#CAN U IMAGINE HER GRIEF????? and every time she looks in the mirror she sees his eyes..............

[spocks-kaathyra]

trying vry hard to not get emotionally attached to TLT bc I can only have 1 set of blorbos at once and I rly rly want to keep Pythas and Nal for a while longer. I've mostly managed to dodge Griddlehark so far but I just started Nona and jesus christ Camilla and Palamedes r killing me. FOREVER SEPARATED BY A FEW MINUTES??? the kiss to the knuckles???? they write each other letters............

[lesbenson]

liv brain, eo, and season 25. titled “fade in 2 u” in my drafts. enjoy if you want to!

It’s with tears in her eyes and his necklace between her fingers that Olivia says this last goodbye. Private, silent, prayer. A promise to try, to stay, with no mention of when he’ll come back around to her. Blinds drawn and door locked, it feels a little like she’s pressing on a bruise. It’s almost enough to distract from the soreness in her hip, until she moves or breathes or thinks about the look on Elliot’s face when he said he thought he lost her. She felt like she was lying to him, saying she couldn’t imagine what it brought up. But he can still surprise her, stalking like a fawn and murmuring about this precious life.

She hates them both, most days. And then she doesn’t know where to put that hate when he’s in her space, calling her sweet names and speaking soft over gifts in little boxes. Trading her for a gift box just to take the pressure off, holding the ornament close to his chest like it’s worth the same as this compass.


“I’ll treasure it.”

He leaves the little wooden E on the edge of her desk. Like her own small treasure, she sweeps it quickly into the top drawer.

Not that it matters, now, but Olivia had no intention of falling in love with Elliot when they were partners. She had no intention of forgiving him if he ever came back, and she cannot begin to voice it, but still, somewhere small and warm and quiet she knows she forgave him a long time ago. As much as she could, anyway. It’s patience, or empathy, or loyalty, if anyone cared to ask. Really, she just never stopped caring for him. She never could. For the years Elliot was gone, she could pretend not to understand him, his betrayal, but even that denial was self-indulgent. Olivia understands why he ran, what scares her still is that he could do it again.

She always thought his dedication was genuine, even in the moments his anger seemed to erupt far beyond him. His family was charming, but distant. Unfamiliar, so unenviable. She didn’t know that a decade later she would be fucking wrecked not to be having his kids. Another decade and she would have to face his youngest son, with eyes even bigger and darker than her own, another strange and mocking mirror of her grief. She sometimes thinks of it as her slight payback for Noah having Elliot’s same crystal eyes; the first thing she noticed about Elliot when they met and her second favorite feature.

The real favorite is his smile, his mouth, the way he grins when he’s trying to be charming. In their first month as partners she made a joke about it, and he looked so happy to be seen through. Like nobody had observed him so closely in a while. He gave her a different smile, and for years she found herself trying to spark it again. Elliot had flashed his baby blues at her then, too. They still make her melt, and he knows, and it is mortifying.

They looked so bright and soft and green, holding back tears in her office. He was still the one leaving.

Olivia had bit her tongue. Don’t go? Don’t go. You would never go if I asked you to stay. You don’t actually want to leave me. You don’t actually want to leave. You don’t actually want me.

Elliot tells her to find happiness, to let his compass lead her, as he is halfway out the door again. She thinks of little badges and magnets being pulled apart. The last time he sent her chasing happiness so he could slip away. Mostly, she wonders when he will see the dilemma.

He called her partner on his way out, and there was that smile again. Jackass.

Elliot’s necklace is warm by the time it slides against her chest, the heat of her hand boring into it. She pulls her thick hair out from under the chain and swallows hard at the intrusion of a memory - his hands so gentle as he had untangled her hair, the big plastic clip knocking against a wall she tried to lean on in an urgent care waiting room. The blood was minimal and the nurses were moving fast, but every time there was a moment of stillness Elliot had found a way to rest a hand on her leg, squeeze her shoulder. If she thinks too long about him cooing in her ear and brushing the hair out of her face, she might split her side open entirely.

——

Her ache for him works in a strange sort of reverse this time. For the first couple of weeks without him, she’s mostly numb — sad in the way she’s learned to live with, a little sensitive in her suspension between longing and remembering. Elliot is gone again. Soon she will have worked alone longer than they were partners, ten years since sergeant. Ten years in her office, reshaping herself inside those walls. She always wanted to be unrecognizable to Elliot if she saw him again. He never acted like she was, even when Olivia felt like she deserved to be a stranger to him.

When a full month goes by with no news, she finds herself furiously wiping tears in the produce aisle. She nicks her leg shaving and swears at a volume she doesn’t even recognize. She feels unsteady. Untethered. Four more weeks and she puts a photo of them on her desk, in a little collage mat that’s mostly occupied by Noah, and she starts using a hand soap in her bathroom that she thinks smells a little like his cologne. Nothing is quite enough.

There are moments of rest, somewhere in August. When Noah goes back to school she can really fall back into her rhythms, letting cases blend the days together while the weather changes.

She wore the compass all summer, gold and shimmering against the soft tan of her chest, and she wonders still what made him pick the little pink stones. If he knew they would start to look exactly like the blush that used to run across his high cheekbones, the rough inside of his hands. She wonders if he’s close enough to see the same trees changing, far enough to feel the cold already.

Olivia secretly looks forward to the winter, the sharp feeling of the air and the way the sky matches the concrete, sun shining through clouds and reflecting off of big glass buildings. The streets are still busy, but the people move faster. The holidays are always strange for her, suppressing guilt she feels for every dinner that didn’t happen. Seated protective and close to Noah at the McCann’s, she is hit with a pang of sadness for the celebrations she won’t have with Simon, with her mother. Grateful for her baby, for her safety, for her job, for her sanity. No new year’s resolutions, just a tiny feeling blooming in her chest. Something like anticipation.

—-

When Maddie Flynn disappears, Olivia knows she has lost a piece of herself within the case before their first day of searching is over. She is exercising all of her strength trying to stay upright, the plummeting in her stomach never ever reaching an end.

She tells people it was a bad instinct, that she should have known better. What scares her more, so much more, is to think that she did. Too distracted, too tired, too disoriented. Traffic was thick and her eyes had not adjusted to the sunlight and Noah was asking her so many questions and she just could not focus on what she saw. She will turn it over in her mind for weeks after it starts, what it means for her, after all of these years, not to act on it. How little the rest of it matters now that she has let a girl go, how nothing saved changes what’s been lost. She thinks of stupid Elliot, breaking things just to tell her they can be fixed, breaking the moment just to make her smile. She hears Fin tell Velasco to shut his mouth and do what he’s told, “If this girl doesn’t come home, Liv is never gonna forgive herself.” She thinks he doesn’t know how right he is.

She makes it through her whole apartment, her and Noah’s goodnights, and the majority of her nighttime routine before she just lets it go. Hot tears fill her eyes and before she can get her breathing under control, she collapses on the edge of her bed, quietly inhaling through her cries. Blonde, 5’5, 15 years old. Energy drink van, front seat, Lincoln tunnel. Clutching her stomach, she chokes on a few hard inhales as she tries to steady, her head pounding. Maddie’s name floats around the room on a soft voice, something like a prayer that feels more like a plea.

The exhaustion is bottomless, lately. She misses being angry all the time. On edge. Passionate. She goes for long stretches not feeling like someone who cares about anything by the time she gets in bed, or she feels this, this searing pain. Olivia thinks of Muncy, of Kat, when she curls under her sheets and wonders what will finally make it all feel like enough. When she joined SVU she still felt like she had something to prove, something to fix. She can’t even access that sense of hope sometimes, often wonders if that’s what the feeling really was.

Olivia lies silent, eyes open in her dark room. The vibrating chirps of her phone startle her, but not nearly as much as the name flashing across the screen.

Elliot Stabler and the same picture as her desk, the only one they have taken since he’s been back (his sweet mother, with both of them halfway out the door, had just told them she wanted one and sentiment caught her by surprise. They both told Bernie it was okay, really, Olivia trying to hide and Elliot giving her an out. She shushed them both and they laughed quietly to each other, their faces inches apart when he bowed his head in defeat. He threw a big arm over her shoulders and squeezed, and her annoyance with him had evaporated with the briefest thought of teenagers on prom night).

She watches his name inch across her screen, flicking off the sound instead of ending the call. She can’t pick up, not with her breathing so ragged. Her hands are shaking, still, and this isn’t how she wants it to be for them. She isn’t prepared to talk to him or lie to him or for whatever he might be asking of her in the middle of the night. Then it hits her, and she feels like an asshole for the delay, but he could be in danger. He almost always is, in a way. She would have to run to him, or else just tell him she’s a lousy hero.

Thinking first that wallowing won’t save Maddie Flynn, then that Elliot would probably call his team in a real crisis, she lets the phone drop from her hands to her lap. The vibrating stops a few seconds later, the eventual buzz of a voicemail breaking the silence she was holding for another call.

Olivia rubs both hands over her face, sighing before hitting play on his message.

Hey Liv. It’s me. I just got back.

An old case of ours.

Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice.

Call me.

The comfort she finds in the smallest of Elliot’s mannerisms still surprises her, but she finds her heart fluttering just hearing his voice, the deep breaths while he chooses his words. She misses him so much of the time she almost can’t keep track of everything she misses about him, until moments like this. Moments when he seems so real and so close it feels like no time has passed, or like it didn’t pass with the two of them sliced in half. Olivia does resent him for it, what he can get away with just by still being this man that she loves, that she trusts. Her partner, exactly how she remembers him.

Part of her, the larger part, wants to call him back. Ask about his case, pick a fight, tell him to come over. She wants to know how he’s been, needs to know if he has any bruises, wants to hear about all of the things that make him think of her.

She wants him to help her find her missing girl. She can’t call him, she realizes, if not for that. She could, maybe, throw him into the case and he might tread lightly enough for it to work, but with the way her head is pounding right now she just can’t imagine keeping it together in front of him. And she wants to, wants to be strong and sturdy and ready, when she sees him again.

She doesn’t get much sleep, but she plays his voicemail a few more times.

—-

She actually doesn’t sleep most nights, for weeks on end. On a foggy morning run she finds herself chasing a green van, hearing Maddie’s name ripping from her throat. The guy calls her crazy, and she thinks about chasing him onto the highway. She almost grabs the arm of a girl walking out of Noah’s dance studio, long blonde hair and a baby blue hoodie making her jump before she catches herself.

Olivia has never been able to name the feeling of the city when she knows a child is missing inside it. It’s not just haunting, or vigilance, it’s a distortion. She sees Maddie everywhere because she is looking for her everywhere. She is so afraid of making the same mistake that she is suspicious of everyone. She’s distracted by the ever-changing scenes of the city, convinced everything will become the one thing she missed. Fin tells her, or she tells him what she knows he sees, that she has not been herself since Maddie was taken.

She can’t be, is the thing. She can feel this phantom ache, Maddie’s grip on her from God knows how far. Like she’s been ripped apart, a piece of her still tethered as it is taken away. The guilt is eating her alive, everyday, and when Eileen Flynn calls her from the hospital Olivia can barely breathe. She has to try to explain it, in the EMDR suite, what the sight of Peter’s belt in Maddie’s closet still does to her.

Olivia keeps trying to get around it, anything that she has to preface with “there was a case- a guy, ten years ago,” she would rather just not get into. She remembers the instinct to drop her necklace in the trunk of a car, and she already misses the feel of Maddie’s plastic beads on her wrist.

She never pictured a treatment she’d be more nauseous during than her first few weeks with Lindstrom, but when she walks out into the night after these sessions she still feels a little off balance. She tries to just trust it will help, which is harder than trusting herself to go — a small but welcome change.

—-

Curry tells her, first thing in the morning. They took Stabler’s badge. He hit a kid, or he hurt a kid, or they think he tried to kill a guy. Suspended, second time in four years. It’s not looking good for him, when and if he gets back to his desk.

Olivia knows him, knows Elliot is either tearing his place apart from agitation or physically beating himself up for whatever it is he did to hurt that boy. She simply tells Curry to keep her updated, if she can, and she manages not to ask if they need someone to vouch for him at his next hearing. She types and deletes the same message maybe ten times throughout the day. “Dinner soon? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

She feels worse for not calling him back now than she had to begin with. Ignoring him is as much a retaliation as it is another wound to salt, always making herself that much more miserable to teach Elliot a lesson about leaving. It’s sick, is what it is, and now a teenage boy is in the hospital and a teenage girl is still missing. She calls him that night while staking out Noah’s room from the kitchen, trying to ground herself with his presence without waking him. The call goes straight to voicemail and she hangs up.

She dreams of him in the passenger seat, younger and stubbly and deathly serious. She’s flying down the road, she doesn’t know which one, or what hour it is. Everything is orange and bright and hot and he’s giving her directions, clear and sure. She’s closing in on a van, neon green with skulls and Elliot has a big hand flat on the dash, loudly egging her on. The sun isn’t moving up or down the horizon but closer to them, the road seemingly widening so Olivia can circle the van, tire-to-tire with the front wheels. Still speeding in perfect tandem, both drivers face each other. Maddie grips the wheel, her hair whipping around her face, her eyes wild. Olivia screams her name, and Maddie looks back at the road. She feels cold, so cold, and the sky is getting redder as the metal of her side mirror screeches against the van’s. She tries again, the wail echoing, and when Maddie turns back to her there are bloody tear streaks on her cheeks. Olivia tries to scream, cut short by Elliot grabbing the wheel, jerking it hard and sending them spinning in front of the van. She wakes up panting, the sun barely starting to split between her blinds.

She at least waits for Noah to finish his breakfast before calling Elliot again, knowing if he is adhering to his suspension he should answer the landline. When that goes to voicemail she takes it a little harder.

“Call me back. I’m here.” It’s the kind of thing they used to say to each other constantly, and she wonders if the meaning ever changes. I need to be with you through this to know how you are. I know how you’re feeling more than anyone else in the world. You’re the only one that feels it this much too. I’m here. We don’t have to talk. I don’t want to talk. I want to hear you. See you. They also both used to be able to take a missed call on the chin, but it’s become a bit of a sore spot for her.

—-

Another dream, a waking one. Maddie’s voice, ringing in a dark, mildewy cabin. Her small frame in the center of the room, all of her wrapped in Olivia’s arms. Her hair is wrong and she looks sickly, terrified, but those are the eyes that glanced at Olivia from the front of an energy drink van. She’s certain of it, and Maddie holds onto her like she is too.

—-

It’s a chance thing, or more bad timing, when Olivia halfway hears from him again. She’s in the shower when he calls, and so she opens her phone to another voicemail. Laying out clothes and badges for commencement, she plays it on speaker.

His voice stops her in her tracks. It’s raspy, like he’s been up, or yelling, or crying. His words, too, make her freeze.

“Hey, hon. I uh- listen, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you. It’s- um- it’s not exactly something I can- you know. I don’t wanna do it over the phone. I’m around though if you think, if you ever want to- to talk. I wanna see you. Call me if you can, Liv. bye.”

Her eyes dart unfocused over her dresser, her mind racing for a second before it slows again, stuck on hon, like the bastard was really going to call her his honey before he caught himself. Except it didn’t sound like he stopped himself. It sounded like he meant to say it, and maybe then he panicked, but something in his subconscious has resorted to pet names for her. The thought alone makes her weak.

Her finger hovers over his number, playing the voicemail back instead of returning the call. She watches her own face in the mirror, dark features softened and then tensed as he rambles. Olivia knows she’s going to have to call him again, that she might even keep calling until he answers. She pulls her damp hair around her neck and starts a loose braid.

—-

In the earliest days of sun and spring, Maddie turns sixteen. The celebration is sweet, if not a little too bright, a performance of levity for her, for her parents, for Olivia. Still, when she lays the golden chain over Eileen’s shoulders, she feels like she has given over something with an honest kind of power in it. She half expects to literally walk in the opposite direction of her car when she leaves the party. She finds herself driving back to the precinct.

—-

Olivia tries not to let on, how her heart skips a beat when she hears him pick up the phone. Elliot has his fun, taking his first opening for a joke before falling quiet at the tender change in her voice. She scrapes a nail over her thigh, feels the rough weave of denim as she speaks. She has so much she wants to say, but it only comes out in pieces and Elliot, somehow (she knows how), doesn’t ever need her to fill in the gaps.

“I knew you’d understand.”

“Oh, I understand. You lost the necklace and now you’re buying time.”

It makes her laugh, and she hopes she isn’t blushing but Christ, she misses him and her cheeks hurt. This time last year he was tossing a paper bag on her desk with that same necklace in it. Not long before that he had held her in his arms three different times on the same case. When he had hugged her goodbye she almost kissed him.

She told Carisi’s cousin the “L” stood for love. That she hadn’t found it yet. Maddie went missing that same day, and now Olivia’s compass hangs around Eileen’s neck. She thinks of healing properties, placebos, and time. She thinks of being guided to Maddie, of the lost girls she has pulled from the darkness this year, of becoming the needle in the pendant, moving with the heart of the wearer. She thinks she is telling him the truth, that it helped, or that she’s getting there.

She really does want the necklace back, eventually. She already misses the weight of it, habitually running a thumb over her (now bare) collarbone a few times in the past hour. Right now, though, Olivia thinks Eileen needs it more. Thinks she can find it by herself, or already has. Happiness, love, truth, steady ground. Just for a second, maybe, until things change again.

Right now, though. She’s got him on the phone and Elliot is laughing too, under his breath, at his own quip or her reaction and she knows exactly what his face looks like right now, does not try to stop herself from picturing his smile.

“I pawned it.” That earns her a nice scratchy laugh.

—-

Maddie Flynn doesn’t go to sleepaway camp that summer, but she learns how to drive and is coming back around to the idea of college outside the city. She sticks to EMDR treatment, but she changes doctors twice before she gets settled. She’s growing her hair long and piercing her ears behind her parents’ back. She doesn’t wake up screaming as much anymore, and she finishes all her meals.

Olivia learns all of this over coffee with Eileen, gently holding her arm as she promises over and over again that it is getting better, that Maddie will be at peace again one day, that all they can do right now is love her patiently. Eileen keeps smiling like she doesn’t quite believe her, but Olivia sees so much less panic in her eyes now.

Right before they part ways, Eileen gives her a crushing hug, launching into her like a kid.

“Keep looking,” she murmurs, quickly clasping the compass necklace behind Olivia’s head, “Look for love everywhere. Dig to the center of the earth, if you can.”

Olivia smiles at her, eyes crinkling under the late July sun. “I will.”

—-

One text, while she’s waiting for her car to cool off.

What are you doing tomorrow night?

His response is immediate, two messages in a row.

Hope I’m cooking you dinner.

Gonna try to earn my necklace cash back.

—-

It’s enough time to primp and preen and work herself up so much she won’t want to go at all. It’s short enough notice that they can both only panic so much. It’s a late dinner, her request, his pleasure, and while she gets ready very fast, she still needed an extra built-in hour to sit on her couch and breathe. Early that morning, Olivia had taken Noah upstate. She tapped her foot through lunch with the McCanns and lied every time they asked about her.

Olivia has wondered about this ridiculous idea of dressing up for Elliot, and where her brain knows he can’t be surprised by anything she does, she still wants him to be. Just a little bit. It’s been a long year. He has stared at her like a small dog when she was wearing t-shirts and suits that didn’t fit, pajamas, dresses meant for someone other than him. She wants to hold his gaze.

She had laid out a deep cherry red sweater and loose jeans. She stares at them now, standing by the foot of her bed with clenched fists at her hips.

It’s only dinner. It’s Elliot. They’re not very likely to leave his apartment.

Olivia turns back to her closet and grabs at a soft, plum-colored dress. She inspects the fabric for only a second before pulling the dress over her head, stretching it around her hips, her thighs. It’s fitted at her chest and falls loose and long over her legs. She cranes her neck and checks for lines, obvious straps or pieces of lace peeking through. She smooths her hands over the dress one more time, and finally settles on it with a slow exhale. She forces herself to do her fastest makeup, brushes and curls the thick strands of hair that fall around her cheekbones, her jawline. She doesn’t think very hard about jewelry, popping in wide gold hoops and recentering the singular necklace.

—-

She leaves ten minutes later than she should, and it relaxes her up until she starts closing in on his apartment. The traffic is reasonable, but she impatiently taps her wheel through it all the same.

Halfway up the stairs to his loft and Olivia remembers he gave her a key. He put it on her kitchen counter on his way out and didn’t say anything about it, just held her gaze for as long as she’d let him. The message was clear - it was there with or without a spare key - trust me, come home to me, be safe with me. And she wanted to, but she couldn’t, then.

Now, she stands right outside his door, lets her breathing even out for a moment, shifting her weight from heel to toe. When she knocks, it’s the quiet one they used to do at the precinct, and she thinks of skittish animals for a second. She’s about to lunge and press his buzzer when she hears clicking in his locks.

Elliot opens the door and just looks at her for a long time, his smile so soft, before he whispers a simple “Hi.”

She breathes out “Hey,” and neither of them move.

She looks him up and down and he lets her, and he looks good, looks like himself in a fading green t-shirt and slate gray sweatpants. She hopes he ate enough while he was under. He looks like he’s been sleeping, a lot, and she hopes that’s a good thing too. He waits for her move to push the door open a little more and she brushes against him on purpose when she walks into his apartment. She kicks her shoes off silently, unceremoniously as he locks the door behind them, and when she turns over her shoulder to peek at him again it doesn’t feel like he’s too close. It should, because she can feel her dress swishing and hitting him, but she lingers still. When Olivia faces him, he extends a hand to take her purse, nonreactive to the weight of it in his fingers. He places it on the bench in the hall, still staring at her. She lets him wrap a hand around her wrist and guide her towards his kitchen, his other hand resting on her waist in a way that makes her heart hammer.

She leans across his island, and Elliot slides her a glass of water that was already on the counter. He smiles shyly and pours himself a new one.

When he finally settles on the opposite side, he’s bent practically in half leaning towards her. He looks nervous, now.

“Wanted to see you when I got back but I- I needed to make sure my head was on straight. I was actually gonna bring you a coffee some-“

“Elliot.” She catches his eyes long enough for his shoulders to relax. He breathes in, slowly, and nods. And waits.

“It’s- I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “me too.” He flicks his chin up the slightest bit, “you’re wearing it.”

She almost laughs, biting back a grin as her hand flies up to touch it, feel it’s weight on her chest. “Everyday. You knew I would.”

His face softens, and instead of responding he just walks around the counter, hovering close to her.

“I mean you got it back.”

Olivia does laugh, then, “I mean, I couldn’t wait forever.”

Elliot makes a little sound at the back of his throat, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s close enough again that she can look up and tell when he last shaved, can smell his soap and his breath and his sweat.

She takes a breath in, cutting off sharply when he reaches up to touch the pendant. A light brush of his fingertip, then the slightest pressure of his thumb over the face of the compass.

The back of Elliot’s hand is brushing, resting on Olivia’s chest and when he captures the necklace between the pads of his fingers she only wants to let him pull her in. He raises the pendant between them, the chain catching on the fine hairs at the back of her neck, and as she leans in he presses the side of the compass to his lips.

When he lowers it again, Olivia covers his hand with hers and flattens it over the compass at her neck. They hold each other there for what feels like forever. Elliot’s eyes are still that light shining blue, pupils massive and dark.

His lips are soft against hers when she tilts her head. She lets all of the air out of her lungs in the second he kisses her back, and she regains it with a gasp when his mouth moves against hers. Elliot’s hot palm stays on her chest, but now his other hand cups the back of her head, fingers tenderly threading in her hair and she would never let anyone hold her like this but Elliot’s hand is right over her thumping heart, and when she grabs his forearm he groans a little. He breaks away only to say her name, voice breaking, and Olivia strokes his cheeks, his jaw, patient and soft as ever.

He’s got thick fingers wrapped behind her neck, whispering Liv. Liv. Liv. His lips on hers, on her cheeks, her nose, her temple. She’s lost in it so completely, for a second she thinks she could cry at the warmth of him. Olivia grabs his arms again, one hand digging into his shoulder, and kisses Elliot until she knows they’re both dizzy.

His cheeks are a dark red now, and it still sounds impossible for him to get his breathing under control when he drops his hands to her hips.

“I fucking missed you so much, Liv, I-“ he’s kissing her again, teeth scraping over the side of her neck for just a second before he realizes, seemingly, that he can’t say any of it like this.

Elliot falls back a bit, but his nose against hers suddenly feels like the closest they have ever been. “I love you, you know I love you.”

She bites her lip, nodding vigorously, wordlessly. Olivia does know this, has almost always known this, has certainly heard him say it before. Here, though, she can take it, hold it close to her ribs and feel it settle.

She blinks away another rush of tears, smiling with her lips pressed tight together. “You’re just- you’re really gonna have to say it a lot, you know.” She wants so badly to laugh at all of this, but she still swallows hard at the look on Elliot’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I mean I want to. I-” he stops himself with a tiny shake of his head, just murmuring as he presses his cheek against hers, “I love you, Liv, I love you.”

—-

Elliot had pulled a huge pan of vegetables and an equally huge skillet of mac and cheese with bacon out of his oven about 30 seconds before Olivia had sweetly dragged him to bed by the strings on his pants, promising to inhale his carefully crafted meal later.

Hours later, she pulls on those pants and a big gray zip-up to sink into his couch and eat their reheated dinner, resting her legs on Elliot’s lap and thinking briefly about takeout and all-nighters.

“What are you smiling about?” He rests a hand on her leg, lightly stroking with his thumb.

“You already know.” Olivia raises one eyebrow at him, grin never fading.

“Yeah,” Elliot smiles wide, “yeah, I guess I do.”

—-

if you read all of this, thank you for reading.

[minor-solemnity]

What's your favorite character from the golden trio era?

Oooh idk possibly this is an unpopular opinion - at least it was when I was like, properly in the fandom rather than where I am now which is firmly on the sidelines with my hands over my ears and ignoring everything that I don't like - but Cho Chang. This is probably in part because she got so much undeserved hatred (thank u fandom and author racism) and I am predisposed to like characters that people don't like.

I find her character so heartbreakingly real in a way that I think is entirely accidental on JKR's part. I don't think JK can write women. (Plz don't hate me for that, but like, it's true.) Everything interesting about the characters we are meant to like gets sanded down and ignored in the later books - Hermione's whole thing is like, book smart but not emotionally intelligent, she wants to be right and have people know she's right more than she cares about their feelings. She thinks rules are important until they apply to her. She is ruthless and vindictive and petty. These are interesting character traits that just get completely dropped in the later books. By the time book 6 ends and book 7 starts Hermione is 'wife' and 'mother' and it's kinda sad.

I digress.

Cho's boyfriend is murdered. Cho is understandably upset and heartbroken and sad af. She tries to find comfort in Harry because Harry was there, Harry must understand. Harry can help her process. Their ways of dealing with trauma are completely opposite to each other. Cho seeks emotional vulnerability and closeness from the boy who, of all people, will understand. Harry's way of processing trauma is to ignore it. It happened, it sucks, I will never speak of it again (until all my unprocessed emotions come spilling out and I end up lashing out and getting angry). Those two ways of dealing with trauma are not going to work well together. Harry is honestly a dick towards her - she's his fantasy. She's not a real person to him. When that fantasy comes crashing down he behaves pretty awfully towards her. And if you're reading critically, you come away thinking yeah, Cho's a whiny crybaby who doesn't get Harry at all. What a bitch. When in reality, it's more like - Cho is seriously fucked up and is trying to come to terms with her grief and seek comfort in someone who she thought would get it.

Imagine being like, 16 and being isolated and sad and so fundamentally misunderstood. Imagine being 18 and your friends are dead and the boy you liked is still dead and the other boy you thought you might like is a hero and the only thing you're really known for is the mess that is your grief. Imagine that the popular consensus is that your grief is something to be ridiculed.

I tend to pick and chose which parts of the extended canon I believe in, but I believe in Cho moving to America and getting hitched to an American muggle dude. (Moving to America is probably my own headcanon actually). What would motivate her to move across the world? Grief? Wonderlust? Anger? I imagine it's all three. Idk if this is a relatable feeling to a lot of people, but I get it. I have a constant itch under my skin that tells me to move on whenever a place starts to feel too much like home. To leave. To escape. Nowhere feels like home because home is a collection of broken things. It's a hall of funhouse mirrors - the wires in your brain get mixed up. Comfort and safety become synonymous with 'i will fuck this up' and 'i don't deserve this' and 'everyone will leave'.

I want so many things for Cho. I want her name to make sense. I want her to be seen as something other than 'pretty' and 'sad'. I want her in Boston slamming Sam Adams by Sam Adams grave because she finds it funny. I want her in Boston, learning to drive a car (stick-shift because the driving instructor had made a comment about how automatics are easier to learn and she is tired of people seeing her as something weak and unable). I want her road-raging and I want her to drive across the country because why the fuck not. I want her in New York and the city is so frantic and no one looks at her and she feels so small and the lights are so bright and she thinks maybe she could disappear here and no one would ever know. I want her to find a group of women rollerskating and maybe they invite her to their roller derby group. It isn't flying, but it's fast and aggressive and she's never allowed herself to be aggressive like this before. She's not allowed herself to be angry like this before. No one else has allowed her to be angry like this before.

I want her to go to California and to go to Angel Island and I want her to understand that there have been people like her before. That she is not alone in this feeling. I want her to meet a dude who's studying for an MBA - he doesn't know who she is. Doesn't know what she is. She's just this cute girl who drinks Sam Adams even tho that's a Boston thing and they're in San Diego. He's probably a frat boy. I want him to be a frat boy who takes his degree too seriously and wakes up at like 5 because he's also a gym rat. He takes her to his boxing class. She probably cries during and hey that's okay - she has a lot of shit to work through, he can tell. He doesn't ask about it. Just says her accent is cute. Maybe she starts taking night classes, maybe she doesn't. She's weirdly technologically illiterate - she sends him postcards even though they live in the same city. She says its because her school didn't let them have phones. She's never seen a Tarintino film and that's just like... not cool. They watch True Romance on his shitty box TV in his room in his frat house and she laughs (she laughs like the violence is cathartic) when Alabama completely destroys Virgil. He looks at her and she shrugs and says 'I get it.'

She says that's she's leaving soon - doesn't know where. Probably isn't coming back and again that's... not cool. She's weird about some stuff. Won't talk about home - won't say where she's from. He should be fine with it because like, it's not as if this is anything serious and his life is pretty clearly planned out. Get an MBA, work in some start-up tech company - the internet is a thing now and god, there's money to be made. He thinks maybe that she should like, stay but she also seems like the kind of person who doesn't know how to stop running. And look, he's doing an MBA. He rushed his frat. He goes to boxing every morning without fail. He's determined. He's not good at letting the things he wants go. But he lets her go because she doesn't want to stay. One night afterwards, his frat bro says, philosophical because they're crossfaded, that maybe she can't stay. Maybe she won't let herself stay. And that... That sounds about right.

So he waits. He waits and he gets postcards with no return address - in Seattle, she tries ice hockey. In Miami, she tries surfing. He almost gets on a plane to Cincinnati because she got into a fight with some dude who made his girlfriend cry in public. Apparently, she knocked him out with a punch just the way he showed her to. It feels weirdly romantic.

I want her to write a postcard to him when she's sitting in a bar in Las Vegas and I want her to include a return address. I want him on the first flight out, because fuck his classes? She included a return address. He asks her if she's ever going to go home and she looks at him and says, 'What? To San Diego?'

[loxxxlay]

100 word meme

hiii, so I’ve been wanting to try this for a while since it seems to work out really well for @veliseraptor and i feel like it’d work out well for me too? so gonna give it a shot

rules are you vote for a fic and i write 100 words in it. so basically if u want a fic posted faster, vote for it, because a vote means i’ll actually work on it (hopefully XD). it’s mostly just a helpful way for me to have tangible goals that i can work toward without having to make decisions about what those goals are myself XD

[edit: oh yeah you can vote for up to 3]

so without further ado, here’s the list (as is traditional, with bonus excerpts as a reward for helping me with executive brain functions lmfao):

1. (Figment of Choice) [tw grandthorki shenanigans]

“Oh, but dear, if I had known it’d be like this, I would have had you change ages ago. You’re simply beautiful!” He smiled and ran the ends of his fingers down Loki’s jaw.  

Loki resisted the urge to bite them. Monster, he thought. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Please,” he begged. “Please don’t do this to me—”

“Loki, we’ve talked about this.” The Grandmaster made a disapproving clicking noise with his tongue. “Yesterday even. Didn’t I specifically tell your brother how I prefer those who are willing. Those who enjoy what Sakaar has to offer. What I have to offer. Are you telling me you’re not one of those people?”

“Yes,” Loki said by habit; then, “I mean, no—no, I am, I just—I don’t think—I can’t—”

“Shhh,” the Grandmaster said. “You know how much I hate hearing don’t and can’t. Come along, sweetheart, get up. As lovely as you are, I’m not only here for you. Time’s a’ticking.”

2. (The troy and lola story of my soul) [tw implied noncon/dubcon and csa]

Troy watched his friend disappear into his carriage, and then he watched a butterfly trail from flower to flower, and then he watched the sun approach the white mountains in the distance. His legs ached with the strain of standing as he watched, but he didn’t move. Moving would mean admitting the fact that his twin had been suffering for years. Suffering the same torment he himself had escaped. Moving would mean having to face the fact that his brother (sister?) might resent him. 

As he stood, he tried—he focused his entire mind upon an imagined woman lying nude in the lounge of a brothel. He tried to feel what she felt. He tried to feel the weight of a body on top of his or the repetitive aching of his insides. He tried to feel the unbearable numbness infecting his limbs with cold. But there was nothing, no sense of life from his twin. Nothing except the ghosts of his own memories.

“My Lord,” Margaret called from the patio, “won’t you come inside?”

Troy sighed but didn’t turn. “You know to call me Theodore.”

“It’s cold out here,” Margaret said as if she hadn’t heard. “At least let me fetch your cloak.”

Troy didn’t answer, and a moment later, he heard the door bang shut. He waited a bit longer. For what? He didn’t know. But then the crickets started chirping, and the chill of nighttime wind raised goosebumps on his arms, and he managed to stomach his fear and turn to face the house.

3. (Forget Me Not, Remember Still) [tw domestic abuse, grandthorki shenanigans]

“You look so sad,” Thor said, and Loki hated that his voice sounded at all like the Grandmaster’s. “What’s bothering you?”

Unsure whether it was safe to answer, Loki pressed his lips together.

“Tell me,” Thor said, just as gently, but—Loki could sense the difference in his patience.

He took a breath. “It’s nothing,” he said.

“It’s something,” Thor argued. “Now tell me—or do I have to remind you what happens when you try to think for yourself.”

Loki steeled himself against a flinch. Almost subconsciously, his hand came up and his fingers pressed against the bruises at his neck. The shirt he’d wanted to wear would have covered them, but this—it exposed him. It made him look weak, like a victim—and truly, was he not a victim now? Was he not being abused?

Wincing, he looked away from the mirror before the sight of himself could make him cry.

“Oh, Loki,” Thor said. “You’ve made some mistakes. All those marks show is that you’ve learned better. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

To you, Loki thought, and then shut the thought off. 

4. (On Our Terms) [tw grandthorki shenanigans]

The Grandmaster sighed loudly. “I don’t mean to offend you, but your society sounds quite borish.”

“It is,” the Valkyrie said, “but it’s the one we got, and I doubt you have room for three thousand potentially borish people here, so . . .”

“Yes, yes, your point has been made,” the Grandmaster said. “But you see—I’ve grown quite fond of these two, and I’m not quite sure if I want to let them go. Especially since they seem so eager to stay.”

“Yeah, I get it. So what’s your price?” she asked in a casual tone.

“My price? Goodness, gracious! I’m not the type to just sell these poor boys to the highest bidder. My dear dear 142, you should know better than to suggest such a thing! Absolutely unbelievable.”

There was a silence. Loki held his breath, closed his eyes, and tried not to think. Whatever happened, it wouldn’t matter what he did. It wouldn’t matter what he said. In fact, it might make things worse if he spoke, and things were already bad enough. The best he could do was keep silent and be good and just . . . wait. Wait to be dragged back into their nightmare.

Under the table, Thor’s free hand slipped around his and squeezed. Loki was numb, too numb, to care. He didn’t squeeze back.

At last, the Grandmaster gave a long put-upon sigh. “I suppose, I might be more . . . favorable to your wishes if you were to, hmm. Play a game with me.”

The Valkyrie shifted in her seat. “What kind of game?”

5. (thor ficlet whumptober chapter 4) [tw past noncon]

With a deep breath, Thor slipped on a robe over his nightshirt and pants (he no longer slept without a shirt), and headed toward the door. There was one person, in all of Asgard, besides her, who knew. His brother had every right to be angry. Even now, Thor remembered the things he had said the night before—before—and those had been his own words, not hers.

As he came to the door, feeling small and afraid, he remembered the morning after. How Loki had begged him for an apology and had not received one. How Thor had stood on the other side, unable to be anything but callous and cold. Their positions were reversed now. Thor prayed his brother would be more kind.

Trembling, he knocked.

Loki answered the door, not a minute later, robed in black and green, hair curly and disheveled. “Yes?” he said as he rubbed his eyes—and then, before Thor could answer, his face smoothed and his eyebrows furrowed low and angry on his face. “Did she try something again?”

“No,” Thor rushed to say, but Loki’s expression didn’t soften. Cheeks aflame, Thor fixed his gaze on the golden stone archway of the door and studied its numerous ridges and cracks. “I can’t—sleep,” he managed. “That—bed—” His throat felt hoarse. He returned his gaze to his brother and tried not to let the desperation seep into his voice. “I’m afraid to sleep alone.”

6. (IW AU thor whump) [tw violence]

“Let me make this clear,” Thor said. He ripped a strip of cloth free from his cape and toyed with it between his hands. “I follow the doctrine of my master because it’s what I believe. But even if I didn’t? Even if you somehow managed to convince me otherwise?” Thor lifted the red cloth and pressed it between the bones of her jaw. “I would follow him anyway. There is not one single thing you could say to dissuade me from his offer, universe be damned.” He tied the cloth in a knot on the back of her head. “Do you understand?”

Eyes blazing, Gamora kneed him in the thigh.

Thor stumbled. His heart sped, as he realized she’d been aiming for his crotch, and in a burst of rage, his hand clenched into a fist and raised in the air—trembling and white-knuckled and desperate to hit her back. 

He didn’t do it.

There was something in her face that sparked a memory in him—one of Loki, handcuffed and bright-eyed and braced for a blow on the Asgardian skiff. The time they’d gone to avenge a mother who had left them alone too soon. The time Loki (seemed to have) died. For a shocking moment, the woman in front of Thor looked just like his brother. From the the tension in her shoulders, to the set in her lips, and to the glassiness of her wide eyes.

He lowered his fist. Grief cascaded over him, and it weighed like bricks on his chest and needles in his heart. In a count to ten, Thor reminded himself of the doctrine and of Thanos’s offer—the gauntlet, with all five Infinity Stones, would resurrect his brother. This woman—this traitor—couldn’t. The choice was easy.

 “Get some rest,” he said, numb and cold. “Xandar is several hours away.”

7. (Zombie Post Apoc Novel) [tw grosss vagina shit, implied noncon]

At night, Helen catches her in the bathroom. The door is cracked open, and Cassandra is standing, one foot planted on the tub’s ledge and the other foot on the floor. Her hand is between her thighs and she’s holding the lighter under her clit, until the air sizzles with the smell of burnt flesh. She comes like that. Helen knows because tears leak from Cassandra’s face whenever her orgasm is real.

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra whispers when she notices Helen watching. “I have to.”

And Helen doesn’t bother arguing. Larry may dead, but there are countless Larry’s, and even if there aren’t, Andrew hovers in their room sleeping on their bed. Something has to burn. So Helen just closes the door behind her, turns on the vent to clear the smell, and grabs Neosporin from a drawer under the sink.

Cassandra sits on the bathtub ledge. “Maybe we should stay,” she whispers. “Maybe it really is better here.”

Helen kneels on the bathroom tile. “You’re gonna kill yourself if we stay here, babe.” Then she rubs the Neosporin over the folds of her sister’s vagina, and when the burns are good and treated, tears of ecstasy leak down Cassandra’s face.

In the silence that follows, Cassandra bites her lip. “If it comes to it… I don’t know that I could pull the trigger.”

“You can,” Helen says. “Just pretend you’re holding a lighter.”

8. (Moment of Peace)

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Kong: Skull Island- Brothers

Pairing: Eventual Reg Slivko x Irene Conrad Brown (OC)

Jack Chapman x Irene Brown (brother-sister relationship)

James Conrad x Irene Brown (brother-sister relationship)

Summary: An ex-mercenary and his younger adopted sister get themselves into a mess because they want money from the US government

Warnings: cursing, crying, etc

Word Count: 2777

SAIGON, VIETNAM

I caught the ball as it bounced back from the wall. James had gone out for the night, and he refused to let me come with him. It was already enough that he had brought me out to Saigon with him. The hotel room was cramped, with one bed, a wooden chair, and a TV that didn’t work perched atop a large dresser with drawers that only pulled halfway out. James and I kept our stuff in bags anyway. I had finished reading The Time Machine, and only read halfway through The Island of Doctor Moreau because it was rather horrifying. James told me he’d be back rather late, so I was to lock the door and go to sleep at a reasonable time.

I sighed deep as I threw the bouncy ball again, only this time it bounced onto the floor instead of onto the bed. I let it go and rolled onto my stomach. James had been decommissioned for the past week and a half, but he didn’t want to talk much about the war. It was understandable. I had never been to war, but I had seen things as simple as photographs that had shook me to my core. I couldn’t imagine what being out there fighting would be like.

I realized my body was falling asleep while my mind was still running, which was unsurprising. James and I had spent the day exploring the city. He had almost forced me into picking something out from a store, because my birthday was coming up soon. I responded with a cheesy classic.

“All I want is for you to stay home.”

He ate that one up. James had basically been taking care of me since I was barely a teenager. That was when my father married his mom. My father had died a year or two after, and his mother three months after, of grief. I was thirteen by the time that happened, but James was much older. He could’ve taken me to an orphanage or left me on my own. He took me in instead. He joined British Special Forces three years after he brought me to live with him. He was decommissioned two years later, which brings us to today. I had been living basically on my own for that time, but somehow my brother always found a way to make sure I had enough of everything to get by.

I jerked up when I heard the door open.

“You didn’t lock it?” Blue eyes squinted at me.

“I was going to, I promise. I’m not even asleep yet, Jay.” I stifled a yawn.

He gave me a deadpan face, locking both locks on the door as loudly as possible. His face softened as he pushed me over, making room for himself to sit down next to me.

“What’s up?” I could tell something was bugging him.

I felt my heart drop to my stomach. He wasn’t going back to war, was he?

“Irene, listen … you know I’ve been decommissioned.” He trailed off, picking stray hairs off the blanket as he avoided my glances.

“Yeah, and?”

He sighed, contemplating something. I scratched at my finger, increasingly nervous.

“I’ve been offered a job.” He blurted.

I looked up. Why was he so slow about telling me that?

“Where?” I heard the weak sense of betrayal in my own voice.

He looked up to meet my eyes. I felt like I was on the verge of holding back tears as he stuttered.

“A-ah-an island. An uncharted island in the South Pacific.” He averted his gaze back down.

I paused before speaking, more aggressive than I wanted to be. “You’re ex-special forces, what do they need you for? Who even needs you?”

He sighed. “It’s a group of scientists, Ire. Look, they need me to be their tracker, essentially. It’s only supposed to take a week, and I could leave you wi-”

“No.” I stopped him, feeling my own face contort into one of despair.

“Irene.” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“You did not already say yes.” I felt the tears well in my eyes.

His face mirrored mine, sadness and what was probably regret on his features.

“Jay, you’ve only been back a week, and you’re leaving again?” I cried.

“Irene, I didn’t think it would upset you so much.” He pulled me to him, hugging me.

I slumped against him and whimpered. If he was going, he was taking me with him. I would guilt him into it if I had to.

“Irene, I’m so sorry.” He mumbled, rubbing circles on my back.

I curled up tighter. “James, please don’t leave me.”

“Bitsy, I-I…” He trailed off.

I pulled back far enough to look up at him.

“Take me with you.” I urged with tear-stained cheeks.

He met my eye, which was a mistake on his part. I frowned again, letting my shoulders drop. He sighed through his nose before finally breaking.

“Fine. I’ll tell them you’re good with jungles and animals.” He let his hand drop on the bed.

“And?” I smiled a little.

“And that we’re a package deal.” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I threw myself at him, hugging him tightly.

He hugged back with a grunt, taken off guard by my excitement.

“We’re leaving in a few hours, so pack up whatever’s lying around.”

I finally pulled away from the hug, ready to shove my toothbrush and two books into the bag.

“And the island might be extremely dangerous. So when we get there, stick to me, okay?” He was serious about that part, because he grabbed my hand and practically made me promise.

I nodded. “Okay.”

He broke into a smile. “Now pack and get some sleep, I have a feeling you aren’t going to like the plane ride.”

BANGKOK, THAILAND

“James Conrad. This is my younger sister Irene. I need her skill for the biological aspect of tracking.” James spoke to the blond man in a Landsat uniform.

“Oh, no. You can’t bring her with you.” The man answered rather snarky.

“I don’t think you understand. We’re a package deal. If she can’t go, you don’t get me.” James reached back to grab my hand, which I gladly gave with a squeeze.

The man eyed me before sighing. “Fine, whatever. You take responsibility for her.”

James scoffed. “Of course I will. She’s my sister.”

The man rolled his eyes, but James just pulled me past, pushing me ahead of him and holding onto my hand.

“Jay, I don’t know which way we’re going.” I mumbled back over my shoulder.

He pointed ahead, “Follow the soldiers.”

I caught sight of who he was talking about, the group of tall men dressed in army green. I followed loosely, but I stopped when they did. I looked back at James, then to the man that was standing at the start of the boat’s ramp.

James took my hand again, this time leading the way. I stood off to his side as we waited for the men to finish talking to him. As they began to walk away, and James approached the man, one of their hats fell to the ground. I bent down to pick it up before the wind could take it away. I realized how close I was to the guy who’s hat it was once I stood up. I bit my lip, suddenly anxious.

“Here.”  I pushed the hat in his direction.

He grinned toothily before taking it. “Thank you, miss.”

I felt my cheeks heat up, but I was sure that he couldn’t see considering it was dark and he was at least half a foot taller than me.

“Slivko, stop flirting with the girl and get! We’ve got things to do!” The man that James had been talking to yelled.

The guy, who was more likely my age than actually a man, winked before scampering off, following the rest of the army men. James pulled on my wrist, breaking my attention.

“You’ve just gotta stick with me, but other than that Colonel Packard over there don’t care that you’ll be joining us.” He explained.

I nodded, following him up the ramp and avoiding the glare of the colonel.

                                                            ***

I leaned against the same wall James leaned against. I scratched at my wrist, uncomfortable around all the Landsat people and the soldiers. I wasn’t sure what we were waiting on, and the loud cranking of the projector in the middle was making my skin crawl. James noticed this, and ruffled my hair.

“This should only take a few minutes, and it’s just a briefing. After this you can hole yourself up in the room if you want to.”

I scoffed and pushed his hand off, narrowing my eyes at him. “I don’t want to hole myself up. I’m just a little antsy.”

“Almost done, Bitsy.” He motioned at the man who had taken his place at the front of the room.

“Hello and welcome. I’m Landsat Field Supervisor, Victor Nieves.” He had an awkward posture, but smiled anyway as he pointed to the blond guy from earlier.

“This is my colleague Steve Woodward, our data wrangler.” There was a light chuckle from the Landsat team, but James remained stoic and I noticed a few soldiers roll their eyes.

The projector cranked again. “Our expedition takes us to a place every nautical trade route known to man has avoided for centuries.”

An image of an island popped up, shaped somewhat like a skull.

“As our satellites show, the island is surrounded by a perpetual storm system, allowing it to remain hidden from the outside world.”

That doesn’t sound right.

I felt James shift his posture, but my eyes remained on the projections as they changed.

“But with Colonel Packard’s helicopter transport, we will be the first to break through to the other side.”

My eyebrows furrowed. This sounded very much like something out of a twisted horror movie.

“We’re also pleased to be joined, for the first time, by the resource exploration team, led by Mr. Randa and accompanied by biologist Miss San and geologist Mr. Brooks.”

“Aren’t those the guys that hired you?” I whispered over my shoulder at James.

“Yeah.” He whispered back, eyes still narrowed.

He didn’t like this either.

Nieves continued, “Our focus will be on the island’s surface, theirs, what lies beneath. Mr. Brooks.”

The man with glasses stepped up to the front of the room.

“Simple, really. We’ll use explosions to shake the earth and create vibrations, helping us to map the subsurface of the island.”

The projection changed again.

“We’ll fly in over the south shore and then strategically drop seismic charges to better help us understand the density of the Earth.”

I hadn’t exactly gone through any type of geological science in high school, but I understood the words “seismic charges” and it raised some concern.

“You’re dropping bombs?” James spoke up.

All eyes turned to him, including mine. I would’ve never actually spoken aloud in a room full of people, but James didn’t care. And I trusted him to make sure things were safe before getting involved.

“Mmm.. S-scientific instruments.” Mr. Brooks countered.

“You hear that, boys? We’re scientists now.” A voice called from the rows of soldiers.

Even though he was sitting low in his chair, I could tell it was the one that had dropped his hat earlier.

Slivko, I think?

The soldiers laughed, but the Landsat people didn’t seem amused. I’m sure James would have laughed, had Mr. Brooks not dodged his question about the bombs.

“You guys are not scientists.” Steve muttered.

I rolled my eyes.

“We’ll then land and make basecamp for ground excursions led by Mr. Conrad and Miss Brown.” Nieves gestured our way.

I glanced up at James. He met my eyes, his face softer now. I shot a face at him, one screaming “I am definitely not a tracker!!” He only shook his head.

“Major Jack Chapman.” Nieves stepped aside.

My eyes snapped up.

Before my father had married James’s mother, he had dated a few women. One of those women had been Elise Chapman. They dated for a few years, during the prime of my childhood. Her son Jack had become my best friend. My dad moved me away after a few years, never really telling me what had happened between them. Jack and I would write each other letters, but after a few years he stopped answering. I hadn’t talked to Jack in two years.

But here he was now, about to tell us whatever it was he had to tell us about this possibly lethal island.

He stepped up and took the pointer from Houston, “All right, once on this island-” he caught my eye.

I shivered, seemingly unable to pull my eyes away. James clasped a hand onto my shoulder. He knew all about Jack, just like he knew about every detail of my life.

Jack snapped himself out of it and started talking again.

“Once on the island, the storm’s interference will block all radio contact with the ship. That means we’ll be by ourselves.”

The projector again. I swallowed hard.

“Three days later, the refuel team will meet us here on the North end of the island. That may be our only safe departure window for an unknown period of time.” He glanced back my way.

“So, tip for everybody. Don’t miss it. Please.” His eyes came back around, but it seemed that James caught him this time.

Jack looked away, and he didn’t look back again.

                                                           ***

“James, where are you going?” I asked as he turned to leave the room.

“I want to check something out. Why don’t you stay here, catch up with Chapman?” He tried to pull himself from my grip.

“James, I haven’t seen him since I was a kid.” I grabbed at his wrist again.

He sighed and faced me, hands on my shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”

I bit down hard and closed my eyes, sighing hard through my nose.

“Okay.” My voice was quiet.

“I’ll see you up in the room later?” He patted my cheek.

I nodded, slowly letting go of his wrists.

“Be careful.” I mumbled.

He kissed my forehead. “Of course, you too.”

I heard someone clear their throat from behind me. I breathed hard before turning myself around.

“Hey Irene.” Jack stood there, a gentle smile on his face.

I looked up at him. “Hey, Jack.”

“How’re you, kid?”

I broke into a grin, unsure of what else to say. He gingerly pulled me into a hug.

“I missed you, ya know.”

I hugged back, nodding even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “I missed you too.”

“Colonel told us ‘Conrad’, but I didn’t even think it could be your brother.” Jack finally pulled away, hands on my shoulders.

I only shrugged. “I didn’t exactly think I’d see you here either.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You haven’t grown since you were twelve, have you?”

“Shut up.” I shoved him, laughing.

We both quieted down quickly. I sighed, twiddling with my fingers.

“How’s Billy?” I asked. Last time Jack had written to me, Billy was four years old.

Jack perked up at the mention of his son. “He’s doing good. Gracie’s sent me a few photographs. I can show you later if you’d like. He looks just like his momma.” He gushed.

“Well I would hope so. Jack, you’re uglier than a dog. I would feel bad if the poor kid looked like you.”

It was a teasing lie, of course. Jack was what I considered pretty, with dark hair that he always styled up at the front, tiny freckles that you could only see if you were close enough, and eyes that switched between shades of green like nobody’s business.

He narrowed his eyes at me. I narrowed mine right back before breaking out into another fit of laughter. He messed my hair up.

“Where’d your brother go? I was planning on introducing myself.” He hesitated on the word brother, but forced it out anyways, looking around the room.

I wasn’t exactly about to tell him that James had gone to snoop around the ship, so I just shrugged again.

“Not sure, he told me I should stay and talk to you. I don’t really think you need to formally introduce yourself, though. He knows all about you.”

Jack nodded. “I see. Do you wanna meet the rest of the boys? I’ve got a feeling they’ll just love you.” He extended his hand to me.

I smiled and took it. “Sure.”

Previous: N/A

Next: Photographs and Flirts

[dogbearinggifts]

Beauty in the Mundane, Chapter One: To the Wolves

Umbrella Academy

Author’s Note: This is chapter one of an AU answering this petition from @scotty-the-t-rex calling for Hazel and Agnes to go back in time and adopt the Hargreeves kids. If this is the first time you’re seeing it on your dash, you can read the prologue here. 

The whole fic is also available on AO3. 

Oh, and if you’re interested, the song I took the chapter title from is by Anberlin. I don’t know if I’ll use song titles and/or lyrics for every chapter, but I liked it for this one. 

**********

Day four of surveillance wore on toward a conclusion without a single broken law on Sir Reginald’s part. 

This was to be expected, Agnes had told him. Reginald wasn’t quite a hermit, but only an actual hermit would dare call him social. Hazel was still a bit fuzzy on which laws applied where and when and to what extent, but he figured any evidence gathered whilst spying through the windows of that mansion would come down on his head, rather than Reginald’s. An act witnessed in a public area, though—that was fair game. 

He only needed Reginald to cooperate. 

Hazel took a bite of coffeecake. It wasn’t near as good as Agnes’ donuts, but neither dared approach Griddy’s—Hazel because he had been a stranger to Agnes when they met, Agnes because crossing paths with your younger self had to create one hell of a paradox. “Think I’ve probably crossed my own timeline before,” he’d explained, “but the Commission always sent me someplace I wouldn’t run into myself.” 

He’d been on a few stakeouts, though with the Commission’s emphasis on finishing a job before most folks could finish tying their shoes, he was still a bit vague on proper procedures for operations that lasted more than a few hours. Moving their base from one side of the Academy to the other hadn’t been a bit of strategic brilliance so much as an act of necessity; when a building took up an entire city block, it was impossible to tell when your target might slip out through the back door. 

“I’ve got some beef jerky in the back, if you want that next.” 

Hazel smiled. He still wasn’t certain if bringing Agnes along was a good idea, tactically speaking, but her pleasant company kept his more unwelcome thoughts at bay. “I’m good, thanks.” 

She settled back in her seat, though she quickly sat forward again. “Oh!” 

He followed her gaze down an alley between the Academy and a neighboring business, caught the same flash of movement she did. His hand rested on the ignition. 

No adults lived in that household, not yet. According to what Agnes had read, a robot mother and a monkey butler resided on the premises; but given Sir Reginald’s fondness for privacy, the only grown man who could be stepping out of a side door was the billionaire himself. 

A balaclava covered his hair, and a grey overcoat covered him down to his knees. Dress slacks ended in polished loafers. He didn’t bow his head as he exited, didn’t glance over his shoulder or hesitate before sliding behind the wheel and pulling the door closed. The knot in Hazel’s stomach tightened. 

“Looks like he’s not expecting a tail,” Hazel said. “You remember the plan?” 

Agnes nodded, retrieving a small notepad and pen from the glove compartment. A quick glance showed him a few mock interview questions. Posing as reporters would likely earn more bluster than answers, but if they were caught, the lie would do. “Which one should I ask first—the one about the mustache-sclupting contest, or the one about Colonel Sanders?” 

Hazel watched as Sir Reginald’s car chugged to the end of the alleyway, paused, and turned right without signaling. This might not be their chance, but it was a big enough oddity to merit further investigation. 

“Whichever one you think’ll make him madder.” 

He eased the car down the alley and turned right. 

******** 

Following a target through city traffic was always easier than following one through the countryside, for obvious reasons, but that was no guarantee of secrecy. For every three targets who drove on entirely oblivious, there was one whose continual glances in the mirror revealed more than they were meant to see. 

Reginald kept to the speed limit, sometimes dipping a mile or two below. He took no side streets, made no U-turns and slowed the second a light turned yellow. Aside from an apparent allergy to using his blinker, his turns were neither sudden nor sharp. Were this an ordinary job, Hazel might have found the target’s obliviousness heartening, even amusing, but as Reginald turned off the main road and down a side street, Hazel only felt sick. 

He might not do anything worth calling the police over. Hazel knew that. He probably paid someone else to buy his groceries and it was too late in the day to try and renew his driver’s license, but there were other errands that could have lured him from his home. Reginald might be on his way to do any number of perfectly legal things, and then Hazel and Agnes could leave to plot their next move. 

City traffic thinned as high-rises and glass-walled office buildings gave way to townhouses and fourplexes scattered among the sort of crackerbox homes that had been popular six or seven decades prior.  Reginald slowed, and when he turned left at a stop sign, Hazel crept through the intersection at a speed that might have made Cha-Cha slap him upside the head and ask if he’d forgotten where to find the gas pedal. 

“He went past the last stop sign,” Agnes said, craning her neck to see out his window. Hazel had seen it happen, but still welcomed her confirmation. “And the—oh no, he’s going right.” 

“You know what’s up there?” 

She frowned in thought, a frown that deepened after a second or two. “I—I think it’s a cemetery.” 

“Can I get to it from here, or do I have to take the same street he did?” 

“Keep going straight until the next sign, then turn left. Should take you right to it.” 

He increased his speed. Inside of a minute, a green hill sprouting grey and black slabs of stone filled his vision, but he was more interested in Reginald’s car, parked along the curb mere feet from the entrance. A flash of movement signaled the man himself striding through the wrought-iron gates, quickly taken out of sight by the winding road. 

Hazel pulled into a spot on the opposite side of the cemetery, one shielded from view by hills and a few overgrown trees, stepped into the evening chill without a word. Agnes closed her door quietly, and they both noted the payphone outside a gas station catty-corner from where they stood.

Agnes caught his gaze, and he held it a moment. 

If all went according to plan, they were about to change the timeline. 

He’d known it from the beginning, been cognizant of that fact since he turned her heartbreak into a suggestion. But all those hours watching the Academy, all that time waiting for the man to show his face and charting a strategy—it all had kept the true scope of what he was planning to do at bay. Now there was nothing between it and him. Nothing to keep the thought from crashing down on him like an entire wall of crumbling brick. Only Agnes, slipping her hand in his, kept him from ducking back into the car and heading to the opposite side of town. 

Part of him said to pull away, leave both hands free for whatever confrontation might ensue if Reginald turned out to be more observant than he let on. Another part said it would add to the illusion. Just a couple strolling through a graveyard on a cold autumn evening, on their way to visit family or a friend, keeping to the grass because the grass was more pleasant. Nothing unusual, nothing to worry about. 

Reginald’s figure came into view, and Agnes dropped his hand. She might as well have dropped the rope tethering his life preserver to the boat. 

A monument stood by, one of those melodramatic statues depicting an angel in grief with names and dates and a host of other information engraved below. It wasn’t the best concealment Hazel had ever used, and it was less than he would have liked, but he didn’t see anything better. 

Reginald’s footsteps fell silent as he stepped off the path and brushed through the grass, stopping at the sort of mausoleum Hazel imagined a guy like him might insist upon as the site of his own burial. A key opened the door, but he didn’t step inside, choosing instead to speak inaudibly into the darkness. Hazel watched a second, then cocked a brow. 

“He usually yell at dead guys like that?” 

“No.” Her voice carried the same confusion he felt. “I mean, not that I know of—he could. He does have a son who—” 

Her words ended in a gasp, cut short by a hand to her mouth. 

“Oh my god. I—he—oh my god.” 

Hazel remained standing as she sank to the grass. He’d known the guy was twisted; Agnes had relayed a few accounts from Vanya’s book, stressing that the girl was excluded from much of what went on and likely didn’t know the half of what her siblings had gone through. What she had seen, what she had known, was more than enough to convince him getting those kids out from under his thumb might be enough to avert the apocalypse after all. Locking a kid who could see ghosts in a mausoleum seemed right up his alley. 

It still didn’t explain why. 

Klaus—the older Klaus, the junkie—he wasn’t the only one to break in the dark. Not everyone could hold it together through beatings and stranglings, but leave them alone with their thoughts, alone to wonder what was next, alone to recall the pain and terror and families they might never see again? There wasn’t a kink in the world that could save you from that. 

But that was the realm of torture, and torture was a tool. Find somebody with information locked up in their head, attack their defenses long enough, and those defenses would crumble. An eight-year-old boy couldn’t possibly hold secrets so valuable his own parent would lock him away. 

Whatever speech Reginald had planned was not a long one. He turned away, locked the door, and retraced his steps. Hazel watched, waiting for him to look his way, waiting for some signal that he ought to duck further out of sight, but Reginald didn’t so much as slow his pace. 

Hazel pushed questions aside. The why wasn’t near as important as the what. 

He fished a quarter from one pocket and crouched in the grass beside Agnes. “Go to the payphone and call the police. I’ll wait here and make sure Reggie doesn’t come back.” 

Her fingers wrapped around the quarter, but she didn’t pluck it from his grasp. “You’re not going to let him out?” 

Her tone and the look in her eyes were enough to give him pause. “The police’ll do that.” 

“And what’ll he do? Just wait in there with the ghosts?” 

He’s lasted this long sprang to mind, but Hazel didn’t dare voice that thought. “Look, if I mess with their crime scene—” 

“It’s not a crime scene, Hazel, they know who did it. Or they will.” 

“I didn’t bring my tools with me.” 

“It’s a mausoleum, not a bank.” 

There were more counterpoints, more arguments, but the guilt coiling in his middle was nowhere near welcome. He sighed. “I’ll pick the lock.” 

She took the quarter and got to her feet. He stood with her, watching as she retreated toward the gas station. After a few yards, she halted, saw him still beside the monument, and pressed her lips together, waving her hand in a shooing motion. 

The lock was nothing fancy, nothing too complex. A simple pick and a little finesse would get him through in a matter of seconds. Hazel could see the process laid out in his mind as though in a how-to guide, or that handbook he hadn’t touched since training. Everything else, everything that came after, was as clear as a mud puddle subjected to a thousand splashing feet. 

Hazel reached into his pocket, brushed aside the coins he’d collected on his travels, and found the lock picks. They weren’t anything fancy, just a set of picks gathered in a case similar to a Swiss Army knife, but they did the job when the job didn’t have to look too professional. 

Light faded from the sky as twilight became evening, but Hazel could have found the necessary pick even in the dark. Once he had it, he set to work. 

The lock clicked open. Once it did, once Hazel’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, he couldn’t have spoken had he wanted to. 

Klaus Hargreeves was a far cry from the junkie who’d stolen his briefcase. He was small at this age, with a slight build and curly hair. A blazer covered a starched white shirt and argyle sweater vest, but knee-legnth shorts, similar to those Five had worn, were his only shield against the cold floor. 

He should have been the one to call the police. Agnes. Agnes would’ve been better suited to this, would’ve had the kid calm inside of a minute and ushered him out with no trace of tears. One of those police officers allegedly on their way would have known what to do. Grab any bystander off the street and chances were ten to one that they would know what to do better than he could ever guess. Chances were ninety-nine to one that they would improve the situation, rather than making it ten times worse. 

But Agnes was gone, the police weren’t yet en route, and Hazel was alone. 

“Hi.” That seemed as good a place to start as any. “Whatcha doing in here?” 

Klaus drew a shaking breath, but only a few choked sounds came out. He’d folded himself up against the wall, as if making himself smaller might fool whatever terrors lurked, and he made no attempt to move—though he did shrink back as Hazel took a few steps forward. 

It should’ve been a paramedic walking toward this kid. A paramedic or some minimum-wage employee manning the gas station across the street. Someone who didn’t have a small army of ghosts trailing behind and no idea how to fix a person instead of breaking them. 

He couldn’t do anything about the ghosts, but perhaps he could make himself a little less intimidating. Hazel knelt, suppressing a wince as pain shot through his knees. A name. Maybe a name would help. “I’m Hazel. What’s your name?” 

There was another long gasp that shuddered like a dying engine before Klaus spoke. “Klaus.” 

“All right, Klaus.” Hazel shifted, and the scant light illuminated fresh tears on Klaus’ cheeks. “What do you say we get you outta here?” 

Klaus didn’t move. His gaze flitted from Hazel to the air beyond. As far as Hazel knew, ghosts couldn’t open doors; and he’d never seen one, but surely there had to be some indicator separating them from the living. But as Hazel watched, Klaus’ eyes didn’t flit back and forth the way they might have from one ghost to another. His gaze remained steady on the door, as if trying to determine whether it had opened at all or if that hint of rescue was simply a figment of imagination. 

Jesus, how long had he been in there? 

Hazel bent his fingers slightly, as if inviting him to move closer. “C’mon. Let’s get you out of here.” 

Klaus shifted. Both arms remained wrapped around his knees, but one loosened. 

“S’okay. We’re gonna get you out.” 

One arm let go and then the other. He shifted onto hands and knees, reached out to meet Hazel’s outstretched hand. 

Klaus’ cold hand brushed Hazel’s for only a second before clinging to it and, before Hazel could fully process what was happening, Klaus had his arms wrapped around Hazel’s neck, so all he could do was pull himself upright as Klaus buried his face in Hazel’s shoulder. 

Hazel got to his feet, balancing Klaus’ weight as best he could. His wrist screamed in protest, but he couldn’t set the kid down. Not now, and it was only a few steps to the door. 

Those few steps weren’t over quick enough. Hazel’s vision of setting Klaus down gently and sinking onto the grass died when Klaus kept hanging on, so he sank awkwardly to his knees. Once Klaus’ feet touched the ground, he slackened his grip. Cold air chilled the tears on his suit jacket almost instantly. 

Hazel expected the relief, but not the mingling guilt that came with it. 

“You okay?” 

It was a stupid question, but Klaus nodded despite another shuddering breath heralding more tears. Not knowing what else to do, Hazel put a hand on his shoulder. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised that Klaus leaned in, or when he threw his arms around Hazel’s shoulders. The torment he’d escaped hadn’t been the most brutal in the world, but given what he could see, it wasn’t something Hazel would’ve wished on anybody, either. Of course he’d be a little fragile after. Of course he’d cling to whoever was near. 

It still took a few seconds to return the embrace as Klaus sobbed into his shoulder. 

********

By the time red and blue lights split the darkening sky, Klaus had polished off most of the sandwich Agnes had purchased and was working on emptying the water bottle. In defiance of Hazel’s prediction, he sat closer to him than to Agnes. Unsure of what else to do, Hazel wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

“Sorry if I messed up your crime scene,” Hazel told the first officer to come within earshot. “Wasn’t sure how long the kid had been in there.” 

“I would’ve done the same thing.” The officer crouched down, and a tag bearing the name S. GUTIERREZ came into view. He gave Klaus a gentle smile. “Glad you made it outta there.” 

Klaus looked down at the water bottle in his hands.  

“What were you doing in that mausoleum, anyway?” The officer’s tone wasn’t quite jocular, but it was lighter than Hazel expected. “Those things aren’t safe for kids.” 

Klaus swallowed. 

“It’s okay,” Gutierrez said. “You’re not in trouble.” 

It was a minute before Klaus spoke, and when he did, his voice was only a decibel or two above a whisper. “My dad.” 

“Your dad put you there?” 

Klaus nodded. 

“Why’d he do that?” 

Seconds turned to minutes, and Klaus did not answer. He swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. 

“It’s okay,” Gutierrez said again. Another few seconds passed. “What’s your name?” 

“Klaus.” 

“What’s your last name?” 

“Ha—Hargreeves.” 

“Who’s your dad?” 

Agnes put an arm around Klaus and pulled him close, letting the tears come. It was a few minutes before they ebbed. 

Gutierrez’s smile faltered. It had never been joyful, never been full of true mirth, but it was a good deal sadder now. “We’ll save the other questions for later. How ‘bout we get you over to the paramedics, make sure you’re not hurt?” 

Klaus should have looked up at Agnes, or even Gutierrez; but when he raised his head, his silent plea was turned only on Hazel. “Can…can they come with me?” 

“I don’t see why not.” 

Hazel tried to catch Agnes’ eye long enough to give a tilt of the head back toward the car, but she’d already gotten to her feet, giving Klaus a hand up. Great. 

He cast a glance toward the flashing lights, squinted past in search of any people armed with cameras, tape recorders, and questions ready to fire, but saw no one. Just squad cars and an ambulance. No sign of Reginald’s car, either. No reason he could see to leave in a hurry, but that could change at any moment. The number of corrections agents exposed by reporters wasn’t high, and those stories had never gone anywhere of note, but it had happened to them. It could happen to him. The chances of it happening went up exponentially with each minute he stayed at Klaus’ side. 

Cold fingers wrapped around his. Hazel knew, before he even looked down, that Klaus had taken his hand. He looked anyway. 

Fear was still all over his face, but not the sort Hazel had seen again and again. Not the desperation of a target with no more options, confronted with an end that had come too soon. There was some relief in that look, Hazel could tell, but something else, something he’d killed all too often. 

Hope. 

There were reasons for it, reasons Hazel couldn’t yet name. Not through the guilt and trepidation choking off thought or the unknowns peering at him from behind that mausoleum door. There was a plan—there had to be a plan—but it refused to surface through the questions crowding his mind, and the sheer scope of what he didn’t know left him breathless. He didn’t know what he’d do if a flock of reporters descended on the cemetery or the police asked for a fingerprint or Reginald’s car came around the corner. 

He only knew he couldn’t leave. 

************

Author’s Note: I do suspect Reginald locked Klaus in the mausoleum a) more than once and b) when he was a lot younger than 13. I will explain my theory as to why Klaus specified that he was 13 when it happened for one corn chip. 

Prologue

Chapter Two

[selfignitingimagines]

Derek- Not Again

Request- Okay, so my request. Can you write an imagine where Derek breaks up with reader, to protect her or something and on her way home, her car stops. She is in the middle of an empty road and no one else helps so she calls Derek. He comes and after a while they decide that breaking up was stupid. Thank you!  /  6, 7 or 9 with Derek please?

A/N: So I combined these two and put my own spin on it. Hope you guys like it!

It didn’t really hit you until New Year’s.

The night the pack had killed the Nogitsune, you had fought with Allison’s old weapon. The battle was won, but it didn’t feel that way as you stood there on the dark pavement.

You had dropped her bow on the ground, along with her quiver of arrows, suddenly feeling so unbearably empty. You may have saved a life with it, but it felt wrong to hold it in your hands. It felt stolen.

You had left it there on the pavement, sent Derek and your uncle Argent a text saying you were leaving, and drove off.

That had been weeks ago, and ever since the only thing you had wanted was to isolate yourself from the rest of the pack. All you could think about was the way Allison had looked right before she was stabbed. Her lips had been curling up, smiling at the fact that she had found a way to win, just before she was run through.

Over and over, it played in your head, and you were unable to forget the way your cousin’s knees had buckled. You were unable to forget the terrified shock in her eyes as you caught Allison in your arms.

“It’s okay,” Allison had choked. “You’re stronger than I am. You always have been.”

But you didn’t feel strong now. You felt empty, hollow, and you really didn’t want to see anyone, even if it was a holiday. You hadn’t even responded to the frantic texts or calls of the others, wanting to know where you were and if you were okay.

Was it that obvious that you weren’t? Maybe they were just trying to deal with their own grief by offering help. Either way, you were sick of it. You were sick of pretending like everything was normal, like Allison wasn’t gone.

You were even ignoring Derek and you had been for weeks, although you felt a little guilty about that. You didn’t want to push him away, but you didn’t want to drag him down with you either. To be honest, you weren’t even sure if you were still together.

As you drove to the New Year’s party Scott was supposed to be throwing in the Loft, you wondered what you would even say to him, to all of them. You had lost your family to a car accident when you were young, only to gain another one when the Argents took you in. Then they had been ripped away from you all over again.

Allison had been six years old when you came to stay with her and your uncle and aunt. You were her friend, you were her protector, and for all intensive purposes, you were her sister. It would have been an  understatement to say you were struggling with her death.

You car sputtered suddenly, causing you to grip the wheel nervously. It began to slow, no matter how hard you pressed on the accelerator, and you quickly pulled to the side of the road before you stopped in the middle of it.

You turned your car off, waited, and put the key back in, but it wouldn’t start back up. With a groan, you let your head fall back against the seat. When you reached for you phone, you saw five texts. One was from Scott, one was from Lydia, and three were from Derek.

Scott 6:45pm: Hey Y/n, I understand if you don’t feel like showing up tonight. Just know you’re welcome and that we’re all here for you. :)

Lydia 7:01pm: Are you still coming tonight? You promised, remember?

Derek 7:03pm: I know you don’t want to talk to me. I just don’t want you to feel like you can’t be with the others because of me. I hope I see you tonight.

Derek 7:17 pm: Lydia said that you promised you would come. What time will you be here?

Derek 8:12pm: The party started an hour ago. Are you ok?

You sighed, and placed your phone facedown on the passenger seat. You had promised Lydia you would come, but only so she wouldn’t be alone. You were the opposite, and that was all you had wanted for weeks now.

When the shrill ringing of your phone cut through your thoughts, you almost didn’t answer it. Fighting your better judgement, you snatched it up and answered, hoping it was Lydia.

“Hello?”

“Y/n.”

It was Derek. You felt your breath catch in your throat at the sound of his voice.

“Hey, Derek.”

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “You told Lydia you were coming and then you never showed.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you admitted. “And then I decided I would go, and my car stopped working, so I think that’s a sign-”

“Are you still at home?” Derek asked. “I’ll come get you.”

“No, I’m not,” you told him. “It’s fine. I’ll just call Argent to take me home.”

“I thought you were coming.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Y/n, I’ll pick you up.”

“No. It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t mean anyth-”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “Don’t come get me ok? Just don’t.”

Before he could get another word in, you hung up the phone, slumped back into your seat, and started to cry. Deep sobs shook your chest and the phone fell from your trembling hands somewhere onto the floor.

You knew Allison would be ashamed of you, sitting there on the side of the road when you could have been helping her friends. But they were just another reminder of her that you were too afraid to face.

It wasn’t long after that when you saw headlights approaching you from the front. You assumed the car would just pass by, but in your blurry mirror, you watched it make a U-turn and come right back around to park behind you.

You shook your head in disbelief, having recognized Derek’s car the minute it turned around. He had still come for you, whether you liked it or not.

As he approached the window, no doubt getting soaked in the pouring rain, you purposely looked out the passenger side of the car. It wasn’t until his persistent rapping on the window started to get on your nerves that you finally turned.

You cracked the door only a smidge, but you could still see him out there, leaning against the car as his dark hair fell flat against his head from the rain. When you glimpsed his green eyes, you could still see the concern in them, and it made you angry.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked when you finally cracked the door.

His voice had no anger in it, just worry.

“I told you I was going to call-”

“We both know Argent left for France two weeks ago,” he interrupted. “And you were going to sit out here, stranded, until god knows what happened…”

“I can handle myself,” you snapped.

“Can you?” he asked. “Because no one’s heard from you in weeks. You’re ignoring every call, every text. You won’t even answer your door. So, please, tell me how well you’re handling this.”

“I just want to be left alone,” you spat, feeling hot tears pooling once more.

“You know that’s not the way to deal with this.”

“So how do I deal with it then?” you demanded. “How do I deal with the fact that Allison is dead and it’s because of me?”

“By letting us help.” His voice was pleading, almost desperate. He wanted nothing more than to break through the window and hold you right then, but he wasn’t even sure if you wanted him anymore. “And you know it’s not your fault.”

“Leave me alone, Derek.”

“No,” he said, and this time his voice was angry. “I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

You gritted your teeth and leaned forward. “You don’t have a choice.”

Stubbornly, you yanked the door closed, but he caught it with his hands.

“You know that I understand exactly what you’re feeling right now. I know what you’re thinking. I know how it feels, and I know holidays are always hard. But whatever voice in your head that’s telling you this is your fault, it’s wrong.”

“Derek-”

“No one blames you,” he continued. “They’re only worried about losing you. And so am I, just like I always have been. Please, Y/n, just let me in.”

When he said those last three words, you knew he wasn’t just talking about the car. Something in his eyes was so desperate and pleading, and you felt something inside you crack. You reached over and flipped the lock for the passenger side door. In seconds, he was crossing to the other side and coming to sit next to you.

He didn’t hesitate to lean across the console and pull you into his chest. He was soaking wet, but the simple feeling of being in his arms was enough to send you into hysterics.

“I should have protected her,” you choked through tears. “I should have stopped them.”

“Y/n,” Derek whispered, running a hand down your damp hair. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“I know. I know, and it still feels like someone shot me in the chest. It still feels just as awful.”

“It’s going to,” he said softly. “But you’ve been through this before. You know you can still survive it.”

“Can I?”

“I know you can,” he told you, tightening his arms around you. “And you don’t have to do it alone either.”

You gave a shaky nod as tears still streamed down your face. “I’m sorry for ignoring you. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I understand. And I understand if maybe you don’t want to do this right now, or if…”

“If what?” you whispered.

“If you don’t love me anymore. I understand.”

“What?” you demanded. “Are you insane?”

“I almost tried to set you and your uncle on fire,” Derek reminded you gently. “And we never really got the chance to talk about it before…”

You shook your head in disbelief. “You think I could stop loving you because of something you did when you were being controlled by someone else? Derek, I don’t think I could ever stop loving you.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” he said, rubbing your back. “Because I was prepared to break out the chocolate and sappy romantic movies if you did break up with me.”

Without realizing what was happening, you let out a watery laugh. It was the first time you had laughed since Allison had died.

Derek smiled softly, and reached out to grab your hand. “I can take you back to the loft tonight. Only if you want to though.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “We can do that. I think I’m ready to see everyone.”

“You’re sure?” Derek asked carefully.

“I’m sure.”

He shrugged off his soaked leather jacket and wrapped it around you before helping you out of your car. You hadn’t exactly prepared for the weather, and he wasn’t about to let you get soaked. Then he led you over to his car, holding the door open for you to hop into the warm Toyota.

Before you pulled away, he leaned forward hesitantly, but as soon as you smiled at him he knew everything was okay. He pressed his lips against yours in one deep, loving kiss, letting you know that nothing had changed between the two of you.

Things were going to be hard without Allison, but it seemed the worst was over. You had lost so many people in your life and now you were beginning to think it was time to focus on the ones that were still here. And as Derek squeezed your hand, you knew he was a good one to focus on.

[bestfriends-0212]

Forgive me (Ashton Irwin imagine)

I feel like this is a dumb request but thats ok. Can u write an imagine where the reader is in a girl group (like little mix) and the reader and ashton had been together for like 3ish years and break up bc they cant see each other often and end of good terms and it spreads like wildfire (thru the news) and they run into each other and talk about things (you can decide) pleaseeee and thank you!!

Y/n POV

I was in my dressing room getting for my show with my band it was the last night of the tour. I was pumped it meant I could spend time with Ashton before his tour started. The day after tomorrow was our third anniversary together I had planned to cook him his favorite dinner and give him an autographed of Green Day on his favorite album. As I was putting on the last few touches of my make up my phone started singing Ashton ringtone.

With a smile on my face, I answered “ hey baby”

“ hi love how are you doing ?”

“ I’m great how about you? “

“ I’m okay do you got a minute to talk ? “

“of course babe what’s up? “

I heard him sigh and I could tell it was something major . “ what’s going ash are you okay? “

“ I’m not happy anymore, we barely see each other and our interactions have been through phone only lately. “ something in me broke but I understood where he was coming from. I couldn’t help but agree our relationship has been online lately no physical interactions at all.

“ okay are you saying we should break up ?”

“ I think we need a break from all of this! “ I didn’t like the idea but I agree.

“ okay that’s fine I wish you well Ashton I love you “

“ I love you too and I wish you the best if you need anything I’m here for you. We are still best friends “

“ um do we break the news now or later? Also, do you want to come by tomorrow to get your stuff? “ I felt my eyes watering I tried to blink them away but it just made them come down faster.

“ I’ll let you know “

“ I have to go, “ I said hanging up not evening bothering hearing him say bye. I could hold the heartbreak no longer as I fell to the floor in a disheveled heap as the grief poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears. I heard knocking coming from the doorway

“ are you ready we go on in 10 “ said our manager “ almost give me 5” I mumbled hoping she wouldn’t hear the pain in my voice. I clean my face up and redid my makeup. Once I looked presentable I went outside everybody looked pumped. I had to match their energy or else they would know something is wrong. “Y’all ready to rock our last show for the year ?” I said trying to sound excited everybody screamed yes or wooo. We got into our circle and said what we were thankful for, I said I was thankful for the band and everybody who worked hard for this tour to come out so awesome. The concert went by so fast, once it was over I went back to my dressing room and packed everything. I went straight to the tour bus and went to my bunk bed. As I was laying there my phone started to vibrate, I picked it up to see my Twitter was blowing up. I clicked on one of the tweets and it asked if it was true that Ashton and I broke up. I guess he told them already, I sighed as my phone kept vibrating the notification of Ashton calling just broke me. I started to cry as the realization of us breaking up was real and it wasn't in my head.

It’s been a year since the last time I saw Ashton. I wish I could say I don’t miss him but that’ll be a huge lie. I miss him so much, after the break up we rarely saw each other. Eventually, we just stopped talking. The rest of 5sos kept in touch, they told me he hasn’t been the same since the breakup and has gone back to his old ways. I started writing songs about my feelings but they were only for me and only me. Over the months I started to isolate myself from everyone, the fans, the band, and even my family. I just couldn’t keep up with the questions

“how are you ?”

“Why did you guys break up, Y'all looked happy? “

“did one of you cheat ?”

Like all these questions were annoying and none of their business. The band was out tonight in some club having fun and here I am in my living room having a pity party and what if’s. What if we were still together? We would be cuddled up on the couch watching Harry Potter and eating Chinese food. I sighed as I went to the bathroom, I looked in the mirror and I didn’t recognize the girl looking back at me. I took a hot shower and grabbed some clothes. I looked in the mirror again and notice I’m starting to go back to my old ways before I met Ashton, wearing all black, isolating myself, and not taking care of myself. I grabbed my phone and my purse deciding to go to the cafe near my apartment. I ordered a hot chocolate and sat by the next to the window. After a while, the sweet waitress brought me my drink I continued to look out the window and wonder about the times Ashton and I had together. I sighed as I grabbed my phone, was I really going to call him after a year? A cough interrupted my thoughts I looked up to see him looking so broken. It broke my heart seeing him like that.

“ can I sit here?” He whispered I nodded not trusting my voice, it seems like the universe was trying to tell me something . He sat right in front of me we both just stared at each other like if we were just soaking up every details of our bodies .

“ I was going to call you just right now “ I barely whispered showing him the phone where I had his name up .

“ why didn’t you ?” He asked hurt

“ I was terrified that you wouldn’t pick up , terrified that you would just tell me to leave you alone and I was scared some girl would answer your phone asking me who I was. “ I replied shakily he sighed

“ I would have picked up “ he spoke quickly

“Would you really ?”

He nodded. I sighed.

“ was the rumors true did you cheat ? “

He took a deep breath and looked out the window .

“ ash is it true ?”

It felt like time has stopped and neither of us could breathe properly. He kept avoiding my eyes .

“ I did cheat on you”

My eyes started to tear up .

“ wow” I breathed out my hands started to shake. “Why? When? Do I know her ?”

“We can’t do this here Y/N let’s go back to your place .”

I nodded I paid for the drink and gave her a tip for being so sweet. We walked back in silence once we reached my apartment we sat down from across each other looking into each other eyes I don’t know what my eyes were telling him but his were telling me that he was in pain.

“ Her name is Hanna she was a fan, it was when we were fighting all the time and she told me some sweet things that I wanted to hear and bam it happened. It never meant anything to me .”

I looked at him with disbelief

“HOW DARE YOU SAY IT DIDNT MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU , DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT TO THAT GIRL,THAT WAS EVERYTHING FOR HER SHE SLEPT WITH HER IDOL HER FUCKING CRUSH.” I shout with anger

“I still love you, after all this time I still love you y/n” he whispered

“You can’t just tell me you cheated and then tell me you love me Ashton this isn’t how this work” I whispered back with tears coming down my face.

He inches closer grabbing my hand and pulling me into a hug. I tried to get out of the hug but couldn’t I just let myself fall into his arms. After that it seem was a while we finally pulled away.

”i missed you so much ” he gushed out

” I missed you too ash ”

” can we start over? Or we can resume from where we left off ?” He questioned

“ Ashton as much as I love you I can’t go back to you knowing that you cheated and it took you so long to tell me about it. You don’t keep secrets from the people you love even if it hurts them.”

“Please y/n. I love you. I need you in my life “

“You should have thought about that before you cheated ash “

He got down on his knees

“Ashton please get up don’t make this worse please don’t I hate seeing you hurting. It hurts me too just please get up.”

“Y/n I’m begging you! Please I love you so much. “ he cried

I was trying to be strong but I couldn’t help myself dropping to the floor pulling him into a hug sobbing. As much as i wanted to say I wouldn’t take him back I still did cause he brought out the best out of me.

A/n: I hope you enjoyed it, sorry it took so long - K&J

[aesjae]

tears fall like snow | taeyong

probably not the best i’ve ever written, and probably not the best to read while you’re in the festive mood. i’m glad to be writing again.

Summary: Any and every date on the calendar could mean something significant to any and everyone. However, the twenty-fifth of December is unanimously proclaimed as the day of the birth of Jesus Christ to the whole world — Christmas Day. But Christmas may not unanimously be just as jolly to everyone.

Style/ Genre: Scenario/ Angst Word Count: 3,669 Date Posted: 26 dec 2018

Downtown, 8.48 p.m., 24th December 2018

“ ‘Dis the season to be jolly, tralalalalalalalala~”

At every corner, at every alley, the streets and town square were bustling with people. Masses of people moved like the great reef, moving in great entirety. At every angle that you turn to, you would be greeted with large toothy grins, the festive seasons pumping through everyone’s veins.

Everyone but one.

Hot cocoa, gingerbread men cookies, thick woollen scarfs wrapped around necks, intertwined mitten hands, festive songs.

Everybody seemed to have been engrossed in the festive season, many mouthing along to the words of Christmas songs. As people moved almost continuously through the streets, one man stood still amidst the crowds. Covered in black from head to toe, his frosty white hair stands out. Compared to the life and gusto of the city, he was still and lifeless, standing outside the bustling activity of the crowds. A bouquet of crimson roses in his right hand, he gazed contemplatively through the window of a boutique, at a particular dress.

His dark orbs slowly took in the pristine white beads on the sleek silk material, the intricate embroidery on the dress, the flattering smooth cut, as if relishing the beauty of it, imagining it being worn on someone in his mind. A soft yet somewhat wry smile formed on his face, and he dropped his head down, looking as if he was biting down something that was growing heavily in his chest.

He looked back up. With another contemplative gaze on the elegant dress, he stepped up the short flight of stairs leading into the shop, and not more than 10 minutes later, he descended back down onto the narrow streets of the city with a big pink box in both of his hands, the bouquet of flowers rested on top of it.

He continued walking, albeit his pace was significantly slower than that of the mass crowd. The crowd around him exuded the festive spirit and joy, but he remained indifferent, the mood surrounding him evidently gloomier. Unlike the excited faces of most people, his brown orbs were filled with chilly emptiness.

Couple after couple, faces after faces. Everything was passing by him in a blur, yet he felt like time was crawling. It was as if he was in his own world where the everybody and everything, including time, moves on, except him.

Finally, he reached a traffic junction. Just like the pedestrian pathways, the roads were jammed with vehicles. The glistening of the car lights illuminated the streets, mirroring the Christmas lights hanging off street lamps in the midnight sky.

Joy Street

He lifted his head slowly, his expression turning grave upon sighting the familiar street name. Glimpses of past events threaded their way into his memories, causing his heart to wrench in unspeakable sorrow. Deep creases along the box’s borders instantly appeared as he clenched onto it tightly.

No. I have to be strong. For her.

A frosty feeling rested upon his cheeks from an escaped tear, reminding him of the existence of those unerasable memories. Regaining composure, he forcefully loosened his grip and willed his body to move.

Inching closer to the town square, an enormous Christmas tree sat in the centre of the square.

“They call it the Wish Tree,” her smile glistened, her face lighting up brighter than the Christmas lights.

His eyes widened at the sudden flashback, an immediate headache following it. He dropped to the floor in a crouched position, struggling with the prominent ache in his head.

Suppress. Suppress.

His right hand instinctively reached for his coat pocket, but there was only an evident absence of the bottle. The bottle of pills that had been keeping him alive. Nothing else was going to save him now, only himself.

Despite the pain, he picked himself up. His heavy footsteps resonated across the streets and his lifeless form was continuously nudged and hit amongst the crowd like a rag doll that was thrown down the busy streets.  

City Cemetery, 9.58 p.m., 24th December 2018

He pushed opened the gates that lead into the cemetery, and it tweaked open in response. Despite the harsh weather, there were families who had came to visit their deceased family members. His eyes lingered on them, an unreadable expression hidden behind his brown orbs.

Trudging past rows and rows of graves, he halted at the second last row of graves in the entire cemetery. His throat felt parched as he glanced at the long row of graves before him. He took a step, then another, towards the last grave of the row. With every step closer to it, he felt his body growing heavier. When he finally reached it and peeked a glance of the name on the gravestone, it was as if a hundred-ton weight dropped down onto his body, sending him slumping hard onto his knees. The pink box and bouquet of roses in his hands dropped onto the floor, petals falling among the grass. He stared at the inscription before him, a trembling hand reaching out, fingers tracing each of the delicately carved words with caution. The lump of suppressed emotions in his throat proliferated in size, choking him.

‘ Y/F/N XX XXX XXXX - 25  D E C EM B E R  2 0 1 7 M A Y  Y O U  R E S T  I N  P E A C E’

By the time he had traced finished the last letter of the inscriptions, tears were pouring down his face, his expression contorted into a heartbreaking sight. He wept in grief and agony, just like how he did exactly one year ago. Each sound from him escaped in sorrowful wails, burning his throat like a flame set ablaze.

“I-I’m sorry Y/N… I’m sorry…… I’m sorry I did not come earlier… I’m sorry for being such a coward and avoided you for a year… I’M SORRY”

He cried to the earth and he cried to the heavens, hoping that his apology could somehow be delivered to the one. The cemetery was already empty at this time, and his cries only echoed in the empty silence, leaving him alone to face his own misery.

Everywhere burned. His eyes. His throat. His head. His chest.

The emotions that he had suppressed for a year boiled in his insides, dangerously threatening him to explode.

All of a sudden, the long-suppressed memories came crashing in his mind unforgivingly, causing him to lose total control over them. This time, he was too worn and tired to will himself to do anything. He let the memories engulf him, and pitch darkness curtained his physical world.

7.07 p.m., 24th December 2017

He took one last look into the mirror. His reflection stared back at him, and he noticed the mix of nervousness and excitement in his own eyes.

“I can do this. Fighting, Lee Taeyong.”

With one last encouraging smile at his own reflection, he headed for the front door, picking up the bouquet of fresh roses from the door side table.

“Going already, Taeyong-ah?” A familiar voice sounded from the kitchen, and the face of his long-time friend cum housemate popped out from behind the wall.

“Oh gosh, going for all black, again? The number of times I have seen you in all black is quite… You can technically work for the Grim Reaper.”

He had his head slightly tilted back to look at his friend, but that comment made Taeyong rotate his whole body to glare squarely at his friend. His expression then softened into a small pout.

“Johnny-hyung, don’t tease me. I know I look good all black. Plus it complements the white coat I bought for Y/N.”

“And how are you so sure that Y/N will wear it?”

“I am confident that she will,” Taeyong smiled at the thought of Y/N in the pristine white coat, which instantly reminded him of her when he saw it through the shop’s window one random day.

“Haha, okay, I hope you maintain this confidence throughout the night tonight,” Johnny winked.

“Ew hyung, don’t be disgusting. When is your girlfriend coming?” He gave his close friend a look of disgust.

“Around 9pm? She’s a busy woman, even on Christmas Eve.”

“Mm. Okay, I’m going now hyung! Enjoy your dinner date!”

“Yep! Remember to take all your stuff!” Johnny’s voice faded away as the door closed behind Taeyong.

“Oppa! There you are,” a bright voice startled Taeyong, bringing him who was deep in thoughts back to reality. He lifted his head and was immediately greeted by the face that he had been looking forward to seeing all day. His face immediately mimicked the gleaming expression on his girlfriend’s face, a toothy grin unconsciously forming and pressing against his cheekbones. He took a step back and observed his girlfriend who was clad in a simple red maxi dress that hugged her body under a long white suede coat.

“You look absolutely beautiful. And you’re wearing the coat I gave you -- you look like an angel,” Taeyong pressed a kiss on his girlfriend’s forehead, earning giggles from her.

Everything was going smoothly that night. Y/N received the bouquet of roses cheerfully. They went to their favourite restaurant and had a splendid dinner. The restaurant even had a special Christmas event and both of them ended their meal in all smiles.

Stepping out of the restaurant, the lovely couple strolled along the bustling streets, moving along with the crowd and enjoying the liveliness of the festive season. The walked past shops after shops, streets after streets arm in arm, admiring the stunning Christmas decorations in town. Not even once did the smiles leave their faces.

As they continued walking toward the town square, a large Christmas tree came into view. It stood tall amongst the crowd, white lights twirling their way towards the top of the tree, illuminating the whole town square with its radiance. It was a new and interesting sight to Taeyong, who had moved to this town only over the past year to live close by to his girlfriend.

“They call it the Wish Tree,” her smile glistened, her face lighting up brighter than the Christmas lights.

She dragged him by the arm to the tree, convincing him to write a wish down to hang on the tree. Taeyong was slightly reluctant, but he could not reject the excited expression on her face. A loving smile and fixated eyes on her followed her every movement, completely enamoured with her.

‘I wish that we will be together forever, in life and death. -(Your name’s initials) & T.Y’

She stood there in front of the tree, staring at the wish that she had written and hung up thoughtfully. It was obvious that those few words carried a lot of emotions and sincerity. In the meantime, Taeyong could not help but just stare at his other half, feeling absolutely grateful for this godsend angel. His heart full of warmth, he pressed an affectionate kiss onto her forehead again.

Feeling the appropriateness of the mood and atmosphere then, his hand reached into his coat pocket. However, these trembling fingers only met with emptiness. Panic filled his head, but he tried to keep as calm and composed on the outside as much as possible. Instead, he reached for his phone in his pant’s back pocket.

After a few furious taps, he finally heaved a heavy sigh of relief. He informed Y/N that he had forgotten something at the restaurant, and asked her to meet him after 20 minutes. She agreed without any questions asked, grinning sweetly and telling him to be careful and to be back soon.

“Hyung, over here!” Taeyong bent over his legs, panting heavily as his friend jogged over in front of him.

“Gosh- Taeyong! I reminded you to take everything, how could you forget about the most important item of tonight?” Johnny lightly chided his younger friend, voiced laced with concern and a hint of tease.

“I know… I’m sorry for interrupting your date, hyung. I owe you a /big/ favour, I swear.”

“It’s okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to see you smile. Don’t screw up tonight!”

Taeyong fiddled with the small box between his fingers, a smile of relief on his face. He raced back to his destination, all the nervousness from before replaced with eagerness.

With every step he took, he felt bubbles evolving inside him. He smile grew bigger by the seconds. His anticipation grew. His hope grew. His love for her never stopped growing. He knew she was the one, and he wanted to have her by his side forever. With every step he took, the rhythm of his footsteps grew quicker, and he soon stopped at a road junction.

Joy Street

She stood on the opposite side of the street, at the peripherals of the crowd on the pedestrian pavement, allowing the couple to face and see each other fully. They looked at each other, both of their smiles clearly depicting the amount of love they have. Even as cars drove by in front of them, their eyes never left each other for a second.

The green man came on and both of them stepped down from their respective pavements onto the road. Despite the crowd, all he saw was her. He prepared to raise his arms to embrace the incoming Y/N, already feeling the familiar warmth against his body.

Suddenly, Y/N was gone.

A piercing scream penetrated the air. Within a few seconds, there were sounds of skidding, sounds of frantic footsteps, the sight of shocked faces, engine smoke billowing out and clouding the surroundings. But one thing made Taeyong’s blood run cold: the sound of a body heavily thrown onto the asphalt ground.

Unable to see Y/N, he hastily looked around before he instinctively swung his head towards the direction the had caught other pedestrian’s attention. Underneath the blinking green man, a car had halted awkwardly in the middle of the pedestrian crossing. Marks of skidding lined the asphalt floor and the engine smoke surrounded the car. A car accident.

Taeyong did not have his attention focused on the accident, for his only priority was to find Y/N. To propose to her. His eyes continued searching the crowd but to no avail. It was that moment when he caught a glimpse of white on the ground, in front of the car. Realisation struck.

He sprinted. He kneeled beside her, instantly taking her into his hands. Her face had a big gash across her forehead, blood dripping down her beautiful face. Her limbs were limp, slumped onto the ground at awkward angles. Blood was oozing out rapidly, the blot of crimson red on her white coat increasing in size at an unstoppable rate.

“No… No…” With one hand cupping her face, Taeyong wanted to deny reality, unable to and refusing to accept what had just happened.

Feeling his presence, a weak, bloody smile formed on Y/N face. Her bloodied arm reached out to touch his face, its intense trembling signifying the very little energy she had left.

“It’s okay..” she had said.

It was not okay. It was not. He wanted to fight for her life, but he was powerless. He wept, and his face was a mess. People around kept their distance to give the couple space, many tear-stricken faces amongst them.

“Sir, we need to take her away,” a man in a familiar paramedic uniform gently voiced to Taeyong, waiting patiently. It had started to snow.

Fully aware that time was tight, he reluctantly removed his hands from Y/N.

Right before the paramedics lifted Y/N on a stretcher off the ground, Taeyong hastily stopped them.

“Wait-“

The paramedics looked at each other before stepping back behind Taeyong again to give them some time.

He took her hand into his.

With his other hand, he finally took out the box from his pocket, taking the ring out.

He looked endearingly at his partner, tears still dripping down from his eyes. “Y/N, we have been together for a long time, and I want to make our wish come true. Let’s stick together forever. Will you marry me?” His words came out in stutters, but they were full of sincerity.

She looked at his tear-stricken face, a weak but loving smile on hers. She nodded weakly.

A bittersweet feeling swamped Taeyong’s heart as he delicately put the ring round Y/N’s ring finger.

“I love you,” he muttered.

Ding Dong Ding Dong~

The church bell chimed as the clock stroke midnight.

“Merry Christmas Taeyong,” she mouthed.

He held her hand more tightly, stroking her finger with the ring and gave a teary smile. “Merry Chris-“

Her hand dropped, leaving his.

Her head slumped towards the side like a rag doll.

Snowflakes continued to descend, covering her body with a sheet of white.

His eyes went blank, his vision still fixated at the place her face was. Paramedics rushed over.

“…… Y/F/N, pronounced dead on 25th December 2018, 0001 hours.

I’m sorry for your loss, Mister…”

At this point in time, Taeyong was not even listening anymore.

His heavy tears dropped, falling like snow onto the ground.

Even at the point of her death, she looked like an angel. And then she became one.

A year passed and nothing became easier for Taeyong. Over the past year, he could not get over Y/N’s death. The person that had been there for him since the very beginning. The person who had held his hand and gave him strength during the days he felt the weakest. The one who loved him despite all his flaws and shortcomings.

She was gone.

He cooped himself up in his house most of the time, and Taeyong never looked as full as life as he did when Y/N was around anymore. He became an empty shell.

His close friend, Johnny, who was worried for him, repeatedly tried to convince him to go for counselling when he showed no improvement after 6 months. It was only because it was Johnny that Taeyong finally agreed.

For the next 6 months, Taeyong had been relying on anti-depressant pills. He did not attend Y/N’s funeral, nor once visited her grave. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take the pain. He never fully moved on, as he felt guilty for leading a life of his own without her. It felt so empty, so solitary. Something was missing. She was missing.

This Christmas was different. It had already been a year, and Taeyong knew he could not deny reality any longer.

City Cemetery, 11.55 p.m., 24th December 2018

“Sir, the cemetery is closed for tonight. Could you please take your lea- oh! Sir, are you okay?” A deep, rough voice sounded in the night, the owner of the voice rushing towards the fainted man in front of the last grave of the second last row.

In his unconsciousness, Taeyong felt two warm hands holding onto his two arms. He was freezing. He felt weak. Then he felt small icy sensations forming on his face and hands. Snowflakes. It was snowing.

“Sir, sir, can you hear me?” The voice increased in urgency, tapping the collapsed man’s cheeks gently in hope for a response. “Shit, you’re hella cold. This is not good.”

Taeyong’s face continued to drain in colour, his dry lips already becoming a shade of blue.

In Taeyong’s vision of darkness, he suddenly saw someone. The silhouette approached him slowly, step by step, filling Taeyong with a sense of familiarity. When the person stopped in front of him, he stared at the white coat, before lifting his eyes to look into the person’s face. An angel.

Tears instantly formed in his eyes. “I missed you,” Taeyong choked out in a soft voice. In that 3 words was vulnerability, longing and anguish.

She did not say anything, only a soft smile on her face, just as how Taeyong last remembered her. She wordlessly stretched out her hand towards him, as if beckoning him to follow her.

Taeyong glanced at her outstretched hand, and without a mere contemplation, he put his own hand into hers. He followed her with obedient silence as she took him by the hand, leading him further into the darkness.

Taeyong’s eyes opened slightly, but his vision was extremely blurry. He could not make out where he was, and could only tell there was someone hovering over him. He glanced at the dark night sky behind the man, making out a blurry white spot in the sky which he presumed was the moon. He felt the last of his energy drain with each millisecond.

Ding Dong Ding Dong~

It was Christmas.

With the very littlest of his will left, he gave the slightest of smiles. A tear slid down his face, falling along with the snow onto the ground.

“We can be together now, Y/N.”

And his vision went black.

Downtown, 8.55 p.m., 24th December 2018

He stepped into the shop, triggering the front doorbell to chime.

“Hello Mister, how can I help you?” A staff at the boutique approached Taeyong naturally, giving a warm and welcoming smile.

“Erm, can I have that dress that’s at the window?”

“Ah, yes, of course, sir. I’ll get it prepared for you right away.”

“Thank you.”

The staff had the white dress snugly packed into a simple pink box.

“You look young sir, is this for your wife?”

In the first time in a while, Taeyong gave a genuine smile.

“Yes. I did not manage to give her the wedding she wanted.”

“Ah, I see. What a lucky wife you have to have a husband like you. This bridal dress would definitely fit her beautifully. I hope both of you will live together happily.”

“Thank you.”

Not more than 10 minutes upon entering the store, he descended back down onto the narrow streets of the city, the big pink box in both of his hands, the bouquet of flowers rested on top of it.

[ninja-scenarios]

Kakashi reacting to his relationship with his s/o in public

anon asked: “Hi there! What do you think is the most amount of pda sasuke and kakashi will do with s/o? Like I know they probably wouldn't kiss them and say I love u in public but like would they at least hold hands or put their arm around?”

“Hi! Could I please request an imagine or headcannons for sasuke or kakashi going to an event or just around town with their s/o and team 7 and any of the naruto characters you want to add, and like just everyone's reaction to sasuke or kakashi with their s/o out in public, thank you so much!”

Thanks for your request, I´m gonna combine these two. ! For now I´m gonna write Kakashi, we´ll see if I´ll come around to Sasuke.

Sasuke is just not the type to openly show his emotions (or at all O_O), so PDA would be a big no-no for him.

Tbh I don´t think that Kakashi would have that much of a problem with PDA, considering his usual 100% chill attitude. Still, I think he would not be the one to initiate PDA, the only exemption would be to shock his students or friends for the sake of seeing their expressions and to make his relationship clear if someone was to flirt with any of the two. I can imagine that his way of PDA is letting his partner wear very hot outfits and then show off in front of other people.

(also this takes place post war!)

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“Is this alright?” You asked while viewing your dress-clad body in the bathroom mirror. It had belonged to your sister. Kakashi, who had been staring at you the last half an hour from the corners of his eyes now moved to face you and masked it with a smile. “More than alright. Let´s go.” With a fluffy feeling in your stomach, you leaned down to give him a kiss. The event of choice was a festival for the new recruits, even though it was pretty obvious that everyone would come to grab free drinks and a meal.

No one was to blame, since the last months had been empty and dark. Just like the first rain that watered the dry field, Konoha´s citizens were starving for an opportunity to come together and celebrate. The fact that the number of new trainees had dropped to almost a third would be overlooked by the whole group. Tonight was a good chance to reunite with friends and family away from hurtful memories and the destroyed village.

Walking out of Kakashi´s apartment complex, you could feel the hot august air stick to your skin, but the wind cooled it down to a comfortable temperature. Hand in hand, you and Kakashi walked into the old Ninja Academy. It seemed like no one had been able to wait, so the building was already filled up to the brim with people, light and laughter. It was hot and humid. Wandering around and looking in different classroom for your friends, you eventually got separated in the mass.

Shrugging it off for now, you walked over to an already waving Ino. The big smile on her face told you that she´d already downed a few drinks from the small buffet found in nearly every room. “Ah, you look so good tonight! How have you been the last weeks?” Between the ashes and ruins of the village, your friendships had suffered to the point where you hadn´t seen Ino and the others in some time. There simply had been too much work with trying to build the houses back up, reuniting families, looking for lost children and parents and caring for the ones that had gotten injured.

While you were chatting away with Ino, other friends arrived. Sasuke and Sakura and Naruto and Hinata came together and Lee and TenTen followed. The two latter ones didn´t look as happy as the others and you were reminded of the ones that couldn´t be here today. Well, many things had happened. Many of which your friends didn´t know yet…

Speaking of the devil, your partner´s best friend joined the party. Gai wore his ever winning smile, albeit a small, almost non-visible veil of grief was draped over his features. Even though you hadn´t had the opportunity to tell anyone of your relationship with Kakashi, he must´ve told his best friend, right? And where was he anyway?

Gai beamed at you and came over. “Looking good tonight, what?” It was so nice to be surrounded by friends again. While listening to their stories you almost forgot to tell them from yourself. Finally, Kakashi seemed to have found the room you all sat in. For a split second you wanted to walk up to him and wrap your arms around his waist when you suddenly wondered. Your friends didn´t know yet, so it would be really awkward if you were to just touch in front of them. Judging from Kakashi´s suddenly tense body language, he must´ve thought the same. Sighing inwardly, you lowered your gaze to the ground and grabbed a drink instead. Maybe, if your friends would just let you speak for a second, you could tell them.

Soon, the thought was wiped from your mind when you found out that Ino and Sai had gotten into a relationship and Naruto and Hinata were getting engaged. Sakura almost threw her drink away and Ino pleaded to be the wedding planner for the life of her.

After you all had come down, Lee looked at his watch. “I heard they are launching a firework at midnight on the roof, that should be in a few minutes.” Hurriedly, all of you went onto the roof while you and Kakashi fell a little behind.

“Have you told them yet?” He whispered while frowning. “No!” You whispered back desperately and let out a sigh. “I have to admit, this is kind of awkward.” You agreed and then got pulled away by a nervous Sakura with a really flushed face some reason. Finally on the roof, the recruits from last year did hand signs that triggered the fireworks and in seconds, the sky was lit by bright flowers of light and little sparkles. It was like they never stopped, going on and on and lighting up the night.

It was then, the moment when everyone went silent and just gaped at the fireworks, that Kakashi suddenly appeared by your side. You could tell that he was bothered, because unlike his usual mood he was determined. Grabbing your waist he “borrowed” you from Sakura and pulled you in the middle of your group of friends.

“Excuse me, can I have your attention for a sec? Thank you.” And with that, he suddenly leaned down to press a passionate kiss against your lips. You were startled, to say the least, but got pretty quickly overwhelmed by the raging butterflies in your stomach.

You didn´t dare to look back at your friends and while you were happy to bring the news to them, having an audience made you very timid. Kakashi then parted from you but still held you close. He beamed to everybody around with his usual smile, back to his permanent chill mode now that he had cooled off. “If you couldn´t already tell, we are dating.”

Sporting a huge blush on your cheeks, you find yourself almost tackled in a hug by Naruto. “I´m so happy for you and Kakashi-Sensei! How long have you been together?”

And finally, you could talk about your relationship. Even though everyone seemed shocked at first, but very quickly they started congratulating and wanted to know more. With Kakashi at your side, the blush never faded for the whole evening. Even so, it felt to have him by your side and to be with him. As you timidly looked up to him, he sent you a warm smile back which let you know your future would be just as light as the fireworks in the sky.

[braverytaught]

anyway i promised i’d talk about my reaction to cog and like, idk who cares, but i’m here on my soapbox anyway

obviously don’t fuckin read any farther if u haven’t seen it, i’m going in hard with the spoilers

i’ve talked about the mcg cameo and we’re ignoring that

they did dumbledore so fuckin dirty

they did queenie so fuckin dirty

the whole plot was a confusing and kind of pointless-in-and-of-itself setup for the next three movies, which i understand is necessary in some sense for a very long story like this, but if you can’t make a movie’s plot enjoyable and understandable as its own being, then you haven’t done a good job. cog’s primary function cannot be to lay the groundwork for movies that haven’t come out yet; it has to stand on its own, and i’m not sure it does

grindelwald’s kind of a joke

if you’re going to make nagini a character (and we all know the issues with that in the first place), you could at least bother to give her a personality

they did leta dirty too, she deserved more than a one-movie character arc

i don’t think tina’s characterization was badly done, but i do think she deserved more time, and they did a really bad job of showing the status of tina and newt’s relationship in the intervening nine months imo

i don’t think credence joining grindelwald is a bad story choice, but i do think it was handled incorrectly. they should have played into the “i’m being persecuted and i feel alone and scared and he may have used me but so has everyone else in my life and he seems to care about me so i’m going to go with him because i think he can keep me safe” aspect instead of reducing it to “he can tell me my real name”

on the bright side i continue to adore newt and his creatures, and i think eddie redmayne’s acting is fucking fantastic

credence being dumbledore’s secret long-lost much-younger brother is about as farcical as voldemort having a secret daughter with bellatrix lestrange

more under the cut. i’m about to go into highkey analysis mode.

queenie

yeah i’m fucking mad about this. the closest i came to crying in the entire movie was because i was so upset about what they did to her character. not bc it moved me but bc it pissed me off. queenie goldstein is smart, capable, and empathetic. i was so happy to see her again -- for about five seconds, until we found out she’s enchanted jacob so she can marry him without his consent? what the fuck? and then she spends the rest of the movie with no other motivation than to be with a man? she’s apparently so stupid and blind that she would join grindelwald, genuinely thinking grindelwald’s going to create a world where muggles are allowed to marry witches no problem? grindelwald’s manipulative tactics are blindingly obvious, and yet the woman who has spent her life learning how to read people and manipulate them in turn for her own protection can’t see that she’s being played? 

fuck that. that’s not the queenie goldstein i know. and i’m not cool with her being turned into the “woman who makes bad, stupid, blind choices out of her desire to be with a man, because that’s all women really want, i guess” trope.

the only way i can see her joining grindelwald is if she followed credence, to protect him, and was a double agent from the start. 

grindelwald

not even getting into johnny depp as a person, he’s clearly the wrong person for this part. it would’ve been better to keep the percival graves persona going than to turn grindelwald into a bleached rat who has apparently never seen the light of day. colin farrell was the perfect example of a seductive villain. grindelwald as graves was confident, persuasive, compelling even after you realized he was the bad guy.

grindelwald should have stayed that way even after he showed his true self or whatever. they kept telling us that he was seductive, that he couldn’t even be trusted with a tongue or he’d turn every guard to his side, and yet? i saw nothing of the sort? johnny depp’s grindelwald, both his acting and the character design, screams “i’m the big villain and you should hate me because i’m sleazy and creepy.” but that’s not how you gain followers. tom riddle was charming and handsome and persuasive; it was only after he gained power that he slowly became the inhuman creature we think of as voldemort, and that was after everyone was too scared of him to defect. grindelwald should have been smooth, should have been charming, should have showed a real ability to connect with the people he wanted to convert. and, you know what? he should have been handsome. he should have stayed jamie campbell bower tbfh. people follow a pretty face. 

the point is he seemed like a caricature, an obvious villain. not somebody i can believe could genuinely win so many people over to his cause. you can’t just tell me he’s seductive and then make me watch pasty johnny depp make vague, empty speeches the whole time. not good enough.

dumbledore

i mean, i don’t have a problem with jude law. i think he did a pretty good job. so there’s that going for him. 

too bad they were off with.....pretty much everything else.

i’ll stick with my two biggest complaints, i guess. the first is that it makes no sense for dumbledore to be out here talking to anyone who asks about his sister and his relationship with grindelwald. the whole thing in dh was that nobody knew he’d ever been affiliated with grindelwald -- his oldest friends refused to believe it. it happened over the course of one summer, they kept their plans secret, and it ended in disaster. and we know dumbledore never talked about that shit, not till he fuckin died. so why would some ministry dude be able to waltz in and say, yeah, we know u and grindelwald were close as brothers, and why would dumbledore respond that they were closer?? why would he ever disclose that??? that was secret fuckin information my dudes

same with ariana. i get the spin on empathy, but i don’t see him just casually bringing up his sister to leta. maybe i’m wrong on this one, idfk, maybe he would use ariana as an example to relate to a hurting student -- but i have a hard time imagining him bringing it up like that. it’s his shame. seems to me like another one of those things he’d avoid mentioning unless he absolutely had to. 

and then. then there’s the whole fuckin grindelwald relationship thing in the first place.

i get that they’re trying to correct themselves. “you calling dumbledore gay without making any real references to it in canon does not count as representation,” we said, so now they’re making it real clear. but, really? really? you think dumbledore would look into the mirror of erised and see the current grindelwald? you think grindelwald is the deepest and greatest desire of his heart, and not, idk, his family, whole and unharmed? you think his love for grindelwald defines him more than any of his other motivations? no. bullshit.

as far as i can tell, they made dumbledore’s gayness central to his character in this story -- which is just as bad as not acknowledging it at all. because his relationship with grindelwald doesn’t define him, it certainly isn’t more important to him than his grief for his family, and he has plenty of motivation and character that doesn’t stem directly from his encounter with grindelwald, so (as tempting as it might be for mediocre storytellers) to spin his entire characterization in the fantastic beasts arc around the fact that he was gay for grindelwald when he was 17 is not only a disservice to his character, it’s also just shallow writing.

[gurguliare]

do you have any ideas for how a Good version of TLJ might have gone? Assuming TFA stayed the same

Okay here I have summarized a convoluted revised version of TLJ for you, keeping as much of the plot skeleton as possible. What I am proposing is not so much a “Good” version as a “trashy version I would have enjoyed.” I feel comfortable in the knowledge that no one is going to read to the end of this read more.

Rey plot: have the initial focus/mystery be the fact that Luke having voluntarily cut himself off from the Force, and the “darkness” on the island then is some kind of very literal dissociated embodiment of his trauma, or whatever; like, Rey talks to Luke and gets nothing from him, Rey goes to the kelp pit and gets the same traumatic memory projector effect as she got from the lightsaber but x1000. Kelp pit is grief pit. Also instead of the porgs retrieving the lightsaber it would have washed up in the sea cave there, obviously. Also logically the pit should be under the tree/temple/whatever, I don’t know why the pit wouldn’t be under the tree. OH maybe there is no tree and Luke destroyed it years ago lmao. And is like, somewhat sheepish about this, but not that sheepish. Luke gives an actual cogent argument for why the Jedi need to end + a description of what it’s like to be submerged in the Force and be tempted, constantly, by the ‘destiny’ the Force recommends, even after having already failed—he wanted to restart the school! He dreamed of finding other children to replace the dead students! He couldn’t bear the hope, so he cut himself off. Rey: “… it’s nothing like that for me. are you sure that was the Force. btw there’s a mirror underground here and it hates you.” The ROTJ parallel isn’t Luke and Vader / Rey and Kylo, it’s Rey distractedly, bemusedly saving Luke.

(As far as the Kylo backstory goes, uhhhh, my problem is that I really LIKE “Kylo thought Luke was going to kill him” from the Kylo side, it’s a classic fucked-up thing triggers massively fucked-up reaction type scenario, my favorite, but I Just. Cannot. Do It. with any amount of finagling. on Luke’s. And all the stopgaps I’m coming up with are ridiculous. “Snoke makes a projection of Luke attack Kylo, foreshadowing Luke’s projection of himself at the end” “Snoke makes a projection of SNOKE attack Luke, Kylo tries to ‘defend’ Luke and accidentally blows up the temple, foreshadowing his failure to blow up Luke’s projection at the end” These are all so bad. I’m realizing that I cut the Luke-projecting-himself element. Maybe uhhhhhh Luke realized that Snoke had been tampering with Ben’s mind and tried to temporarily cut off Ben’s access to the Force >_ Or asked Ben to close off the Force and Ben interpreted that as a threat, rapidly escalated things into a physical confrontation, pretty much accidentally did serious injury to Luke, and then panicked? I don’t know that’s still pretty shitty but I like the idea of this then leading to the world’s most melodramatic self-punishment on the subject, also could tie into “the vanity of the Jedi, thinking they own the Force!”)

0k that’s my tentative proposition. Luke explains this to Rey in five minutes or less, she’s like, “bye,” jumps down the hole. She is crying the whole time for reasons probably. For the record, I would keep a lot of the stuff with Kylo’s and her minds being bridged, or at least I would keep the fact of them being linked all throughout her time on the island—actually, wait, I got it, Kylo is one of the things waiting on the other side of Luke’s severed bonds, so when she goes to the pit she accidentally picks up on that. BTW the Force speech Luke gives her would be all about “bonds” and would be MUCH more Orson Scott Card as a consequence. So now Kylo’s manipulation to the tune of, When I was a child, the galaxy was so silent. Mother was there, and Uncle Luke was there, and everywhere else, silence. Don’t you know what it’s like to be alone? Imagine if someone had asked you—to shut your ears—and she’s like I STAYED ON JAKKU FOR 23 YEARS and smashes the mirror

Luke, extremely Force-hungover: oh

AND THUS, HUT EXPLOSION.

Then Rey and Luke have some kind of excitable shouted conversation in the pouring rain where Luke is like “he’s looking for me!” “YEAH, HE’S LOOKING FOR YOU.” “no, you don’t understand—he’s looking for me!” “HE’S LOOKING AT YOU RIGHT NOW, ACTUALLY.” “but he wasn’t—he disappeared for years! he did take my advice, in the worst way possible! i feel so connected!” “ARGHHHHH”

luke + rey pilot the millennium falcon resistanceward, she discovers he is also a backseat driver

Finn plot: I assumed in the first five minutes of the movie that the way the First Order was “tracking” the Resistance was through Finn, and I still think that makes the most sense/offers the easiest dramatic tension. I mean it’s cheap but whatever this is still a hypothetical Disney movie we’re talking about. Uh… I don’t know there are a bunch of directions you could take this but like … I guess playing on Rose’s initial hero-worship of Finn, make it a thing where… mm. Finn convinces her that the reason he’s sneaking onto an escape pod is because he’s nobly trying to save the Resistance by removing his implanted tracking beacon from the ship (there is no such device and he’s making this up, to the best of his knowledge); she comes up with the plan to uncouple the devices on-site, if they can sneak aboard the ship, because he’s Finn and it’s so important that he escape finally and for real! he makes up a bunch of mumbo-jumbo about First Order security and an expert codebreaker who might be their only hope, planning to lose her on Canto Bight; on Canto Bight, they have some uncomfortable conversation about growing up as slaves and the appeal of the Resistance, Finn maybe assuming that Rose joined for her sister’s sake? wrongly, blah blah extended annoying conversation about how there’s protecting the actual person and then there’s protecting the things that person would want to protect; Lando Calrissian arrests them for parking violations halfway through the conversation, which continues in the prison, where small child jailers throw bones and debris at them; he tries to ditch her in the confusion of the prisonbreak, she catches up to him and is Very Betrayed; then the First Order scoops them up because it turns out they were using Finn to track the Resistance, and the reason they managed to do so even at lightspeed was because Kylo Ren could detect Finn’s force signature. Because of how Force-sensitive Finn is.

Cue tragicomic re-recruitment sequence in which we POSSIBLY meet some of the other Knights of Ren, and also, Phasma is there, “helping.” Phasma: it’ll be just like endurance training! You LOVED endurance training! You did so well on all your diagnostics! Finn: …………………….

Finally Kylo kicks everyone else out and is very casually like hey are you and Rey force-bonded because for some reason she’s stopped talking to me and I’d really love to consult her about somethinggggg, I was wondering if she’d trust me more if I already had your support! Don’t you want revenge? I’m going to kill Snoke. It turns out my uncle loved me!

Finn: should you just say that

Kylo: I’ve been thinking it every day for the past fifteen years so I doubt he’s too worried

Finn: DO YOU NOT SEE THE ISSUE HERE

then unfortunately right at that moment he does actually hear Rey’s voice in his head. Some prior buildup with Rey actively reaching out toward Finn before that and being SUPER FRUSTRATED to constantly get Kylo. Rey: Finn, don’t worry, Master Luke has a plan, we’re coming for you! We’re .… . . crashlanding in the main docking bay and being arrested. Oh my g

I’m basically picturing Luke, like, uselessly draped over several stormtroopers’ unwilling arms because he’s so high on being In Tune With The Force Again, and oh btw the stormtroopers received orders to toss Luke to Kylo but bring Rey straight to Snoke—Kylo: fuck!!! He weirdly ignores Luke, seeming satisfied now that he’s gotten his validation from him. So then Finn and Luke are left alone under guard and Kylo storms off to confront Snoke.

Luke: mmmmmmmm. huh. hello.

Finn: Hey quick q if I’m so fucking Force-sensitive why can’t I read minds and control people’s wills

Luke: [surprised voice] Can’t you? I thought you didn’t want to

Finn: OH MY GOD, I HATE YOU PEOPLE

Luke: Or I could blow up all the electronics in this room, hold on

(later in the chase sequence finn mindcontrols hux and is like “oh god it was so SLIMY like holding an eel”)

Probably some dumb climax where Snoke makes a pitch to Rey re: Luke not training her, which is a true established thing in this version of TLJ, and tells Rey to kill Kylo because he (Snoke) can only afford one apprentice. Rey: are u serious, I actually kind of don’t want to murder him at this point, it seems like a lot of hassle. I want to learn, and you and Luke both suck—Kylo won’t you teach me

(Luke as Finn hauls him across, likely, a catwalk: Do you remember feeling like you couldn’t fit in, like you were always different? The one person you knew who wasn’t part of a whole?

Finn: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Luke: I’ll tell you a secret. That’s because you’re part of something bigger. Something much bigger than your squad, or Hux’s army, or even the Resistance. But you already knew that, didn’t you?

Finn: is it the jedi.

Luke: no. NO. i said BIGGER)

To be fair to Rian Johnson, I have no clue how to write a satisfying multipart star wars climax. something something where Kylo explodes grandpa’s lightsaber in order to finish off Snoke, and I guess takes unconscious Rey prisoner, is realistically how I would end this?? The triumphant Lando-restocked Resistance decloaks, but the First Order fleet turns tail and runs after a few rounds? Finn deliberately uses the Force to find Rose and trace a (reluctant, angry) path through the disintegrating star destroyer, goes with Luke and Rose on the Millennium Falcon, having fought off Phasma but sort of in a hurry? Rose maybe killed Hux? Idk what the reasoning for Finn agreeing to leave Rey would be, other than I guess “the awareness that Kylo wants to use him to manipulate her, however ineptly.” Rose probs involved somehow. Rose: It’s still important that you escaped. Finn: I HAVEN’T GOTTEN AWAY ONCE

end scene where Finn has just finished an offscreen argument with Luke about Luke training him in the Force, and therefore comes to Leia

end-end scene where they all hear Rey’s voice at once because she picked up telepathic specialization from Snoke, because it’s traditional that Rey gain wild new Force powers in every movie purely through observation.

end-end-end scene where Luke has an audibly two-sided argument with Anakin’s ghost behind a closed door (“I’m not the last Jedi. I should have been, but I’m not. It’s my duty—” “what duty. it’s been ten years you haven’t answered my calls” “Daaad.”)

Start of the next movie: Kylo: You know, I used our telepathic bond to mislead Snoke. Rey: cool, don’t care. Kylo: It is ironic because of how he used that same bond to manipulate me. Rey: RED MEN ARE GLISTENING

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Poe plot: Can someone else do this one