LOVE WAS HERE. (love still is.)

[rorysanderson]

MUSINGS | VISAGE | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST BOARD | CONNECTIONS

FULL NAME — Rory Anderson. NICKNAMES — N/A, but feel free to give him some! FACECLAIM — Richard Madden. GENDER & PRONOUNS — Cis man, he/him/his. SEXUALITY — Bisexual. RELATIONSHIP STATUS — Dating Jack Lynch. AGE — 38. BIRTHDAY — 10/30/1986. OCCUPATION — Carpenter (commissions) & part-time front desk associate at Blue Violet Blooms. NEIGHBORHOOD — Forest Lake. LENGTH OF TIME IN BLUE HARBOR — Since April 2023.

BIOGRAPHY—

TW: DEATH DUE TO DUI, GRIEF

Rory Anderson, a 37-year-old craftsman with a reserved demeanor and a sharp wit, has recently embarked on a new chapter in life in the quaint town of Blue Harbor, Illinois. Originally hailing from the rugged, scenic landscapes of Scotland, Rory grew up in a small village nestled in the Highlands. His childhood was a blend of adventure and solitude, spent exploring the vast wilderness and learning the art of woodworking from his grandfather. This early exposure to the craft laid the foundation for his lifelong passion for carpentry.

As a young adult, Rory ventured into the bustling city of Edinburgh for his higher education, where he pursued a degree in fine arts — he’d have focused on woodworking, but there weren’t any readily available majors. He wasn’t dissuaded, however, eager to carry on his grandfather’s legacy after his passing, even if it meant taking the longer road to get there. 

His college years weren’t wasted, though. It was here that he met Eliza, a vibrant and compassionate woman who shared his love for nature and the arts. Their connection was immediate and profound, blossoming into a deep and enduring love. Eliza had very recently been disowned by her wealthy parents for choosing a life of artistic pursuits over the family's business empire, which only strengthened the bond between her and Rory. After graduation, they lived together in a cozy cottage on the outskirts of Edinburgh, where Rory began his career as a furniture maker. Despite never formally marrying, they considered themselves a family, deeply devoted to each other and their shared dreams.

Their lives were enriched with the arrival of their daughter, Annabel, affectionately known as Annie. Rory and Eliza were devoted parents, and Annie quickly became the light of their lives. Tragically, their happiness was shattered when Eliza passed away unexpectedly two years ago — struck by an intoxicated driver in the city. The loss was a devastating blow to Rory, leaving him grief-stricken and struggling to find a way forward.

The tragedy was compounded when Eliza’s estranged parents, upon learning of her death, suddenly expressed a keen interest in Annie’s well-being. They claimed Rory was unfit to be a single father and financially unstable, seeking custody of Annie. With their vast resources and influence, they posed a significant threat. Rory, determined to protect his daughter from the cold and calculating nature of her grandparents, realized he had to make a drastic change. 

In search of a fresh start and a place where he and Annie could heal, Rory chose to relocate to Blue Harbor, a decision influenced by the town's serene environment and close-knit community. He believed that the slower pace and supportive atmosphere of Blue Harbor would provide a nurturing backdrop for Annie's upbringing and help them both find solace. Additionally, the town's relative anonymity could be the perfect needle in a haystack Eliza’s parents would struggle to find.

Since moving to Blue Harbor a year ago, Rory has established himself as a skilled and meticulous freelance carpenter, crafting custom furniture pieces that reflect his artistic vision and dedication to quality. To supplement his income, he's also found part-time work at a local florist's — he's always been a flower enthusiast, though not exactly a natural-born florist. He's learning on the job, of course — but for now, he's the charming smile when you walk through the door and the man who rings you up when you're ready to go. Though he remains reserved and often relies on his sarcastic humor to navigate social interactions, Annie's presence in his life continues to soften his edges. She is his greatest joy and priority, and their bond is a testament to the resilience and love that sustain them through life's challenges.

In Blue Harbor, Rory and Annie — now six years old — have found a place to rebuild their lives, surrounded by the beauty of their new home and the warmth of a community that values both craftsmanship and compassion. Far from the reach of Eliza's parents, Rory remains vigilant but hopeful, dedicated to providing a loving and stable environment for his daughter.

PERSONALITY & MORE—

Despite all the loss in his life, he remains kindhearted and optimistic; mostly for his daughter, Annie.

Keeps all of the artwork by Eliza that never found a home in a storage unit.

His humor tends to be dry, with a side of friendly teasing.

Annie is the most important person in his life. Their relationship is open, honest, and sweet. He’s doing his best.

Traveled all across Europe in his youth, following Eliza as she navigated the art scene. They eventually settled back in Edinburgh when Eliza became pregnant with Annie.

Has attended grief support group since his arrival, but has yet to open up.

He and Annie have a guinea pig named Peanut Butter who is notorious for escaping his enclosure.

Plays the piano a bit, taught by his gran, a piano prodigy.

Used to be a landscaper and a contractor back in Edinburgh.

Considers himself socially awkward, though he has an uncanny ability to put people at ease in his presence.

Is a big football fan; isn’t proud of rooting for an English team (Man United) so he keeps it to himself, mostly.

Has a black thumb (great at envisioning gardens — shitty at keeping them).

Started recently learning the meaning of flowers to better do his job at Blue Violet Blooms.

Works out regularly, but absolutely detests jogging. He thinks runner’s high is a myth.

Knows most recent (last 5 years or so) Disney and/or Pixar soundtracks by heart, thanks to Annie.

Been teaching himself how to cook for the past couple of years — he’s pretty decent at it by now.

Often makes tea for two and talks to Eliza out on the porch at night, keeping her updated on what’s happening in his and Annie’s lives.

Has no social media or online presence, save for his Etsy shop. This is on purpose — gives Eliza's parents less resources to find him and Annie.

Loves forget-me-nots and orchids.

Is pretty good with taking proper care of Annie’s hair.

Has a strong, irrational dislike of salmon. As food, that is. He’s sure the saltwater fish are fine.

Is comfortable with silences.

Likes both coffee & tea at different times of the day.

Plays up his superstitious side as a joke, but doesn’t really believe in all of that. Eliza did, though, and so did his gran, which is how he knows so much about that stuff.

Never smokes his cigarettes anywhere near Annie. He has the occasional smoke out of the house, and can usually make do with one. Packs last him a lifetime.

Partakes in weed occasionally, only when Annie is gone for the night. Eliza’s influence.

[graham-oswald]

"daycares would probably be the first—toddlers and their gigantic heads are a recipe for disaster," he let his hands collide together in an explosion-like action. graham hoped the joke was getting across, he didn't want to spread any misinformation around town regarding the danger-level of the town's children. it wasn't like blue harbor was a small town written by stephen king. it felt more like the small town from a nicholas sparks novel. "oh, they'll be very happy, you can be sure of that." if lacrosse hadn't worked out, maybe soccer would have. he sure knew how to volley protein powder like nobody's business.

graham had made a silent promise to himself, but he still didn't feel comfortable letting someone else pay for his insolence. "i-" he stopped himself from turning the stranger down, but came to the realization he had another compromise up his sleeve. "how about we give this broken container to the cashier, and nobody pays for it? i've got enough chocolate powder back at home, i was just trying to mix it up with the pumpkin spice flavor. i'm sure it's not even that good," the stranger was right that no one else was going to buy it, so it didn't seem right to have anyone pay for it. enough had already spilled out on the ground that it didn't seem worth it to pay full price.

[rorysanderson]

Rory can’t help but snort in amusement — knows the man is probably being facetious, but he’d been privy to many toddler head collisions where Annie was concerned, so he’s probably not entirely wrong. “Daycares and grocery stores,” he smirks, nodding his head in assent. “Would not have been my top picks for ‘most dangerous places,’ but always happy to course-correct.” He glances back at his cart as the other offers that neither of them pay for the powder — he doesn’t know how generous the cashier might be about them not paying for something they did, for all intents and purposes, break, but he figures that’s a bridge they can cross when they get to it. Perhaps Rory can pay for it in secret, if it comes down to that. He’s a feeling it’s not worth pushing the matter any further — lest they’d like to stand here for the rest of the day and politely volley self-culpability back and forth.

“Alright,” he agrees, holding out his hand for the container. “We should probably also put that in the cart though, yeah? Better than to risk littering the entirety of the store with a trail of pumpkin spice,” his smirk widens slightly. “Hate to say it, but I don’t think you’re missing out on much. I’ve never much been one for pumpkin spice myself,” he wrinkles his nose as he says the words, as if he’s tasting the flavor rather than just talking about it. “Then again, that might make me an outlier. My daughter’s a big fan.”

[rorysanderson]

STATUS: closed for @elijahfalvey LOCATION: rory's place

It is quite possible Rory’s had it just about up to here with this week. 

Used to take a lot more to get him to this point — likes to think it still does, where it counts — but he’s gone through nearly two weeks of pointed silence from Jack without so much as an explanation and Annie’s acting out because the silence has of course been extended to her and it’s — a lot. More than he feels he’s capable of dealing with alone. He’s never seen Annie this defiant before, this accusatory, and suddenly he feels a thousand times lonelier than he has in months.

He’s pawned her off to Valley for the day — seems like the only way to get her to not be angry is to get her excited about spending the day with literally anyone who isn’t Rory at the moment — and the quiet of the house, which he’d expected to come as some sort of solace, is actually driving him quite mad. He’s thinking about whether or not a drive to O’Malley’s after Elijah’s arrival would be worth it when there’s a knock on the door: almost as if the mere thought had materialized the other man. Glancing around the house — and, yes, fantastic, it certainly looks like a seven-year-old lives here — he realizes he’s no idea where he’s put Hattie’s jacket, despite it being the only reason Eli’s coming over.

Swearing under his breath, he hurries over to the front door and pulls it open, offering Elijah a tight smile. “Sorry, mate,” he leaves the door open as a silent invitation, turning to make his way to Annie’s room. “I thought I had her jacket ready — give me a minute, yeah? I’ll look for it.” Once he’s inside Annie’s room, he stops in his tracks — she’s usually so good about cleaning up after herself, but lately there’s just been piles and piles of toys and clothes and what he thinks are rocks? He hopes they’re rocks. 

He pointedly ignores the way she’s shoved every wood-carved wolf to the corner of her room, moved from where they used to have a home on her bookshelf, all of them piled on top of each other carelessly. With a deep sigh, he begins scouring through floor piles, hoping for the best. “Sorry she brought it home with her,” he calls out, in an attempt not to be rude. “She said she was holding it for her or something and couldn’t find her after school.” He picks up an old sweatshirt that smells like it should’ve been in the laundry ages ago. “Do you, uh — do you remember what color it was?”

[sadiechen-deactivated20241210]

Who: Rory Anderson (@rorysanderson)

Where: Rory's Home

"So, Annie had me running all over the place today," she said, laughing lightly. "We started with a 'nature walk' around the block, with her pointing out every bug she could find. I think I learned more about ants in those 20 minutes than I ever thought possible." She chuckled again, shaking her head. "Then there was the whole 'art project,' which involved chalking up half the sidewalk." Sadie swore that kid has more ideas in one afternoon than she had all month. She paused for a second, remembering the peanut butter and nutella cookie sandwich incident. "Oh, and the snack... we've left some for you try right!" she said bumping her hip into Annie as the girl munched away on her pastry. "Was your day as much a success?"

[rorysanderson]

Rory leans back in his chair slightly, watching Annie with a fond smile as she takes an exaggeratedly large bite of her cookie sandwich, clearly proud of her creation. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and Rory feels the corners of his mouth twitch up as he listens to Sadie recount their day. “Well,” he starts, his tone warm. “Certainly hard to top the day you’ve both had, I think.” He glances at Annie, who’s already halfway through her cookie and licking a bit of Nutella off her thumb with a grin that’s nothing short of cheeky.

“Can’t say my day was quite so lively,” he admits. “Spent most of it fixing up fences at the farm. But,” he pauses, his eyes flicking to Annie with a knowing smile. “The llamas seem to have started recognizing me. Always a plus.”

Annie’s eyes widen marginally before she sighs exaggeratedly. “I want the llamas to recognize me,” she pouts behind her pastry. She looks over at Sadie and nods very seriously. “I know all of their names, but I can’t say. Madisyn said they were a secret.”

Rory hums, removing some leftover crumbs from the corner of Annie’s mouth with his thumb. “Madisyn owns the farm,” he explains to Sadie, smiling slightly in amusement. “And the llamas. You been yet?”

[boysappetit]

Dick Mad sighting

[themadisynhuang]

“A zombie phase?” Madisyn was never good at hiding her face, and she knew the look it was currently pulling probably wasn’t the most respectful to a father gushing about his daughter. She seemed unique, quirky, but she supposed most kids were at that age. Madi assumed maybe her and Luke had that phase too, but she couldn’t remember details, and her parents didn’t notice her enough to even try and form those precious memories lost to time.

She didn’t know if perhaps some sort of tentative friendship was building between her and the carpenter. Maybe friendship was too strong a word, but it was nice, to not be outwardly hated or scoffed at. Maybe it was because he was a dad, but Rory seemed patient with her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d get on with Jack, her gardener, and wondered if the two would ever cross paths here on the farm. “She’s an animal lover then? I’d totes have a big sit down conversation if she tries to do anything insane like…buy a farm in the middle of Illinois!”  Her bubbly laugh echoed around the still farmland, as if she was merely teasing. And she was…mostly. “Thanks Rory, so much. You’re legit an angel.”

[rorysanderson]

Rory chuckles at Madisyn's reaction to Annie’s zombie phase, the sound low and warm as he slides his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, it was somethin’. Would come to breakfast every morning, face painted like she just walked out of an apocalypse, shufflin’ ‘round like the undead. Took everything in me not to get spooked when she’d try and sneak up on me with that god-awful growl she’d practiced.”

Her laugh carries across the field, light and genuine, and Rory finds himself smiling despite the exhaustion tugging at his limbs from the day’s work. “She does loves animals, yeah, though I don’t think she’s planning on runnin’ a farm just yet. Got her sights set on becoming a chef. But,” he adds thoughtfully, “can’t say she wouldn’t find the idea of a farm appealing. She’s got that kind of boundless energy, y’know?”

At Madisyn’s thanks, Rory’s expression softens, and he shakes his head slightly. “Don’t mention it. Happy to help where I can.” He glances toward the horizon, the sun dipping low enough to cast long shadows across the field. “I should get goin’,” he says, nodding toward the fence. “But I’ll be back tomorrow to start on those repairs.” He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “And I’ll bring Annie by soon, so she can properly meet your herd.” He gestures toward the llamas, who have wandered off a short distance but remain watchful. “Top secret names and all.”

With a final nod and a small, warm smile, Rory turns toward the path leading back to his truck. “See you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder, the easy cadence of his voice a fitting close to their conversation. 

> END OF THREAD.

[valleyxrose]

Rory was so steady. Just meeting his eyes had the effect of a weighted blanket on a person's nerves. He calmed you, kept you still, and made you feel safe even when you were saying things you'd never told a single soul before. "After Arthur passed, I would have thought the last good man had left the world, if I hadn't already met you."

She watched the serenity in his eyes darken, and could tell he remembered who came next in the lineup. Rory and Eliza knew Mitchell less well than the other husbands, on account of the fact that he'd hated them.

"I rushed into things with Mitchell," she said. Understatement of the century. "I... rushed into things with everyone, of course, but I really didn't think things through with him. Arthur's passing had broken my heart, and his existence had made me dangerously optimistic about the world,and men, and... I thought everything would be fine. I thought I'd found someone who wanted to take care of me, you know? He was so powerful, and so smart, and I really believed he had my best interests in mind. And so I listened when he gave me advice. ...But then the advice turned into demands, and the demands turned into threats, and we were already married before I realized how trapped and scared and isolated I was. He wasn't taking care of me; he didn't care at all. He just wanted someone to control, and if I tried to do anything he didn't approve of, he would..."

She trailed off. It was getting easier to speak the truth the more she did it, but some words remained stuck in her throat, refusing to be formed.

"Anyway. I'm sure you noticed I was a different person by the time I got out of that marriage. I was so angry. I wanted to burn the world down. I wanted to make damn sure no man would ever control me like that again. I went looking for the most arrogant trust fund asshole I could find, fully intending to drain his bank account and ruin his life and make him wish he never met me, which... I think I was successful in doing, because that's when I met George."

[rorysanderson]

Rory's jaw tightens at the mention of Mitchell, his hand stilling on Valley’s wrist for just a moment before resuming its slow, grounding rhythm. He remembers the subtle bruises that were easy to miss and the ways Valley had started shrinking into herself, the vibrant energy she once exuded dulled under layers of fear and resignation. He never pushed her to talk about it, never pried — he and Eliza had tried to be there in the quiet ways that mattered, hoping she’d feel their presence even when words failed them.

But now, hearing her voice it, piecing together what they could only guess at back then, Rory feels a tight knot of anger coiling low in his chest. Not at her, never at her — at Mitchell, at the kind of man who could take someone like Valley and try to snuff out the fire that made her who she was. Rory tamps the anger down; this isn’t about him, and she doesn’t need his rage right now. She needs his steadiness, his reassurance.

“You were different,” he agrees softly, meeting her gaze, his own steady and unwavering. “But different doesn’t mean broken. It doesn’t mean wrong. I saw someone trying to rebuild herself from ashes, someone who had every right to be angry.” He pauses, voice dipping lower, warmer. “And if I noticed anything else back then, it was how strong you were. How hard you fought to get yourself back. Not many people could’ve done that.”

He lets that sit for a moment before continuing, the edges of his voice softening further. “And George,” Rory exhales, the name leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “That tracks, doesn’t it? If anyone deserved to have the wind knocked out of his sails, it was him.” There’s a faint trace of humor in his voice, a small attempt to offer some levity. His hand stays resting lightly on her wrist, a quiet promise: I’m still here.

Hesitating only briefly, he finds it in himself to add, “It sounds like you’ve been carrying this weight for a long time, Valley,” he says gently, his words careful and deliberate. “You don’t — you don’t have to keep justifying yourself to me. You’ve been through hell, and you’ve done what you had to do to survive it. There’s no shame in that.” He shifts slightly, leaning forward to catch her gaze again, his expression soft and open. “I’m still listening.”

[themadisynhuang]

Madi has some questions about the mother of Rory’s daughter. Clearly she’s not in the picture anymore, and Madi isn’t exactly insensitive or ignorant enough to enquire why, but she also doesn’t think there’s anything necessarily wrong with being curious. But she knows better to keep her curiosity to herself. “Seven, oh, I remember that age. I used to have that giant Barbie hairstyle head, obsessed with her.” That, and every doll a little girly-girl could want from the bright pink Barbie aisle in Toys ‘R’ Us. The one good thing about hands-off, neglectful parenting: they were willing to swipe their credit card if it meant that you stopped bothering them. “Though I heard most kids like to get their hands dirty at this time.” And, before she can really stop herself, finds herself offering, “If she ever wants to come meet them one-on-one, she’s like, obvs more than welcome to.” 

She’s sure she does have Rory’s number somewhere — maybe he’s the one under ‘not-quite DILF’, but she’ll have to check her text history, or better yet, start saving people’s numbers in a more organized way — and nods enthusiastically at the open invite to text him outside arranging him to come fix the fence. “Yeah, totally!” And she pulls her own phone out to send the list. “Remember, top secret alright?”

[rorysanderson]

Rory can’t help but laugh a little at the reminiscing Madisyn’s doing — Annie’s taken a liking to Barbies well enough, but. “She recently had a zombie phase, actually,” he admits, shaking his head in both exasperation and fondness. “I wish she’d’ve taken to Barbie hairstyle heads. Though I don’t suppose that would’ve been any less terrifying for me in the middle of the night,” he muses. “Either way, she’s a bundle of energy, yes,” he agrees, smiling slightly at the implication of Annie getting her hands dirty. It’s the right deduction, of course, but his smile has more to do with the memory of her digging excitedly into the dirt to weed flower beds with Jack than anything else. 

At Madisyn’s offer of having her come meet the llamas one-on-one, however, Rory’s smile widens marginally. “Yeah? She’d love that,” he admits. He also has the slight suspicion Annie would love Madisyn, purely because his daughter seems to thrive on the same sort of energy Madisyn seems to. She’s mentioned her before — the pretty lady from the farm — so he supposes it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed officially. “I’ll bring her by.”

He holds up his phone at her comment, nodding once as seriously as he can. “Annie and I won’t tell a soul,” he promises, then pauses. “Right, Annie might tell her pet wolves, but they’re made out of wood and not real, so you’ve got nothing to worry about on that front.” Another pause. “Oh, she’ll probably also tell our guinea pig. He’s real, but doesn’t talk, so.”

[nightshfts]

‎ micah pours all of his attention on annie as she excitedly tells him all about what went into making his present. little remy is standing on top of micah's head and appears to listen in on the rambling, too. "what? you did? hold up..." he grabs the wooden figurine to examine annie's handiwork—and rory's too—the details look like they've been given extra care and attention as he lets his fingertips brush against the varnished surface. "i think you captured his parisian rat shade of grey perfectly. this is incredible, annie. for real. i bet your dad must be really proud." it still hasn't fully sunk in yet, the weight of this gesture, though it may not seem like much to his new friends. no, he never wanted to make a big deal out of his 30th, but that's what everyone says just so they wouldn't get their own hopes up and then expect to be surprised in a big, special way. he knows that's not gonna happen. ravi isn't here and his mom isn't speaking to him. having these two people remember him, even through an animated rat that he thinks he kind of resembles, means the world to him right now.

but rory, for whatever reason, looks almost embarrassed at the gift. micah takes offense to that on rory's behalf. "oh, shut up-" he means this with all the affection he could muster for both rory and annie. "-this is like, the coolest present i've ever gotten. i'm not even kidding. just, wow..." he can't stop looking at it. it's so stupid, he feels stupid, but his heart just grew three sizes big and he thinks he's gonna start to cry. "but two whole days, really? i hope she's exaggerating." and annie probably was, in the way that kids like to blow things out of proportion, but still. rory had taken time out of his day to make something special for him. for him. "you guys have no idea... this really made my day. thank you."

you're not gonna cry, not here, not in the parking lot, not in front of the kid.

he chuckles at his own sentimentality, pushes the back of his wrist against his nose. sniffles a bit and gathers himself, his sandwich bag, and the box, as he pushes himself up on his feet, dusting the back of his pants off. "i'm gonna put this right next to my bed. always. for good dreams." he nods, earnestly. "this'll be like my totem. you ever seen inception, annie? it's a good movie. it's about dreams." maybe that'll be the next movie rory will get for them to watch.

[rorysanderson]

It’s impossible not to notice Micah’s sincerity, and Rory’s chest feels warm with quiet pride as he watches him handle the gift like it’s something priceless. He doesn’t miss the way Micah’s voice wavers ever so slightly or the quick swipe of his wrist against his nose, and it tugs at something soft inside him. It’s a reminder that small gestures sometimes mean more than they seem, and in this case, it feels like they’ve given Micah something he really needed today. Rory knows that feeling — the unexpected comfort of being thought of.

Annie, however, is less attuned to the subtleties of the moment, her excitement still bubbling over as Micah speaks. “No!” she blurts, throwing her hands up in mock indignation. “It really did take him two whole days! I painted so fast ‘cause I’m the fastest painter ever, but dad—” she pauses, spinning dramatically to point at Rory with both hands, “—he’s slow ‘cause he has to be perfect.”

Rory lets out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “All right, that’s enough out of you,” he says, tone light as he nudges her gently with his elbow, earning a giggle. He turns his attention back to Micah, the faint smile lingering on his face. “And for the record,” he adds, voice low and steady, “I liked taking my time with it. Wanted to get it right. And I also don’t get to work on too many animated rats,” he points out with a slight smirk. “Always a pleasure.”

He shifts his weight, one hand resting on his hip as the other rubs at the back of his neck — his typical habit when he’s not quite sure how to take a compliment. “You don’t have to put it by your bed, though,” he says, voice dipping into that easy self-deprecation that feels safer than the genuine gratitude he feels for Micah’s reaction. “Could keep it somewhere less — ah, dream-adjacent.”

Annie, of course, pipes up, unfazed by Rory’s attempt to downplay things. “You have to put it by your bed!” she insists with a firm nod, crossing her arms like she’s laying down the law. “For the good dreams! And we can watch that movie sometime, right, dad?” She tilts her head up at Rory, who huffs a laugh and glances at Micah.

“Sure, soon as you turn thirteen,” Rory says, lips quirking up in a faint grin. He ruffles Annie’s hair lightly when she huffs slightly in indignation, already doing the math with her fingers. His gaze is warm as it lands back on Micah, the gratitude he doesn’t quite know how to say sitting quietly in the curve of his smile. “Is your break almost over? We don’t want to keep you.”

[graham-oswald]

"it happens. i've heard the grocery store is the second most-likely place to get into a cataclysmic accident," he joked, using his sneakers to sweep up the stray protein powder into a more organized pile. "those gushers are... uh... they're totally not just for me," graham, out of embarrassment for his childlike purchases, offered an awkward smile and unconvincing chuckle. even though the fall was the result of a clash between the two men, graham felt it wasn't right to force all of his purchases onto the stranger. he shook his head, but still put his items in the cart.

"i'll take you up on the offer to borrow space in your cart, but it's really no worries. i couldn't possibly make you pay for everything," graham felt the offer was excessive considering the amount of items he had. if there was any protest, graham would relent to letting this kind man pay for the protein powder but nothing more. "it's not like anything was super damaged outside of the protein powder. i think the cardboard boxes were built to withstand stronger collisions."

[rorysanderson]

“The second?” He raises an eyebrow, amused. “Can’t imagine what the first place could be,” he smirks as he watches the Gushers end up in his cart, nodding as seriously as he can muster at the other man’s assurance that the sweets are not, in fact, for him. “Right,” he bites the inside of his cheek in amusement. “Well, I’m sure whoever’s getting the Gushers, they’ll be happy to know they survived a two-man collision.” He glances back down at the protein powder that the other man has now stacked neatly into a pile, impressively with his sneakers.

“Well, at least let me pay for that,” he nods at the protein powder on the floor. “No one else is going to buy it — seems a waste for you to pay for it, in any case.” Besides, he’ll be thinking about this blunder for weeks to come, he’s sure — the least he can do to ease the embarrassment of it is know he’s done something to make up for it. He thinks Ellie would have protested — say something about looking a gift horse in the mouth, as always — but this is Rory’s conscience, and it’s starting to sound less like Eliza and more like him again, after all this time.

[nephilimdaily]

[jacklynchh]

JACK: in my defense it's the first time i've had space to grow pumpkins.

JACK: they're fine now, at least four of them survived.

JACK: of course they're not big fancy farm pumpkins but what does that matter. they're *understated*.

[rorysanderson]

RORY: How many did you set out to grow again RORY: More than four, right? RORY: I’m happy to make them into a pumpkin pie, if you’d like. Perhaps they’re not suited for you-o’-lanterns, but they’d make a tasty treat RORY: Four extra small pumpkins practically add up to one big fancy farm pumpkin, anyway, don’t they

[themadisynhuang]

It feels a little bit like divulging a secret when listing off the llama’s names, so when Rory thanks her and doesn’t bully her for knowing them off by heart, her smile tugs at the corner of her lips, looking down at the grass almost bashfully. When he mentions they’re attachment to him, she shrugs. “I think they just like attention.” She should know, it’s what she likes too.

Truthfully, it’s why she doesn’t like other people meeting the llamas. They make her feel special, like how she used to feel back in LA, when companies and brands clamored to woo her with sponsorships and affiliate links. When her subscriber count grew, and various other influencers got in touch, begging her to collab. It was a high she chased constantly, one she’d never be able to recreate, but her furry farm animals were a close second.

“How old’s your daughter?” She can’t remember if that is a detail Rory divulged before, when they had first met, but she doesn’t really remember particulars if they don’t concern her outright. And, weirdly enough, doesn’t feel that guilty about it either. But her heart squeezes tight at the little girl learning about the llamas, and maybe the names will make her smile. Either way, it’s like for once something Madi is doing is putting goodness out into the world. “Yeah, of course. I can…write you a list if you want? They’re not hard to remember but…just in case.”

[rorysanderson]

Rory doesn’t push the matter when Madisyn insists the llamas just like attention — could be true, after all. She knows them better than he does. Still, he thinks there’s something about her that makes them happier to see her than most other folks, but he could very well be reading into things. Then again, llamas are mammals and pack animals, a combination that almost always guarantees they’ll form some sort of bond with their caretakers. And Madisyn, as much as she seems bashful about the idea, seems to be said caretaker.

At the question about Annie, Rory feels himself perk up. If there’s one thing he knows how to talk about, it’s his daughter. “She’s seven,” he tells her. “Recently turned it, in August. Quick as a whip, that one. Just like her mum was.” The moment is so quick is passes without fuss — but it’s been a while since he’s mentioned Eliza in such a casual, quick manner without feeling an immediate pang of regret, that he’s surely going to make note of it later. “Though unlike her mum, very big fan of llamas,” he grins, then softens some at Madisyn’s offer to make a list of the llamas’ names for them. “I’d appreciate that,” he tells her honestly. He pulls out his phone and holds it up. “You’ve got my number, yeah? You could text ‘em to me, if it’s easier.”

[jacklynchh]

You. I want all of you. The thought was all-consuming, maddening. Rory's murmured promise of anything went straight to his head. If he weren't filled with such frantic and unrestrained need, Jack could've laid there all night just looking at him. Curls dampened by sweat stuck loosely to his forehead and his pupils were blown, hypnotically dark in a way he could get lost in.

Jack wanted. Oh how he wanted. But what did he want? Too many possibilities, too little time. This could be his only chance and he couldn't risk wasting it. Coherent thought long out the window, he gave up on and and worked on instinct, reaching down between them. "I want- fuck. I want to make you come." Strong fingers wrapped around both their cocks, adding pressure to the increasingly frantic slide. With his other hand he reached up and pulled Rory's face back to his, capturing him in another explosive kiss. Sweat mingled, their bare chests pressed together as though they might melt into one. Jack's breath came out ragged between kisses. It felt so good he thought he might well come apart at the seams.

He could feel the orgasm building rapidly, his nerve endings alight with pleasure, and he gave up on holding back. His mouth moved down to Rory's shoulder, teeth sinking lightly into the firm skin there to the muffle the near-shout as he lost all control. Vision became nothingness, the world whited out completely, and he came hard, shaking.

➥ tagging @rorysanderson

[rorysanderson]

The feeling of Jack’s hand wrapped around both of them, mixed with the increasingly-erratic frotting, doesn’t leave much room for a coherent response from Rory. I want to make you come, Jack says, and he knows for a fact it won’t take much longer for him to get what he wants. His breath is coming out in half-pants, half-moans, every nerve-ending in his body alight with the kind of pleasure he hasn’t felt in years, now, and certainly not with the few one night stands he’s brought home with him before. Except this isn’t a one night stand, he tells himself as Jack finds him in another kiss, all tongue and teeth and heat. This can’t be a one night stand, not if he has any say in it. He wants to keep this, he thinks desperately, feeling his body start to stiffen in anticipation. He wants to keep Jack.

It’s with this and the feeling of the other man’s teeth sunk into his shoulder that he comes only a few seconds after Jack, groaning into his neck, mouthing uselessly at his sweat-soaked skin as his vision explodes in a mix of color and static. He loses track of what is up and what is down momentarily — the pulses of pleasure making their way through his veins like sharp, intense strikes of lightning. The orgasm works through him like a symphony, and he can’t help but collapse onto Jack entirely, panting heavily in an attempt to catch his breath, doing neither of them any favors with the mess of come now mingled between them.

He lays there for a second or two before rolling over to lay on his back beside Jack on the bed, eyes now glued to the ceiling. His chest is rising and falling unevenly, still, but once he manages to slow his heart rate to a moderately-healthy rhythm, he finds his breaths come more easily, as well. He glances over at Jack with a small grin — drops a quick kiss onto his shoulder before pushing himself off the bed and making his way out of the bedroom and toward the bathroom. Grabbing one of the hand towels from below the sink, he catches a glimpse of what he looks like in the mirror for a second — disheveled and wrecked and like a man reborn, truly — before making his way back into the bedroom and toward the bed.

Careful not to put too much of his weight on Jack, Rory straddles the other man’s lap with a small smirk before leaning down to meet his lips in a slow, languid kiss as he takes care to bring a hand between them and clean them both off, Rory exhaling sharply through the kiss every once in a while at how sensitive the skin of his cock is, still. When he’s done, he sets the hand towel aside and pulls back, searching Jack’s gaze for a second. “Stay, yeah?” he mutters, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We left the bar pretty early,” he teases. “I could make you dinner. We could have a proper chat, this time.” Another kiss, soft, gentle, with the skip of his heartbeat. “Maybe go again later,” he offers, brushing his nose along Jack’s jaw. “Then again in the morning.”

He knows it probably sounds — a bit desperate, really. But the sight of Jack in his bed like this, it settles something in his stomach he’s not sure he’s ready to examine. What he can admit, at least, is that Jack looks fucking irresistible splayed out over Rory’s sheets, and he thinks it’d be a shame, to have the other man leave so soon, when the prospect of waking up to the sight of him is so temptingly within reach.

[jacklynchh]

A laugh threatens to escape at the concerned look on Annie's face and when she scolds her dad, Jack has to press his lips together tightly, trying not to betray his amusement. It's a very serious job, after all, and she's a very serious gardener. The obvious mischief on Rory's face doesn't help one bit. "You tell him, kid."

The laughter softens some, though, when their gazes meet again. Something about the way Rory looks at him makes Jack feel seen, as though his very soul is bared under a spotlight, spilling all his secrets to be seen and the strange part is that it doesn't make Jack want to run and hide. He swallows hard and grips the fork in his hand a little harder, as though it might tether him to reality more firmly. Like he might float away if Rory keeps looking at him like that. It's almost embarrassing, how pleased he is by the attention—something he's historically not been a very comfortable recipient of—but he can't help the little satisfaction that creeps into his smile as a blush colours the other man's skin.

Jack gives the roots an exaggerated look of appraisal for Annie's benefit and nods. "Pretty good. But you could take a few pointers from Annie, she's clearly the top student here." Laughter lurks behind his gaze, threatening to emerge. He leans back on his heels and nudges Rory's side playfully. "She actually pays attention, for one."

➥ tagging @rorysanderson

[rorysanderson]

“Hm,” Rory shakes his head and presses his lips tightly together from smiling too much — Annie’s started picking up on Jack’s teasing nature as of late, he’s noticed, and looking too fond of this part of the other man might only encourage her further. “Maybe I should just watch you both from the porch, then. Really soak in what’s happening,” he raises an eyebrow at Jack, gaze flicking down to the curve of his neck for only a second before it meets Jack’s eyes again. “I’m a visual learner, you know.”

“That’s not fair,” Annie tells Rory matter-of-factly, crossing her arms over her chest, hand fork and all. “I think you just want me and Jack to do all the work.”

Rory’s eyes widen exaggeratedly at his daughter, all faux-innocence. “I’m just being practical, monkey,” he tells her seriously. “I’ll slow you both down.”

Annie glances at Jack, eyes narrowed, before she looks back at Rory. “I don’t know what practical means,” she tells him, and Rory has to exhale a little sharply to keep himself from laughing. “But I don’t like the sound of it!”

He glances over at Jack, a smirk twitching at his lips. He’s joking, of course. He can’t think of a better way to spend his time than with Jack and Annie — doesn’t think there’s any way this couldn’t be enjoyable, despite his, ah, gardening shortcomings in the past. Here, he has a close-up to Jack’s expressions as he works, the way his entire demeanor relaxes and changes and thrives, a sight so endearing Rory thinks someone would have to force him away before he stopped indulging in it, frankly. Here, he can take note of Annie’s triumphant and excited smiles, Jack’s quiet, near-tampered excitement — right, so he’s not too keen on weeding some flower beds. He is keen on witnessing these two as they do, though. Quite a bit, and as a unit.

And he supposes he’d do far more for far less, if Jack enjoys it.

“Right, fine,” he sighs exaggeratedly, glancing back at Annie. “I’ll stick around, then. But I can’t promise I’ll get any better.” He shoots Jack a teasing look, fond glint in his eye. “What’s next, then?”

> END OF THREAD.

[huntervtheworld]

HUNTER: I have this strange impulse to ask you to name them HUNTER: She's an old soul, what can I say? HUNTER: It's not like I'd let her drink or, like, play darts

[rorysanderson]

RORY: Huey, Dewey, and Louie. RORY: I'm not taking my kid with us to a pub, Vora RORY: If you'd like to see her, you could just come over and have a beer here RORY: But you might get roped into watching her newest dance routine to Chappell Roan's Pink Pony Club

[jacklynchh]

JACK: well you're underestimating just how much i hate gravel. JACK: you can use my gardening mat :) JACK: sure, sounds like fun. i won't even kick up a fuss about how you didn't want to use MY pumpkins.

[rorysanderson]

RORY: Shellfish, kiwi, gravel. Got it RORY: How considerate of you :) RORY: Well, Jack, you haven't exactly inspired confidence about your pumpkins in the past, now have you