I am far away and they pass away."

"It sucked," Seth concluded, "I loved him a lot, but now we're dealing with his estate and it's a huge, complicated fucking mess."

Just saying a summarization of the matter felt relieving and Seth sighed hard as Cesaro nodded, patting the sofa and trying to encourage Zoe to join him on the furniture. The cat just stared, unable to comprehend the request.

"You have a large family all vying for his things?" Cesaro asked, looking to him seriously. Seth shook his head.

"No… uh… it turns out my grandpa had a small fortune and basically left it all to me if I take over his property." Seth said, nodding hard as Cesaro's eyes widened. "Yeah, right?"

"Well, that is maybe a good problem?" Cesaro laughed. "No one in your family is mad about that?"

"I don't know, but it's definitely freaked me out." Seth said hurriedly, slumping back in his chair. Cesaro often made him feel like he was at a doctor's office. "I have no idea when I have to leave here and move in, and I really don't want to leave Roman and Dean." He pushed his hat back, running his hands through his still damp hair and closing his eyes. "I feel like… they'd freak out if I told them or maybe… I don't know…" Seth wet his lips. "Money is the worst."

"You have not told them?" Cesaro asked, eyes widening further. Seth just shook his head again, feeling stupid.

"How the fuck would you tell someone that?" Seth asked, gesturing to the air. "Okay, what if you like, won the lottery and a house. What do you think would happen if you told your girlfriend?"

"Well," Cesaro laughed hard, turning pink. "It would change things, yes."

"Yeah, and like, Roman's just starting school again and Dean's doing this knitting thing on the weekends now. Oh-" Seth pointed at his friend, smiling anxiously. "And fuckin' Hunter wants to promote me. Offered me a job today."

"Do you want it?" Cesaro asked, incredulous. Seth's just raised his arms in the air wildly.

"I don't know! Nothing makes any sense! I think I could maybe deal with this stuff over the course of a year maybe, but like, what the fuck am I supposed to do when it happens all at once?" He laughed nervously again, watching as Cesaro sighed, drinking from his water, deep in thought. "Like, no matter what I do, I'm pretty sure it's all going to fall to shit. They don't wanna leave here… Roman's family is all… weird… I don't know."

"You have a lot on your plate," Cesaro agreed. The alarm for the oven dinged loudly and his friend eased himself onto his tall legs again. "There certainly is not a guarantee of anything, but I think it is obvious that this is very difficult. You do not think your boys will be understanding?"

"Roman'll probably lose his mind," Seth said flippantly, following his friend into the kitchen. "I dunno about Dean. Lately he's been a lot more talkative and stuff, but he's still… like…"

"Volatile?" Cesaro laughed. Seth just shrugged, helping his friend grab plates from the cupboard. On the counter, a salad had already been prepared and by the salt shakers, Seth could see a little polaroid photo of Sara and Cesaro, grinning in a photo booth, looking adorable.

"How's your love life though?" Seth asked, sure that he shouldn't monopolize the conversation, even if he wanted to. "How's the gal?"

"I love her." Cesaro said, deadly serious and turning to Seth with a sort of childlike excitement. "I am serious. She… she has made me very happy and I think I have made her happy too. After my shoulder… well… I don't feel nearly as… incapable at the moment. I am enjoying my time."

"Well that's good," Seth smiled, happy for his friend's fortune. "I'm glad you guys got to link up."

"Oh yes, it's been wonderful," Cesaro agreed, dumping food onto their plates one-handed. He allowed Seth to help him carry his drink back into the living room and then put on a record for some background noise. Distantly, Seth wondered if Dean had made it to the gym or if Roman was cleaning or gardening around the house. As they ate, he checked his phone periodically, but didn't see any texts. Trying not to be terribly rude, he pocketed the device, listening to Cesaro happily prattle on about his girlfriend.

"We were talking about maybe going to a yoga retreat in August in the Keys," Cesaro explained, "Taking some kind of trip. It is hard because it will be so hot here during the summer, so everywhere is sort of sweaty, but neither of us want to fly or do anything too expensive." He took a bite of his food and chewed neatly, thinking. "But, we have gone to a few restaurants and we go to each other's places maybe once a week. She does not want to go out too much or do anything too crazy, but I would like to surprise her with something fun."

"I bet it's hard though, with your shoulder and all." Seth said, licking his fork clean, the food was quite good. "I'm sure she's not expecting anything too wild."

"Yes, but I want to travel and go places myself!" Cesaro laughed. "I just never felt as though I would want to do it alone. Having a companion is best."

"Well, I'm down to do some double date nonsense now if you'd want." Seth said, "You guys seem like you're getting pretty comfortable. I still need to schedule an appointment with her…" he rolled his eyes. "Just one more thing on the list."

"I can text her if you know what time," Cesaro offered. Seth shook his head.

"Don't bother, I'll figure it out after the fundraiser," he sighed, "Putting everything off till after that…"

"What do you think…" Cesaro asked, setting his half finished plate down and looking to Seth seriously. "What is the worst thing that will happen if you tell Roman and Dean about the estate things?"

"They break up with me," Seth said flatly. "They don't want to move or deal with it."

"And you are dead set on leaving?" Cesaro asked. Seth nodded.

"It's… It's where I'm supposed to be, I feel at least," he said, remembering back to all of his grandfather's photographs. The legacy of his family. "I don't want to sell that house and I do want to figure something out with the property where maybe I could turn a profit with it. I don't know." He stroked his chin, toying with his beard fuzz carefully. "Maybe I don't even do that, maybe I just fuckin' lifeguard some tiny pool in Buffalo. I just feel like I need to be with my family, especially after what my mom had to deal with, being by herself and sorting through all of that stuff."

"I think that makes sense," Cesaro said, eyes narrowing and looking to Seth with a sort of quiet curiosity. "Why do you not think you can tell your boyfriends what you just told me?"

Seth opened his mouth for a moment, thinking. The mellow guitar music coming out of the record player filled the silence, and out of respect, Cesaro sat patiently. All of the emotions and stress behind the actual inheritance had eclipsed a lot of Seth's thinking and he sat for a moment, trying to frame his mind around what he really, truly wanted. Free from any regard for money or outside interference.

"We've been dating for only a few months," Seth said quietly, shrugging. "It's not like we've talked at all about what he want with that. Getting… really serious I mean."

"Do you want to start a family?" Cesaro asked.

"I have no idea," Seth rubbed his eyes. "But I definitely could if I had that house. It's huge. I think at some point I might want to."

"Well, if they do not want that…" Cesaro bit his lip, trying to think of his own way to frame his thinking. "I… I think sometimes you sell yourself short or your boyfriends short… maybe I am wrong but they seem to be very kind and nice to you. If you are already living together, they probably would like to be with you for some time."

"That's true… they… have been…" Seth mumbled. Without fail, almost any time he'd been emotionally shaken or physically incapable of doing something, both Roman and Dean had swooped in to do anything they could. If Seth asked for anything, he knew his boyfriend's could be counted on to help. It wasn't a question anymore and Seth was long past being tentative and afraid of Roman and Dean getting closer than he was with either of them.

But there was also the text conversations that he really didn't want to explain to Cesaro. Those sideways complaints he'd read between Roman and his sister regarding his behaviors. Dean's moments of moodiness and seclusion. Roman's wishy washy attitude and poorly adjusted family and drinking and all their stupid fights about laundry and refrigerators.

Could they replicate any modicum of happiness away from the house? Was it all just some stupid immature dream to be a trio instead of a pair?

"You will never know until you talk to them about it," Cesaro said, bringing Seth back to earth and wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "But I think that they may surprise you. Maybe they will offer something that you did not expect."

"Like what?" Seth asked, narrowing his eyebrows.

"Some solution you did not think of?" Cesaro tried, half-shrugging. "Who is to say?"

Cesaro gave him a lot to think about, but it was still too much for Seth to imagine a good way to spring the important conversation on his boyfriends. The rest of the visit, Seth talked about the Keys, explaining the amazing houseboat and their stops along the way. Cesaro listened politely and asked questions about specific places he'd heard of, watching Seth with a sort of buzzed expression. Clearly he was very happy to see his friend, and Seth felt a lot better to catch up and have a few things off his chest.

"The sun is down, but it is still hot." Cesaro sighed miserably, looking at his phone as Seth checked the time. "Do you work tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, lots of last minute prep for the event." Seth sighed, stifling a yawn. It was about 9:30, a lot later than he was usually out. Since he'd moved into Roman's house, he felt like he was in bed by 10 PM like clockwork each night. Cesaro took their plates and proceeded to rinse them off in the sink. The record had long since stopped and Seth looked around at the little space, feeling peaceful.

"You should come by the fundraiser if you're not stuck at the doctor's all day," Seth encouraged, getting up and stretching where he stood. "Bring your girl by."

"Maybe, I think it is supposed to rain this weekend." Cesaro re-entered the room and looked at Seth kindly. "Text me next week? Let me know how things are going for sure."

"Yeah yeah, thanks a lot man." Seth leaned in, actually going for a full hug before he realized what he was doing. Cesaro didn't seem to mind though, shuffling closer so his arm was not jostled.

"I appreciate it," Seth said, stepping back. "Sorta just… taking everything a few minutes at a time."

"Yes, do not explode." Cesaro laughed, seeing him to the door. "Have a good night, Seth."

Substantially less stressed out, his mind wandered idly as he drove home. Throughout his body, Seth felt loose and carefree, less likely to snap at any moment. As much as he wanted to believe Cesaro, and the evidence that was right under his nose, he just didn't feel comfortable showing his cards yet. With each passing day, he was probably losing credibility from hiding the information, but he needed to plan. Planning meant actually looking at the forms his mother sent and getting a timetable sorted out. After the fundraiser, Seth would call the estate lawyer and then maybe he'd have a better idea.

We'll sit down, he thought, imagining himself laying out charts and graphs for Dean and Roman to see. They could go out to dinner and Seth would pop the information on them to ponder in a public space where they'd be more likely to listen and not escape. Seth still didn't know what he thought his boyfriend's might say, but he wasn't sure when it was appropriate in a relationship to ask his lovers to roll the dice and uproot their lives for him.

Pulling back onto Grant Street and parking his car by the large willow tree, Seth got out and pushed his sweaty hairs back behind his ears. The lights in the house were on and the Jeep was in the driveway, but the garage door was open, which was a little strange. As he came inside and heard Kevin's little anxious bark, Seth saw the TV was on, but Roman was asleep on the couch, snoring up a storm.

His heart sank a little as he saw beer cans and video game controllers on the coffee table. Roman looked completely out, deaf to Kevin's noise with his hair strewn wildly across one of Dean's hoodie's that he'd crumpled up into a pillow. Dean himself was nowhere to be found and Seth toed out of his shoes, feeling deflated.

If Roman was drinking because he was stressed out about something, he was also hiding something. Without any thought, Seth glanced around suspiciously, looking for his boyfriend's phone around the perimeter of the living room. The man had actually fallen asleep in his jeans and as Seth's eyes grazed down his body, he could see the lump of the device in his boyfriend's pocket. Seth sighed hard, sure that they'd have to have some sort of conversation about this. If Dean of all people had brought it up, it was a problem.

Walking into the kitchen and surveying the heap of dirty dishes in the sink, Seth noticed a note on the table and the contents of his pocket, including his phone. Seth's heart raced, seeing the note Went out biking with gum wrappers and a pair of headphones heaped on the countertop. Swallowing hard, Seth looked around. Roman was snoring and there wasn't any reason to think that he'd be interrupted. There wasn't any reason to look at Dean's device, but Seth felt vulnerable after such an intimate conversation with Cesaro.

Why couldn't he just trust them?

Opening Dean's phone in a hurry, Seth didn't see any missed texts or calls. From what he'd already gathered by peeking at their phones before, he wasn't really shocked. The most immediate application on his boyfriend's device seemed to be an internet page, difficult to discern through the cracked screen.

Seth blinked, tilting forward and narrowing his eyes to read. It looked to be some sort of list and Seth scrolled to the top. He hadn't known Dean to read much or use the internet, but it had appeared to have used it for something.

10 Simple ways to reduce stress!

Stress and anxiety are common experiences for most people. In fact, 70% of adults in the US say they feel stress or anxiety daily. Here are some simple ways to relieve stress and anxiety….

It seemed almost laughable that Dean had gone so far as to Google ways to relax, but Seth's heart hurt to see it. At the top of the list, exercising and biking were options that the article was promoting, shortly followed by candles and meditation. It was possible that Dean had wanted to talk to Seth while they were working out, perhaps plan some intervention to talk to Roman about what they were witnessing. Seth locked the phone slowly and set it down, treading carefully into the living room where his boyfriend was still fast asleep. Kevin followed in his shadow and Seth turned off the television, feeling vacant and hollow.

He didn't want to confront his boyfriend or wake him up, he'd done that before, but it hadn't changed anything. Perhaps Roman had meant to wait up for him and had simply passed out where he'd been sitting. But Seth didn't really think that was true.

This can't be happening if we're going to move Seth thought angrily, walking to the bathroom and getting ready to brush his teeth. It was getting late now and he hoped Dean was biking back, but since he didn't have his phone, Seth could only hope for the best.

It wasn't often that he laid in bed alone, and as he sunk into the sheets, shucking off his day clothes, it occurred to him how vast the mattress was when there was only one person on it. He stretched his limbs out in all directions for a few minutes, trying to stay calm and breathe before curling into his usual middle spot.

The moon shone full through the window and with every silent second, he felt worse.

#ttr #fic #to the rescue

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oldmyths · 6 years

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hiya drew, what are a couple bands/songs you'd recommend for someone interested in getting into classic rock? I hope you're having a great day

hey anon! this is an extremely loaded question! sdfjdfkgjd (and i’m really flattered you’re askin me, because, omg, it’s an honor)

(under a read more bc i talk too god damn much)

okay. lemme preface this by saying i barely scratch the surface when it comes to classic rock. in fact i just like the “popular” classic rock bands, because i’m a hipster loser (and i grew up on some of this stuff and don’t really have much of an interest venturing further but hey, who knows, maybe i’ll expand my spotify library in due time)

there are people on this website in the CR fandom who are so much better equipped to answer this, but u asked me, and i never really bothered to integrate into the cr fandom anyway because i feel like theyre all cooler than me and i just wanna sit down and listen to like, the same two albums on repeat, but anyway. to answer your question…

it really just depends on what genre you like. what kind of music you want to get into; i can sit here and tell you to listen to pink floyd and go on about their significance but i can’t make you Like them yknow?

so…..i’m just gonna list a few of my favorite songs by the most well-known classic rock bands because, like i said i just kind of barely scratch the surface on the classic rock format as a whole

as some of you may be aware, i am drew “beatlefucker” angelshane (thanks ana) and to get these bug boys out of the way, i’ll give u some song recs from the beatles! (early 1960s to 1970) (genres: rock, pop, psychedelia)

surely you’ve heard of them; if not, they caused a huge uproar across the world called beatlemania. think of like…tumblr, as a planet, and the beatles is the newest, hottest anime of the season, and everybody’s got a huge heart boner for them. because that’s basically what it was.

here are some of their songs that have been in my head for the past few days: drive my car (rubber soul, 1965); eleanor rigby (revolver, 1966); and if i fell (a hard day’s night, 1964)

revolver is the most recent album i’ve listened to, they have more but the next proper Album is sgt. pepper and that feels…like. so much. it’s a Huge Album, both content-wise and…history-wise? anyway, it’s very intimidating for me and i think i want to take my time with it before i rush in

i’m just gonna get led zeppelin (late 1960s to 1980, some reunions sprinkled here and there,) out of the way, now, too. (genres: hard rock, blues rock, folk rock, heavy metal)

let me just say right here: i hate jimmy page. as a person. and i honestly think most of his solos aren’t…that great. but for real, i won’t tolerate any of that ugly shithead on my blog and just because i like LZ doesn’t mean i condone any of the shit he did.

(you’ll notice a trend, especially in the older bands, that controversy is super common. u can’t..really get into classic rock without having to see the darker side of your faves. it sucks, nobody’s perfect, and i don’t agree with separating the artist from the art, but it does get hard to like certain music when you know the shit that happened with certain artists.)

Anyway! that being said, i truthfully only really listen to led zeppelin and led zeppelin ii. some physical graffiti but, eh. So, if you wanted to get into lz, you’re askin the wrong person, is what i’m saying jfkgsdj

here’s my song recs: good times bad times and dazed and confused (led zeppelin, 1968); whole lotta love and ramble on (led zeppelin ii, 1969); kashmir (physical graffiti, 1975)

and honestly the JP thing is why i don’t really listen to LZ much outside of their self titled and lz2. cos like. i just can’t.

QUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN (1970s to…now? personally, if freddie mercury isn’t involved then..is it really queen) (genre: rock)

if you don’t know who queen is, you know who queen is. bohemian rhapsody? of course you know that song. everyone does.

but if you don’t then that’s perfectly ok too. it’s a good song imo. not their Best, but it’s good

i gotta be honest, i listen to singles mostly. i’ve got a lot on my proverbial plate and while i Love freddie mercury (bi king) sometimes i’m just. not in the headspace for queen. they’re good but a certain specific set of circumstances need to happen where i feel aligned with queen music enough to listen to it. also, freddie’s death makes me really sad and if i think about it too hard i’ll get depressed.

here’s my favorite queen songs!!!

brighton rock and killer queen (sheer heart attack, 1974); you’re my best friend (a night at the opera, 1975); somebody to love and GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY (a day at the races, 1976); TOO MUCH LOVE WILL KILL YOU (made in heaven, 1996)

honestly..queen is so influential and inspiring and i fucking love freddie mercury so like. those are just a few of my favorites. i could honestly go on forever about it but let’s stop there

now let’s get away from the boys and talk about stevie nicks because she is my mother and i would die in her place given the chance. i love her. I Love Her.

but i mean you’d probably better begin at fleetwood mac (late 1960s to the mid 1990s; late 1990s to …now?) (genres: pop rock, soft rock, blues rock, art pop, british blues)

this is a band i don’t know much about. because there’s apparently so much to know about them, so much inter-band dynamic drama. from what i’ve skimmed. So Much Drama.

i…can’t provide any songs for you, because i dont listen to fleetwood mac and i need to fix this ASAP but i feel like the time isn’t right yet. is that dumb of me to think? probably, but i’m gonna stick by my guns.

you should listen to fleetwood mac and tell me what you think!!!

(yes i included a portion on stevie nicks without giving song recs because i’m awful: listen to edge of seventeen, bella donna, 1981)

okay back to smelly dudes cos that’s all the world fuckin cares about i guess

pink floyd!!! (mid 1960s to mid 1990s, mid 2000s, and early/mid 2010s) (genres: progrock, art rock, psychedelic rock)

i mean i love them but i’m just dipping my toes in the water here. i’ve barely listened to them, but from what i’ve heard they’re very good. VERY politically driven. i cannot stress this enough. they’re the good kind of politics i think though

you’ve most definitely seen the album art for the dark side of the moon. like, you just have. there’s probably no way you couldn’t have. (but if u haven’t thats fine)

here’s some tunes: money (tdsotm, 1973); the wall. just. the wall. if you love concept albums, here you go. listen to the wall.

that’s all i got. pathetic, i know, but i’m workin my way up i promise

here’s where we get into more familiar territory. ..having said that, i don’t really know much about the history of the rolling stones, but a good friend of mine Does and maybe i can pry info out of her. but i won’t bc she’s too cool 4 school and she’s really great

anyway, the rolling stones!!! (early 1960s to like. now i guess) (genres: rock, blues, blues rock, rock and roll)

woof. what can be said about them really. there’s…..almost too much to say. i love them a lot.

Okay when i get into bands, its in my DNA to listen from the very earliest recording i can find (usually on spotify nowadays) so i’ve been sslowly working my way past the baby pebbles albums (mostly covers) to their original work (fun fact did you know john and paul of beatles fame wrote their own music, and when mick and keith of stones fame found out it was In Fact That Easy they began to write their own music too? fascinating.)

ANYWAY here’s some stones songs: gimme shelter and you can’t always get what you want (let it bleed, 1969); angie (goats head soup, 1973); sympathy for the devil (beggars banquet, 1968)

again i am….Slowly inching my way up their discography. snails pace. i’ll get there. (u can ask glimmerkeith on tumblr for stones song recs, bc shes great and knows much more than i do and i would die for jenn)

now here’s a band…….that i’ve rediscovered pretty recently. try, last week.

AC/DC!!!!!!!! (early 1970s to now) (genres: hard rock, blues rock, rock and roll)

this is Very Much Your Dads™ Music. probably. most likely, anyway. but listen: i saw them in concert once and (while it probably…wasnt the best experience for me) i had a fucking Blast. very sad things happened in this band in the last few months.

not recent, but very important, in 1980 their lead singer bon scott died and everyone was sad. then brian johnson came out with his fuckin voice and everyone was like “ok sweet lets get back to rock n’ roll”

so this will be split by scott’s era and the johnson era (heh heh) And, because i’m familiar with this band, i’ll list the album in question and name a few songs off it instead of just naming songs. because yes.

scott:

T.N.T (1975); it’s a long way to the top (if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll); T.N.T; high voltage

dirty deeds done dirt cheap (1976); dirty deeds done dirt cheap (edit: i just realized how much i actually hate this album and only like that song so WHOOPS but i wanna keep the formatting so, yknow)

let there be rock (1977); let there be rock; whole lotta rosie

highway to hell (1979); highway to hell (it just felt really weird, making a reclist of songs by ac/dc and Not including this one)

johnson:

back in black (1980); HELLS BELLS; shoot to thrill; given the dog a bone; back in black; you shook me all night long

for those about to rock we salute you (1981); for those about to rock (we salute you)

the razors edge (1990); thunderstruck

making this list, it hit me how much of bon scott i actually Listen to when i listen to ac/dc dfkjghjdfksdsfj but uh yeah those. are good

AND NOW…FOR THE FUCKIN MOMENT I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR

GUNS! AND! ROSES! (mid 1980s to NOW MOTHERFUCKERS!!! THEYRE BACK!!! well, touring at least) (genres: hard rock, heavy metal

arguably my favorite band. subjectively, my favorite classic rock band. objectively? they own a huuuge portion of my heart, and my ass.

so listen up: these two kids from indiana run away to california to get out of fucking indiana, because who wants to stay in indiana, (it’s more like, one gets out, and like a year later the other kid tries to find him in the big mean streets of L.A) and along the way they get shuffled in and out of bands together. they start bands, break up bands, the whole fuckin shebang.

and then a few chance miracles happen and suddenly guns n’ roses is formed in like 1985. my boys? those are my boys.

i’m gonna do what i did w ac/dc and bullet the albums and then i’m gonna talk about the albums because i got SHIT to SAY

appetite for destruction (1987); welcome to the jungle, out ta get me, paradise city, sweet child o’ mine, ROCKET QUEEN

all right so here’s the deal, it was very hard not picking every single song on the album because every single song on the album is fucking perfection. actual gold. there’s no flaws in this album. Nothing. everything is good and perfect and i’m not biased at all

did you know axl rose (one of the boys from indiana) recorded each line individually? so, he sang a line, and then stopped recording, and then started recording the next line because he wanted it to be perfect?

did you know appetite was originally a flop album but after this dude got the guys at MTV to play the music video for Jungle at like 5am, guns n’ roses BLEW THE FUCK UP. Everybody know about them practically overnight. it was surreal and really cool, apparently.

and did you know axl played the synthesizer in paradise city? that’s adorable. i fucking love him.

gn’r lies (1988); patience; used to love her

the first four tracks in this EP are from their very first EP ever recorded - it Sounds like it’s taken from a live show but they dubbed in the audience in post, to make it seem like they had huge crowds attending their shows when in reality that wasn’t the case. (their first ep was released in december 1986, they had loyal fans but the crowd wasn’t that rowdy until after appetite came out)

believe me when i tell you. don’t listen to one in a million. or like, do. but i’m not gonna fight anyone about this. it’s fucked up. i’m not defending axl at all and i actually struggled with liking guns after i listened to it.

but unfortunately here we are and i saw them in concert and i had to deal with some fuckhead in the row behind me and his friend who kept Shouting that they play the song, when nobody on stage could her them, and like. of course they wouldn’t play it today. fuck off man

use your illusion i (1991); right next door to hell; dust n’ bones; perfect crime; november rain; BAD APPLES; COMA

i tried to limit these to five songs an album but i fuckin can’t, anon. illusion1 is just so fucking perfect. i can’t choose between my children. pls forgive me

on dust n’ bones and double talkin’ jive is izzy stradlin doing vocals (the second indiana boy, the one who left indiana first) and he’s regarded as the most unnderrated member in gnr by like everybody. so much so that it’s almost…too much. but like basically he was addicted to drugs and everything and then he sobered up when everyone else in the band was still hooked and he was like “wtf i’m out” and axl was like noooo :(

use your illusion ii (1991); civil war; 14 years; GET IN THE RING; locomotive; estranged; you could be mine

UYI1 and 2 were released on the same day. can you imagine how fuckin wild that day was? gnr fans scrambled to their record stores by the hordes probably.

izzy does vocal work in 14 years and this album was his last contribution to the band

uhhhh this album is also fucking perfect but i get sad listening to it sometimes so i try not to? very emotionally driven work. but like, where UYI1 was mostly passionate and angry-ish based, UYI2 is much more contemplative and uhh. sad. i guess.

“the spaghetti incident?” (1993)

this is a cover album and also the last album to feature my love, my soul, my light, my heart, slash. also duff. i mean i love him probably almost just as much but, yeah. duff actually looks like my cousin’s dad so i can’t really…. um. i feel weird about talking about him kjdfgd

but SLASH my god what a perfect man. i love him more than almost everything.

hey fun fact in between UYI and TSI, guns n’ roses toured with metallica and that tour is when slash, In His Autobiography, said he “lost” axl. his word. he Lost axl.

axl rose is a whole fuckin…..topic for another time, and i’m not gonna get into my own bullshit here, but that’s basically the situation when you listen to TSI. the band is fractured and barely holding together. after TSI, slash and duff leave GNR and axl is the only original member from the band still in it

(of course that opens up a conversation of who was originally in guns n’ roses but that’s another discourse for another time)

CHINESE DEMOCRACY (2008); CHINESE DEMOCRACY; BETTER; THERE WAS A TIME; SORRY; MADAGASCAR; PROSTITUTE

I. FUCKING. LOVE. THIS. ALBUM. MORE THAN I COULD EVER EXPRESS. everyone says it’s “not gnr” of COURSE it isn’t gnr, when YOU think of GNR, you see slash. and like, i love slash? but he didn’t make the band. EVERYONE - axl, izzy, steven, duff, And slash made the band. after steven was kicked, gnr lost a huge part of what made them stand out, what made the band unique.

and like, fuck, i love dizzy. i love all of the new additions. but you cannot. fucking look me in the eyes and tell me you love UYI But you hate CD because it’s “not gnr”. like. fuck you man.

ugh anyway. i just gotta let y’all know my Stance on this. i love chinese democracy. i’ll defend this album with my fucking life. i was really…disappointed when, at my concert, i didn’t hear more CD but like i also saw slash in person (albeit, from far away, but we shared the same arena and that’s. more than i can handle)

i wanna get lyrics from prostitute tattooed on my body.

also like you can’t tell me better and sorry aren’t about slash sorry but that’s just the fuckin tea

Now, listen, this ask got away from me. i didn’t include…SO many bands because, like i said, i just scratch the surface of what classic rock is. my word isn’t law, ok? that bein said, i am always, ALWAYS down to talk about any of the bands here, and others!!! if i know of them. i’m always taking music/song recs, too.

thanks..for reading this stupid answer to your innocent ask sdfkjghsdf

#🌹 tag #here i've given you a tag now #i hope u don't mind!#also! i'm so sorry this took forever!!!

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foundcarcosa · 7 years

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cxciii.

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most? >> I’m not sure. I’ll name six songs I listen to a lot, at any rate: Black Out Days, Phantograms; Emperor’s New Clothes, Panic at the Disco; Power, Kanye West; Noll, kent; Some Time Ago..., Dethklok; No Resurrection, AFI.

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? >> Oh, I don’t know. Stephen King, maybe. But without the opportunity of long conversations with a couple six packs while sitting in rocking chairs by a river, I don’t see why I would bother.

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17. >> “Mrs Massey’s real. She leaves pieces of herself. You saw them. So did Mom... and she doesn’t shine.” - Doctor Sleep

4: What do you think about most? >> I don’t think any subject is most prominent.

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say? >> It was the new router password.

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on? >> I usually sleep with some garment or another on. The type of clothing varies with season.

7: What’s your strangest talent? >> None of my skills are strange in my perspective.

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence) >> Girls just wanna have fun. [The] boys are back in town.

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you? >> I’ve had a poem written about me.

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? >> I usually play air drums.

11: Do you have any strange phobias? >> No.

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? >> No.

13: What’s your religion? >> I don’t have a religion, because I’m an avowed syncretist (not to mention technically atheist, although it’s not that I don’t ‘believe in God’ so much as that I have an indefinable and constantly shifting concept of the numinous).

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? >> Walking, smoking, looking at stars, getting some fresh air, exploring, being nosy, who knows.

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? >> In front of it.

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? >> I don’t have one single favourite band. I lost interest in trying.

17: What was the last lie you told? >> I don’t remember.

18: Do you believe in karma? >> I think the original concept of karma is interesting, and the veracity of it doesn’t really matter much to me either way.

19: What does your URL mean? >> It’s a play on “Lost Carcosa”, although its personal meaning is a little beyond that by now.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? >> Curiosity. (Yes, it fits both.)

21: Who is your celebrity crush? >> Idris Elba, Matthew McConaughey, Aisha Hinds, Gillian Anderson, David Duchovny, that guy who played Billy on Sirens, that guy with the great smile who hosts Celebrity Ninja Warrior...

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping? >> No.

23: How do you vent your anger? >> I prefer not to vent it. It runs its course much easier when I simply don’t give it any attention, negative or positive.

24: Do you have a collection of anything? >> No. I don’t grok collecting.

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? >> I prefer video chatting if I must choose between the two.

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become? >> I am happy with constantly becoming.

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? >> A sound I hate is people sniffling, especially if they do it constantly; a sound I love is the distant roar of traffic on a clear summer night.

28: What’s your biggest “what if”? >> Not sure.

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? >> I don’t believe in ghosts personally, but I do believe in extraterrestrial life. I think aliens just interest me more than ghosts.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. >> A beer bottle. A counter.

31: Smell the air. What do you smell? >> Nothing specific.

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to? >> I don’t know.

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast? >> I’m not familiar enough with both coasts to have an actual opinion.

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? >> ---

35: To you, what is the meaning of life? >> The meaning of my life is constant change and constant curiosity.

36: Define Art. >> The meaning of art for me is whatever excites my senses and invites an emotional response.

37: Do you believe in luck? >> I believe in synchronicity, and I think luck falls into that jurisdiction.

38: What’s the weather like right now? >> Sunny and warm.

39: What time is it? >> 5.58p EST.

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? >> No.

41: What was the last book you read? >> The Power of Myth, Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers. Finally finished it.

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline? >> Yes, quite. Not in abundance, though, or for long periods of time.

43: Do you have any nicknames? >> Dio, Rev, Eddie.

44: What was the last film you saw? >> The Thing (the 2011 remake).

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? >> A facial laceration.

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly? >> Nope.

47: Do you have any obsessions right now? >> My current active special interests are comparative mythology, the Dark Tower, eldritch stories and concepts, theology and mysticism, social evolution, and supermassive black holes. (I’m watching a show about that last one right now.)

48: What’s your sexual orientation? >> I like dicks and I prefer them to be nonhuman. (I don’t have a solid sexual orientation. The only)

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you? >> Not that I recall or know of.

50: Do you believe in magic? >> I suppose I do, don’t I.

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? >> No. Grudges don’t interest me in the slightest.

52: What is your astrological sign? >> Gemini Sun (and Moon, and Mercury); Scorpio Rising.

53: Do you save money or spend it? >> I spend it when I can and save some when it’s possible.

54: What’s the last thing you purchased? >> Netflix’s monthly payment date was today.

55: Love or lust? >> Both are delightful.

56: In a relationship? >> Am I in one? Yes.

57: How many relationships have you had? >> Enough to know I’m not done having them.

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue? >> Nope.

59: Where were you yesterday? >> At home.

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? >> Sparrow’s mouse and phone case are both mostly pink.

61: Are you wearing socks right now? >> Yes.

62: What’s your favourite animal? >> Snakes, spiders, capybara, otters... dogs...

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? >> I don’t use any special weapons to get someone to like me. I want someone’s appreciation of me to be organic-- based upon a perception of me that’s as untainted by my influence as possible.

64: Where is your best friend? >> In Xibalba, my ‘headspace’.

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr. >> I’ll name five random blogs I love looking at for various reasons: arashi-of-ota, thisherelight, ruth-threadgoode, arielshepard, and elfyourmother.

66: What is your heritage? >> My father is Black American and Native, to his understanding; my mother is Haitian.

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? >> I was probably on tumblr.

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? >> Why would Satan need a surname?

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? >> Of course?

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? >> Yes.

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? >> That depends on how confident I am that losing that job won’t be a huge loss. And honestly, a job has never been of utmost importance to me, so I’d probably end up saving the dog in any case. Or at least finding someone that can, if the canal is too treacherous for my non-swimming ass.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? >> In a case of terminal illness, I’d tell the people in my social circle and then try to come to terms with it in whatever way suits who I am at that time. And yes, I’d definitely be afraid. Hopefully, by that time, the fear would be less of an issue. Hopefully, O’Dim and I will be closer friends by then.

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love. >> This is such an unimaginative idea.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? >> Seven Years in Tibet by David Bowie has a pretty good track record for this.

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? >> 6463.

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? >> That depends on the people involved, not my opinion. What makes my current relationship effective is communication, investment, and compassion.

77: How can I win your heart? >> It’s not a prize. You don’t win it, you cultivate it, encourage it, inspire it.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? >> In my experience, my creativity is a direct result of my insanity. However, that doesn’t seem to work in every case, so don’t necessarily expect it to.

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? >> It’s an interconnected set of decisions, both mine and others’, that create a life. No single decision is responsible for how my life is.

80: What size shoes do you wear? >> 8.5, I think.

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? >> I don’t care. Whatever would please those left behind, I suppose.

82: What is your favourite word? >> I have way too many favourite words.

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. >> I imagined an anatomically realistic heart.

84: What is a saying you say a lot? >> “son of a whore”

85: What’s the last song you listened to? >> I don’t remember.

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours? >> I don’t have favourite colours.

87: What is your current desktop picture? >> It’s a slideshow. Right now, it’s a still from Interstellar.

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? >> No thanks.

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? >> I don’t know.

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? >> Stare at them for a while, trying to figure out how to proceed.

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? >> The ability to manipulate organic and inorganic matter without limit.

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? >> No, thanks.

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? >> Why would I need this.

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? >> One who’s clean, good in bed, and nice to look at.

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? >> Meh.

96: Do you have any relatives in jail? >> Not to my knowledge.

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? >> Nope.

98: Ever been on a plane? >> Quite a few times, yes.

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? >> “Whaddup, y’all...?”

#surveysofsamedi

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