#I mean. my parents supported him in everything he’s had a good group of friends his entire life he has a decent job (it’s the navy it’s not

[noonblight]

Arven, And The Habits Built By Parental Neglect

So I was going to make this big song and dance post about Arven’s entire arc and character psychology but I think other people have picked that one apart better than me. However I DO still want to talk about something I haven’t seen addressed too much.

As much as I think the phrase ‘love language’ is a gross over-simplification of psychology (and also not real, go look it up, the guy who made it was awful) it’s actually a really fitting term for the thing I want to talk about, which is how Arven has built up a habit of caring for others despite the neglect his parents showed him, and made it a core part of his personality. In essence, he’s deemed himself the ‘mom friend’ because he never had that kind of support growing up.

You can see this throughout multiple parts of the game, but here’s my list of favourites:

• If you pick the dialog option and say that you’ll go along with Arven’s quest-line before he explains what you’ll be doing, he exclaims that you have no sense of caution for your own safety. That you shouldn’t just go brazenly dashing into agreements like that.

• He is always looking after Mabosstiff so tenderly, and while a lot of this is due to them growing up together, I think it’s the way he shows his care for Mabosstiff that communicates my point.

• After noticing Miraidon eat your sandwich, he begins to make extra ones so that you don’t go without one. He even splits his own sandwich with you after Miraidon steals the first one you ever make together.

• He mentions that he cleans his dorm every day he’s there because Maboschiff sheds fur a lot.

• Post-Game, he admits that he would like to be a chef who can make good food for others.

Basically, I adore the tiny writing detail that even Arven’s positive traits are still shaped by the parental neglect that he went through, because it’s surprisingly realistic for the writing of a kid’s game.

He’s messy, he’s allowed to grieve and be confused about his feelings openly, he’s allowed to be irritable and strange in the eyes of others. But the game also never lets you forget how much he truely cares for others, even those he doesn’t know very well.

This can also be subtly inferred from just how amazingly fast Arven manages to raise a team that is arguably the only bordering-on-difficult fight in the game. Arven claims to not be a good trainer and claims Mabosstiff was his only pokémon before the events of the game (we can infer this from how he mentions after your first battle with him that he only just caught that Skwovet)

But just look at how fast he manages to make a team! Your trainer is always complimented for their rapid success, but man, they should look at Arven who doesn’t even have that much skill at the start of the game. I like to think this improvement is a direct result of his care for his Pokémon, and his desire to help and protect others. It’s no wonder why he claims in the post-game tournament that he’s been working super hard to build a team that can protect his loved ones, he really means it.

Arven also has a terrible habit of attempting to do most things by himself until the absolute last minute. He refuses to ask Nemona for help with the titans despite knowing she has the skills for it. He only asks you when he’s at his wit’s end starting to lose hope in Mabosstiff, and notices that you had the skill to work with Miraidon.

Even more than all that stuff I mentioned before however, I adore the end cutscene of the game for taking Arven, this character who displays all these little quirks, and then turns around and says ‘it’s your turn to be cared for by people who care about you, you don’t need to do this alone’

Nemona tells the group to take the scenic route home.

Penny suggests snacks.

Miraidon gently pushes Arven toward the group.

And the last scene in the game is so important for that reason, Arven is finally having others care for him. After everything that has happened, he has at least a few people who will support him and show him that care his parents lacked.

So anyway happy holidays, have that shoddy analysis <3

#arven #arven pokemon #mabosstiff #pokemon #pokemon scarvi #spoilers #pokemon spoilers #scarvi #nemona #penny #analysis #pokemon scarlet violet #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet #Pokémon

[luvyeni]

CONSEQUENCES OF A ONE NIGHT STAND. ( chapter. 14)

— CHAPTER FOURTEEN: telling the parents (fail) ...

— 𖦹 warnings?

previous - next - masterlist

"jungwon , stop complaining." his mother rolled her eyes , sitting the food down on the table. "im just saying i can't believe i had to sleep on the air mattress." you laughed at your bestfriend , all these years later and he still whined to his parents.

"because she's pregnant jungwon , she can't sleep on the air mattress." you smiled cheekily , of course you could've slept on the air mattress , you planned on doing so , giving your bestfriend his bed back — you just wanted to piss him off. "my name isn't jake , he's the one that got her pregnant , not me."

"jungwon enough, eat your breakfast " you stuck your tongue out , your phone rang , you picked it up , reading the daily good morning text and check up from jake. you smiled , texting him back. "speaking of the devil." jungwon said. "look at that smile , for someone who claims they're just in it for the baby , you surely are cheesing hella hard." you rolled your eyes. "hush up , it was only a good morning text."

"i just can't believe you're with child , jakes none the less." jungwons mom fed you more food. "he is a wild one , i was surpised when wonie brung him home during spring break."

"well as long as he helps out with the baby , he's free to do whatever he wants , date whoever he wants." you said , something in the back of your head saying you didn't really mean that , but you pushed it down. "now that i think about it." jungwon started. "i don't think i've seen or heard him talk about another girl , for the month it's been all about you and the baby in the group chat , i almost kicked him out because of it."

"you're a professional hater , you know that right?" he smiled. "like it's a full time job."

"you're gonna tell your parents today right?" his mom spoke up , you sighed nodded. "how do you think they'll take it." you shrugged. "horrible if my predictions are correct." you never got along with your parents , being the oldest sibling , your parents always set the standards at a unreachable level , and would get mad when you would fail.

your younger sister on the other hand — being the baby and all , was treated with love and care , given everything she wanted , even if her grade were horrible. when she turned 18 for her graduation present wanted to travel to europe for a year with her friends , your parents funded the whole trip. when you were 18 you asked them to help you with your books for college , they said they were already paying for half your tuition and they couldn't do it.

when your sister said she didn't want to go to college like they pressured you into doing , but instead she wanted to be a youtuber , they bought her an entire set up that cost thousands of dollars , but when you asked could they help you with the down payment for your cafe , they refused , if it wasn't for jungwons parents you would've probably be in debt.

it's safe to say you've pretty much cut contact with them , and now you have a successful cafe , and they're still financially supporting your sister who is now an adult.

"well you are always welcomed here , that baby will always have a home here." you smiled , standing up to hug the woman who was more like your mother than your actually mother. "thank you , so much for that."

"we don't have to be at your parents house for dinner until 8 , so we have time." jungwon said. "wonie , how about you let ( name ) handle this on her own." mrs. yang spoke , washing the dishes. "what the hell am i supposed to do then?" he said. "uh spend time with your mother."

you grabbed his hand reassuringly. "she's right , i can do it on my own , spend time for your mom , it's not every day you visit her." he nodded. "if that's what you want bubs , then i guess i can stay here and wait , text karina and make sure sunoo is doing his job." you hugged him. "i'll be fine i swear."

after helping with the chores , you decides to finally suck it up and get dressed — thinking of multiple ways you could tell your parents , each resulting in them being horrible as the next. "where are my car keys?" you paced back and forth. "you mean the ones in your hand?" you looked down , sighing. "you don't have to do this alone." he said. "i do , i just need to get it over with." you slipped your shoes on.

"okay." you huffed , finally ready to leave. "i'm gonna go now." you took one of his sweaters. "make sure they aren't burning my store down." he reassured you , pushing you out the door "okay , okay go , you're late." he said. "good luck honey." mrs.yang yelled , you thanked her knowing you'll definitely need it.

after 25 minute drive to your house , and 15 wait outside your door , you finally worked up the courage to get out of the car , walking to the door , knocking on the door. you heard the old family dog barking , before silence , the unlocking of the locks nerve wracking , the door swinging open. "you're late."

you and your sister stared each other down. "you look fat." she turned , letting you walk into the house. "take your shoes off , the mother just cleaned." you complied , deciding not to argue. "i did live here at one point."

you bent down , petting the old dog , who jumped at your side. "hi girl , it's been a while." you let her lick your palm. "everyone is in the dining area."

you let out a inhale , exhaling before walking into the dining area. "next time call when you're gonna be late." your sister sat down , you could tell this was not gonna be easy. "me and jungwon got caught up." you sat down. "of course , you spend more time with that boy than you do your own family." your mom passed out the dishes.

"well im surprised you even noticed." you said. "are you talking back?" you shook your head. "no mother."

the dinner went by just as you suspected , your family saying sly comments about you and your life , and you praying to god to escape — almost calling it quits and leaving many times. "can we just stop beating around the bush." your sister said.

"it's been 4 years since you left , you've block everyone on social media , we have to hear from mrs.yang about you , so why are you here?" you guess it was time , sitting down your utensils , sighing. "well i came because i have something to tell you."

"is it about your business? because we've already told you we're not- i didn't come here because i need something , my god can you just listen for a second." you snapped , making them go silent , you huffed , before speaking.

"well." you gulped , i just wanted to tell you guys that , i am pregnant." you watched their eyes widen , before your mom sat her utensils down. "pregnant?" she questioned. "yes."

it was so silent , you thought that they could hear your heart beating out of your chest. "can't say im surprised." your mom said. "what does that mean?" you scoffed. "you've always been know to make stupid decisions." she said. "it was only a matter of time before you gotten yourself pregnant." "do you know the baby's daddy? is he your boyfriend? why isn't he here?" your sister spoke.

"of course i know him , and no jake isn't my boyfriend." you said. "you're having a baby with someone you're not even with." your sister shook her head. "so it was a mistake?" you were growing annoyed. "does that matter, the baby is coming regardless."

"you didn't think to get rid of it?" you scoffed at your mother. "are you serious right now?" you said. "i should've come here." you stood up. "what are you gonna do now?" your dad said. "gonna come crawling back to us for money , much like before with the cafe , you can't keep asking the yangs for money , they'll eventually get tired of you."

you scoffed , more liked laughed. "that's what you think?" you nodded. "my shop is doing way better." you said. "i didn't come here for money , i just came to check something." you said. "guess i was right." you walked out of the kitchen.

"i won't be back again." was all you said before you grabbed your shoes , walking out the house to your car. you climbed into the car , driving off , and you just kept driving , straight past the yangs house , you couldn't stay in your home town any longer.

— ( taglist. CLOSED ) @j-wyoung @whoslai @cha0thicpisces @sunsunl0ver @wonyoungsvirus @omgtintarr @en-dazed @kwiwin @httpsrinrin @igotkpoops @enhaz1 @ahnneyong @electrobutterfly @nes-caf @beomgyusonlywife @jup1t3r-y30n @gyulune @mixtape-racha @ddazed-lhs @shuichi-sama @chaelinhhwang @stariszn @rikisly @ilikekpop-c @jenjnk @ilovehimyourhonour @peachyun02 @primroselover @sxurgrapes

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smau #jake x reader #jake sim fanfic #jake sim x reader #jake sim smau #enhypen x female reader #jake smau

[twig-tea]

Cooking Crush ep 10: This Show Has My Whole Heart

I wrote about some of the things Cooking Crush is doing so well in my response to a recent ask, and so I'm particularly glad that episode 10 came through with a strong flourish to get us set up the last two episodes.

I wanted to call out a few specific things this episode did that are contributing to why it's working so well for me.

First, I want to mention that the reciprocity continues! Previously, we had Prem comforting Ten during a panic attack post adrenaline crash. In this episode, Ten comforts and supports Prem during his worries about Samsee and the competition.

Picking up on something else I've talked about before, this show is committed to its character's arcs. Fire is struggling with his sexuality and his desire to keep their relationship secret last episode led to the conflict between Samsee and Dynamite this episode. Fire showing up to support Dy in public, giving him affection, and using the petname Dy insisted on having is all evidence of Fy's increasing comfort with it. He's already said before he intends to tell his mother, and Dy has been clear he's not rushing him. The way Dy is so careful with Fire but also so receptive to and appreciative of what Fire is able to give warms my heart (pun intended). And Samsee and Prem seeing it and reacting supportively too, because they know what this means to their friend!

[The gifsearch is not cooperating but please enjoy this gifest by @gunsatthaphan.]

I also want to talk about how this conflict with Samsee hits Dynamite hard, and in the context of knowing he's lost relationships with his parents because of his sexuality, to think his relationship with Fire could have lost him a close friend must be bringing back up his feelings about being cut out of the lives of people he loves. However, it speaks to the strength of his bond with Samsee that even though Samsee is furious and not speaking with him, he does not kick Dy out of his apartment. Dy mentions that he didn't see Samsee the night before the competition because Samsee didn't come home (we find out later why, but I loved this subtle nod to the fact that unlike Dy's own parents, Samsee didn't abandon Dy when he made choices that hurt him. I AM IN MY QUEER FOUND FAMILY FEELINGS, FRIENDS).

Along these lines, Ten going to confess to Prem, noticing that these friends are having a moment, and quietly stepping away to give them space is such a good character moment for him, since previously he's been begging to be let in to their shared space even when Prem mentions he's concerned about its impact on his friends and their relationship. Ten's realizing he can't be everything for Prem, and it's better for both of them if he isn't.

That scene of reconciliation, the three friends re-establishing how important they are to one another, that got to me. And that the show prioritized it over the romance! I cannot tell you how much I love that this was an explicit decision the show made, to say 'no, this is not the time for a confession, this friendship reconciliation is more important right now'. And I love that the show gives us a solid, character-grounded reason for why Samsee reacted so strongly to being left out in the first place. We've been told Samsee has changed school majors 3 times, and it's been played as a joke as well as an explanation for why he's an older student. I love that we've now had the consequences of those changes on Samsee's friendships added to his story. Even a "joke" backstory has ramifications for the characters in this show, I am obsessed.

I also want to mention that I am loving what the show is doing with Samsee and Metha, two characters who are the "fuck-ups" of their friend groups, but who are also the most loyal and most supportive of them all. They conflict with one another around what that support looks like, even while they enable one another to continue to be the best friends to their respective besties.

Prem has struggled this entire show to use his words, and in particular he's visibly wrestled with how he can gracefully reject Chef Changma without putting his own career at risk. In this episode he manages to say 'I don't think that [a hug] would be a good idea', and he's ignored. Ten immediately steps in, but I wanted to highlight how big a deal it is for Prem to have said no to this Chef--who he's idolized, who is his mentor, and who is a judge of the competition he's in--in this moment.

When we do get to the confession, Prem continues to lead with action, and Ten continues to push him to use his words. I love so much that Ten never lets him get away with copping out of saying the words, since it's something we know Prem struggles so much with. This speaks to @lurkingshan's earlier post about how Cooking Crush shows us its leads are better thanks to their relationship (in the same way that Fire self-actualizing and being more free to be himself and express affection also speaks to this point).

Beyond character arcs, there's one other thing I am very excited for heading into episode 11 next week, and that's the conflicts in this show converging so brilliantly. So far, the show has set up a few conflicts: Ten's relationship with his father, the cooking competition, the bullies, Fire's relationship with his mother, and Chef Changma's interest in Prem. All of these have now been queued up to expertly converge as a single conflict in ep 11, based on the preview. With Changma's advance and subsequent punch being recorded and distributed (I'm placing bets that this was recorded by one of the bullies, btw), Ten's father once again steps in the way of this relationship that he sees as a detriment to his son. Prem also previously stated that he wanted to enter the competition in order to prove to Ten's dad that he has potential, so these threads were already starting to come together weeks ago. Even if I'm wrong about the bullies having been the ones to record that video, they're sitll in the competition as competitors. And of course Fire has promised Dy he'd come out after the competition, tying the last thread of these conflicts all together around this single event.

And this is what I mean when I say the writing on this show is so good. Because the characters are coherent and consistent and have clear arcs, and the conflicts are grounded in the characters, even though there are several threads, they come together easily and in a way that makes perfect sense and that work with the character arcs rather than against them.

The last thing I'll mention, because it's something I actually brought up as a negative to this show previously, is the use of non-linear storytelling. Cooking Crush has used non-linear storytelling several times, showing us a scene and then flashing back to what happened before that scene in order to fill in the gaps. This can be an effective storytelling tool, but it has to accomplish something in the narrative. The difference between unnecessary and excellently-deployed non-linear storytelling is whether or not there's a good answer to this question: What is the purpose of delaying this information to the audience, and how does that delay affect the audience understanding of what they're seeing? In previous instances, for example the kiss and then flashback to the full date, knowing that Ten and Prem kissed at the end of their date didn't add anything to the viewing experience of watching their date, and having seen their date didn't change my experience of the kiss. This is why I consider it an ineffective use of that technique.

In episode 10, however, we get the cold open that shows Ten joining Prem and Samsee in the competition, and then we flash back. Knowing Ten will be joining Prem and Dynamite in the competition helps to colour what we see about Prem and Dy trying to get Samsee to reconcile with them, as well as Samsee's absence. When we get to Ten stepping in, we have learned it was as much a surprise (and disappointment) to Prem and Dy as it was to us. Ten stepping in doesn't actually work, but it does give Prem the courage to ask if they can compete as a duo, rather than just letting themselves be disqualified without a fight. And we later find out that Samsee was so touched by the letter that he went to his hometown to dig for prawns and that's why he was late for the competition. [I also wanted to mention this because based on @respectthepetty's roundup post it sounds like the cold open was cut for the youtube version]

I lied, I have one more actual last thing, this one is obvious but I can't not say it: THANK YOU to this show for consistently queueing up the typical miscommunication fumbles that get so annoying in every BL (in most romance plots of any sexuality) and then saying NOT TODAY SATAN and having the characters choose vulnerability and honesty and bravery, and talking it out. Every time the show does this (and it's at least 2x per episode, no exaggeration) I feel a little more faith in romance writing restored.

ANWAY, TL;DR Cooking Crush continues making me so happy every week!

#cooking crush #bl meta #long post #typed so that I can stop thinking it #sorry y'all i am so obsessed with the details about this show #everything that makes it feel normal to everyone else is what is making it feel extraordinary to me

[stardropsaloongossiptrain]

Bachelors and Having a Baby

I saw another hc blog do this and I wanna do my own take~

Sebastian --

Extremely shocked when you tell him you're pregnant, but would react with a blank face and "oh, huh. Interesting." It does not sink in for a few minutes to an hour, and then he's losing his fucking mind.

Never thought he would be a dad, and convinced himself he would be a bad one. Even if him and the farmer weren't using protection, it still blindsides him

He cuts back on freelance work to help more around the farm, especially in the last trimester. The farmer is NOT allowed to do anything more strenuous than play video games. He will prob call on Abigail and Sam to help, he's not exactly the most athletic guy in the world.

Despite his fears that he wouldn't do a good job, he certainly works to make sure they won't come true. Reads a lot of parenting books and talks to Robin a lot. Those talks heal a bit of the rift between them.

Robin jokes that she's too young to be a grandma, but Demetrius cries when he's given a World's Best Grandpa mug. Maru happily steps up as an aunt and will spoil the baby with custom made toys and a ton of STEM for baby books.

Abigail and Sam are the chaotic aunt and uncle I imagine Shane was to Jas. They will babysit (mostly Sam) but expect funny pictures and wacky situations.

Elliott --

He is overjoyed when you tell him the news. He's going to be a papa! Lots of hugs and swinging you around. He doesn't strike me as the type to seek parenthood, but would lovingly embrace it once given to him.

It doesn't hit him for a while that a baby is going to mean changing his lifestyle quite a bit. No more all nighters, he won't be able to write for hours and hours at a time anymore. He finds it worth changing that aspect of his life to adjust to this new addition, a physical manifestation of your love.

Starts to change his habits early on so he'll be better suited after the baby arrives. Fully supports when you go nest mode and will move the furniture around as much as you want.

Has had a list of names for years before you even meet him. And all of them are beautiful

Leah takes on an aunt type roll, and loves teaching the baby about art and colors.

Sam --

Panics hard at the announcement. It doesn't matter that you're married, he still feels like he's sixteen sometimes, and he's worried about getting in trouble

Jodi and Kent are overjoyed at becoming grandparents, and Vincent thinks it's cool he's going to be an uncle.

Abigail and Sebastian make fun of him for being so worried about it, and help him get ready mentally to be a dad. They may need to remind him how much he helped with Vincent.

Once he calms down and realizes his family isn't going to be mad and his friends will stick around, he's extremely excited. He helped make an entirely new person! Someone he can teach music to! Can you skateboard with a baby?

Happily becomes the stay at home dad and handles a lot of the childcare.

Absolutely writes banger after banger of goofy songs for his kid

Alex --

I think he would be the type that always wanted to be a dad, just to spite how bad his was. When you tell him he's going to be one, he's over the moon. One of the few times you ever see him cry is when you tell him about the pregnancy, and again when the baby arrives.

Immediately befriends all the moms in Pelican Town and joins their gossip groups so he can get their advice and help as you prep for the baby. They adore him. He's like their pet.

Gets into what-to-expect books and takes over farm chores basically as soon as you tell him. No, you don't need to be doing all of that. He's got it. Which, I do think he would be pretty involved on the farm. I don't think he's the type to slouch while his spouse does everything. You can trust that he'll do well.

Evelyn and George are shocked by the news. George especially didn't think they'd live long enough to see it. They both love the little one quite a bit, and despite George's general attitude, he only speaks sweetly to the baby.

Haley will absolutely bury you in baby outfits as gifts.

Harvey --

Probably the most panicked on the list. He's not an ob/gyn but he IS medically trained and knows how easily everything can go wrong.

This doesn't mean he isn't thrilled and amazed in equal measure. Sure, you knew it was a possibility, but... He's so happy. He always wanted to be a dad, and now it's happening! He gets very misty-eyed.

He starts taking over cooking to be sure you're getting all the nutrients you need. You will find snacks in your bag, all healthy.

He also wants you to cut back on the farmwork, maybe hire someone for a season or two to hold it down. He would take over if he could, but being the town's only doctor keeps him too occupied.

He will absolutely do every type of birthing partner class.

He also helps set up the birth plan. He handles your medical needs until the birth. The plan is to go to Zuzu City about when the baby is due, deliver in the big hospital where he can be by your side and let someone else be the doctor. This plan fails when you deliver early and he has to step up. Everything goes well.

Shane --

He never thought he would be a dad. He didn't think he was good enough to take in Jas, and for the longest time, he didn't think he was good enough to be involved enough to have a kid.

He's come so far since when you first met. He's still got his issues, but he has a healthy grasp on them anymore. He isn't filled with loathing when you tell him, but tears up and holds you close. He feels incredibly lucky to have someone that loves him enough to welcome a child from him.

He is excited to prep for the kid. He was around when Jas was born, so he still remembers a fair bit about the baby years.

Jas can't wait to be a big sister. She likes playing with Vincent, but it would be even better to have a brother or sister. Marnie tears up when you both tell her the news. She's already a great-aunt to Jas, but looks forward to welcoming your baby as well. If you call her Grannie she will melt.

Shane absolutely faints in the delivery room. Man thought he could handle it. He cannot.

He's a very attentive dad. He never, ever wants this part of him to feel like it's not loved or good enough.

#sdv headcanons #sdv shane #sdv elliott #sdv alex #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv harvey

[7ndipity]

Roommates with Jin(College au)

Jin x Reader

Summary: Headcanon list and blurb about moving in/being roommates with Jin

Warnings: not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I started it as a drabble, but couldn’t decide on a single idea, so I made it a hc list instead, I hope that's alright. Also, big thanks to everyone for your patience as I slowly catch up on requests.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Moving in together was technically his idea, after your roommate announced they were transferring and you were stressing about finding a new one

“What if I just move in?” He’d all but blurted one evening over dinner, leaving you to nearly choke on your drink before gaping at him.

You’d only been dating for about six months, so you definitely had some concerns about moving too fast, but you couldn’t deny that the idea was a lot more appealing than living with a potential stranger, so ultimately you agreed.

He was so happy when you said yes, practically skipping to buy packing supplies.

The two of you fell into habit with each other surprisingly fast, balancing out tasks and chores almost without thought.

He makes sure you wake up on time in the morning, you make his coffee. He takes the trash out, you do the vacuuming. Etc…

You’re friends joke that you’ve become the parents of the group, bc there’s always someone sleeping over on your couch or staying for dinner(and by someone, I mean usually Jungkook)

Which reminds me, he’s a really good cook(he jokes that he almost went to culinary school instead of majoring in film) He was lowkey horrified by the amount of instant ramen and takeout you’d been surviving on previously, so your diet definitely improved when he moved in.

Half of your conversations are yelled because you’re on opposite ends of the appartment and refuse to walk through the house to find each other.(yeah, the neighbors kinda hate you, but it’s just Joon and Yoongi, so it’s nbd)

Late night cram sessions, where one or both of you are almost falling asleep on the other’s shoulder, but you won’t just go on to bed because you’re trying to be supportive.

Movie nights that he claims count as studying for him(even tho you’re like 99% sure his professor didn’t assign Shrek 2 as viewing material)

Being able to find each other's things, but never your own.

Going all out for holiday decorations, but you have to agree on them before purchsing bc one time you bought one of those motion activated figures for Halloween without telling him and he almost had a heart attack and punched it in the face.

Groaning as you set down the last box, you staggered over to where Jin sat unpacking another box before sliding down to sit next to him on the floor with a soft thud.

“Is that the last of it?” He asked.

“Yep, everythings here.” You slumped against his shoulder, “Ugh, I’m so tired. I think I went up and down those stairs two hundred times.”

“Hey, look.” Jin nudged you as he looked around at the disorganized mix of furniture and boxes scattered throughout the space.

“What?”

“We did it. We’re in our apartment.” He said, grinning at you proudly.

“Yeah, we are.” You agreed, returning his smile.

”This is our living room. That’s our bedroom, our bathroom.” He pointed as he spoke.

“We have a kitchen too.” You noted.

“You wanna cook dinner together in our kitchen?” He asked, raising a brow at you.

“Maybe tomorrow, I’m too tired now.” You sighed, falling back on the floor dramatically. “Can we just go to bed?”

“Fine by me.” He chuckled, getting to his feet and turning to face you. Rather than helping you up, however, he simply grabbed hold of your ankles and began pulling you across the floor.

“What are you doing?!” You squealed.

“Taking you to bed.” He said. “I can’t carry you right now, my back hurts.”

#seokjin scenarios #seokjin imagine #seokjin headcanons #seokjin reaction #seokjin blurbs #seokjin drabble #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #seokjin college au #bts college au #bts headcanons #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts fluff #seokjin fluff #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts blurb #bts imagines #bts requests #7ndipity

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part I

The Night We Met

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 20k

Author’s Note: This story feels like it’s been living in my head for so long, and I’m so excited to finally have Part I up and ready! It’s a long one, I admit. The majority of the story is going to be told through letters, so I wanted to take the time early on to set up the narrative and introduce you to the major characters. I suggest curling up with a nice cup of tea and a cozy blanket. I hope you enjoy!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

Songs specifically featured in this chapter: Sandman // Tuxedo Junction // The Way You Look Tonight // Someone to Watch Over Me // Moonglow // A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square

Dedication: This story is dedicated to my sweet friend, Clara, also known as @luminousnotmatter​! Her support and input have been invaluable, and she’s a big reason why this story got off the ground. Thank you, Clara! Love you!

Warnings: Alternating POV, allusions to social anxiety, references to war, extremely subtle innuendos brought up in conversations between friends, fluff.

May 9, 1942

Bob’s POV

Naval Air Station Charleston

Goose Creek, South Carolina

“Come on, Floyd, it’s our last night stateside!”

“Don’t be a killjoy!”

“Come with us to the dance!”

“There’ll be lots of pretty girls!”

Sighing softly, Bob lifted his head and lowered the pen he’d been using to compose a letter to his parents back home in Iowa. He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to send another one, so he’d been trying to concentrate on getting everything down on paper that he wanted to tell them. But his fellow officers were evidently determined to distract him.

Sliding his glasses up his nose, Bob’s gaze shifted from face to face, taking in the group of men who had stealthily surrounded his bunk while he’d been focused on assuring his mother he would keep safe and see her soon. They were all dressed to the nines, decked in their dress blues and looking as eager as anything to get off base.

He couldn’t say he blamed them. Tonight was their last night stateside, as Andrews had pointed out, and who knew when the next time they’d have an opportunity to go to a dance or talk to a pretty girl would be? Of course, based on the conversations he’d heard buzzing around base all day, talking wasn’t the only thing the boys had on their minds for tonight.

He couldn’t say he blamed them for that either. Most of the guys in his squadron were young officers like him, recent graduates of Annapolis who’d finished school just in time for the United States to plunge itself into another world war. They’d barely had a moment to celebrate their commissioning into the United States Navy before Uncle Sam was calling them up to the frontlines. Some of the boys had sweethearts back home, pretty young things whose pictures served as talismans and whose letters promised that they’d be faithful and true. But most of them, like Bob, had no one but Mom and Pop to write letters to. And they were more than happy to seek out a little bit of tender loving care, if only for a night, in the arms of pretty volunteers at the USO dances.

Well, they were. Bob wasn’t. Sure, he’d gone to plenty of dances the USO had graciously hosted in an attempt to boost the morale of boys who were shipping out, knowing in the back of their minds that there was a good chance they’d never be coming home again. And he’d even danced with a few lovely girls. But he found that he always got tongue tied around them, always said the wrong thing or got too flustered to be smooth and suave the way his fellow officers were. He also wasn’t one for dancing, as many an unfortunate partner had learned.

So even though tonight was his last night on American soil, and the USO was hosting a dance just thirty minutes away in Charleston, Bob had made the decision to stay behind. He’d finish his letter to his parents and try to get some shuteye so that he’d be well rested for their deployment come tomorrow morning.

The thought was apparently inconceivable to the rest of his squadron.

“What are you gonna do? Stay here by yourself and rot?” Andrews demanded, flicking a bit of lint off the sleeve of his uniform. Thomas Andrews, or Tommy Boy as everyone referred to him, was the sort of good-natured guy who always had a beautiful woman on his arm, but wanted to make sure that all his buddies did, too.

“I don’t think I’d rot in just a few hours,” Bob replied, shaking his head as he turned over the page of the letter he’d been writing, not necessarily needing all the guys to see the message he’d been penning for his mother.

“That’s Floyd for you. Always taking things too literally,” Johnston grinned, plopping down beside Bob on his bunk and slinging an arm around him. Benjamin Johnston—Benny, as he preferred to be called—had been one of Bob’s roommates at Annapolis. He was as good a guy and dependable a friend as you could come by, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love to rib Bob, and anybody else, whenever he got the opportunity.

“We leave tomorrow, boys. I’ve got a few loose ends to tie up here, letters to write and things to see to before we leave. You go have fun at the dance. You won’t even notice I’m not there,” Bob insisted, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses once more.

“Trace, would you come talk some sense into your rear-seater?” Tommy Boy scoffed, hooking his thumb in Bob’s direction with a shake of his head.

A familiar chuckle rippled across the space between them as Paul made his way into the room, clearly wondering where everyone had gone, considering they were supposed to be leaving soon for the dance.

Paul Trace was not only a fellow Annapolis graduate and Bob’s front seat pilot, but his best friend. The two of them had grown up together in Linn County, just outside Cedar Rapids. With both their fathers being officers in the Navy, and veterans of the Great War to boot, it hadn’t exactly come as a surprise to anyone when the two of them had ended up at the Naval Academy.

“Come on, fellas, leave Bob alone,” Paul said, smirking knowingly in Bob’s direction as he approached the group of them. 

The rest of the guys shifted instantly, making room for him. Paul had always had that way about him, that quality that made everyone else in the room pay attention to him and listen to whatever he had to say. Bob had always admired that about him. He knew it was certainly a quality he didn’t possess. Even on his best days, he never seemed to be able to do more than fade into the background, unnoticed by almost everyone around him. But Paul never made him feel small for that, and that was something for which Bob had always been grateful. He was a good friend, and an even better pilot, and Bob thanked his lucky stars every day that they’d managed to be paired together.

“It’s hopeless, Trace. We’ve tried everything. Talk some sense into this best buddy of yours and convince him to come to the dance with us tonight,” Benny begged, clasping his hands in a pleading fashion and shooting Paul his best wounded puppy expression.

“And convince him soon,” Tommy Boy added, glancing down at his watch. “We’ve got to get a move on soon if we want to make it to Charleston in time for the dance.”

“Gotta get there early if you want to dance with the prettiest girls,” Benny added with a wink, rising from Bob’s bunk and straightening out his uniform. “We’ll wait for you outside, Trace,” he said, lightly slapping Paul’s arm. “And you better be with him, Floyd!” he called out as the group of them started to walk away, pointing at Bob before ducking out of the room.

Bob chuckled softly, shaking his head once again and rubbing the back of his neck.

Paul sat down at the end of the bed, clasping his hands in his lap and lounging comfortably. “You know you’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t come with us, right?” he grinned.

“I really am busy,” Bob told him, gesturing at the papers he had scattered across his bed and picking his pen up once more.

“One last letter home?” Paul asked, peering over at the papers without prying.

“One last letter home,” Bob nodded, sighing softly as his eyes quickly skimmed what he’d already written. “I’m just not sure when I’ll get an opportunity to write to them again. They know we’re shipping out tomorrow, but I just want to give them a few more updates before we leave.”

“I understand, Robby,” he replied, using the nickname he’d had for him since childhood. And he did. That was the great thing about Paul. He was the kind of guy who meant what he said. And Bob knew that he understood better than most.

“Did you write any last letters home for Natasha and the kids?” Bob asked, lowering his pen to focus on his friend.

Paul smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes as he nodded. “Just yesterday. Promised them I’d write as often as I’m able. Nat gave me this before I left,” he murmured, reaching into the breast pocket of his uniform and pulling out a small photograph. It looked to be new, though the edges were already starting to fade from where Paul had obviously been clutching it tightly. He handed it off to Bob with a proud grin.

Taking the photo from Paul’s grasp, Bob smiled at the sight. It was taken at Christmas, Paul and Natasha smiling brightly for the camera, their three-year-old daughter, Clara holding up her baby doll proudly, while their newborn son, Paul, Jr. lay nestled in his mother’s arms.

“It’s a beautiful picture, Paul,” Bob said sincerely, handing it back to him.

“That’s all Natasha and the kids,” Paul beamed, pressing a kiss to the photograph before slipping it back into the pocket right above his heart, patting it as if for security. “Certainly doesn’t have anything to do with this ugly mug,” he laughed self-deprecatingly.

Bob laughed as well, knowing from the way girls had always ogled his best friend that that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Speaking of Natasha, how’s she going to feel about you going to this USO dance tonight, huh?” he teased, lifting an eyebrow.

Natasha and Paul were childhood sweethearts. Bob couldn’t recall a single memory growing up that didn’t involve both of them. He’d been proud to stand beside Paul as his best man when the two of them had gotten hitched the summer before they left for Annapolis, and even prouder when his friends had asked him to be their daughter’s godfather.

“Nat knows she’s the only one for me,” Paul replied with a wave of his hand, as if the thought of him having eyes for any woman but his wife was preposterous. And that’s because it was. “She told me she’s more concerned with finding you a nice girl, and she’s tasked me with making it happen,” he went on, waggling his eyebrows.

Bob groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Not you, too, Paul. Weren’t you just telling the other guys to leave me alone about the dance tonight?”

“That was the other guys,” Paul smirked, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Now this is me asking. Your very best friend in the whole world. You’re not gonna let me down, are you, Robby?”

Bob groaned again in response, pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know how I get at these things, Paul. I can’t get through a dance without stomping all over some poor girl’s feet, and I can’t flirt worth a lick. What’s the point?”

“The point is that this is your last night stateside, buddy o’ mine. You’re about to get shipped off halfway around the world, risking your neck to defend your country and all those pretty girls you’re so convinced you can’t talk to. You deserve one last night of fun,” Paul insisted, his expression serious even as his lips turned up in a cajoling smile. “Who cares if you can’t dance? Just come and have some drinks with me and the fellas. Let’s celebrate our last night together in the land of the free, home of the brave,” he grinned.

Bob’s eyes flickered down to his unfinished letter, hesitation written all over his face as he mentally debated what to do.

“Come on, Robby, do it for me! And for Natasha! She’ll never let me hear the end of it if I let you stay in tonight,” Paul pleaded, nudging him teasingly.

How could he argue with that? Shoulders slumping in defeat, Bob felt his resolve crumble as he mumbled. “Alright, fine. I’ll come with you.”

Paul let out a whoop of victory. “Break out those dress blues, pal. What girl in her right mind will be able to resist?”

Bob chuckled softly at that, organizing the pages of his letter and slipping them into his trunk before moving to get changed. “You better not make me regret this decision,” he joked.

Paul just smirked, leaning against the wall as he waited for Bob to get ready. “Nah, you won’t regret it. I have a good feeling about tonight.”

Your POV

Charleston, South Carolina

“Stop fidgeting,” Dottie chided, poking you playfully in the side. “I’m nearly done,” she hummed, applying a light coating of rouge to the apples of your cheeks and then brushing it up along your cheekbones with a practiced hand.

“I can’t help but fidget. It feels like we’ve been at this for hours,” you laughed softly, dutifully keeping your eyes closed and your chin tilted upward as your older sister finished up her careful ministrations.

“Well, perfection takes time,” came Dottie’s quick retort. Even with your eyes closed, you could hear the smile in her voice. “And perfect you look, my darling,” she added gleefully, tapping the tip of your nose with affection. “Open your eyes and take a look.”

Slowly opening your eyes, you swiveled on the vanity chair in your sister’s bedroom and faced the mirror. Your breath caught slightly in your throat and your eyes widened, something that Dottie didn’t fail to notice.

“You look stunning, sweetheart,” she grinned, wrapping her arms around you and bringing her face down to your level, beaming at your dual reflections.

Normally, you would have shyly brushed off the compliment, deflecting by pointing out something lovelier about Dottie or changing the subject altogether. But gazing at your reflection in the mirror tonight, you found it hard to deny that your sister had certainly worked wonders. You felt like a movie star. Between the victory rolls that Dottie had spent hours setting, ensuring your hair fell in the softest, sleekest ringlets imaginable, the light pink rouge that accentuated your cheeks, and the dark black mascara that framed your eyes, you had never felt more beautiful or grown up in all your life.

“Oh, Sissy,” you breathed out, unconsciously reverting to the affectionate childhood nickname you’d had for your older sister when the two of you were growing up.

“You’re gonna knock ’em dead tonight, kid! The boys are going to be lining up for the chance at a dance with you,” Dottie told you, with that air of cool confidence that she had always seemed to possess, even when you were little girls.

“Oh, no, I don’t think—”

“Hush,” Dottie silenced you immediately with a finger to your lips. “None of that now. You’re going to be the prettiest girl in the room, I just know it. Not to mention the sweetest,” she smiled with a wink, chucking you under the chin.

You knew there was no point in arguing with her, so you just smiled and kept your mouth shut. You did look pretty. You felt pretty, too. But you knew that would only get you so far when your own painful shyness kept you from being able to string two sentences together.

Dottie was the social butterfly. She was the one who could carry on a conversation with anyone about anything. You’d always admired that about her, and looked up to her in every way imaginable. But you’d also come to accept long ago that you were never going to be like your big sister. You panicked at the mere thought of holding a conversation with someone you’d just met, and when you threw handsome men into the mix, it turned you into an awkward fool who fumbled over the few words you managed to squeak out.

Yet, despite all that, you’d somehow allowed your very persuasive older sister to talk you into volunteering with the USO.

“It’ll be a good opportunity for you to get out of your shell a little bit! Meet new people. Including handsome men,” Dottie had told you with a wink and a playful nudge. “Plus you’ll be doing your part for the war effort!”

You knew Dottie would never let you hear the end of it if you didn’t agree, so you had. And the truth was that you did enjoy helping out at events, offering refreshments and kind smiles to the men who were leaving everything behind to serve on the frontlines of the war. But there had been no love connections, much to your sister’s chagrin.

Dottie was certain that the dance tonight was going to change that.

“Here, sweetheart, can’t forget this,” she told you, holding out a gold tube of red lipstick. “It’ll match your nails perfectly.”

“You’ve really thought of every detail, hm?” you asked teasingly, smiling as you leaned in closer to the mirror to carefully apply the lipstick. It was bright and flashy, just like the polish that Dottie had insisted on painting your nails with yesterday.

“Of course,” Dottie giggled, disappearing into her spacious closet for a moment. “Including this!” she exclaimed a moment later, reappearing with her most stunning party dress in hand. It was cream-colored and covered in a design of delicate pink flowers, with pearl buttons adorning the back.

“Oh, Dottie, I couldn’t!” you gasped, nearly dropping the tube of lipstick in your rush to rise from the vanity seat.

“You absolutely could,” your sister insisted, laying the dress out on her bed and smoothing it with gentle fingers. “It doesn’t even fit me anymore after the baby. My hips are stretched beyond repair,” she laughed, sliding her hands down her curvy figure. “You’ll be doing me a favor by wearing it. At least then I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing it’s being enjoyed by someone.”

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” you murmured, stepping beside your sister and wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Says the angel who dropped everything back home to come to Charleston and help me keep my head on straight,” Dottie smiled, hugging you back and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love being here with you and Paddy and Frankie,” you told her, taking her hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze.

“Not as much as we love having you,” Dottie replied, cupping your face in her hands and smiling warmly. “Oh, but look at me! I’m going to muss your makeup! And we have to finish getting you ready!”

Five minutes later, you were twirling dutifully in front of the mirror in the prettiest dress you’d ever worn, Dottie eyeing you carefully from every angle to make sure everything was perfect.

“Oh, I’m just sad I’m going to miss you being the belle of the ball tonight!” she sighed dramatically, eyes twinkling with humor when you rolled your eyes at her. “Come on, let’s show you off to the boys,” she beamed, taking your hand and practically dragging you out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

“Dottie, I’m going to twist my ankle and then I won’t be able to go to the dance at all,” you laughed breathlessly, straightening out the dress as the two of you bounded into the living room.

“Paddy, look!” Dottie announced, holding out her arms to show you off as if you were one of Hollywood’s newest starlets.

Your brother-in-law let out a loud whistle, grinning jovially as he looked you up and down. “Hey, look at you, kid! I think you might be a little lost. The MGM lot is over in Hollywood,” he teased.

Blushing slightly at the compliment, you waved it off. “Oh, stop,” you smiled, walking over to him and lifting your soon-to-be five month old nephew out of his arms, nuzzling his soft head.

Frankie babbled happily in your arms, reaching up to tug at the pearl necklace you were wearing, the one your parents had bought you for your sixteenth birthday.

“Oh no you don’t, little monster,” Dottie laughed, taking her son out of your arms and pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of his head. “Auntie’s going out tonight, so there will be no pulling on her jewelry or tugging on her hair.”

“Or spitting up on her dress,” Paddy sighed, indicating a large stain on his shirt.

“Yes, none of that either,” Dottie gasped, looking horrified at the prospect.

You laughed, gazing with love at your family. “You act as if I’m off to be crowned Queen of England. It’s hardly so serious as all that, Sissy,” you winked.

Dottie just shook her head, bouncing her baby boy in her arms. “You’re going to break so many hearts tonight, baby doll. Don’t you agree, Paddy?”

“Don’t indulge her,” you laughed, reaching for your purse and making sure that your wallet and house keys were inside.

“Listen to me, kiddo,” Paddy said, moving beside you and wrapping a brotherly arm around your shoulders. “None of these lugheads are worthy of you, you hear me? And if even one of them looks at you the wrong way, or hurts you, I’ll give him a knuckle sandwich, okay?”

“Oh, Paddy!” Dottie huffed in exasperation, lowering Frankie into his bassinet and crossing her arms over her chest. “Shush! Don’t listen to him!”

You just laughed softly, shaking your head. “Thank you, Paddy, I appreciate it,” you grinned, pressing a kiss to your brother-in-law’s cheek.

“You sure you don’t need me to give you a ride over to the dance, kid?” Paddy asked, resting his hands on his hips. He was in a jolly mood, like he always was, but you could tell from the pinched look around his eyes that he was exhausted from a long day of work.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about me,” you insisted, reaching for the white sweater you’d left sitting on the back of the armchair. “I’m walking over with some of the other girls. And the community center isn’t far. Plus, it’s a nice night.”

“Mhm, it is. A perfect night, in fact,” Dottie nodded innocently, slipping her arm around her husband’s waist. “Perfect for a little evening stroll with a handsome fella, wouldn’t you say so, Paddy?”

“Why, Dot, are you proposing to take me on an evening stroll? Or are you just hoping your baby sister comes home with a marriage proposal tonight?” Paddy smirked, loud laughter booming from his chest when his wife smacked his arm.

“Oh, shut up, you idiot,” Dottie laughed as well, a huge smile breaking out across her face as Paddy bent his head to press a kiss to her cheek.

Even as you smiled, you felt that familiar ache bloom in your chest as you witnessed the easy affection and love that your sister and her husband shared with one another. You’d always desired a relationship like that, a marriage like that. You’d just never seemed to find the right man.

Maybe Dottie was right. Maybe he would be at the dance tonight. As improbable as it felt, crazier things had surely happened. And evidently your sister had given you permission to stay out as long as you wanted, taking moonlit strolls with perfect strangers.

“We’ll be here, kid, if you need anything,” Paddy told you, resting a protective hand on your shoulder. “Don’t hesitate to call.”

“But also don’t hesitate to spend all the time you need with whatever handsome man happens to catch your eye,” Dottie winked, shooting both you and Paddy an impish grin.

“Okay, on that note, I think it’s time I took my leave,” you giggled, draping your sweater over your arm and checking your purse one more time as you headed towards the front door, Paddy and Dottie following behind you.

“Have fun, kiddo. Be safe,” Paddy murmured as you turned to give him a hug goodbye.

“I will,” you promised, moving to wrap your sister in a tight hug. “Thanks for everything, Sissy,” you whispered to her, squeezing her hand before slipping out the front door.

“Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Dottie called after you with a laugh, waving you off excitedly.

A block away from your sister’s house, you met up with a few of the other girls who were volunteering with the USO, including your friend, Emily. The two of you met at the first USO event you’d volunteered at, and had become fast friends.

“You look beautiful!” Emily exclaimed brightly, slipping her arm through yours as your group began strolling in the direction of the community center, all the other girls chirping and babbling excitedly.

“So do you,” you smiled, knowing the boys wouldn’t be able to keep their eyes off your friend. She never had a shortage of dance partners at these sorts of events.

“Oh, I’m so excited!” she giggled, beaming up at you. “Tonight is going to be special. I can just feel it.”

You hoped Emily and Dottie were right.

Bob’s POV

“Here we are, boys!” Tommy Boy grinned as the squadron pulled up in front of the Charleston Community Center, the red, white, and blue balloons and streamers floating in the warm spring breeze a good sign that they were in the right place. “Our last night stateside,” he announced loudly, rubbing his hands together with a cheeky smirk. “Better make it count!”

The rest of the guys let out a loud whoop of agreement, laughing and shoving each other as they each hurried up the stairs, hoping to be the first inside and the first in the arms of the prettiest volunteers.

“What do you say, Bobby Boy?” Benny beamed, squeezing Bob’s shoulders as he came up behind him. “Gonna get yourself a girl tonight?”

“Oh, I just—I don’t think that I—” Bob stuttered, his ears burning red as he adjusted his glasses, pushing them up firmly onto the bridge of his nose.

Benny guffawed amicably, not actually possessing a mean bone in his body. “Aw, c’mon, Floyd,” he coaxed, slinging a friendly arm around his shoulders. “Think of it as a little ‘going away’ present for yourself. Lots of pretty girls who can’t resist a man in uniform—especially an officer’s uniform,” he winked, nudging Bob with a devilish expression.

When Bob just continued to stammer and blush, Paul stepped in smoothly, giving Benny a teasing punch to the arm. “C’mon, Benny, leave him alone. He’s here, isn’t he? Let the man have a drink in peace. We haven’t even gotten inside yet.”

“Trace here is the perfect wingman, Bob,” Benny went on, clearly determined to get his old classmate a girl before the night was through. “He’s already got himself a pretty girl—”

“The prettiest,” Paul cut in, grinning.

“Alright, the prettiest girl,” Benny amended, smirking. “So he’s not on the prowl like the rest of us lugheads. Let him help you find a nice girl to give you a proper sendoff.”

“If I say I will, will you let us go inside?” Bob asked, smiling ruefully.

Benny laughed at that, smacking Bob on the back. “You crack me up, Floyd. You really do. Fine, fine. Let’s go inside. I’m getting myself a girl, even if you aren’t,” he insisted, waggling his eyebrows suggestively before hurrying up the stairs with a shameless grin.

“Just have fun tonight, pal,” Paul smiled, patting Bob on the back. “Our last night stateside. Let’s make it one to remember, huh?” He held out his hand for Bob to shake, the way they’d always done as kids before embarking on some grand adventure.

“Yeah,” Bob grinned, nodding as he reached out and clasped Paul’s hand, shaking firmly. “Let’s make it count.”

Chuckling, the two friends shook their heads in amusement and followed the path their fellow officers had already disappeared along, their long legs carrying them up the stairs and into the central foyer, the sound of music and raucous laughter drawing them in the right direction.

Pushing open the doors to the main hall, Bob and Paul were instantly met by a sea of uniformed men from all branches of the service and pretty girls in all their finery whirling across the dance floor. The band was enthusiastically giving their best rendition of Benny Goodman’s “Sandman,” the music reverberating throughout the room and setting a jovial atmosphere that almost made them forget they were shipping off to war tomorrow morning.

“At least we know the men we’re flying with are true to their word,” Paul called out over the din, grinning as he pointed in the direction of Tommy Boy, Benny, and the rest of their friends, who were already chatting away with a group of giggling girls, each one more dolled up than the last.

Bob grinned as well, shoving his hands into his pockets nervously. “I never doubted for a minute they’d find the girls they were after,” he shouted back, finding it difficult to make himself heard over the music and loud conversations buzzing around them.

“C’mon, let’s go grab a drink,” Paul suggested, nodding his head in the direction of the punch table that was situated across the room.

Bob trailed behind his best friend, keeping his head down as he passed by flirtatious couples and older volunteers who were trying to maintain an ounce of decorum in the dance hall. It was a difficult job that he didn’t envy. With the war on, and the majority of the men in the room tonight deploying within the next few days, there was a sense of urgency pulsating in the air—a desperate, hungry need to cling to anything and anyone that reminded them, if only for this moment, that they were alive. Lingering glances from across the room, longing touches on the dance floor, stolen kisses in the shadows—they would all be traded soon for bitter nights in the trenches and the deafening boom of gunfire and the stench of death. So tonight, they had to squeeze every last drop out of life. Because who knew when it would be their last?

Bob was jolted out of his silent musings when he realized that Paul had come to a halt in front of him, joining the ring of men waiting for a glass of punch. Clearing his throat and trying to shake all dire thoughts from his mind, Bob raised his head and fixed his gaze straight ahead.

And suddenly he forgot how to breathe.

There, standing behind the punch table with a couple other volunteers, was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in all his life. Hollywood could keep their Judy Garland, Rita Hayworth, Joan Fontaine, and all the rest—she outshone them all. She wasn’t looking in his direction, but he couldn’t help but stare as she handed a small glass of punch to a young sailor, her lips curving in the sweetest smile and her eyes sparkling brightly in the loveliest face he had ever beheld. The pink flowers on her dress brought out the rosiness in her cheeks, and Bob was certain that she had to be an angel sent down from heaven. She just had to be.

He only became aware of the sound of Paul loudly clearing his throat when his friend nudged him sharply in the ribcage, bringing him back down to earth. He tore his gaze away from the lovely angel hesitantly, half afraid she’d disappear forever if he lost sight of her.

“Welcome back to earth, pal,” Paul laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “See something you like? Or, should I say, someone?” he winked, craning his neck to seek out the object of Bob’s intense focus. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, nodding sagely. “A very pretty someone. I think Nat would approve of her for you.”

“Paul, no,” Bob stammered, his cheeks flaming red in embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I—I was just—”

“You were just what? Hm?” Paul demanded, smiling knowingly. “Are you really going to stand here and tell me—me—that you weren’t just looking at that girl like she hung the moon and stars?”

“Well—I just—I mean—” Bob fumbled hopelessly, scuffing one of his newly polished shoes across the hardwood floor.

“Robby,” Paul cut him off, grinning as he grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him once for good measure. “Go talk to her.”

“Me? T-talk to her? Oh no, I couldn’t,” Bob insisted, shaking his head determinedly.

“It’s the perfect opportunity! She’s handing out punch to all the guys,” Paul said, indicating the table just a few feet away from them. “Just say something nice to her—compliment her dress or her hair or that string of pearls around her neck. Anything. C’mon, Robby, you can do it. I have faith in you,” he encouraged.

“I—I—” Bob turned his head to look at her again. Maybe he’d just been feeling lightheaded and she wouldn’t have so much of an effect on him this time. But as soon as he caught sight of her once more, his stomach promptly performed an Olympic-style somersault, his mouth suddenly feeling as dry as Iowa farmland in the middle of a summer drought.

She was so beautiful. A girl that beautiful would never want to talk to him. Not when she could have any man in the room that she wanted.

“I—I’m actually not thirsty,” Bob declared, turning quickly on his heel and making a beeline as far away from the punch table as possible.

“Bob!”

He could hear Paul calling after him, but he had to get as far away from the angel in the dress with the pink flowers as possible.

God, he was a coward. He could ship off halfway across the world to face the Nazis in Europe, but he couldn’t talk to a girl at a dance? Pathetic.

Why had he let the guys talk him into coming tonight?

Your POV

“Emily, why don’t you go dance? I can handle things here,” you offered, not failing to notice the wistful glances your friend kept tossing towards the center of the room—most notably in the direction of a cluster of handsome officers.

“Oh, no!” Emily exclaimed, pulling her attention back round towards the task at hand and shaking her head. “I wouldn’t leave you and Marilyn all alone,” she insisted, referring to the bubbly redhead who’d been put on punch table duty with the two of you this evening.

“It’s not such a hard job,” you laughed softly, ladling some of the fruity drink into a set of fresh glasses. “And I don’t mind. Really. I can tell how much you’re itching to get out there,” you smiled, shooting her a knowing look.

Emily bit her lip, seemingly contemplating your offer for a moment, but then shook her head once, firmly. “No, I’ll stay here. Some of the other volunteers will rotate in soon, and then we’ll both get a chance to dance,” she chittered brightly.

Your smile waned somewhat at that, and it was your turn to shake your head. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not much for dancing,” you admitted quietly, chewing on your lower lip. It took you a moment to recall the red lipstick Dottie had given you, and you flushed, hoping you hadn’t gotten it all over your teeth.

“Oh, don’t be silly! You volunteered for a dance and you don’t want to dance?” Emily teased gently, nudging your arm as she handed a glass of punch to a soldier who looked like he couldn’t possibly be a day older than eighteen. “I’m sure the fellas will be lining up to dance with you!”

Emily was so sweet and earnest that you didn’t have the heart to tell her that the boys would be lining up to dance with her, not with you. So you just smiled tightly and offered her a small nod in response, handing off a couple glasses of punch to a young couple who looked wholly out of breath after a few turns on the dance floor.

“The men look so handsome, don’t you think so?” Emily chattered excitedly, carefully setting out a new stack of napkins on the table. “And so many officers are here tonight!” she giggled, blushing prettily.

Marilyn suddenly leaned over at that, lowering her voice conspiratorially. She always was one to know the latest gossip. “I heard there’s a whole squadron of naval officers here tonight who are shipping out first thing tomorrow morning. It’s their last night in town, so you know what that means,” she finished with a wink.

You just blushed furiously at her innuendo, but Emily’s eyes widened innocently.

“No,” she murmured, admitting to her naivete. “What does that mean?”

Marilyn giggled in a way that indicated she had rather intimate experience with servicemen who were spending their last night stateside. Covering her mouth with her hand, she leaned in closer and whispered, “They’re looking for girls to give them a fun sendoff, if you catch my meaning.” She winked, flipping her red curls over her shoulder.

If possible, Emily’s eyes widened even further, looking like a pair of light blue china saucers. “Oh,” was all she managed to squeak out, her cheeks turning bright red.

Giggling some more, Marilyn turned away to resume her punch table duties, while Emily turned to gape at you.

“I never—well, I mean, I’ve flirted with a few boys and even kissed one or two,” Emily confessed, her blush extending down her throat and up to the tips of her ears. “But I never—did you know that? About their last night in town, I mean?”

You shrugged a little bit in embarrassment, thinking of the things you’d heard from Dottie and Paddy. “Well, I’ve heard. But I wouldn’t know from personal experience,” you hastily amended, clearing your throat shyly.

“Hm,” Emily murmured, more to herself than anybody else, turning to look out at the sea of eligible men with fresh eyes. “Well a dance and maybe a kiss is all they’re getting from me,” she announced firmly, her expression so serious that you couldn’t help but giggle slightly.

“I mean it!” she laughed, playfully slapping you on the arm. “Oh, there are a lot of cute ones out there though, aren’t there?” she simpered, her eyes turning big and doe-like once more. “Do you have your eye on any of them?” she asked curiously.

“Me? Oh, no,” you replied, shaking your head. “I’ve found that I’m much better off keeping to myself and doing my job at events like these,” you explained, biting down on your lower lip again.

“That’s nonsense!” Emily scoffed, almost looking offended on your behalf. “You’re beautiful! The boys here can’t stop looking at you!”

You grimaced slightly at that, face flushing in awkward embarrassment. The boys might be looking, but as soon as any of them tried to strike up a conversation, they quickly discovered what a shy, nervous little churchmouse you were, and their interest quickly faded.

You’d already fumbled clumsily over three flirtatious interactions with a sailor, a soldier, and a pilot. One poor Marine had even ended up with bright red punch spilled down the front of his uniform. You’d been mortified, and he’d been gracious, but you could tell he planned to stay as far away from you as possible for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet somebody. In fact, you wanted that more than anything. Living with your sister and brother-in-law for these past few months had only solidified the yearning that had long since taken up residence in your heart, the aching desire to find someone to love and cherish—someone who would love and cherish you in return. But as soon as any nice, handsome, eligible man approached you, you suddenly found yourself wishing the earth would swallow you whole. Dottie was always telling you how smart and funny and sweet you were, but you never seemed to be able to show that to any man who talked to you. Instead, you clammed up like an oyster and stammered and stuttered over all your words. It was humiliating.

You’d learned to accept long ago that you weren’t the kind of girl who got asked to dance. You were the girl who handed out punch and offered kind smiles and volunteered to man the table alone so that the other girls could dance. Even your big sister’s prettiest party dress wouldn’t change that.

But you didn’t mind. It made you smile to see how excited all the other girls, like Emily and Marilyn, got when they were pulled out onto the dance floor, swept up in the arms of handsome strangers. You might not get to experience it yourself, but you enjoyed living vicariously through them.

Lost in your private reverie, you almost didn’t notice the handsome gentleman who approached you, his dark gaze fixed on you as opposed to Marilyn or Emily.

“Evenin’,” he smiled, tipping his hat respectfully. He looked to be an officer in the Navy, judging by his uniform.

“H-hello,” you stuttered shyly, mentally kicking yourself. All he’d done was wish you a good evening. There was no need to be nervous about that.

Your nervousness didn’t seem to be off-putting to him, however. In fact, he smiled even wider.

“Ensign Paul Trace,” he introduced himself, offering you his hand in a gentlemanly manner. Again, he didn’t seem to be disconcerted by the fact that you just stared dumbly at him for a moment.

Coming to your senses, you reached out and slipped your hand into his, shaking gently and telling him your name.

“A very pretty name,” he told you with a smile, which had you staring at your shoes and avoiding all eye contact. “And that’s a very pretty necklace you’ve got there,” he added. You could tell from your peripheral vision that he was indicating the pearls strung around your neck.

“Oh, th-thank you,” you murmured, tripping slightly over your words. You wanted to mention that they were a gift from your parents—anything to keep the conversation moving forward, as Dottie often reminded you—but the words got stuck in your throat.

“I’ve been meaning to buy my wife a necklace like that,” Ensign Trace said kindly, his smile friendly and warm.

Oh, thank goodness, you thought to yourself. He’s married. Strangely enough, the revelation was a relief. Knowing that he was a married man instantly put you at ease. He wasn’t trying to flirt or make time with you. He was just being nice. And that you could handle much more easily.

“I’m sure she would love that very much,” you smiled, lifting your chin slightly so that you could meet his gaze once more.

He grinned in a way that seemed to indicate that he was aware the pronouncement of his marital status had made you more comfortable. “I think she would, too. Maybe for her birthday,” he mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully and shooting you another good-natured grin.

“That sounds nice,” you nodded, feeling the familiar tug of anxiety that the conversation would lag. “Oh, would you like some punch?” you asked. As you reached out to grab him a glass, however, you accidentally tipped one over with your hand, spilling the sticky liquid across the table.

Ensign Trace immediately jumped to grab some napkins as you gasped, cheeks flaming as you rushed to fix the mess you’d made.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, soaking up the punch with a handful of napkins. You felt the tips of your ears burning and you wanted nothing more than to flee the dance hall at that moment. “Did any of it get on you? I can go get some more napkins,” you stammered, trying to look anywhere but directly at him.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he insisted, shaking his head as he helped you sop up the juice. “I’m right as rain. Accidents happen,” he told you with a comforting smile.

“They should probably take me off punch duty,” you mumbled, tossing the soaked napkins into a garbage pail. “That’s the second glass I’ve spilled tonight.”

Ensign Trace just chuckled at that, gazing at you thoughtfully.

You grew even more self-conscious under his scrutiny, brushing your hair behind your ear and shifting nervously from foot to foot. He seemed to become aware of this, and held up a hand in atonement.

“I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he apologized, taking a step back to put you more at ease. “I just—I just can’t help but think how perfect you’d be for a buddy of mine,” he laughed, grinning again. The man seemed incapable of going more than a few seconds without smiling.

Your heart plummeted at his comment, however. After your foolish display, you couldn’t help but suddenly feel like the butt of a joke. Why would this handsome officer’s friend have any interest in a klutz like you?

Your face must have given away your inner turmoil because Ensign Trace’s grin suddenly faltered and his eyes filled with a glow of compassionate awareness. “Oh, I’m not trying to make a joke, miss,” he told you earnestly, placing his hand over his heart. “I would never insult a lady like that.” His expression was open and sincere. “I really do have a friend who I think you’d get on with real well. He’s here tonight, too! He just—” He turned at that moment, peering around the room. “Well, he’s here somewhere!”

“It’s alright, Ensign Trace,” you told him with a small smile, holding out a fresh cup of punch for him.

“No, no, he really is here. Darn fool’s just gone off and—”

“If you find him, you can send him over for a glass of punch,” you suggested, having a feeling his friend would probably be much more interested in Emily or Marilyn anyway.

The naval officer looked at you seriously, nodding his head. “I’ll do that, miss. Have a nice night,” he said, tipping his hat once more before taking his punch and walking away, a rather determined look in his gait.

Sighing softly to yourself, you turned and went back to replenishing the glasses of punch, putting all thoughts of Ensign Trace’s mysterious buddy out of your mind.

Bob’s POV

“Where the hell did you go?” Paul demanded, punching Bob in the arm when he finally found him in the main foyer, near the front doors of the community center.

“Ow,” Bob frowned, rubbing his arm with a slight scowl. For all his congeniality, Paul also had one hell of a right hook and he wasn’t afraid to use it. “What was that for?”

“For being an idiot!” Paul exclaimed, shaking his head. The severity of his words was softened by the reluctant grin that slowly spread across his face. Natasha had always joked that Paul couldn’t stay mad at anyone for longer than the span of two breaths.

“I was just…getting some air,” Bob said lamely, giving his sore bicep one last quick rub and adjusting his glasses. Though he’d worn them for most of his life, the darn things never seemed to want to sit correctly on his face.

“Sure,” Paul shot back skeptically. He was the best, most supportive buddy a guy could ask for, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t quick to call Bob out when he felt he needed a swift kick in the pants.

“I—I was just—I said I’m not thirsty,” Bob explained, knowing before the words even left his mouth that it was a paltry excuse. “What does it matter?” he asked, trying hard not to conjure up in his mind’s eye the image of that vision of loveliness standing behind the punch table.

“What does it matter? I’ll tell you what it matters,” Paul declared, shoving his untouched glass of punch into Bob’s hand. “The girl who gave me that may very well be your future wife, Robert Floyd. And as your best friend and wingman, I’m not going to stand by and let you throw an opportunity like that away!”

Bob’s blue eyes widened at his friend’s impassioned speech and he stood silent for a moment or two, too dumbfounded to speak. Gazing down at the glass of punch in his hand, he cleared his throat and stammered, “You—you talked to her?”

“Yes, I talked to her,” Paul nodded emphatically. “Since you were too scared to do it,” he added with a teasing grin, nudging Bob’s other arm—the one he hadn’t punched. “Aw, she’s a doll, Robby. A real doll. Sweet as apple pie and timid as a rabbit. I know you’re scared to talk to her, but you’ve got no reason to be. Trust me when I say she’s probably more scared to talk to you,” he said gently, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Bob’s jaw fell open at that, flabbergasted. “She’s more—are you sure you talked to the right girl? The one in the dress with the pink flowers?” he questioned, hardly daring to believe a girl that beautiful would be scared to talk to anyone, least of all him.

“The very one,” Paul beamed. “You’ve got a good eye, Bobby Boy, because I’ve never met a girl more perfect for you in all my life,” he insisted, slapping Bob on the chest for good measure. “Go talk to her! Ask her to dance!”

“Aw, gosh, I don’t know, Paul,” Bob faltered, shaking his head and staring down at his feet. “She’s just so—and I’m so—and, well, we leave tomorrow,” he reminded him plaintively, as if it wasn’t something his best friend was already keenly aware of. “What’s the point in trying to get tangled up in something when we ship out in less than twelve hours?” He deflated slightly, tugging nervously on the cuff of his uniform jacket.

Paul sighed softly, nodding his head in understanding. “I get where you’re coming from, pal. I really do,” he said sincerely, lowering his voice as their conversation took a more serious turn. “Look, I don’t know what tomorrow’s gonna bring. I don’t know what the weeks and months and—hell—years ahead are gonna bring. And I’m not telling you to walk back in there and marry the girl. But if there’s anything we’ve learned these past few months, Robby, it’s that life turns on a damn dime. Not one of us knows when everything will go to hell. So we might as well enjoy the bits of heaven while we’ve got ’em, huh? Who’s to say that girl in there isn’t your little slice of heaven?”

Bob looked up and met his best friend’s dark gaze, seeing the sincerity shining there. Paul truly believed every word he said. And Bob couldn’t deny the way his words had stirred something deep inside his heart, a desire to make this night count—to make his life count—before he lost the chance forever.

“Go talk to her, Robby,” Paul told him encouragingly, patting his back with a firm hand. “At the very least, she’ll be a nice girl to dance with the night before we ship off. And who knows? At most, maybe she’s the girl who’ll turn your world upside down,” he grinned, winking pointedly.

“Well…” Bob stammered, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Paul chuckled, taking the glass of punch out of his hand. “Go,” he said again, lightly pushing his best friend in the direction of the dance hall.

Doing his very best not to stumble over his own two feet, Bob adjusted his uniform and straightened his tie, clearing his throat once, twice, three times before pushing open the doors, the brassy instruments of the band slamming him in the face once more as he reentered the hall. The notes blended together in a familiar fashion as Bob nervously crossed the room—he recognized it as ”Tuxedo Junction.” He’d always liked that one. His mother was a big fan of Glenn Miller and played his records all the time back home. Maybe he should take that as a good sign.

“Hello,” he murmured softly under his breath, ducking as he moved across the dance floor to avoid bumping into twirling couples. “My name’s Robert Floyd. Would you like to dance with me?” He scoffed at himself in frustration. “No, too stiff,” he decided. “Hiya, my name’s Bob. Care to dance?” he tried again. “No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Too…stupid. Oh, God, I can’t do this,” he moaned, nearly turning on his heel right then and hightailing it out of there.

He was halted in his second attempt to flee, however, when he thought once more of Paul’s words.

“Gotta enjoy the bits of heaven while we’ve got ’em,” Bob echoed, taking a deep breath. “You can do this, Floyd. Quit being such a coward,” he chastised himself. He blushed crimson when he realized a couple of the older volunteers were staring at him, obviously having overheard his one-sided argument “Uh, ’scuse me,” he mumbled, hurrying off.

Craning his neck, he tried to scan the crowd, wondering if maybe the angel from the punch table had been relieved of her shift in the time he’d been hiding out like a scared little boy. But as his eyes alighted on the refreshment table, his heart squeezed painfully inside his chest.

There she was.

He wanted so badly to ask her to dance.

He was going to ask her to dance.

Oh, God, no. He couldn’t.

No, he could.

He couldn’t.

He stood there like a fool, floundering as he frantically went back and forth in his mind, wanting so desperately to overcome his fears and go talk to her.

She was right there.

If he could only muster up the nerve… 

Your POV

“That Navy man you were chatting with was a real looker,” Marilyn grinned, sidling up beside you and nudging you surreptitiously as you fanned out a new stack of napkins on the refreshment table with nimble fingers.

“Yes, I suppose he was,” you nodded in agreement, cheeks warming slightly, as they were wont to do whenever discussions of attractive men took place.

“You suppose?” Marilyn teased, smirking salaciously. “He was gorgeous. I couldn’t take my eyes off him! Lucky you. I wish he’d asked me for some punch,” she pouted, fluffing her red locks.

“He’s married,” you clarified, feeling strangely defensive of the kind naval officer you’d just met, even after you’d made a fool of yourself in front of him.

“So?” the redhead asked, her eyes twinkling wickedly.

“Marilyn!” you gasped, horrified at her implication.

Marilyn threw back her head, laughing. “Oh, don’t get your nylons in a twist, I’m just teasing,” she told you, resting a hand on her slender waist. “Besides, there’s plenty of unmarried fish in this sea,” she dimpled, nodding towards the massive congregation of servicemen. “And I think it’s time I found myself one! You and Emily don’t mind keeping an eye on the table without me, do you?” she asked expectantly.

“Um, well, I don’t, but—”

“Great! Thanks, doll!” Marilyn beamed, blowing a kiss in your general direction and flouncing off towards the dance floor without a backwards glance.

“Where’s she going?” Emily asked, reappearing at your elbow with a new stack of punch glasses.

“Off to dance, it would seem,” you sighed softly, sharing a knowing glance with your friend. “I told her that I didn’t mind, but I’m sorry if you—”

“Don’t apologize,” Emily said, waving off your concern. “I don’t think anyone can stop Marilyn once she has her mind made up about something,” she added with a giggle.

“No, that’s true,” you agreed, smiling ruefully. Helping your friend fill the new glasses, you glanced over at her. “You can go dance, too. Emily. Really. It’s like I told you before—I don’t mind.”

“I’m not going to leave you here all by yourself!” Emily exclaimed, relentless in her determination not to abandon you. She was a good friend.

The crowd around the refreshment table slowly began to thin out as more and more couples made their way onto the dance floor, allured by the heady beat of the music and the intoxicating possibilities of what they might discover in one another’s arms.

Emily sighed softly as she tapped her feet along to the swing music. You were tempted to try to nudge her towards the dance floor for the third time, but you knew she’d just refuse, so you kept quiet. The two of you chatted softly, handing out glasses of punch to anyone who walked by and offering sweet words of thanks to the men.

“Oh, I love this song!” Emily cried out, clapping her hands excitedly as a young singer stepped up to the microphone and began crooning “The Way You Look Tonight,” wrapping her hands around the mic stand and accentuating each word.

The couples that had been kicking their feet frenetically and swinging their arms wildly on the dance floor gradually shifted into a slower, gentler rhythm, hands pressing against waists and cheeks resting upon shoulders as their bodies intertwined, allowing the romantic lyrics to wrap around them like a cozy shawl.

Emily began softly singing along, caught up in a dreamy haze as she watched the couples dancing with a gentle grin curving her lips.

You just smiled at how much your friend seemed to be enjoying herself, wiping up a small spill as you hummed quietly under your breath. You also loved this song.

“Excuse me, miss?” a masculine voice cut through the hazy silence, catching you off guard. Your head snapped up in surprise, and you found yourself looking into the eyes of a young Army corporal. He looked a little nervous, which only ratcheted up your own anxious feelings.

“Yes?” you murmured softly, cheeks growing warm despite yourself.

“I—” He cleared his throat slightly, shifting from foot to foot. “Well, um, I was just wondering if—”

Oh my goodness, you thought to yourself, butterflies batting their wings violently in your stomach. Is he going to ask me to dance?

The thought terrified you, but also filled you with a kind of giddy excitement. You’d never been asked to dance at any of the USO events. Was this finally your chance? Maybe Dottie had been right about tonight.

The soldier rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. He looked so nervous, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. “I was wondering if—do you think your friend would like to dance with me?” he finally asked, his gaze moving away from your face and landing on Emily.

You felt your heart sink like a stone.

Turning slightly, you caught sight of your friend, who was still swaying to the music, lost in her own little world. Of course this handsome soldier wanted to dance with Emily, your sweet, bubbly, extroverted friend. It shouldn’t have necessarily come as a surprise that he saw you as more of a gatekeeper than a viable dancer partner, but that didn’t make the reality of it hurt any less.

Pasting a bright smile on your face, you nodded your head, not missing the way the young man’s eyes lit up excitedly. “I’m sure she would love to,” you assured him, swallowing past the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. “Her name is Emily,” you told him, fisting your hands in the folds of your dress and watching as he shyly approached her.

Emily looked surprised when the corporal tapped her on the shoulder, but she beamed immediately, offering him one of her megawatt smiles. You couldn’t hear their conversation from the angle where you were standing, but you saw him offer his hand to her, which she eagerly accepted. Seconds later, however, she tilted her head to catch your eye, a questioning look on her face.

“Go have fun,” you told her, waving her off with a delicate hand.

“Thank you!” she mouthed back, grinning happily as her new partner whisked her off onto the dance floor.

Lifting your chin and straightening your back, you did your best to focus on the tasks that were in front of you—rearranging the napkins, replenishing the punch bowl, filling the glasses. Never mind the fact that you were crumbling inside, feeling near tears.

Dottie was going to be so disappointed. The thought made you sad. Despite your big sister’s best efforts with your hair and make-up—even lending you her prettiest dress—it didn’t change the fact that her baby sister was a wilting wallflower, too shy to earn anyone’s attention.

It shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You were used to remaining on the sidelines during dances. You always told everyone you were more comfortable that way.

You had just hoped tonight would be different.

Bob’s POV

Bob generally considered himself to be a pretty mild-mannered, level-headed guy. There wasn’t much that got his temper flaring, but as he watched that corporal waltz off towards the dance floor with one of the other girls who’d been working behind the punch table, he felt his hand instinctively curl into an angry fist, his nails biting sharply into his palm.

He’d been pacing back and forth a few feet away from the refreshment table, anxiously trying to work up the nerve to finally approach the angel in the pink and white dress, when he spotted the Army officer making his way straight towards her.

That’s what you get, Floyd, he thought to himself. You waited too long, like a coward, and now someone else is seizing the opportunity you missed.

Shoulders sagging in disappointment, Bob was about to turn and go find Paul to tell him that he was heading out early. There didn’t seem any point in staying any longer. He’d just return to base and finish the letter he’d been writing for his parents, then get some sleep and try to avoid dreaming about the reality that he’d be on his way to Europe tomorrow morning—and not for the Grand Tour, either.

Just as he’d determined to walk away without a backwards glance, however, a lull in the music allowed him to catch a snatch of the conversation happening behind him. He froze. He couldn’t have heard that right.

“I was wondering if—do you think your friend would like to dance with me?”

Bob’s mouth hung agape as he swung back around, certain he would find the soldier talking to some other girl. But no! He was talking to her!

He was talking to her and asking if he could dance with some other girl? What was wrong with him?!

“I’m sure she would love to,” came the soft reply, so soft, in fact, that Bob was surprised he could hear it at all. It was the first time he’d heard her speak—God, she even had a beautiful voice.

A beautiful voice that was very clearly trying to hold back tears.

Bob’s eyes narrowed behind his square, wire-framed glasses and he felt his pulse begin racing in his veins, a dark flush creeping up his neck and staining his cheeks. How big of an idiot could one guy be? How could that corporal see the stunning treasure that was standing before him and just toss her aside like yesterday’s newspaper? How could he be so unfeeling, to get a girl’s hopes up like that, only to choose her friend over her?

Taking a deep breath, Bob unclenched his fist and tore his gaze away from the moronic Army officer, turning his attention back to the one person who really deserved it.

He felt his heart sink like a stone.

She looked so sad. So crushed and defeated. He ached as he watched her put on a brave face and attend to the tasks set before her. Anyone else might have walked right by her and not even realized that anything was wrong, but not Bob. He knew. He could see it in her eyes, read it in her body language—the woundedness of being overlooked. Disregarded. Forgotten.

He knew what that felt like, and he hated to think that she did, too. He hated to think that she had spent one moment wondering what she could have done differently to make people take notice of her; that she had spent even a fraction of a second thinking that there was something wrong with her, something she needed to change. He hated to think that anyone had failed to make her feel as beautiful and special as he knew she was.

Maybe Paul had been right. Maybe she really was the one for him—his little slice of heaven right in the middle of hell.

Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he became aware of the fact that the band was striking up another song. Keeping his blue gaze fixed on the beauty before him, he observed her lift her head and stare out at the dance floor, an honest and painful expression of yearning crossing her lovely features.

Bob actually had to look away in that moment, feeling like he was intruding upon her in her most private, intimate moment. Obviously she believed herself to be alone, he was sure of it. When he looked up again a few seconds later, too weak to tear his eyes away for long, he caught her brushing at one of her eyes.

He couldn’t stand there and let her hurt like that.

As nervous as he was to approach her, as terrified as he was to ask her to dance, Robert Floyd would never leave a lady all alone on the sidelines. No one deserved that, least of all her.

Breathing in a lungful of air, Bob started moving before his brain could try to stop him again, placing one foot in front of the other until he was finally standing right in front of the refreshment table.

She lifted her head in surprise and he cleared his throat nervously, trying not to get thrown by those gorgeous eyes staring up at him.

“Hello,” he smiled shyly.

Some opening, Floyd.

Your POV

You wanted to go home.

As much as you were trying not to let your interaction with the corporal get to you, the truth was that your feelings had been hurt and you weren’t sure how much more your battered pride could take. At the same time, however, you knew you were being ridiculous.

You came here tonight to volunteer, not to meet a husband, you mentally chided yourself. You can’t just up and leave now because your ego was wounded.

Clenching your jaw determinedly, you doubled down on your efforts to continue performing the duty you’d been tasked with for the night. As you wiped away sticky stains, straightened the tablecloth, and set out fresh glasses of punch, you forcibly quashed any feelings of self-pity that threatened to bubble to the surface against your will.

You were here in a strictly professional capacity. You were a volunteer, not some serviceman’s date.

So why had you allowed your hopes to peak when it seemed as though you might finally receive an invitation to dance? That had been a foolish mistake on your part.

Sighing softly under your breath, you nervously fidgeted with your hands, realizing there wasn’t much more you could do at the refreshment table until someone actually approached in search of some punch. Lifting your head, you took in the sight of all the happy couples on the dance floor with a broken smile. You didn’t begrudge a single one of them their excitement and joy, but oh, how you wished you could be out there among them, twirling around in the arms of a man who thought you were the bee’s knees.

Your heart yearned so acutely in that moment that it was almost a palpable ache, your body practically vibrating with a need that you couldn’t quite put into words. You pressed your hands to your chest, as if that could somehow stanch the desire that was throbbing in your heart—the desire to be seen, known, and loved exactly as you were.

Oh, stop it, you scolded yourself when you felt one fat, hot tear roll down your cheek unbidden. There’s certainly no need for tears.

Reaching up with delicate fingers, you carefully brushed away the tears that were pooling against your bottom lashes, not wanting to make a mess of the make-up Dottie had worked so diligently on.

So caught up in your own thoughts were you that you didn’t even notice the man who was approaching the table until he was suddenly standing before you, clearing his throat and smiling shyly.

A little startled, you looked up at him and felt your heart flutter softly against your ribcage. For some reason, the feeling reminded you of the pretty yellow canary that your family had kept when you were a little girl, its soft, delicate wings flapping gently within the confines of its gilded cage.

“Hello,” the young man—another officer in the Navy from the looks of it—greeted you. Was it your imagination that his voice trembled slightly? Even if it had, it didn’t matter. He had a nice voice, one that somehow managed to make you feel comfortable and at ease, even though he had only uttered one word.

“Hello,” you smiled back, your cheeks growing warm when you realized you were staring at him. You couldn’t help it. He had the most breathtaking blue eyes you had ever seen. It wasn’t just the color of his eyes that drew you in, however. It was the kindness and gentleness that you saw residing there, something that struck you as so utterly paradoxical in a man about to ship out to war. They were the most captivating eyes you had ever seen.

He just stood there for a moment, not saying anything, and you felt yourself start to grow nervous once more. You realized, at that moment, that he’d probably just come over to the table because he was thirsty. Not wanting to make the same mistake you’d made with the corporal in getting your hopes up, you quickly reached for a glass of punch and held it out to him, expecting him to thank you and be on his way.

“Oh,” he murmured, those blue eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. He shook his head, removing his hat and playing with it in his hands. “Oh, no, I didn’t—I mean to say that I wasn’t—I mean, I’m not thirsty,” he stammered, sounding a bit unsure of himself.

Not quite knowing what to say in response to that, you lowered the cup of punch back to the table, unable to tear your eyes away from him for more than a few seconds at a time. You noticed, as you gazed at him, that the tips of his ears were turning pink, as were his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Your heart did that strange little flutter once again, and you felt yourself drawn to him in the most inexplicable of ways.

You didn’t even know his name, and yet you knew this man was different from all the rest.

“I–I’m sorry, that must have sounded terribly rude,” he apologized, clearing his throat and putting his hat back on. “What I meant to say was—well, the reason I came over here was—would you, um, like to dance with me?”

It was your eyes that widened now, your heart fluttering more rapidly in your chest. You were reminded again of that tiny yellow canary, the one that had seemed to yearn so ardently for freedom from its little gilded cage.

“M-me?” you asked softly, pointing to yourself as if there was anyone else around for him to be talking about instead. “You want to dance with me?”

“I do,” he nodded, his cheeks growing even more pink, which you found incredibly endearing. “Very much so. I mean—um—only if you want to, that is,” he added hastily, seeming even more unsure of himself than before.

Never in your life had you ever seen your own shy heart so clearly reflected in the heart of another.

“I—I want to,” you told him with a little nod, a soft smile curving your lips. You couldn’t help but notice the look of relief that washed over his face, and it almost made you want to giggle with giddiness. But you didn’t want him to think you were laughing at him, so you swallowed it down. You hesitated for a moment, then shyly asked, “May I ask who’s asking?”

The young officer nearly smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I’m sorry, miss, where have my manners gone?” he asked, his voice lilting in a sweet midwestern accent. “I’m Robert Floyd. Um, Ensign Robert Floyd,” he amended, seeming to remember his rank at the last second. He held out his hand to you and you couldn’t help but notice how large and well-shaped it was. Was it odd to admire how lovely a man’s hands were? You’d have to ask Dottie about that.

Ensign. The same rank as the kindhearted Paul Trace. You suddenly recalled Ensign Trace’s comments about his friend who’d slipped away, the one he claimed you would be perfect for. This couldn’t possibly be—could it?

You told him your name as you slipped your hand into his warm, surprisingly soft palm, and shook gently. He echoed it, almost reverently, and it made you shiver in delight and feel your skin grow warm.

“I’m not normally one for dancing,” he confessed sheepishly, looking a bit embarrassed.

Feeling an almost instantaneous urge to comfort him, you hurried to reassure him. “Don’t worry. That makes two of us then,” you confided, offering him a bashful smile.

His face lit up at your words in one of the most beautiful, charming smiles you’d ever seen. “Should we give it a try then? They do say practice makes perfect,” he murmured with a soft chuckle, holding out his hand to you, this time with his palm upturned in an invitation to lead you out onto the dance floor.

Your heart fluttered in your chest for the third time, reminding you once again of the precious little canary from your girlhood—the canary that had wanted nothing more than to be free. One night, watching the pretty yellow bird flap its wings desperately against the bars of its cage, you made the choice to grant it the freedom it so desired, carrying it outside into the backyard and opening the cage, allowing it to spread its wings and soar.

Maybe tonight, you could let your heart be just as free as that yellow canary.

Lightly resting your hand in Ensign Floyd’s, you let out a hushed laugh and nodded shyly.

“Yes. Let’s give it a try.”

Bob’s POV

She said yes!

He could scarcely believe it, the whole thing feeling like a dream. It couldn’t possibly be real.

And yet, when she placed her hand in his, her hand so delicate and soft and solid against his palm, it dawned on him that their conversation had not just been a figment of his fantasy after all. This beautiful girl—sweet as apple pie and timid as a rabbit, just as Paul had described her—had really agreed to dance with him.

He felt like the luckiest man in the world.

Fingers closing gently over hers, he held her hand as she made her away around the refreshment table, the manicured fingers of her other hand brushing at an invisible wrinkle in her dress. He recognized it as a nervous tick. He did the same thing all the time when he was feeling shy or anxious—picking at an imaginary piece of lint or rubbing at a stain that wasn’t there; anything to make himself small and avoid feeling like people’s eyes were on him.

In that instant, he felt a deep sense of kindred connectedness to her. He’d met her only moments before, but he felt he knew her better than some people he’d known his whole life. Paul had seen it, too, and Bob was immediately flooded with a sense of gratitude that he’d listened to his bullheaded best friend.

Suddenly remembering Paul’s advice from earlier in the evening, he looked down at the lovely young woman whose fingers were intertwined with his and opened his mouth to say something, just as his glasses started to slide down his nose.

She looked up at that moment, and he could swear that the smile that lit up her face could stop traffic. Maybe if the War Department had used her likeness instead of Uncle Sam’s on their recruitment posters, more men would have been lining up to serve.

“You have a beautiful smile,” he told her, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Blushing, he pushed his glasses back up his nose, shoving them firmly against his face. The darn things refused to stay in place.

He heard her slight intake of breath, saw the way she ducked her head at his words, and for a moment he panicked that he’d said the wrong thing and turned her off. But then he spotted the shy, almost tentative smile touching her lips and he relaxed slightly. His words seemed to have more of an impact on her than he could have imagined.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice so sweet and light. It reminded him of the soft summer breezes back home. “So do you,” she added, blurting the words out just as he had done and then looking flustered.

Bob chuckled at that, pleasantly surprised by the compliment. He squeezed her hand ever so slightly, wordlessly letting her know that she had no reason to be embarrassed about what she’d said.

Just as they made their way onto the dance floor, Bob making sure to find them a spot that wasn’t too crowded, the singer in the blue gown made her way back up to the microphone, smiling out at the sea of couples as the band struck up a familiar Gershwin tune.

“Oh, I love this song,” she breathed out, looking up at him with bright eyes. She had the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen, rimmed in dark lashes that kissed the tops of her cheeks whenever she blinked or lowered her gaze.

“I’m glad,” Bob murmured softly in response, his voice almost a whisper as he drank in the sight of her, standing so close to him that he thought his heart might jump straight out of his chest.

“There’s a saying old, says that love is blind,” the singer crooned, closing her eyes as she began warbling “Someone to Watch Over Me,” a song that Bob had heard many times without ever really listening to. After tonight, he thought it might just be his new favorite song.

She fidgeted subtly as she stood before him, twisting her hands in the folds of her dress, and it struck him that she was just as nervous as he was. She had, after all, admitted that she wasn’t much for dancing herself.

“Still we’re often told, seek and ye shall find. So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind…”

Clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses for what felt like the millionth time, Bob held out a hand to her, wanting to make her feel comfortable and at ease. His pulse hammered as she smiled at him again and gratefully slipped her hand into his, lifting her chin and meeting his eye.

“Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet. He's the big affair I cannot forget. Only man I ever think of with regret…”

Trying to quell the butterflies exploding in his stomach, Bob slowly reached out and placed his other hand on her waist, keeping his touch light and almost stiff. He didn’t want to presume any intimacies with her or scare her off.

“I'd like to add his initial to my monogram. Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she raised her free hand and rested it on his shoulder, her touch just as sheepish and reticent as his. Anyone looking on might think that they looked tense and even a tad bit uncomfortable, their body language stiff and fumbling. But they were each dipping a toe into the water, trying to wade across the chasm and safely find a way to one another.

“There's a somebody I'm longin' to see. I hope that he turns out to be…someone who'll watch over me…”

As the chorus of the song reverberated throughout the room, they began slowly moving in rhythm with the music, swaying side to side as they gazed silently at one another. It wasn’t the anxious silence Bob so often experienced when he was trying to talk to someone new—it was the comfortable silence of two people who knew that words weren’t always what was most important.

“I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood. I know I could always be good…to one who'll watch over me…”

It took him a second to realize that she was softly humming underneath her breath, her body relaxing in increments as the song went on. His was, too, he realized with some surprise. And he hadn’t stepped on her foot once. As he felt her hand start to melt into his shoulder, becoming almost an extension of his own body, his hand slowly slid around to her lower back, instinctively pulling her closer.

She followed his lead without hesitation.

“Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to my heart, he carries the key…”

“You have a real pretty voice,” he said softly, gazing down at her with a look of awe etched into his features.

Her eyes widened and she grinned sheepishly, as if a little embarrassed to have been caught humming. “How can you be sure? I wasn’t even singing,” she giggled, a sound that would be seared into his brain and his heart for the rest of his days, he was sure of it.

“Oh, I can tell,” Bob nodded sagely, grinning in return. “It’s lovely.” Just like you.

“Thank you,” she murmured, beaming. He felt a rush of pride that he’d been the one to put that smile on her face.

“Won't you tell him please to put on some speed. Follow my lead. Oh, how I need…someone to watch over me…”

As the song reached a crescendo, she suddenly leaned closer and rested her cheek against his shoulder, her eyes closing as they continued to sway to the beat of the music.

Bob had never wished for anything in his life the way he suddenly wished that time could stand still, his pulse stuttering in his veins as he held her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head as they moved almost in slow motion.

“Someone to watch over me.”

The music came to an end and the crowd burst into applause, but neither of them moved, holding onto one another even as the band struck up a new song.

Bob never wanted to let her go.

Your POV

You never wanted to let him go.

You had always considered “Someone to Watch Over Me” to be a perfect song, but now you realized it had one flaw—it was too short.

Though you’d admittedly been filled with trepidation when Ensign Floyd had first led you out onto the dance floor, you’d been shocked at the speed in which you found yourself growing more relaxed in his arms. The chivalry of his gestures, the gentleness of his touch, the kindness in his eyes and smile—you’d never felt more at ease with a man in your life, especially one you’d just met. Towards the end of the song, you’d even felt brave enough to rest against his chest, which somehow felt warm and comforting, even within the confines of his austere officer’s uniform.

So when the song sadly reached its conclusion, you found that you weren’t quite ready to let him go.

Much to your pleasant surprise, he seemed to feel the same way. Even as the band struck up a rendition of “Moonglow,” his hand remained resting firmly against the small of your back, holding you close to his chest in a way that set your heart racing faster than a freight train.

“I’ve always liked this song,” he murmured quietly as the two of you swayed from side to side, hardly moving at all as the music washed over you.

“Me, too,” you nodded with a smile, lifting your head off his shoulder so that you could gaze up into his piercing cerulean eyes once more. “My sister has a Jack Teagarden record, and this one has always been one of my favorites.”

“I had a feeling you were a girl with good taste,” he replied with a grin that made your stomach do a couple quick flips.

You giggled shyly at that, biting down on your lower lip. You’d always been terrible at flirting. Dottie always tried to give you tips, but you never knew what coquettish, cute things to say to gain and keep a man’s attention. If you were as witty as girls like Marilyn or Emily, you might be able to come up with some little quip to volley back at him, but as it was, you just smiled and rested your head on his shoulder once more.

Thankfully, Ensign Robert Floyd didn’t seem to be a man who minded. In fact, he didn’t seem to be a man who needed many words at all. The two of you were perfectly content to dance in companionable silence for the rest of “Moonglow,” and then for the next couple songs after that.

You knew the room was packed to the rafters with couples, but for a while, it felt like it was only the two of you, lost in your own blissful bubble. It was only when you felt someone bumping into you from behind that you were startled back to reality, turning your head to see another naval officer grinning at you. You instantly recognized the redhead in his arms. It looked like Marilyn had found herself one of those unmarried fish after all.

“Hey, buddy boy! Looks like you did find yourself a pretty girl after all,” the officer guffawed, winking at Robert and then smiling at you. “Has Floyd here been treating you well?” he asked teasingly. “I’ll have to report him to our superiors otherwise.”

Obviously the men were friends, but you still felt your cheeks growing warm as you lowered your gaze and stammered softly, “Oh, yes, very well.”

At the feel of Robert squeezing your hand gently, you looked up and caught his eye. He was smiling at you warmly, comfortingly.

“Good, good,” the other man went on, his expression open and friendly. “You know, this guy—”

“Okay, Benny,” Robert cut his fellow officer off, smiling sheepishly. “Good to see you. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay, pal, okay. I can take a hint,” the man—Benny—nodded, winking over at Marilyn. “Come on, doll, we’ll give the kids some privacy,” he chuckled, twirling her away from you and your dance partner.

“Sorry about that,” Robert chuckled, shaking his head and flushing slightly. His glasses started to slide down his nose, and he quickly pushed them back up. You noticed that it was something that seemed to keep happening, and you thought it was adorable.

“I don’t mind,” you told him, smiling. “Friend of yours, obviously?”

“Yes,” he nodded, grinning fondly. “Former classmate, too. We went to Annapolis together. Commissioned at the same time,” he explained, spinning you gently in time with the music.

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding, glancing down at his uniform jacket before looking back up at his face again. “So you always wanted to be in the Navy then?” you asked curiously.

“Oh, yes,” he replied without missing a beat, the tilt of his head confident and firm. It was clear that this was something that meant a great deal to him. “My father is a captain in the Navy. He went to Annapolis, too, and served during the Great War. Or, I suppose I should call it the first world war now,” he said with a grimace. He cleared his throat slightly before continuing. “Anyway, I’ve always been proud of my father. He was awarded the Navy Cross for his service in the war, and he’s always been the most stand-up guy that I know. I guess I always just wanted to follow in his footsteps.”

You smiled warmly at that, touched by the obvious love that he felt for his father. “I’m sure he’s very proud of you,” you told him.

“I think so. I hope so, at least,” he laughed softly, his blue eyes settling on your face in an expression so soft that it made your heart ache slightly.

“My father served in the Army during the first world war,” you said, finding it easier and easier to make conversation as the moments slipped by. “He doesn’t like to talk about it much.”

“That’s fair,” Robert replied solemnly, his eyes glowing with understanding. “I don’t think it’s an easy thing for anyone to talk about.” A pregnant silence fell between the two of you for a few moments, unspoken words hanging delicately in the air. He finally broke the silence with a bashful grin. “Army, huh? Maybe we shouldn’t be seen together then. The Army and the Navy are notorious rivals,” he joked.

A surprised laugh burst from your mouth at his words, your eyes crinkling in the corners as you smiled wide. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” you teased in return.

The two of you stood there, no longer swaying with the music, but simply smiling at one another, still wrapped together in each other’s arms.

A thought seemed to strike him as he gazed down at you, but whatever it was must have made him nervous, because he suddenly averted his eyes and started clearing his throat again, looking as shy as he had when he first approached you.

“Um, say,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at a point just over your shoulder, as if too afraid to look directly in your eyes. “I hope this doesn’t seem too forward or anything, but I was just wondering—do you think you’d maybe like to take a walk with me?”

“Tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows as you looked up at him. Your pulse quickened at the notion.

“Um, well, yes,” he nodded, his cheeks turning a dark shade of red. His glasses even seemed to be fogging up slightly.

You bit your lower lip, glancing around the room. “Well, it’s just that I’m a volunteer with the USO. I don’t think I can leave until my shift is over,” you explained, stepping back and twisting your fingers together.

“Oh, of course,” Robert mumbled, deflating slightly. You hated the look of defeat in his expression. “I understand. Thank you for the dances. I’m sorry if I—”

“My shift is over at ten o’ clock,” you hastened to interject, not wanting him to get the impression that you weren’t interested. You had never been more interested in your life. “I know you’ll have to be getting back to your base, but maybe—”

“Oh, that’s perfect,” he cut in, the two of you pausing and laughing bashfully at his enthusiasm. “Ten o’clock works just fine,” he grinned.

“Okay,” you beamed, feeling your own cheeks grow warm as he smiled at you. “I’ll just go help clean up a little bit. Should I meet you by the front doors at ten?”

“That sounds perfect,” he agreed, his expression bright and uplifted once more.

“Okay,” you said again, finding it hard to get your feet to move in the direction you needed them to.

“Okay,” he echoed, continuing to stand there as well, a foot or two away from you.

The both of you laughed sheepishly when you realized neither of you had moved, each of you looking away shyly.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon then, Ensign Floyd,” you murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Please, it’s Robert. Or Bob. Lots of people call me Bob,” he amended.

“What about Bobby?” The question popped out of your mouth before the thought had even been fully formed in your mind. You had no idea what on earth had possessed you to ask it.

He smiled at your question. “No, no one really calls me that. It’s usually either Bob or Robby, depending on who it is,” he explained. He paused for a moment, thoughtful, then added, “But you can call me Bobby.”

Your cheeks, which had just been starting to cool down, grew instantly hot at his words, which gave you more of a rush than they had any right to.

“Okay,” you nodded, the tiniest of smiles curving your lips. “I’ll see you soon then, Bobby.”

Bob’s POV

Bob felt like he was floating on air as he made his way across the dance floor, spotting his friends near the doors through which they’d entered the large hall.

She was without a doubt the most extraordinary woman he had ever met. Beautiful, sweet, kind, thoughtful—an angel, just as he had thought from the very beginning. And she actually seemed to like him! What kind of lucky star had he fallen under tonight? Whatever it was, he hoped that the pixie dust from it didn’t wear off anytime soon.

As he got closer to the gathered members of his squadron, he noticed that the redhead Benny had been dancing with was still firmly attached to his side. Tommy Boy had a stunning blonde on his arm—though Bob would argue she was nowhere near as gorgeous as his girl—and most of the other guys had pretty young things draped around them as well.

The only member of the group, in fact, who was standing on his own was Paul. Bob could tell that behind his best friend’s happy-go-lucky smile, there was a tinge of sadness. He knew that Paul wished more than anything that he could be holding Natasha right now. That was, Bob realized with painful clarity, the cost of loving someone so much.

“Hey, there he is!” Benny exclaimed with a cheerful grin when he turned and caught sight of Bob. “Floyd! The man of the hour! Where’s your pretty date?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows and ignoring the way the redhead smacked his chest with a huff.

Bob blushed at Benny’s choice of words, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger.

He was saved from answering Benny’s question directly when Tommy Boy cut in, grinning smugly. “See? I told you it was a good idea for you to come to the dance with us tonight, didn’t I?” He chuckled, slapping Bob good-naturedly on the arm. “We’re all getting ready to head out to The Tropicana Room,” he went on, referring to a nightclub downtown that their squadron had frequented a couple times in the past. “You’ll come with us, won’t you? Bring your pretty date,” he added with a knowing smirk.

“Oh, well, um, actually I was just coming to let you guys know that I’m going to be going for a walk with, um—with my—”

“Your date?” Benny drawled slowly, grinning impishly. “A walk, huh? Is that what they’re calling it now?” he teased with a mischievous laugh.

“Oh, shut up, Benny,” Paul interjected, his tone friendly, but firm enough to let Benny know that he meant it. Their fellow officer put a lid on it immediately.

“That sounds real nice, Bob,” Tommy Boy jumped back in, nodding at him with an encouraging smile. For a guy as popular and handsome as Tom, a guy who could have any woman he wanted without lifting a finger, he really was one of the nicest and most supportive friends a guy like Bob could ask for. “So we’ll see you back at base then?”

Bob nodded, having a feeling some of his friends would be out much later than he expected to be. “I’ll see you back at base. Have fun at The Tropicana Room,” he told them all with a little wave.

Paul hung back as the rest of their group began making their way out of the dance hall, loudly laughing and letting out whoops of excitement as they headed into the final stretch of their last night stateside. At his knowing smile, which teetered right on the edge of being smug, Bob chuckled and held up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can admit when you’re right,” Bob said, shaking his head with a good-humored smile. “Thank you for pushing me to go talk to her. She’s—she’s amazing, Paul,” he gushed, still in awe. “What you said—you know, about her maybe being the girl for me? I—I don’t know, Paul. I think you might have actually been right.”

“When am I not right?” Paul smirked, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Ah, I’m just kidding. But I am happy for you, Robby,” he told him sincerely. “You deserve a nice girl. And wait until I write and tell Nat that it was me who helped you find her,” he grinned.

Bob laughed, jokingly pushing his friend away from him. “Okay, sure, take all the credit. I am the one who asked her to dance, you know,” he playfully shot back.

“At my insistence,” Paul emphasized, winking. He glanced over his shoulder for a moment, then asked, “Leaving soon then?”

“At ten, when her volunteer shift ends,” Bob explained, glancing across the room and spotting her helping to clean up at the refreshment table where he’d first spotted her. His heart warmed at the sight.

“Have fun, buddy. I mean it. You really do deserve it,” Paul said, more seriously this time.

“Thank you, Paul,” Bob replied. “Are you going to The Tropicana Room with the others?”

“I’ll probably swing by for a quick drink,” Paul told him with a shrug. “Maybe it’ll take my mind off how much I miss Nat and the kids, at least for a little while,” he added, a touch of melancholy in his voice.

“You’ll see them again soon,” Bob said quietly, patting his friend’s shoulder. “And they’re always with you,” he added comfortingly, tapping the pocket where he knew Paul was carrying his family photograph.

“Yeah,” Paul nodded, forcing himself to smile once more. “You’re right. Have fun, Robby. I’ll see you back at base,” he said, holding his hand out to give Bob a quick shake.

“See you later,” Bob nodded, firmly shaking Paul’s hand before he, too, slipped out of the dance hall.

Figuring a little fresh air would do him some good, and since there had been an arrangement to meet by the front doors anyway, Bob slipped out of the dance hall and made his way through the foyer of the community center. Evidently some of the USO volunteers had also determined that some fresh spring air would do everyone some good, for some of them had propped the front doors open, revealing an inky black Charleston sky peppered with stars.

Stepping up to the doorway, Bob dragged in a lungful of the balmy air, grinning up at the sky. Not for the first time in the past hour or so, he found himself eternally grateful that he’d listened to his friends, particularly Paul, and come to the dance tonight. The reality of his deployment still hung heavy in the back of his mind, but for this brief, blissful moment in time, he was giving himself over to the joy he felt bubbling up inside his chest.

So enamored was he of the warm southern air and the happy thoughts filling his mind that he lost all sense of time until he felt a gentle finger tapping him on the shoulder. Turning around, he felt his heart squeeze inside his chest when he took in the sight of her standing before him, a sweater draped over her arm and her purse in her hand.

“Ready, Bobby?” she asked with a shy grin.

With her, he felt ready for anything.

Your POV

When Bob informed you that he was originally from Iowa and that this was his first time being in Charleston, you immediately suggested taking your stroll down King Street, one of the most historic and lively streets in the whole city. 

The street was bustling and busy almost every night of the week, but this Saturday night in particular, it was practically bursting at the seams. Servicemen from all branches of the military took to the streets in droves, most with a girl or two on each arm, all of them looking for a good time as the reality of a global war loomed heavily over everyone.

Robert—or Bobby, as you were giddily becoming accustomed to calling him—had been a perfect gentleman when you’d left the community center, carefully draping your sweater over your shoulders and offering you his arm, which you’d happily accepted. As the two of you walked along, you pointed out different sites and interesting spots to him, all of which he drank in eagerly, as if every word that fell from your lips was a fascinating treasure. No one had ever made you feel that way before—it was a heady sensation.

“So you’ve lived in Charleston all your life then?” Bobby asked interestedly, his warm fingers coming to rest over yours where they lay in the crook of his elbow.

“Oh, no,” you told him, shaking your head with a smile. “I’ve actually only been living here for the last five months,” you confessed, which seemed to surprise him. “I’m originally from Georgia.”

“You don’t say!” he exclaimed, smiling down at you. “They’re known for their peaches down in Georgia, aren’t they?”

“They are,” you giggled, nodding your head. “We have very sweet peaches back home.”

“Makes sense that you’d be from there then” he mused softly. When you looked up at him with a curious expression, he explained, “You’re as sweet and pretty as a Georgia peach.” He blushed at his own words, perhaps worried that you’d find his comment too hokey.

You thought it was wonderful. Just like him.

“Thank you, Bobby,” you smiled, lowering your eyes demurely.

He smiled in return, and you heard the soft sigh of relief he let out under his breath. “So what brought you to Charleston from Georgia then? If you don’t mind me asking,” he added quickly.

“My sister,” you replied with a smile. “Her name is Dorothy, but everyone calls her Dottie. She and her husband moved to Charleston after they got married, and she just had her first baby back in December. My nephew,” you added with a proud and affectionate grin. “His name is Frankie—well, Francis, but we call him Frankie. He’ll be five months old in just a few days.” You could scarcely believe it. “To answer your question, I moved to Charleston not long after Frankie was born. He came just a week after the attack at Pearl Harbor,” you explained, sobering slightly.

Bobby let out a soft hum in response to your words, his eyes flickering with emotion. Pearl Harbor had been a naval base, which must have made the attack feel all the more personal to him.

“My brother-in-law is a naval engineer,” you went on, eyes twinkling softly. “So I do have a connection to the Navy after all,” you told him teasingly. “When we entered the war, his work hours doubled overnight, and it became really tough for Dottie, trying to care for Frankie and the house all on her own. So I offered to come stay with her to help out.”

“I’m not surprised by that at all,” Bobby said with a tender smile, squeezing your fingers lightly. “You seem to be a very good volunteer.”

You flushed at his compliment, sheepishly trying to brush off his words of praise. “I’m afraid it was purely selfish on my part. I missed my sister terribly, and was desperate to spend time with my new nephew,” you laughed.

“Sounds like it was a win-win for all of you,” Bobby chuckled. He gazed down at you curiously. “Where does your brother-in-law work?”

“He works mainly at the naval air station in Goose Creek. It’s only about thirty minutes away from here,” you replied.

“That’s where I’ve been stationed!” Bobby said brightly. “What’s his name? Not to say that I know him, but it’s always possible.”

“What a small world!” you noted. It made sense that Bobby would be stationed in Goose Creek, so you weren’t sure why you were so surprised, but it was a funny coincidence all the same. “His name is Patrick Sheridan, but everyone calls him Paddy.”

“No kidding!” Bobby gaped, eyes wide. “You’re Paddy Sheridan’s sister-in-law?”

“You do know him?” you gasped, your eyes widening as well. Then you laughed. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone knows Paddy,” you grinned, your heart warming at the thought of your jovial brother-in-law, who had become more like a big brother to you over the years.

“Aw, he’s a great guy,” Bobby insisted, smiling from ear to ear. “He’s played cards with us fellas a few times on our lunch breaks. What a personality. Your sister must be some firecracker to put up with him,” he joked. Then his smile faltered slightly. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend—”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, laughing. “No, you’re right. Trust me, if you think Paddy is a handful, your head would spin if you met Dottie. They’re quite the pair,” you giggled, covering your mouth with your hand.

Bobby laughed, grinning thoughtfully down at you. He was quiet for a moment before saying, “I can tell how much you love them from the way you talk about them. Your whole face lights up.”

You smiled warmly at that, your eyes meeting his. “I do love them. Very much. I’m glad to have this time with them.”

“I’m glad for you. Family is important,” Bobby nodded, pressing himself a little bit closer to you as a cool evening breeze passed by.

“Would you tell me about your family?” you asked shyly, not wanting to press him.

He did. As you continued your peaceful stroll down King Street, he told you all about his life back in Iowa, about his family’s farm and his hardworking parents and his two little brothers who were still in grade school. He told you about all the things he missed from home—home cooked meals with his family around the dinner table his great-grandfather had made, his mother’s sweet tea, long chats with his father on the porch in the evening, playing with his brothers and their family dog.

“I can tell you love your family, too,” you told him, echoing his words from earlier. “They sound very special.”

“They are,” Bobby nodded, a soft, almost faraway smile on his face. “It’s nice having Paul with me at least. Feels like a little piece of home,” he said.

“Paul?” you asked curiously.

“Paul Trace,” he explained. “He and I have been best friends since we were kids. We went to the Naval Academy together, and now we’re flying together, too.”

“Oh!” you gasped, eyes sparking in remembrance. So you had been right about his connection to Ensign Paul Trace! “I met him earlier tonight. He seems very kind. He was talking to me about buying his wife a set of pearls like mine,” you said, fingering your necklace.

Bobby grinned at that. “Sounds about right. He adores his wife, Natasha. She grew up with us, too. They’re childhood sweethearts.”

“How romantic,” you sighed softly, smiling at the thought.

“They have two children. Clara is three and Paul, Jr. is only about a month older than your nephew, Frankie,” he told you.

“Oh, I’m sure he must miss them all terribly,” you murmured sympathetically.

“He does,” Bobby nodded, his smile slipping. “I try to remind him that it’ll all be alright in the end. That he’ll see them again soon. But I know I’m one to talk. No wife, no kids.”

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t have people you love. People you’ll miss,” you assured him, squeezing his arm gently. “I’m sure he appreciates you very much, and is just as grateful to be stationed with you as you are to be stationed with him.”

“Thank you,” Bobby whispered, looking touched by your words. “I know he’ll always have my back, and I’ll always have his. Literally. I’m his rear-seater,” he chuckled.

You grinned. “And what does that mean exactly, in layman’s terms?” you asked with a giggle.

Bobby laughed sheepishly. “Of course. I’m sorry. We’re fighter pilots for the Navy. Paul and I fly together in a double-seat aircraft—he sits up front and I sit in the rear, handling the radio and the guns.”

“Sounds dangerous,” you murmured, suddenly feeling frightened for him. You’d known since you met him that he was going off to war, but somehow hearing a description of what his job actually entailed had your stomach turning sour.

“It is,” Bobby admitted, the smile gone from his face as he looked down at you. “But we’ve been well-trained. And I trust Paul with my life.”

You nodded, not saying anything as you lowered your head.

“Hey,” Bobby said suddenly, drawing your attention upwards once more as he pointed to a storefront across the street. “What do you say to some ice cream?”

Smiling slowly, you nodded in response.

Ten minutes later, the two of you resumed your stroll down King Street, two large ice cream cones in hand. Bobby had opted for classic vanilla with chocolate sprinkles, while you’d gone with chocolate ice cream and rainbow sprinkles.

“Wait, wait, so why do you all call him Tommy Boy?” you asked with a laugh. Bobby had started telling you about his other friends from his squadron while you were in the ice cream parlor, and you were still seeking some clarification.

Bobby laughed as well, licking up the ice cream that was starting to melt down the side of his cone. “Honestly? I can’t even remember. His name is Thomas, so we all naturally started calling him Tom. Then Tom turned into Tommy. And somewhere along the line it transformed into Tommy Boy. Now that’s what everyone calls him, and I guess we’ve never thought much of it,” he admitted with a grin.

“And Benny is the one we bumped into on the dance floor?” you questioned, licking your ice cream quickly so that it wouldn’t drip onto Dottie’s dress.

“Yes. Loudmouth Benny. One of my roommates at Annapolis,” Bobby chortled, shaking his head with obvious affection for his friend.

“I know the girl he was dancing with,” you said, glancing up at him. “She’s a talker, too, so they’re very well matched,” you giggled.

“Oh, good,” Bobby grinned. “A perfect way for Benny to spend his last night stateside.”

“Last night?” you repeated, startled. Suddenly, in the back of your mind, you recalled something Marilyn had been saying about a squadron of officers who were spending their last night on American soil at the USO dance. You felt your stomach drop.

Bobby sobered immediately, realizing what he’d said. “I–I’m sorry,” he apologized instantaneously, lowering his ice cream cone. “I should have said something earlier. I just—would you like to sit down for a minute?” he asked, indicating an open bench just a few feet away.

Nodding wordlessly, you followed him over to the wrought iron bench and took a seat, the blood rushing in your ears and your heart suddenly pounding painfully in your chest.

He said your name softly, waiting until you turned your head and looked up at him. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you tonight was my last night in town. I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess I just…didn’t know how,” he admitted slowly. “We’ve been having such a wonderful time—or at least, I have—and I guess I didn’t want to ruin that. But that was selfish of me. I’m sorry.”

You were quiet for a moment, absorbing his words. “You don’t have to be sorry, Bobby,” you said softly, staring down at your lap. “I’m not upset that you didn’t say anything about it. I just—I wasn’t expecting you to have to leave already,” you murmured, feeling tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

Oh, how embarrassing. You couldn’t cry in front of him. You’d just met him! He’d think you were insane if you started crying over losing him already.

But you were losing him. The first man you’d ever met who made you feel safe enough to come out of your shell, and he would be gone by morning light. Fate could be so unkind sometimes.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” he said again, reaching out with a tentative hand and lightly brushing his thumb across your cheek. His touch was so gentle that it made you want to weep. “I’ve been preparing to ship out for weeks now. And I thought I was ready. I really did. But now—meeting you tonight—now I wish I didn’t have to go,” he whispered, leaning in closer to you.

A soft sob caught in your throat at his words. “I know it sounds so silly, but I feel as if I’ve known you for longer than just one night,” you confessed, biting down on your lower lip.

“I feel the same way,” Bobby breathed out, making your heart ache all the more. “I—I don’t want to presume anything, and I probably don’t deserve it after not even telling you the whole truth, but do you think—would it be alright if I wrote to you?”

You let out a soft little gasp at his words, eyes widening. He wanted to write to you? You?

“You don’t have to say yes,” Bobby stammered, blushing furiously. “I understand if you don’t want me to. I just—I’ve enjoyed getting to know you so much, and I hate thinking that I’ll never get to talk to you again after tonight and I was just hoping that maybe, if you don’t mind, we could maybe write to each other sometimes while I’m away,” he rambled, growing breathless.

“Yes,” you told him, nodding your head vigorously.

“Y-yes?” he asked, blue eyes widening behind his square glasses.

“Yes,” you repeated, laughing softly. “Yes, I would like that very much, Bobby.”

He looked as if he might fall over, his eyes as wide as saucers and his mouth hanging open. You had to bite back a laugh as the butterflies danced in your stomach.

“I’ll be staying with Dottie and Paddy for the foreseeable future, so I’ll give you their address, if that’s alright?” you asked, biting your lip.

“Of course! Of course that’s alright,” Bob agreed enthusiastically. “I just need to get you some—oh, gosh, I need some paper,” he scrambled, searching in his pockets with the hand that wasn’t holding his ice cream cone. The look on his face told you that he was coming up empty.

“Wait a second,” you told him, an idea suddenly sparking in your mind. You carefully tore off the paper that was wrapped around your ice cream cone, spreading it out on your lap. “Would you mind holding this for a moment?” you asked, holding your cone up to him. He took it instantly without complaint.

Reaching into your purse, you found the short little pencil stub that you thankfully hadn’t taken out. Flattening out the ice cream cone wrapper with your fingertips, you carefully wrote out your full name, as well as your sister’s address, in a clear hand.

“Here you go,” you told him with a smile, holding out the paper and taking your ice cream cone back from him.

Bobby looked down at that little piece of paper as if it was a priceless treasure map, carefully slipping it into the breast pocket of his uniform jacket. “Thank you,” he murmured, putting his hand over it. “As soon as I get to where I’m going, I’ll write you and let you know how you can get in touch with me. If you still want to, that is,” he hastily added.

“I’ll want to,” you assured him with a smile, scooting a little closer to him on the bench.

The two of you sat side by side, eating the rest of your ice cream in comfortable silence. You rested your free hand down on the edge of the bench between the two of you, your manicured fingers curling around the wrought iron. A few seconds later, Bobby’s hand was resting next to yours, his pinky finger brushing lightly against yours, which caused goosebumps to rise on your skin.

Suddenly, the sound of either a radio or someone’s record player began trickling down onto the street from one of the open windows above. You recognized the tune almost instantly as Glenn Miller and his orchestra’s version of “A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square.”

“I love Glenn Miller,” you said aloud, smiling.

Bobby smiled, turning his head to look at you. “So does my mom. She plays his records all the time.” At that, he stood from his spot on the bench, brushing the remnants of crumbs from his ice cream cone off his hands and pants. Then he held his hand out to you. “Would you like to dance?”

You looked up in surprise, your heart fluttering. “I thought you said you weren’t much for dancing,” you smiled.

“I’m not,” Bobby shrugged. “But for you, I’m happy to make an exception,” he beamed brightly.

With a bashful giggle, you rose and accepted his proffered hand, allowing him to hold you close as the two of you finished your evening together the same way you’d begun it—dancing in each other’s arms. It didn’t matter to you that you were swaying in the middle of the sidewalk to the muted sound of someone’s record player as opposed to on the dance floor to the accompaniment of a big band. All that mattered was the way he made you feel and the way you felt your heart blazing to life inside your chest.

All too soon, the song came to an end and Bobby pulled back slightly, gazing down at you.

“I should get you home,” he whispered, a tinge of regret coloring his voice.

You nodded, biting back a sigh as you slipped your arm through his once more, pointing him in the direction of your sister’s house.

There was still so much more to be said, so much more to be learned, but you and Bobby opted for a peaceful silence instead. You knew he wouldn’t have much peace and quiet in the weeks and months ahead, so you wanted to give that to him on his last night.

All too soon, you were standing outside Dottie and Paddy’s house, the lights still on in the front room. Your sister had given you full license to stay out, but you knew that didn’t mean that she and Paddy weren’t going to be sitting up waiting for you.

“This is me,” you murmured, a little sadly. You looked up at him, wanting to get to memorize his face one last time, especially those beautiful blue eyes. “I had such a wonderful time tonight. Thank you, Bobby.”

“No, thank you,” he replied, reaching out and taking one of your hands in his. “Thank you for everything. This was the best last night I ever could have hoped for.”

You smiled wistfully at that, wanting to hug him or give him some proper goodbye, but not wanting to come across as too forward. The two of you just stood staring at each other for a few minutes, both of you too shy to move or say anything.

“I promise I’ll write,” he finally told you, patting the pocket where he’d slipped your address.

“And I promise I’ll write back,” you vowed, twisting your hand in the pleats of your dress.

“Good night” he breathed softly, reaching out to lightly touch your cheek.

“Good night, Bobby,” you whispered back, feeling a small crack form in the crevice of your heart.

He hesitated a moment, looking as if there was something more he wanted to say—or do. “Can—c-can I kiss you?” he asked shyly, his blush evident even in the moonlight.

When you nodded slowly, he leaned in close and brushed his lips against your cheek in a kiss so soft and chaste that you felt tears forming against your lashes. “Goodbye,” he murmured against your ear, pulling back respectfully.

Thinking of the words he said he often shared with Paul, you smiled at him. “We’ll see each other again, Bobby.”

He smiled at that. “I certainly hope so.”

Bobby watched as you made your way to the front of the house, pulling your keys out of your purse and unlocking the door. You turned and waved. He waved back.

Stepping inside and closing the door behind you suddenly felt like the hardest thing you’d ever had to do.

Before you even had time to process any of what had just happened, Dottie suddenly came bounding in from the family room, looking like a cat who got the cream.

“Who was that?” she demanded eagerly, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing tightly.

“Dottie! Were you spying on me?” you gaped, your cheeks growing hot in embarrassment.

Your older sister threw back her head, laughing. “Of course I was!” she told you. “Paddy!” she called over her shoulder. “Put on a kettle for some tea!” Turning back to you, she grinned excitedly and cupped your face in her hands. “I want to hear all about your night!”

For once, you finally had a story to tell.

Bob’s POV

Bob had never quite known what it was to both ache and rejoice in equal measure, but now he did. As he strolled away from the Sheridan residence, hands in his pockets, his heart ached at the possibility of never getting to see that beautiful face again. Yet at the same time, he rejoiced at the wonder of getting to meet her, of getting to hear her laugh and make her smile.

Even more, he rejoiced at the little scrap of paper pressed against his heart, the paper that reminded him of the endless possibilities that lay ahead. He was leaving her, that was true, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that he could carry her with him through it all—a little slice of heaven in the midst of hell.

Smiling brightly as he strolled the streets of Charleston for the last time, Bob began penning his first letter to her in his heart.

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman #WWII AU #1940s AU

[rhoorl]

Week in Review | Oct. 1

Happy October! This month is a really special month for me personally (more on that later). It marks three months on Tumblr! I’m approaching a pretty significant follower milestone (for me) which is really cool. I try to not pay attention to numbers because that’s stressful and I'm trying to treat this as my fun space (and me time), but this milestone made me pause and think about the little community I’ve found here and how special it is to me. To anyone who has left a comment, reblog, like, ask, or message - thank you! You’ve brought some laughter and smiles to my days. My inbox is always open so if you want to say hi please do!

Anyway, here we go with the week in review… 

Fics I read this week:

Frankie Morales

The Pilot and His Girl by @avastrasposts - I don't want to spoil what happens in the latest chapter but ahhhh this series is just so so good. But seriously, pack some Kleenex for Chapter 33.

Grocery List by @frenchiereading - I love everything in the Mr. Morales and Miss universe. This is just such cute Frankie fluff.

Delta Palms Tropical Resort by @linzels-blog - You know I love a Triple Frontier AU and I’m so excited to see all of the goings on at the resort run by the boys!

Joel Miller

Body Language by @cupofjoel- Joel shows up at your place with a camcorder and some fun ensues…

Happy Birthday by @trulybetty - Needless to say Joel had a very good birthday this year based on some of the fics I added to my TBR list. However this fic right here?! I was a mess after the first freaking sentence - soft smut is your specialty friend!!

Another entry from @linzels-blog this time in the way of some cute Joel fluff when he attends a parent-teacher conference. 

Javier Peña

It's Never Too Late by @javierpena-inatacvest - I was seriously smiling the whole time I read this latest chapter. If you’re looking for a softer Javi (who is still spicy, can’t take that part out of him), then this is such a great read!

What Do We Have Here? by @secretelephanttattoo - We get a little more insight into what Javi’s relationship with Elisa could have been like. I loved all of the references to the show.

Drenched by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Javi comes home from work sweaty (hello sweaty curls sticking to the back of his neck) and he and reader both end up drenched. 😉

Marcus Pike

Headshots by @secretelephanttattoo - Reader is a photographer tasked with taking headshots at the FBI office.  Marcus is so freaking cute in this. 

Dieter Bravo 

Destiny & Deliverance by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings is a staple on this list and the only Dieter fic I’m consistently reading at the moment. Sounds like we may need to form a support group based on what may be happening in the upcoming chapters, but I am ready.

Fun Posts

Dieter and @morallyinept were back this week dishing out some self-care advice. I seriously love the way Jett puts these posts together, they make me laugh and think.

I shared some of my favorite things on this post, which also included some photos I've taken.

Feral corner:

Joel’s birthday coupled with photos of Pedro on the picket line kept the feral corner well occupied this week. I mean, look at him. I don't even care how he ties his shoes because he's adorable no matter what.

I found there’s a name for the affliction that I and many of us suffer from - Chronic Pascalitis. There are ways to lessen the symptoms, although do you really want that?

Also, the Pike Puddle is getting deeper thanks to posts like this and like this.

Can we also appreciate how beautiful this photo of Pedro is from earlier this year when we appeared on Seth Meyers' show?!

Things I watched:

I started watching this show on Max called Mosaic featuring Garrett Hedlund. It’s been interesting so far, I’m only about halfway through. There was an episode where looked like Benny and I about lost my damn mind.

Personal Update

This month is a really special month for me personally - my daughter was born in October, we rescued our dog in October, and we got married in October. Needless to say, there’s a lot to celebrate but it also has me in my feels as I sit back and reflect on a lot of things.

The past two years and the transition to becoming a mom has been hard and I’m a work in progress on that front every single day. But we've made it and I'm pretty lucky to have the independent, fearless, and hilarious little girl that I do.

My parents have been in town for the past couple of days to celebrate my daughter’s birthday. As a result, my husband and I get to take advantage of some free babysitting help and are doing a little overnight trip. It’s an early anniversary present for us to stay at one of the on-site hotels at Universal and go to Halloween Horror Nights for the night. Yay I get to see Joel and the TLOU house again!

Aside from that, we have some fun things planned this week. I’m excited for the weekend when I get to go see A Strange Way of Life in theaters! I’ll be sure to include a spoiler-free review here next week!

Fic updates:

I should have the next chapter of Working Title out soon. Thank you to those who have listened to me rant and ramble on about it. I’ve been struggling with the latest chapter. Once I get that out then I’ll work on Delta Landscaping - Will and Katie go on their date, but we also have Friday night plans for the others too. I also shared a little tease about a new neighbor coming to Mule Fall Court.

Thanks as always for reading my ramblings, I hope you have an awesome week!

#rhoorl week in review #rhoorl #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfic

[coraniaid]

Last post on this topic for a while, I promise.

I saw that somebody tagged my recent post about Helpless as ‘anti-Giles’, and – while I can see how you might get that impression (I mean, to be fair, I did use the phrase ‘unambiguously evil’) – it’s not really what I was trying to drive at.  My problem is with the way that particular episode depicts Giles (and to a lesser extent with the broader fandom attitude towards Giles) not with the character of Giles more generally.

What I mean is: I think the version of Giles that exists in Helpless is basically impossible to reconcile with the character we’ve seen in the first two seasons of the show. The Giles of Prophecy Girl who was so appalled by the thought of Buffy dying that he wanted to “defy prophecy” and fight the Master himself surely wouldn’t have taken so long to stand up to Quentin Travers.  The Giles of Innocence who told Buffy that “all you will get from me is my support and my respect” certainly wouldn’t repeatedly drug her and lie to her face about it.  The Giles who spent all summer chasing down possible sightings of Buffy across the country after she ran away at the end of Becoming would not be so willing to risk her life again just to follow orders from a group of people he openly despises. 

And – because the show doesn’t ever come back and address what he’s shown to do in this episode – it’s also impossible to reconcile Helpless with subsequent episodes.  Nobody ever talks about it, at all, and so the impression is that it either didn’t happen or just wasn’t a big deal.  Giles was unfairly sacked, for some reason, by the Bad Watcher’s Council, and that’s all there is to remember.  (The fact that Giles worked for years for the Bad Watcher’s Council and would’ve happily kept on doing so if they hadn’t fired him goes similarly unremarked on.)

But I don’t think a Buffy who had been betrayed by Giles this fundamentally would go back to trusting him as quickly as she does.  If ever.  I don’t think that only a few episodes later she’d be in any hurry to talk to him about the manslaughter she’d unwittingly been involved in, or that she’d so readily listen to him as her unofficial Watcher when Wesley arrives.  As it is, she spends more time being upset by the fact Giles had sex with her mother this season than she does caring about the fact he almost got her and her mother killed.  That just doesn’t make any sense to me.

And, just to be clear: I really do like Giles a lot.  He is one of my favorite characters in the show.  I think the evolution of his semi-parental relationship with Buffy is really well done; I like his connections with Jenny and Ethan and the way he gets to play off of other characters like Snyder and Joyce and Wesley. I think he is generally a very good deconstruction of the trope of the wise and patient mentor.  I think that ASH’s performance as Giles in Season 1 is probably a large part of what got the show renewed for a second season.  I am, in fact, firmly pro-Giles.

What I don’t like is the collective willingness of the fandom to overlook all of his faults. To strip away everything that makes him interesting until he’s just “Buffy’s Nice Dad”. To afford him a level of tolerance and understanding that somehow never seems to extend to any of the women in Buffy’s life. To pretend that Joyce Summers is being ridiculous or unreasonable for blaming him for her daughter running away, even though it is explicitly Buffy’s calling as a Slayer – and the fact that Giles himself insists she keeps this secret from her loved ones – that makes the events of Becoming possible.  [No, Buffy doesn’t just run away because of what Joyce said to her: if that was the only reason, why did she also cut off all ties with Giles and Willow and Xander and her other friends?]  And, yes, to act as if the fact that Quentin Travers, of all people, tells us that Giles has “a father’s love” for Buffy is the only takeaway from Helpless, and to pretend that his actual actions in that episode don’t undermine that reading at all.

Joyce Summers can tell Buffy not to come back home if she leaves the house without permission – in the heat of the moment, during an argument, clearly regretting it the second she says it – and twenty-five years later the internet is still full of posts calling her a bitch and a terrible mother and claiming she wanted Buffy to leave.  Joyce can be compelled to burn Buffy at the stake because she’s possessed by a demon and this is still a running joke in the fandom two decades later (nevermind the time the season before when Giles was similarly possessed by a demon that tried to kill Buffy: that one doesn’t count, apparently).  Buffy can literally tell Giles that she doesn’t “see the point” of living in the world anymore after her mother’s gone and you all act like it’s a complete mystery why she might be depressed after The Body.  Buffy tells her mother she loves her every season, starting from the third episode of the show – the first episode we see her tell anyone she loves them – and you all pretend that it’s somehow a huge retcon when she still loves her mother four seasons later and that she misses her when she dies.

But Giles goes along with a plan that seems all but designed to get Buffy killed, hypnotizes her, drugs her, and lies to her face about it – not because he’s possessed, not because he’s not in control of his actions, but because the people who employ him tell him he has to – and … nothing.  There’s no outrage at all.  The fandom and the writers alike all agree to pretend it just never happened.  I look for any discussion of this, but you’re all just talking about how much more consistently written a character Giles is than Joyce (which … no, sorry, that’s obviously nonsense; the Season 2 Ripper retcon alone is evidence enough of that), and how he should’ve gotten to adopt Buffy after Joyce died (when … uh, Buffy was legally an adult??), and writing  fanfic after fanfic in which Buffy tells Giles he was more of a parent to her than Joyce ever was (nevermind that she says almost literally the opposite in Season 6, or that she didn’t even meet Giles until she was sixteen, after Joyce explicitly uprooted her whole life to try to find somewhere for Buffy to have a fresh start) and … honestly, I don’t get it.

I just don’t get why you all hate Joyce this much, or why the fandom collectively seems to judge her by standards it never ever applies to Rupert Giles.  When did we decide that the times Joyce hurts Buffy are a fundamental part of her character and that the times Giles hurts her can be safely hand-waved away and ignored?  Why was I not at that meeting?

Like I said, I don’t know.

But what I do know is that Joyce is practically the only recurring character on the show who was played by a woman in her forties.

[For reference, Buffy’s recurring female cast includes two centuries old vampires, a thousand year old ex-vengeance demon, her friend the still-active vengeance demon whose exact age we don't know but was active in the 19th cenutry at least and probably for centuries before that, an ancient and immortal hell-god from another dimension and a centuries old ball of green energy that takes human form.  Not one of these characters is played by a woman over 35.  In fact, only one of them -- in-universe, quite possibly the youngest one of them -- is played by a woman over 30.  

The adult woman with the most screen time after Joyce is Jenny Calendar, who is played by a woman who was 27 years old when her character was killed off. A year later, Giles starts a relationship with another woman called Olivia Williams (who the show and the fandom are both profoundly uninterested in: at the time of writing there are more fics on AO3 shipping Giles with Oz than there are fics shipping him with Olivia.). Olivia is played by a woman who was also 27 years old in the only season she appears in, the same season that ASH turned 46. She's also introduced by Giles as an "old friend", which is probably something it's best not to think too hard about.

The one other woman over forty to appear in more than one episode of Buffy was Lindsay Crouse, who plays Professor Maggie Walsh in Season 4.  She appears in eight episodes, anticipates fandom by calling herself an ‘evil bitch’, then dies in an incredibly stupid and pointless way.  That’s literally it.]

So maybe I do get it.  And frankly, it sucks.

#btvs #rupert giles #anti giles #pro giles #(tagging it both ways to ensure nobody reads this I guess) #joyce summers

[tiny-heist]

Does Chai have a home to go back to?

At the very beginning of the game, Chai wants to get off the Vandelay campus, but he never says “I want to go home” or something along those lines. He just keeps saying he wants to get off the island.

I don’t know if this is something to point out, and it’s me reading wayyyy too much into things, but with Chai’s tendency to kinda “act younger” you’d think he’d say something like “Ugh, this is so hard! I just wanna go home!” Or “can I go home now?” But he never mentions anything about home. He never even mentions a place to go. He just wants to get off the island.

This may be me projecting onto him about not having a good family and home life, but this is my hyperfixation, damn it!

In the game models, it says how Chai’s a college dropout, and do you ever think that Chai may have gotten kicked out for that? He’s also called a slacker a numerous amount of times in the game. It just leads me to believe that his parents or whoever took care of him really didn’t care for his rockstar dream, so when Chai dropped out for that dream, or possibly just wasn’t great in academics, they kicked him out. It’s like a “If he wants to be a slacker, he can be one somewhere else, not in my damn house” type of deal.

Because if Chai did have a home to go back to, you’d think the ending may have shown something like him calling someone, talking to another person, or maybe writing a simple text and it could have the same camera angle as Macaron when you see him working on CMNM to be able to look down at what he’s texting. A hint that he has a home to go back to. However, he’s not shown anything and never mentions anything.

If Chai never had a home to go back, then the ending just becomes so much more emotional for me because this means he found his home. It’s like a found family story.

And if it’s like a found family story, we can get into how there’s that whole thing about what home really is, and it’s the people and how you feel safe and secure in a place. A home isn’t just a house. A house is simply the vessel one can have as a home, and it can have the elements of what really makes something feel like home, but it’s not home. Home can be anything that makes you feel like you belong, like you’re safe in this place with these people in your environment. You feel safe because of the people you’ve bonded with and care about. Chai has found that home with his friends at the Vandelay campus. He found a place in his little group of misfits, and he sees that he finally has people he can lean onto.

And the song they play at the end, Synesthesia, means a whole lot more because when he’s with his friends at the Vandelay island, he gets to show all of himself to them. He feels that safety to feel everything with them, to be all the colors of himself. He gets to shine as a person and fully embrace his potential because of all the support he had with his friends. And it really gets me going because I’m a sucker for that shit, and I’ll eat it up.

Ugh, I feel like I didn’t make sense with this, but oh well. Tbh, I feel like what I’m saying here is a stretch, and people can have their own interpretations, but I like making up lore (especially sad ones tee hee) for my characters who don’t have one canonically lol

#hfr #hi fi rush #hi fi rush chai #chai hi fi rush #I’m at it again #I’m being silly #I can’t be the only who thought of this because nothing is original #please tell me I’m not crazy for this #my post #word post

[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere Platonic Shota Aizawa headcanons

Warnings: Yandere behavior and platonic love; IS NOT ROMANTIC!

Authors Note: I hurried this so this may be out of line or quite weird from my other works; not Grammer checked.

This was also requested but I accidentally deleted the ask before I could fully recognize the username. Sorry anon!!! 😭

Shota is pretty known for his stoic and cold-yet-calm behavior. Not everybody likes him, but he's well admired in UA as an amazing teacher and support.

Catching this grouchy man's eye is quite hard. However, the way you've caught the eye of this tired hero is you're likely a UA student, specifically a student in 1A.

He always thought you were the sweetest student he had; always coming in with a sweet smile, taking your time to talk to him and giving your attention at the start of class, rarely slacking off in class, and never hesitated to help him.

You were so innocent, not ready for the real work where it's cracked, chaotic, and the most terrible way to see; you weren't ready to evolve there yet.

His obsession would start to crack the minute you were hurt, whether that's when you were training with another student or attacked by a villain... he lost it; eyes turning red while his voice rumbled the ground.

From there, your privacy was stripped away, or at least most of it. He's always following you around, almost like a cat stalking behind its favorite human friend for more cuddles and kisses.

Whenever you go out, he's right beside you, walking you to your destination like a security guard; looking over his shoulder continously. When you decide to eat out at your favorite restaurant, he's right around the corner pestering about you going alone and getting hurt.

Did I also add that he rarely lets you pay on your own? No? Fine. Aizawa always insists on him paying, no matter how many times he's done it before. He always adds, "You should save up that money for something special."

Aizawa hates when you train with others, or by yourself. This means that you two tend to hook up with training a lot; 98% of the time. Normally, you two work during training sessions then after school; at his home, where he can watch you closely. Don't worry though, he'll go easy on you but not too easy where you can beat him! Good thing, he will take you out for Boba afterwards :).

Although Aizawa is quite lazy, he isn't when he's with you; he's always watching you like a cat admiring its prey. He observes you in class, letting you take your time with the tests before moving on; clearly, showing his favoritism.

Speaking of favoritism, it's pretty clear in the air that he favorites you over everybody else. Not only does he give you extra time for paperwork turn-ins, but he allows you to be late to class, only the short lecturing you of: "Don't let this become a habit. Now sit."

He also lets you sit out in certain activities that many kids don't find fun in: group activities, exercise programs, training sessions, and swimming/PE class. Aizawa allows you to sit on the side, play on your phone, and snack all you want; only promising that if you sit next to him when he takes a nap.

Now, onto the part where the two of you become a family; making sure he protects you from anything and everything.

Aizawa would kidnap you after a few months (4-7), either when he starts to be more paranoid about you getting hurt or some type of neglect happening; not allowing you to get more sleep, eating less, or missing more school days.

Either way, he would take you in 2 separate 'normal' ways. One, where he calls the CPS; wanting them to investigate an upcoming abuse from your home, get you're parents arrested, and offer you to become his only kid.

Or, simply make them disappear; he has the time and money to do so. The only hard part about it would be pushing you to the side of the classroom, telling you the unfortunate news before watching you cry thick tears, unable to talk other than babble out whines that break his heart.

Don't worry, Aizawa is here now, he'll take care of you like he always should.

Within a week, you're fully moved in with him. Your bedroom is your dream room, covered in things you love and adore; it even has its TV and gaming equipment.

Now, living with Aizawa is quite hectic at first. Not only does he have some strict rules, but he expects you to be on your best behavior 10 out of 10.

A few examples of the rules are that you can't be on electronics past 7 pm, not love partners of any kind, no lying, and if you go out somewhere, you must tell him everything (who, where, and when you're gonna be there).

However, Aizawa does allow you to keep your social and media life; he allows you to go outside, hang out with your friends, and be on Twitter/or YouTube for however you want.

Though, he does expect some things back. Like when it's time to give in your phone, he wants you to hang out with him during and after dinner; watch TV while playing game cards or talk about each other's day. Simply getting closer than ever.

However, having your private life is quite frustrating around him; lying is hard with him. Due to his status and his job (being around kids), he's very hard get away with with lying of any sorts. He can see you through you like a ghost.

Due to his protectiveness, you can't hang out with many people, he wants to know everything that goes on with your life: who are you going with? How many people are gonna be there? What time are you gonna be back? Does he need to pick you up, of so, what time? Very dad-like...

Any of your friends are picked by him; whether that's from UA or the neighborhood you two live in. He is quite uncertain about them. Aizawa does a lot of research on them, whether to see if they're a good fit for you or to see if they'll treat you well. Some of them go missing due to their 'untrustworthyness'.

Disobeying Aizawa of any kind is quite scary. He would never lay a hand on you, but he will raise his voice at you, asking you questions to make you feel smaller and send you to your room while being grounded (having your electronics taken away, not allowed to see your friends for a week and get the silent treatment for a day or two).

Though, if you do follow his rules, the two of you act like a perfect family. Aizawa spoils you like no other, getting you anything you want from whatever store you admire from inside the mall.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

Do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate or copy my work.

#kokeshi!! #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere anime #yandere headcanons #yandere platonic bnha #platonic yandere kny #platonic yandere #platonic yandere eraserhead #platonic yandere x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere eraserhead #yandere shota aizawa #yandere bnha x gn reader #yandere bnha x y/n #yandere bnha x reader #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha x gn reader #yandere mha x reader #yandere my hero academia #yandere aizawa shota #yandere x gn reader #yandere platonic #yandere platonic x student reader #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere eraserhead x reader #requested by anon

[jotarobutcat]

Turns out sometimes you have to force yourself to heal

Healing can feel impossibly hard, especially when you've internalized unhealthy values from both your parents and the culture around you. This may look like a pretentious middle school essay, but the truth is, I just needed to write about my healing process, and where it all started, somewhere. This will be a long ride, so buckle up.

I might be happier right now if I had just stayed a bigot, and given all the hate inside me just the right amount of fuel it needs to prosper, but I just couldn't do that to my friends. Funnily enough, this whole process started from my best friend coming out to me as transgender, not from some "a-ha!" moment in the middle of the night like most of my decisions.

Back then, I was your average "good Christian girl", or at least that's what I strived for. I didn't have many friends, especially when it came to people I was in contact with outside of the internet. I'd pretty much lost two of the three friends I had in middle school after it ended; one completely cut contact with me and my remaining friend, and one I just... didn't see again, since we took different paths in life and weren't really that close anyway. I'd recently become friends with another person online, and this person was very much open about being LGBTQ+ when asked. I didn't have a problem with that, because "well, he doesn't rub his homosexuality in my face". She knew my views on things as well, since I was open about my religion and how my values followed what I had been taught by my mother and the church as morally right or wrong. Back then, my views on the topic of LGBTQ+ people were, in a nutshell, "I think it's wrong to date a person of the same sex, and so is changing your body from how God created it, but I'm not going to insult, degrade, misgender or deadname people because I'm not an asshole". So in short, I was a bigot, but not a zealot. When my best and only in-real-life friend came out to me as a trans man, I assured him that I had no problem with him being transgender, and would be using his chosen name and pronouns from then on forwards if he wished me to do so. In reality, I was full of confusion, since I didn't really know what being transgender *actually* meant. Now, I could've just left it at that, but I felt that in order to give my friend the full support he needs and deserves, I should be able to at least understand what he's actually going through. At that point, my knowledge of the term trans, when talking about gender, was limited to "people who have changed their sex". It's not too far off, but I had no idea why someone would change it and what exactly counts as a transgender person, since my friend was pre-everything at the time and thus obviously did not fit the definition I had known before.

So, I decided to investigate what being transgender really means. During that time I watched videos a lot from a certain youtuber, and I knew his friend, who had been in some of his videos, had a channel as well and often posted videos reading memes and posts from different LGBTQ+ subreddits. I previously had had no interest in them, but I figured I could give some trans-themed videos a try, because humour is usually what gives the most authentic image of a person, as long as you know how to actually read people, and it's also a popular way to share life experiences and thoughts without making it too serious. I think the first one of these videos I checked out was on the r/egg_irl subreddit. That video was eye-opening. Some of the memes were scarily relatable, and I ended up realizing a while later, after doing some more proper research on what being transgender meant, that I fit the definition myself. Suddenly a lot of things made sense; why I always felt a prideful joy whenever being sorted together with boys or men, and hated it when someone added my name or "and girl" after referring to the group with a masculine term. Why I hated being called pretty or beautiful, and would rather substitute it for being called ugly. Why I had little to no interest in barbies and baby dolls and was fascinated by dinosaurs and my brother's Hot Wheels cars instead. Why I would rather play alone than join other girls in their play in kindergarten, and felt excited and happy whenever any of the boys would let me play together with them instead. Why I always hated dresses so much and secretly wished I could wear a suit, being exhilarated when I finally asked permission to do so and was given the okay without an argument or a fight. Why I always found interest in what the boys in my class were talking about, even if they were annoying, and why I kept secretly wishing I could join their friend group instead even though I got along with the girls just fine. Why I was annoyed by girly things or topics to the point I would actively avoid them, and feel proud for not participating in "girl stuff". Why I'd feel proud of myself whenever I acted "boyish" or "manly" enough. Why I felt proud of being able to sing the national anthem in a low voice. Why I wasn't able to appreciate having a near ideal body for the local female beauty standards. Why I felt ashamed of my breasts and "birthing hips". Why I felt disappointed to the point of near crying when I was given permission by my mother to get my hair cut short, and the hairdresser cut it into a butterfly bob instead of the kind of "boy hair" I had imagined. There were so. many. things. I could lengthen the list even more, especially if I added in things I've only recently realized likely had a connection with my gender incongruence.

This realization eventually led to a big battle between the values I had adopted in early childhood and followed ever since, and the new information about myself that clashed with what I believed was "right by God". This contradiction coupled with all the transphobic gaslighting, both from my family and random people on the internet, and drove me to what I have only been able to describe as an episode of psychotic depression, at least up until now. I felt awful, and hated myself for not being how I thought I "should be". I started wondering if I had just been influenced by the internet and gotten brainwashed, and began doubting the authenticity of my own feelings and thoughts. I couldn't trust myself at all anymore, and now that I think about it, I guess this was probably how my OCD manifested for the first time. It was like my mind split into two, one of which was "me" or "I", the other one being, well, the brain, I guess, and it was hell trying to figure out which thoughts were *mine* and not just something my brain pushed into my head... or something I, or another person, put in my head either on accident or on purpose. It's something I still struggle with sometimes, but being able to identify the problem(s) has helped a lot, and made things a lot less excruciating to deal with at times.

Well, I got over that. Somewhat, at least. I ended up pretty much avoiding thinking about my views on religion in general and basing my life principles on my own opinions instead of "God's". I still have my doubts and guilt, and sometimes fall back into the anxiety of not knowing what I'm doing is right or not. I will definitely have to work these things out in therapy, but I'd like to believe I've made a lot of progress outside of it on my own as well. Transphobia and homophobia aren't the only kinds of unhealthy values I've had to heal myself from. One of the biggest things that has kept me from healing for a long time is the teachings of toxic masculinity, particularly the idea of "only women are emotional". Being a trans man who almost nobody dear to me recognizes as a man, I've been clinging to every little thing that would validate my masculinity, even if it's extremely unhealthy, for years. This didn't start from my realization about my gender, but instead had been going on since elementary school, possibly even longer than that.

I have a tendency of turning into my friends' therapist whenever I get to know they're having a rough time. I feel it's much easier to give advice to people than to look for a solution to my own problems. Maybe it's empathy, maybe it's just avoidance of the shit I should actually sort out, but turns out these backyard therapy sessions can be mutually beneficial. On the internet, different people dealing with similar problems are often drawn together, kind of like stand users. At one point, the advice I gave to my friends dealing with the same problems I had started feeling pretentious. "I go around giving people advice I don't even follow myself... I guess it's grand time I take my own advice and cut myself some slack."

That's where the actual healing process started. When I felt ashamed of the fact I made mistakes and felt like condemning myself for having emotions, I forced myself to tell myself the same things I had told my friends; "Everybody makes mistakes, and while it may feel awful, it's a natural part of life. You're not worth any less for that. We don't have to look for a solution right away." "You're hurting right now, but that's okay. You're allowed to hurt. You don't have to be all happy and bubbly all the time." "That's right. You're angry right now. And that's fine. You're allowed these feelings just like everyone else. Let yourself be angry."

Notice how all of these have to do with self-acceptance? Yeah, that's what a lot of us lack. We condemn the parts of us we, or others, don't like and give ourselves more and more wounds. All of these parts have their right spaces in our hearts, but we keep trying to "heal" those spots, thinking we need to make sure none of these "unpleasant" parts of us have no place in our hearts before we can start healing the actual wounds. In reality, trying to close up the spaces just results in more wounds.

Think about your heart like a crow playing with one of those boxes with different holes for different-shaped objects; if you hide one of the holes, the crow will keep trying to push the corresponding object through a different hole. Some of these objects are small but sharp, and they make scratches on the box when the crow tries to push them through the wrong holes. These scratches hurt a lot, but are often quite quick to heal. Some of these objects are big, but more blunt. They might not hurt as much immediately, but they leave large wounds that affect a bigger area and take a much longer time to heal. Some of these objects have two sides, one big and blunt, one sharp and small, and thus cause different types of wounds depending on where and how you try to put them.

We all have this crow and these objects. The crow is stubborn, and will keep looking for the right places to put the objects until it finds them. None of our crows know where to put these objects from birth, and aren't really that smart, so they will naturally make mistakes and try to shove them in the wrong spots. This causes a lot of scratches and dents on our hearts along the years, and it's easy to feel like it's better to just close your heart to these objects altogether. The crow, though, has no other place to put them, so it will keep looking for the right hole for the object it's holding, because it knows there's supposed to be one, and that will just cause more scratches and dents in the long run.

Our crows also have assigned instructors. Some have prepared in every possible way to make sure the box gets damaged as little as possible. They put in extra effort, even before becoming an instructor, and do a great job at taking care of both the box and the crow. Some try their best to take care of the crow, but haven't really internalized that they also have to teach it to handle the objects and the box. Some are there just because it was on their checklist, and either don't really care about the task at hand, or quickly become overwhelmed and end up hurting the crow, making it confused and unable to find the right places for the objects. Some end up with the job on accident, some were forced into it, some are never around, and some came thinking they were prepared, but ended up giving the crow the worst kind of instructions possible. You could probably guess that the objects are these less pleasant parts of us. Most of them are negative emotions like fear and anger, some of them are painful or traumatic experiences. The crow is the person itself. None of us know how to handle our emotions and experiences from birth, and that's exactly why most of us have been given instructors, which are typically our parents. Our parents can teach us to handle these "objects" properly, but most aren't capable or just willing enough to teach all of the in-and-outs of the subject, so we'll naturally have to figure some stuff out ourselves. After all, we'll be stuck with these objects for the rest of our lives, whether we like them or not. So right now this little crow is trying to figure out the proper way to handle these things, hopefully with an extra instructor (a therapist) in the future. I think I'm doing good at it, especially considering the fact that the only thing I was taught was to keep the objects to myself.

#here come the generic tags #tumblr #healing #healing journey #self love #self care #self reflection #transgender #transmasc #trans pride #trans man #trans rights #thank you #religion #avoidance #emotions #my heart #mindfulness #mind #parenting #therapy #ocd #actually ocd #long reads #long post #essay

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this for a lovely anon, I hope you like it!

It is a Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x wife!reader imagine.

Thank you @blue-aconite for proofreading.

Warnings: childbirth, I have no idea about childbirth so bear with me

“Let’s not tell them just yet,” your husband Bradley said with his face buried in your hair, holding you close to him while you held your two-hour-old daughter in your arms.

The birth had been half a month too early which had scared both you and Bradley but everything went well, your baby girl was happy and healthy and you and Bradley were the proudest parents on the planet.

You had asked him to tell Natasha about the surprising developments, but he had gently shaken his head.

“I’m not supposed to tell you, but the others planned a surprise baby shower tomorrow. If you’re up for it we could go to the party, I mean you could stay seated and we could take it easy, if you’d like,” he suggested.

You had your daughter on a Saturday, which was why Bradley could attend the birth instead of having to work.

You chuckled, a little drowsy from exhaustion, but happy nevertheless.

“I think that’d be nice. But you might have to wheel me there,” you joked, feeling your husband laugh gently behind you.

“You did so well, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, and a few minutes later you were fast asleep.

The next day you were released from the hospital and Bradley took you home to get comfortable before you went out to the Hard Deck in the afternoon.

It was closed to the public but Penny of course had let her favourite people throw a party for a couple she cared deeply for.

Bradley entered before you, holding the door open for you but blocking you from view.

You heard a few shouts of ‘surprise’, but their happy proud faces fell into expressions of surprise as soon as they got to look at you.

“Are you fu-“ Jake began but he cut himself off when he saw your small bundle of joy wrapped against your chest, not wanting to curse in front of a baby.

“What the-“ he began again, but he was cut off by an enthusiastic Phoenix.

“Oh my god, congratulations!” She said loudly while hurrying towards you, encasing first you and then Bradley into a careful and then heartfelt hug.

“How did it happen? Why did you keep it from us?” She went on, pulling you by your non-occupied elbow towards the group.

You didn’t say much and let Bradley do the talking, feeling everyone’s eyes on you and your baby.

“She was two weeks too early but everything went well, we had our little Anne at 2134 last night,” he explained, and you had never seen the aviators happier.

“Congratulations, I am so happy for you,” Nat said once again and Bob was the one to hug you next, grinning at you like after a successful mission.

Jake was next, looking at you for a small while before sending you a wink and moving in for a hug.

“You know, it’s frustrating to see you look as good as ever! I told you you’d be a milf,” he joked, earning a glare from your husband but you let out a laugh.

When Jake took a step back you looked at your friends, sending them a tired smile as you let them see your daughter.

“Meet Carole Anne Bradshaw,” you said and felt Bradley step further towards you, setting a hand on the small of your back for support.

You were tired and exhausted but the happiness prevailed as everyone met your baby girl.

Jake got to hold her first and you were surprised by how confident he was with holding a baby.

When he gave her back to you you smiled at Bob and Phoenix.

“Nat, Bob, we’d like you to meet your goddaughter,” you said.

You hadn’t asked them beforehand so it was one more surprise for them.

You could see both of them tear up at the gesture and you were proud of how much they already seemed to love your child.

Bob was speechless as he took his goddaughter from your arms but Nat looked at you, her eyes wide as she moved towards Bob to get a better look.

“Thank you,” she whispered to you and you smiled at her widely.

You found a seat in close proximity and took it, watching how careful your friends were with your baby.

When Nat had had a chance to hold her she spoke up, giving her back to Bradley so you’d have your hands free.

“It’s time for our surprise now,” she grinned at you as she set her present in front of you, officially starting the extraordinary baby shower.

“Congratulations mama, you did incredibly well,” she said.

tagging: @wildbornsiren @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @hederasgarden @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @kyramaximoff @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @thelifeofthelifeofme @midget713 @dannyramirezwife @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bespinnn @softromantist @malindacath @peaches-1999 @oliviah-25 @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @marvelandotherfandomimagines @natasharomanoffisbaebby @luckyladycreator2 @tipsykeen @airedale17 @ycarlii @teti-menchon0604 @butaneandthebeast

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

#bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster top gun #top gun rooster

[faejilly]

last week's Weekly Tag Wednesday: Firsts

tagged by @michellemisfit no pressure tagging: @twistedsinews @breadedsinner @indigorally @lynne-monstr @bettydice & anyone who would like to play along

Name: jilly

Age: I am older than the meaning of life, the universe, and everything

First Pet: I believe we had a budgie (parakeet) when I was very little, but I don't so much remember said budgie as I remember that I remembered him when I was 5, if that sentence makes sense?

The first pet I remember was a cat named Gandalf (the Grey).

First Word: no fucking clue. I don't know what my kids' first words were either, sorry?

First Celebrity Crush: / First IRL Crush: I am grey-ace enough to have no answer to this. what are crushes? how do?

First Kiss: in college (see above 😅)

First Car: A pontiac something? it was blue and its transmission died after maybe a year, because it was Very Used (and I was Very Broke, so that was not fun)

First apartment/house/dorm/whatever away from your parents: Yes? I don't understand this question, I do in fact no longer live with my mother. (I had a dorm room at the one year of college I successfully completed? Then we had a series of varying degrees of cheap apartments. Currently we have a house because my husband has a very responsible Real Job and supports me and my magpie brain, we are very lucky that he can do that.)

First Time on a Plane: When I was 7 or 8 we did a plane trip to visit friends of ours in Virginia (we lived in Wisconsin, for those of you familiar enough with US geography that this means anything).

First Cellphone: Nokia something? It was one of their classic bricks

First Concert: Does a Sesame Street concert when I was 6 count?

First Foreign country you visited? Iceland! Family reunion when I was nine. I went again for the next family reunion when I was 19, but have not managed the 29 or 39 ones, and mostly don't talk to that side of the family anymore so probably won't get invited to the one when I'm 49.

First sport you ever played? I do not sport

First career aspiration? Mermaid (when I was four). Despite hating swimming lessons? I think I wanted to just... be able to swim with none of that learning bullshit.

Actual Real Career: I wanted to be a pathologist for the longest time, but I am not actually very good at school, so I had mostly given up on that by the time I managed to graduate high school.

Now I'm mostly just trying to get a good counselor/med cocktail so I can do anything consistently so. :sighs: SUGGESTIONS ON FUTURE CAREERS WELCOME *snerk*

And finally… tell me about the first time you wrote/drew/created/whatever something that made you think “wow”

I was an occasional hobby writer most of my life, but probably when I did Lost for Words because it was the first long/chaptered fic I'd ever written and posted and finished.

Honorable mention to the summer in high school when I took a notebook with me to band camp and spent half my down time sitting outside with a flute case beside me (or leaning against the alto sax case for week two) writing in a notebook and confusing the hell out of everyone who saw me because there was also a creative writing group on that same campus so I looked like I was trying to be in both at once. I was weirdly proud of the chaos vibes there.

for copy pasting:

Name:

Age:

First Pet:

First Word:

First Celebrity Crush:

First IRL Crush:

First Kiss:

First Car:

First apartment/house/dorm/whatever away from your parents:

First Time on a Plane:

First Cellphone:

First Concert:

First Foreign country you visited?

First sport you ever played?

First career aspiration?

And finally… tell me about the first time you wrote/drew/created/whatever something that made you think “wow”

#jilly spam #michellemisfit #weekly tag wednesday

[actuallyitsstar]

CHARACTER ASK GAME

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell + 21, 24 and 25?

✨ send me a number and a character! ✨

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

i actually already answered this question here, so i will give an honorary mention for this ask, in addition: i am a big fan of the whole tgm-mav-lowkey-being-the-daggers'-friends'-cool-dad trope. like. the idea that they get to know him after the mission and he's obviously taken a genuine interest in all of them and their wellbeing so they all just...stay in touch. the idea that the call and check up on him when they know rooster is deployed, that they start to leave a few extra things at mav's place because he usually hosts their squad movie nights and it's just easier to crash there sometimes, that they realize he doesn't have many people to spend the holidays with now outside of obviously bradley, and they all come together and drag him to a surprise christmas party with them before they go on their own leave for their respective family christmases. that's their emotional support old navy captain and if u wanna mess w him u gotta get thru 11 daggers and 1 son first so good luck!!!

that being said, tho, it can go too far i think, if we're not careful. barring a couple specific circumstances (jake and whatever fucked up childhood/non-existent parental relationships he has had comes to mind) the daggers all have families of their own, and entire lives before meeting mav. i don't think he's like. their DAD per se. he's their friends' cooler than expected dad ('your dad is an ace? that's so cool! i wonder if he has any stories to tell us! he once flipped off a mig while inverted? THATS SO COOL') that they can become friends with and look out for too, and i KNOW he'll be looking out for them. if they need anything he's right there, because that is within his nature. but for the most part, they're all adults who have friendships, and not like. Extra Children. if you know what i mean. except for jake idk i think he needs a role model or something but i guess that makes mav a secret third thing to him idk

24. what other character from another fandom reminds you of them?

oof that is tough!! i think that on most levels, mav is very different from the characters in other fandoms that i have imprinted on the most, so i'm not going to be able to do a 1:1 comparison here. but believe it or not the very first character that came to mind for me is ezra standish from the magnificent seven tv series, and it's not an exact match but i'm just going to provide my presentation on the matter (i am specifically comparing tg86 mav with ezra bc i have no one to compare tgm mav with lol):

horrible quality images (yes i did make these gifs but theyre very old so lets not talk about it lol) bc this is an obscure 1990s b-budget tv show shot on vhs probably. but this guy right here is either the second or third youngest member of his found family group (the seven ~lawmen~ a local circuit judge hires to manage an old west territory because it's so dangerous the sheriff and deputy he'd previously appointed ran out on the job). he's very accomplished at what he does, for his age, and has had way too many shitty life experiences and is much too world-weary already. everyone who works with him comes into it with a preconceived notion of how he's going to be. and how could they not? it isn't that the other six guys are short-sighted in assuming, exactly. ezra is direct about who he is and what he stands for, downright in your face about it, actually. you expect him to be kind of an arrogant asshole, and he tells you he's gonna be one. and then, for a while anyway, he kind of is.

loner type, doesn't need anyone, he's going to do everything his way because he knows best, needlessly theatrical about it in the process. they expect him to run out on them during their battle, and he does.... kind of. but he also comes through for them in a critical moment when he's needed most and they least expect him to do it, single-handedly taking out multiple enemies to save their lives. immediately, he adopted into the group, essentially, but ezra doesn't know enough about really having friends to recognize that it's happening until much later. additionally, his entire life and livelihood is overshadowed by his mother (who can be seen sitting in the bg of the larger gif), who is still very much alive, in his case, but whose actions and words define him, whether he wants them to or not. he had a shitty childhood bouncing between a hundred strangers' and distant family members' homes alike and is just overflowing with abandonment issues, and he expects the other six to give up on him at the drop of a hat, but they never do.

25. what was your first impression of this character? how about now?

the very first time i ever saw top gun was before tgm was ever a thing. i remember my favorite character being goose (isnt he always tho <3) and thinking mav was kind of a bland action hero guy with a story arc i did not understand at all or care about. i was like fifteen, tho, and hadn't seen hardly any movies or tv shows at the time because i had a kind of weird sheltered from media sort of childhood, so i don't think i had rly learned HOW to watch and interpret media and characters yet, tbh. when the sequel was coming out i rewatched top gun with my partner in preparation bc my parents were making me watch the new one, and they had never seen it. i was like oh !!! he's smol and traumatized. i bet there's fic about him and that blonde guy. i should look that up later. and then we watched tgm and that was it for me. i was like never mind him and that blonde guy i need to know if hIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS SON TURNS OUT OK......MY HEART..... and that was that lol. my dna has not been the same since <3

#star unasks #daffodilstark #TYSM FOR THE ASK !!! and for giving me a platform to/putting up w me going off about my mega obscure blorbo ezra standish. im love him #hes not a one to one for mav but probably the closest option i could think of if you only talk about the highlights that are similar lol. #asks are so much fun thank u for sending them ily <3<3 #mine #top gun #stars scribbles

[frostfairysteve]

so i cannot turn off my brain and i'm gonna ride this thought out—

Marilyn Harrington is 14 years old and a freshman. She knows Tommy and Carol from middle school; the three of them are a tight-knit group.

Tommy turns 15 the week after Halloween. He invites as many people as possible; his parents let him have the house to himself, and he has a cousin willing to buy them liquor. It's the biggest party Marilyn has been to; she opted out of going to the Halloween party a sophomore had invited her to so that she could go trick-or-treating. Tommy and Carol had made fun of her for it, and they think she has to make up for it now.

Marilyn doesn't know what she has to drink or how much, but she's with Tommy and Carol, and they're dancing, and it's fun. But then they lose Carol in the crowd and Tommy is bringing her to his bedroom.

She's had too much to fully understand what's going on, but Tommy is on top of her, telling her that he likes her more than Carol. It hurts. Marilyn is crying, would scream if he wasn't keeping a hand over her mouth, would fight him off if she was stronger.

Marilyn stumbles out of Tommy's bedroom ten minutes later; it had been quick, but her clothes aren't on her properly, and everything's spinning, and she feels sick.

A sophomore ends up guiding her to the kitchen and getting her water. It takes Marilyn a moment to recognise Eddie Munson; she doubts he was invited, based on what Tommy has to say about him. Or maybe he was invited to sell. Or by someone else. She doesn't recognise most people at the party.

Eddie's kind; waits for consent before helping her correct her clothes, and holds her hair back when she throws up in the sink. Serves Tommy right to have to clean that up.

In the end, Eddie gives her a ride home.

Marilyn shows up at school that Monday, unable to look at Tommy. She flinches away when he tries to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She doesn't know if she should tell Carol what had happened at the party; Carol's in love with Tommy, and even if they're friends, she has a tendency to be mean. She decides not to, for now. Instead, she tries to find Eddie to thank him, and to have a reason to avoid Tommy. But she's not brave enough to do more than give Eddie a nod and a smile when she finds him; he's with friends, and she doesn't want to interrupt. It doesn't help that it feels like everyone are staring at her, as if they know what happened.

Marilyn tries to move on. To forget. She had a lot to drink, maybe her memories are unreliable. But when two months pass without her period, she does tell Carol. (Marilyn has been regular since she got her period at 12½ years old. Something has to be wrong for her to miss it.)

Carol doesn't want to believe that Tommy would have done something like that, but she does believe her, and comes with as emotional support when Marilyn tells her mum.

Shirley Harrington believes her immediately, and is horrified. (Shirley was not many years older when she got pregnant; she doesn't want Marilyn to have to go through that.)

Abortion comes up, but Marilyn doesn't want that. She's always wanted to grow up and have a family; she's not going to get rid of her child just because she's too young. So instead, her mum pulls her out of school. They agree to not tell her dad the true reason she's going to get homeschooled; he should be away on business for most of the pregnancy.

Marilyn is five months pregnant on her 15th birthday. She celebrate with her mum and Carol; hasn't seen Tommy since she stopped going to school. Hasn't told him about having a kid. She gives birth to a boy mid-July; he's born too early, and oh so small.

Shirley stays home with Edmund so that she can go back to school. Marilyn can admit that when she tried to think of a good name for a boy, only the name of the one that helped her that night came to mind. She decided against Edward to not be too obvious, although calling her son Eddie still makes Carol raise an eyebrow at her.

Marilyn Harrington is 15 years old and a sophomore. She has a baby named Edmund and her only friend is Carol.

There are two freshman girls that they end up befriending; Nancy and Barb. But neither Marilyn or Carol ever mention Eddie around them. Well, not Eddie Harrington. They do talk about Eddie Munson; Marilyn can admit that she has a crush. But nothing will come of it; she needs to focus on her studies.

But by so often studying with Nancy and Barb, Marilyn feels herself falling for Nancy. And by the time she starts junior year, she feels bad about being so close to the girls but keeping her son from them.

John Harrington had thrown a fit when he found out about his grandson, but since Marilyn's pregnancy had been kept under wraps, everyone assumes it was Shirley that had been pregnant. With no scandal, he can simply pretend that he has a son. But it doesn't make him any more interested in staying home. He does get a few days at home in every month, or a week every other month, but he does need to be travelling a lot. And usually its okay for his wife to stay behind; especially with her having a new child as an excuse. Only thing is, Shirley hasn't been seen with him in almost two years now, so he convinces his wife to come with him on his next business trip.

Edmund is 15 months old, so they hire a nanny for the days, and Marilyn can take care of him in the evenings. She's the one who chose to risk bringing shame on the Harringtons by having a child so she can take care of him, according to John.

Marilyn doesn't want to be home alone as a 16 year old single mum, especially not with Will Byers just having gone missing, and she wants Nancy and Barb to meet Edmund. Especially since she and Nancy have been getting close.

The small party is awkward; Marilyn has been keeping a secret their whole friendship. But they cook dinner together, and sit outside by the pool since it's a nice night. Edmund has been put to bed a bit ago, but he wakes up crying. Barb drops her glass at the sudden sound, and cuts her hand when she goes to pick up the pieces. Marilyn gives directions to the bathroom as she goes inside to her son, Nancy following her since she has experience with Holly. Carol takes over getting rid of the glass.

Marilyn and Nancy end up staying in her bedroom once Edmund has gone back to sleep; first talking, then kissing. Then a bit more than kissing but Marilyn puts a stop to it; it didn't feel right for her, not with her son right there.

They go back down to find that Carol has gone to bed in Shirley's room, but Barb isn't there. They're both worried, but maybe she just went home.

November 9. Barb doesn't show up to school but Marilyn can't help looking since she has a son to get home to. Carol hasn't dropped Tommy and so is hanging with him. She's the one who destroys Jonathan's camera; he got a picture of Marilyn holding Edmund, and one of Marilyn and Nancy kissing. She can't have anyone see that, especially not Tommy.

Except Tommy saves the torn up picture of Marilyn and Nancy. He's still angry that Marilyn started avoiding him.

November 10. Marilyn is also worried about Barb, so she encourages Nancy to go to the police. Her dad is unhappy that she let more people know the truth, but that's all.

November 11. Marilyn has gotten Carol to agree to babysit, so she goes to Nancy's just to check up on her, suggests they go see a movie to take their mind off Barb. Accepts that's not what Nancy needs right now and leaves.

Shirley comes back home that evening, so Marilyn is gonna treat Carol to milkshakes as thanks for looking after Edmund, but they stop by Nancy's first since Marilyn wants to check in on her. She does draw conclusions when she sees Jonathan, but maybe Nancy isn't actually into girls. It's fine.

It's not fine; Carol mentions Jonathan to Tommy the next day and he paints the marquee. Marilyn isn't there; Tommy gets into a fight but by calling Nancy a queer, having the picture as evidence. Jonathan is the one to hit Tommy. Carol calls Marilyn later, and Marilyn tells Carol to choose between her and Tommy. Carol choses Tommy, Marilyn decides to make things right so she still drives into town to clean the marquee and then goes looking for Jonathan and Nancy to apologise for her former friends.

Which is how Marilyn faces down a demogorgon and in the life and death situation realises that she's not a she, and never has been, and what felt wrong with Nancy was that they were both girls.

He uses the government hush money to look into transitioning; obviously he needs to talk about this with someone first. But it's always been there, it's just that he became a parent very young and didn't have time to think about his life until he was close to death.

Steve Harrington is 17 years old and a senior. He has a two year old son, and a shaky relationship with Nancy Wheeler. And all he wants is to get back to normal so that he can graduate and find a job; it's a wonder that his dad hasn't thrown him out considering. Steve has his mum to thank for that; Shirley Harrington has been his biggest support throughout everything. And Edmund, but his Eddie is too young to really know what's going on.

#steve harrington #ftm steve harrington #my thoughts collection #hi i don't know! #this could be something maybe #steve in season 4 being so flustered around eddie munson. dustin knowing the truth about edmund and teasing the shit out if steve. #dustin learnt the truth about edmund and never tried getting steve and robin together #instead he started high school already planning to get steve and eddie together like the meddling brother he is #steve's eddies #oc: shirley harrington

[randoom-r]

Hermit valley introduction: Lizzie and joel!

Joel and Lizzie met in College in a woodworking class. 

Normally on group projects she would work with bigB, her roommate however he got the flu and couldn't participate.

The two got it all figured out: with their savings they would open a Carpenter shop in the next village after they finished their degree. They already put down the first payment for the Shop. BigB would handle most of the electronic stuff while Lizzie would work on most Carpentry stuff. They took each other's classes just so they can occasionally help each other if there is something that doesn't want to work as it should. But of course, the second to last Project starts and B had to get sick after pulling 3 night shifts at the local fast food Chain. Sure it isn't important for B to participate in this Project since he isn't majoring in Carpentry but it sure is not the best since they normally are the best duo in class and always choose each other. Since that is the case they never actually talked or interacted with the others in that class so now Lizzie is doomed, no partner AND the teacher does not allow her to start alone so she and B can work together next week.

“hey, uh lizzie right?” She heard a voice and looked up. There it was, a guy who normally sits in the back of the class, an alien hybrid. She forgot his name but she knows he lives in the same village where she is gonna open her Carpentry shop. She saw him there when she and B put down the down payment. 

“yeah… and you are…?” she asked

“oh, yeah im joel, the teacher said you still need a partner and so i wanted to ask if we could work together?” 

She looked closer at him, normally she knows him as a trouble maker but he now seems so shy and is blushing. “Of course, hard shell and in himself he is a softboy” she thought.

“it depends, you promise to participate properly and not cause any trouble while we work on this?” she teased him, even though she is partially serious. She wants a good grade and not get in any trouble but she must admit, him being so shy and flustered is quite cute.

"Yes, yes! anything for you my queen!” he said laughing nervously.

In the first lesson they had to plan out how their project was going to look. They have to build a miniature house out of tiny pieces of wood. Meanwhile they tried to get to know each other, Lizzie found out Joel lives with his friend mumbo who has a farm with mostly animals. Joel cares for the chickens like his own babies. Meanwhile he studies to become a farmhand himself so he takes some classes which can be useful for emergencies at the farm. Lizzie on the other hand talks about her life in the city, how she and bigB met as children, they planned their future and how she ended up in the scenario where B ended up sick because he picked up extra shifts so they can afford stuff for the Shop.

“That's impressive Lizzie, I still don't have a proper plan for the future. I just know that this is gonna help me in the future in the valley. Meanwhile, you two basically have everything figured out. i'm kind of jealous” 

“Yeah, I mean don't get me wrong but B and I had many hard parts in between where we had to figure out to have our ends meet but we both have supportive parents who sometimes slipped us some bucks when they noticed we just were eating instant noodles for like a week” She laughed. 

Joel on the other hand found it still impressive and God, her laugh, he could get addicted to it. He always had a little crush on her, the fairy in the front of the class. perfect grades, always very invested in the topic and her willpower to reach her goals. He just never found a moment to approach her, since she always worked with B and he didn't want to interfere. but now he has his chance and he will definitely not throw it away. 

#hermitblr #hermitcraft #trafficblr #ldshadowlady #hermitvalley au #smallishbeans #smallishbeans fanart #ldshadowlady fanart #randoom art #bigbst4tz2