#I mean the mood stabilizers are great. thank fuck someone figured out what was actually going on before Prozac permanently destroyed my lif

[geneticdriftwood]

pros of being on mood stabilizers: I am no longer suffering from the symptoms of bipolar disorder

cons of being on mood stabilizers: I no longer qualify for the “manic” part of manic pixie dream girl

[marshmallowprotection]

Birthday Title Screen

Saeran’s title screen underneath the cut alongside my thoughts and feelings on the matter. Under the cut simply because if you don’t want to see it, you can go and wait until it’s officially released by Cheritz in your time zone. Anyways, we know why we’re here.

It’s that time again and boy, aren’t we happy to be able to talk about it? Now, this title was advertised as Unknown so I expected Unknown. I didn’t expect my boy Suit Saeran to be on the title. The game tends to imply that Unknown is the just Suit Saeran, and vice versa, but I don’t agree with that notion but I’ve explained that one many times before but the game never confirms outright one way or the other so, you know how that goes. 

I’ll spare you that, I’ve got plenty of posts talking about that opinion for you to find if you want, lol. 

Either way, this is the first time that Suit Saeran’s gotten the pointed limelight like this. He’s usually meant to surprise the player because they may not see him in their minds as their trying to uncover the mystery and everything. But, we’ve got to say, Cheritz has thrown all spoiler fears out of the window. I mean, they just plastered Seven’s true name on a boat. 

I laughed about that but I digress, you’re here for the photo and you want to see me shriek like a banshee.

So, yeah, let’s just our obligatory scream out of the way presently. When I saw this one, I could think was: Oh my God, it’s BE2. The only reason my brain just decided BE2 was because of the framing of all the presents. In that ending, he gives you gifts, he gives you food, but “you’re not good enough to open them or touch them, toy.” He’ll give you all kinds of things but you know, you get what he wants when he decides. 

And crumbs, if you’re lucky on a good day, you know? 

That being said, it doesn’t have to be framed as BE2, but the presents and gifts just lead me to believe that this is the theme or the idea that it’s taking from to show the audience because what else am I going to be thinking when you’ve gone and thrust that idea into my face like that? Mmm, and I’ve been talking about that ending a lot lately. 

Here’s that post if you want to read more about BE2. It’s a tragic ending that is bad for both Saeran and MC. He’s trying to get you back like Humpty Dumpty but he can’t put you back together again. He realized too little, too late, that he liked you the way that Ray did, that he genuinely liked you for you. He can’t say that aloud, so he... tries cruel ways to bring you back, but it will never work and he’s doomed to despair. 

No hope for Suit Saeran if the kindness heart can be destroyed in hell. It means it’s only natural that he lose everything. 

I appreciate that he’s sticking to his goth theme, though, that party hat is just red and black.

Suit Saeran’s very... minimalist in the sense that he just picks things that are truly intense and sharp. That’s why he wears a suit. That’s because it’s the thing that he knows that can radiate power. Business men are supposed to be strong and forthcoming with their ability, that’s why he leans that way. 

His father is like that, the idea of what power and monster is feeds into how he chooses to dress himself. 

That’s why he just says, “Suit time.” If anyone was curious about that, anyway, I never seen people talk about that. Ray was given his clothes by Rika, he never got a say in how he dressed. The boys always pick something dark because it’s going to match their mood... their mood is how they pick colors and clothes if given the ability. 

That’s why GE Saeran is bright and cottagecore. It reflects the positive shift in his thoughts and perspective on the world. But, with Suit Saeran, he’s trying to emulate what he’s scared of and what he thinks that power is and this is the only way he knows how and it hurts to think about when you frame it that way, I do know that. 

Is that meant to be a stamp and playbook? Did Suit Saeran really make a whole illustrated guide for his puppet show? Is he really making acts and stories for all of this? He had to make those puppets himself. We know that Saeran is creative and can make anything, but those things are clearly handmade, hand-painted, I have a strong feeling that he made those clothes himself, too... 

You know, I like to imagine him drawing his emojis before he comes to you because he wants to make a good impression, but he’s a very specific artist and he gets angry when he can’t get things right, so I’m really thinking about him being out here in his workroom, painting fine details with a determined look in his eyes like—

“This’ll show that toy. This’ll show them how powerful I am.” 

Suit Saeran, honey, this is a gift within itself, you are a dork and I love you so much, oh my God.

TLDR; Suit Saeran makes puppets and makes their own playbook like this is going to a musical or the opera. 

He actually brought you the exact outfit. This means that he either made you that outfit, or he got himself, and then he made a smaller version. 

I like to think he’s crafty with sewing so I pretend he does things like this, but honestly, if you’ve made it this far, are you also thinking about the fact that he made a doll versions of the both of you to show you something? 

Because I can’t stop thinking about that. He really said, “Look at this, I made us, toy!” Like, I wrote a whole imagine once where MC and GE Saeran made each other plush dolls of the other person to sleep with. He just went out here and made puppets simply because he wanted to put on a show. He made y’all and I’m gonna cry what a fucking dork.

This is canon.

My God, I’m canon. 

Once again, I’m out here living my best life and nobody’s going to stop me on that front. Saeran wants to impress you and astound you so badly that he does not even realize that the handmade things that he’s making actually would be something that flatter someone. 

Like, he could use those to patronize me and berate me for control, but—

I’d really be sitting there compliment his fine eye and craftsmanship. It’s just that great. 

“Wow, Saeran. You did this all by yourself? These details are so realistic and finely tuned. This must have taken you hours... no, days, it must have taken you days to paint everything and stitch all of this together, even the little fine details are perfect. You’re amazing! When did you have the time to learn all of this?” 

He would scoff, “Of course, I am, you blubbering toy! Don’t suck up to me and think that you’re going to be treated nicely. I won’t tell you anything about me. You don’t deserve that. I didn’t do this to impress you, I did this to show you what I want from you. Now, be a good little toy, sit there, and do as I ask. I won’t repeat myself.” 

I find it interesting that he framed himself in the Savior’s seat here. Is that just a tie back to BE3, or is it simply his power play? I think it’s a comment on the fact that he struggles to know how much power that he truly has in his hands. That is to say, he says he’s the strongest, but the reality is, Rika is stronger then him and he bows his head to her. 

Even in his fantasy, she holds all of the cards and he has no choice but to bend.

But, with MC, he is trying to use them to control his idea of power... because it’s a fragile thing. It could break at any second. He screams and shouts all that he wants but he knows, deep down, he may be strong, but he’s not the strongest in this place. How could he be? That’s why Rika even says to you during those late hours—

“Mmm, you noticed? He’s using you to stabilize himself because otherwise, he would crumble. Thanks for your sacrifice to helping me win my goals. It wasn’t a pleasure knowing someone as bright as you, getting in my way and trying to turn them against me.” 

He only feels strong when something placates the idea in his chest. It hurts, even in his numb and confused heart, he’s hurting and he can’t figure out a way to get out of the dark labyrinth. Did he make the Mint Eye playhouse? Did he? I am saying he did. None of you are going to stop me. Saeran is a creative artist and I will not be contained any longer.

Cheritz confirmed. 

You’re a doll on a string in this for him. He wants to say that he bends and controls you to his whims, but... he’s also there. This isn’t just you being a toy, it’s Saeran realizing that he’s a toy, too. Why else would he make a doll of his person, then? This is about him not entirely getting it, though. He would make himself but not realize what he’s implying to know deep down, underneath all of his yelling.

When I saw him in the chair, I thought... this is him in relation to being the marionette king. That’s why they’re doing this, oh my God. It makes sense to frame the MC as a puppet or toy, they’re always “his eyes” and “his toy” and more and more and more. But, he’s also being played for a toy by Rika to get what she wants.

Who is really the puppet here?

Who is really on the strings? 

Look at that cocky bastard. Look at him. Look at him forever and deal with me screaming about him, oh my God. In conclusion, I’m having a lot of feelings at the moment presently and I think I’m going to go and lay back down because I am going to need a minute to unpack everything that I’m feeling and dealing with because Suit Saeran.

SUIT SAERAN!

[coffeeshoptalkks]

every mbti as seen by a (dumbass) entp

i feel like that intro was enough??

ENTJ:

will you CHILL out

you have the biggest superiority complex on the planet but u actually have no idea what you’re talking about

i could mentally run circles around u all day

like yeah u get more practical use of out of things

but ur a dumbass

INTJ:

yeah so i kinda love u guys... i get to be sarcastic and nihilistic and weird and you actually understand what i’m saying without being like “but thats immOrRal”

really fucking great lol

i have a friend whos an INTJ and a girl.

i am an ENTP and a girl

match made in heaven

such similar experiences and we can talk for hours

keep being u people

ENTP:

so... hmm. like..

i either love u or hate u

my longest standing crush has been on an entp i grew up with whos a fucking misogynistic asshole, but i LOVE arguing with him?

like its great

did she say sapiosexual??

yea whoops.

hes also so much more intelligent than i am and thats really sexy lol

and no im not dumb, istg he just stole the intelligence from his 3 other siblings and now exists in a different plane from the majority of most humans

farther off from normal society than me actually.

we might be insane btw

INTP:

u scare me...

cause as much as i hate it, ur actually much better at passively absorbing information about people than i am

yes i’m better at reading people from movements and dictation

but ur ability to just ABSORB information is fucking crazy

also ur one of the only types that can actually psychoanalyze me in any way correctly

so i want u to do that plz

(ngl my intp friend is one of the most fucking entertaining people to be around and have conversations cause all we do is psychoanalyze people. best shit ever)

ESFJ:

i have two opinions on you

1. you’re super chill and really fun to be around and make me laugh

2. omg ur legit the most fucking annoying type especially when you’re unhealthy because ur logic becomes slave to ur emotions and you’re completely unable to understand someone else’s perspective and now i have to deal with ur emotional WHINING and all i want to do is sleep

but like, if ur mature? ur chill lol

ISFJ:

hello

i like u

u like feeding me and take care of me

srsly tho thank u for feeding me, i wouldn’t eat otherwise

fundamentally we will disagree on so many things

but im 100% offending u more than ur annoying me by not understanding why i know how to mentally break every person in life and nooo it isn’t because i want to its just because i tailor my method of speech to each person depending on my own mood and theirs and what will cause me the least amount of work and ur like “ur insane”

and u know what?

ur right lol

ESTJ:

yeah yay we got another one of the EXXJ types

i appreciate the stability

i don’t appreciate the rule following

ESPECIALLY if u try to make me follow them

ye

don’t

my senior year advisory teacher was this and bOy lemme tell u it was rough for both of us until we figured out a compromise

just stay out of my way and i’ll make ur life less of a hell?

ISTJ:

so oddly enough, even tho we’re not supposed to get along

i fucking love u guys

the dry sense of humor?

being sarcastic and putting up with my bullshit

the amount of RANDOM KNOWLEDGE of ancient europe you have.

fucking fantastic

legit some of my best friends

different enough that we have interesting conversations, but Te dominant enough to not get hurt by my sarcasm

also we play allot of video games together

and by play i mean u watch me run around doing stupid shit while laughing

would date u but i would get fed up with how literal you are

sorry

ENFJ:

i don’t know many of you??

like i uh

maybe one?

ur chill?

like idk man im sorry

actually wait i forgot about one

ur a tough nut to crack, like ur one of my best friends but won’t confide in me and carry the world on ur shoulders :(

really amazing to be around, but i never get *real* conversations with u cause, once again, you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders

INFJ:

i love u :(

but only if you’re healthy

the amount of unhealthy / mistyped infjs is astronomical

because if you’re unhealthy legit all you care about is how other people view u and ur emotions are more volatile than a gemini on a caffeine rush

but if you’re healthy? or like, more healthy lol

great cuddle buddy

calming presence, when im upset i don’t even have to deal with you asking questions

you’ll just exist and hug me and its GREAT

oh but you’re a pain in the ass to pull secrets out of

legit fucking impossible

tbh i’ll probably marry u or intj

ENFP:

really fun to be around in short bursts

like, i really love u i prOmise

but then i get tired lol

oh and then if i try to have any kind of real world discussion with you it becomes a fight about optimism vs realism and

well

im an entp

and uh

u don’t win arguments with me... i either give up or you lose

INFP:

bro i got so many of you floating around lol

its honestly a cult at this point

depending on how extroverted u are sometimes i feel like im walking all over u

but ur really great listeners and understand that while we might not have the same emotional opinion i’m allowed to have my own and we can exist as friends even if we disagree

but honestly as many as i have around me i never really have conversations with you cause the Te is so far down in the stack, and i’m always providing the Ne so ??

but really i love you

ESTP:

lollll

i thought i was an estp for the longest time (aka high school)

and then like

nOpe

idk i have a few estp friends and i just can’t connect to them on any meaningful level

i mean its just the Se/Ne dichotomy

but like, would u think DEEPLY about something for .2 seconds please?

oh and we argue *insert shrug*

but thanks for not being offended when i say that ur gonna break up with ur girlfriend by christmas cause its college

ISTP:

i potentially know 0 of you

other than that one friend’s roommate who i had like a 10 second convo with??

either i don’t know what to look for (or more likely) i just don’t look

cause you’re Ti is the first function and then followed by Se you’re simultaneously thinking in your head and living in the moment which means you’re 100% just minding your own damn business and i’m probably not that interested in you

sorry

(not sorry)

ESFP:

turns out i know a singular one of you

who i typed as an estp cause hes super fking brash

(also cause even tho i’ve known him for over a year we had never had any kind of *substantial* (N substantial that is) conversation

but his Te is wAy to high to be a ESTP (that should have tipped me off) cause he’s always bouncing his class schedule off of me

tbh he kinda brings out the worst in me

idk whAt it is or if its just me mimicking people’s personalities (blame the libra, blame the entp take ur pick) but i get into this Se loop thing where i’m not getting any fufillment and even subconsciously am very annoyed cause his Se if making a mess of my Ne and its terrifying

basically the textbook case of me and Se types being “friends” but not really *friends* cause i can’t ever have any substantive conversations with them

ISFP:

i’m like 75% sure this is my mother

its really hard to type people i’ve known for a long time tho so

other than is my mother is one.

i legit no NONE

but going off my mother... the high Fi accompanied by no Ne (INFP) makes you very confused about some of the things i talk about

a lot of the times im off on a rant and you genuinely don’t understand *why* i would ever think that way

listen, i love my mom, wuoldn’t trade her for anyone else

but if she weren’t my mother (and an older ISFP) it would be a fking mess

[bloody-bee-tea]

Make me family

The prompt for Day 6 was “Found Family”

“Am I sick?” Lan Jingyi morosely asks as he walks into Lan Sizhui’s room.

Lan Sizhui is in bed, reading one of the old tomes he found in Lan Qiren’s house last week, and Lan Jingyi doesn’t even hesitate to slide into bed with him.

This week has been fucking strange and he might be in need of a little bit of comfort now.

Lan Sizhui makes space for him, allows Lan Jingyi to burrow close and adjust so that he could still read if he wanted to. He will go back to that in a second, Lan Jingyi knows, but right now he has his boyfriend’s attention.

“You’re not hot,” Lan Sizhui tells him after he pressed the back of his hand to Lan Jingyi’s forehead.

“Wow, thanks a lot, babe,” Lan Jingyi grumbles, and it wasn’t meant like that, he knows it wasn’t, but it still stings a little bit.

Lan Jingyi blames this whole fucking week.

“You don’t feel hot,” Lan Sizhui immediately amends. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, you know that,” he reassures Lan Jingyi, even though he knows it’s not true; they have both seen Wen Qing put a fucking dimwit in his place, and nothing gets hotter than that.

“Am I dying then?” he asks, and slings his arms around Lan Sizhui’s middle. “Were there some tests I’m not aware of, and are they saying I’m dying?”

“You’re not dying,” Lan Sizhui calms him down and then puts the book to the side.

Lan Jingyi might be dying if it’s serious enough for Lan Sizhui to abandon his reading.

“What’s going on?” Lan Sizhui wants to know and Lan Jingyi doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t even want to think about it, because if he’s not dying and he’s not sick then the only other possible solution is that every stable and dependable parental figure he ever had in his life is gearing up to tell him to get lost.

And he isn’t sure he could handle that.

So instead of saying anything, he presses his face into Lan Sizhui’s neck and just stays there for a bit. Or a really long time.

“Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui eventually mutters and starts to card his fingers through Lan Jingyi’s hair.

It’s not really helping him stay awake, but when he doesn’t answer for a long time, Lan Sizhui gently tugs at his hair.

“What is going on?” Lan Sizhui asks again and Lan Jingyi sighs.

“Everyone is being weird,” Lan Jingyi complains and Lan Sizhui makes an inquiring noise, one that Lan Jingyi is sure he learned from his dad.

“Why would that mean something with you is off? Maybe everyone else lost their marbles,” Lan Sizhui tries to lighten the mood but Lan Jingyi shakes his head.

“They are normal with everyone else. It’s just me. They are being strange with me,” he lowly admits and then it just tumbles all out.

“Uncle Wuxian asked me if he should come to my parent-teacher night, Uncle Wangji offered to teach me to cook, Uncle Cheng smiled at me and then hugged me, Great-uncle Qiren is dropping gentle hints that I should start packing my things up and Uncle Xichen asked me for room decoration tips!”

What Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had asked and offered hadn’t really struck him as all that strange, but then Lan Qiren had started to bring boxes home and then Lan Xichen wanted to know how to best decorate a new room and Jiang Cheng had actually, honest to god smiled at him, and he only did that to his husband.

Or apparently dying people. Or people who are about to be kicked out of the only family they ever knew.

“I don’t want to leave,” Lan Jingyi whispers into Lan Sizhui’s shirt and he can feel the tears burn in his eyes.

He is forever grateful to them all for treating him like he is family, especially after his parents vanished, and he knows they just recently handed Lan Qiren guardianship of him, but it seems like that was too much now.

They are gearing up to kicking him out, and Lan Jingyi has no clue what he is going to do.

“What are you even talking about?” Lan Sizhui demands to know and he tightens his hold on Lan Jingyi.

“Lan Qiren wants me out of the house, Lan Xichen is going to re-decorate the room I had at his and Uncle Jiang’s place, and your dads are just teaching me how to be self-sufficient enough to not die once they kick me out. Jiang Cheng is probably just trying to soften the blow, but really, he’s making it worse.” Lan Jingyi takes a deep breath when his voice cracks on the last word. “I don’t want to leave,” Lan Jingyi mutters again.

“I know I’m just a burden on all of them, I mean, I’m not family, I get that, and I am so, so grateful that they were always there for me, even Lan Qiren in his weird way, and I get that it just had to be too much eventually, that I had to be too much, I mean we both know how I am, and that you even put up with me for this long is a miracle in itself, and if they kick me out, will I still be able to see you?” Lan Jingyi rambles and he can’t help the tears that escape him.

Because for all that they aren’t his parents, they are still his family; the only people he has ever known to be stable and caring and there for him, and Lan Jingyi is only fifteen. He doesn’t know how to survive on his own, cooking lessons or not.

“No one is going to kick you out!” Lan Sizhui protests and presses a hard kiss to Lan Jingyi’s head. “You’ve got it all wrong, they love you so much,” he tells him and Lan Jingyi scoffs.

“Yeah, right.”

“Get up,” Lan Sizhui demands, and Lan Jingyi’s stomach drops out.

He has feared that this day would come eventually, at the latest when they really did kick him out, but he hasn’t expected it to be so soon. But of course Lan Sizhui would eventually just be fed up with him.

“It’s not what you think, you lovable, adorable idiot, I just want you to get up, so we can go downstairs. I love you,” Lan Sizhui explains, because he knows Lan Jingyi too well apparently and Lan Jingyi allows himself to breathe again.

“I love you too,” he gives back, because it’s important Lan Sizhui knows that, but he only smiles at him and drags Lan Jingyi out of bed, fingers intertwined, and Lan Jingyi can do nothing but follow him.

Lan Sizhui drags him downstairs towards the kitchen, where everyone is assembled, and Lan Sizhui motions for him to be silent and just observe. Lan Jingyi doesn’t know how that is supposed to explain anything, but he does as Lan Sizhui wants.

“That hardly counts,” Jiang Cheng says with a scoff and Wei Wuxian gapes at him.

“How does that not count?” he demands to know. “I was there when he took his first steps and where were you, huh?”

“I was there when he said his first words, so you better shut your mouth now,” Jiang Cheng immediately gives back.

“No wonder he never stops talking,” Wei Wuxian mutters and ducks his head when Lan Qiren throws him a scathing glance.

Lan Jingyi gives Lan Sizhui a questioning glance, but he just motions for him to wait and continue to listen.

“You have your hands full with Sizhui already,” Lan Xichen chimes in.

“Not true,” Lan Wangji immediately gives back, “he’s a good boy.”

“Yes, he is, so clearly our parenting method is awesome and would only benefit him.”

Lan Jingyi still has no idea what they are talking about, but he has to agree with Wei Wuxian there. Lan Sizhui is the best.

“And how come only you get to have a whole, happy family?” Jiang Cheng asks. “Don’t we deserve a kid, too?”

“You’ve only been married for a year. It’s way too early for kids for you,” Wei Wuxian immediately shoots back.

“We’ve been together for almost as long as you,” Jiang Cheng says, clearly affronted.

“And not to insult your profession, Wei Wuxian, but we both have stable incomes,” Lan Xichen adds, putting a comforting hand on Jiang Cheng’s arm.

“I make more money than Jiang Cheng does!”

“If you get a commission, that’s true,” Lan Qiren says as he looks over some reports. “But that’s not a stable income. And he needs stability.”

“It’s not like we’re lacking in money, uncle,” Lan Wangji says, and Lan Jingyi has to agree.

He’s still a minor, but every Lan knows that they don’t really have to worry about money, ever. Their family is too wealthy for that.

“Didn’t you just complain last week that you were looking forward to more time with your husband?” Jiang Cheng changes the topic. “Do you think you’ll get that with a second child?”

“Are they going to adopt again?” Lan Jingyi lowly asks Lan Sizhui, who shushes him with a glare.

“He’s hardly a child,” Lan Qiren admonishes, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“He’s young enough to deserve all the love and guidance parents should give him,” he shoots back, and Lan Jingyi wonders why Lan Sizhui wanted him to see this.

Is this why they are going to kick him out of the family, so that they can adopt another child? Will his room be turned into a nursery for someone else to get loved by these families?

Lan Jingyi can hardly stand the thought.

“I still think it should be us,” Lan Xichen calmly but imploringly says. “If only for the reason so he doesn’t have to explain that he’s not actually dating his brother.”

What?

“What?” Lan Jingyi blurts out and everyone turns towards him.

“Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian exclaims and though he seems surprised he seems happy to see him. “We didn’t know you were here.”

“I came in through the back,” Lan Jingyi numbly explains. “What is going on here?”

“Jingyi thinks you’re going to kick him out of the family,” Lan Sizhui explains and drags Lan Jingyi into the kitchen with him, their hands still joined. “Maybe you should explain, now.”

“We’re not going to kick you out, kiddo,” Jiang Cheng immediately says and pulls him into a half-hug, because Lan Jingyi is unwilling to let go of Lan Sizhui.

“We’re trying to decide who gets to adopt you,” Lan Xichen explains to him and slides some papers over the table, so Lan Jingyi can read them.

They are adoption papers. His adoption papers.

“What?” he weakly asks, because nothing makes sense right now.

“Jingyi, your parents gave me guardianship over you,” Lan Qiren explains.

“I know that.”

“They also signed their parental rights away with that. They made you eligible for adoption. I don’t think I should be the one to adopt you, so I went to my nephews.”

“And they both want to adopt you,” Lan Sizhui gently tells him and Lan Jingyi needs to sit down, right now.

“We’re just trying to figure out who gets the privilege of calling you son,” Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Jingyi immediately bursts into tears. He’s blaming this entire week for that.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jiang Cheng says as he gathers him up in a hug.

Lan Jingyi is too busy with crying his eyes out to check, but he’s pretty sure everyone puts a hand on him somewhere, supportive and loving, and it might make Lan Jingyi cry even harder.

It takes a long time for him to calm down again and even then, he’s reluctant to pull away from Jiang Cheng.

“You want to adopt me?” he asks, voice small and unsure, and Jiang Cheng hugs him even tighter.

“Of course we want to adopt you, kiddo. Why else would Xichen ask you how you want to decorate your room?”

“I asked you if I could come to parent-teacher night!” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “What did you think that was about?”

“I’m not—I don’t know. I never thought—,” he trails off, because this is all a bit much right now, and he clings to Jiang Cheng’s shirt.

“Jingyi, you are family no matter who adopts you, really, and we’re sorry if we ever made you think something else,” Lan Xichen says.

“We all love you,” Lan Wangji adds and for the first time Lan Jingyi gets why Wei Wuxian always gets so flustered when Lan Wangji says these things.

It’s a lot to take in, to have it stated so clearly.

“We’ve been trying to decide on this for a week now,” Wei Wuxian says.

“And I told them they should just tell you, but they wanted to surprise you,” Lan Sizhui explains, and Lan Jingyi doesn’t even have to look at him to know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“Since you know now, and we’re still not closer to an agreement, maybe you’d want to decide?” Lan Xichen asks him, and Lan Jingyi tightens his grip on Jiang Cheng.

“It’s okay, kiddo, you can think about it if you want to,” Jiang Cheng reassuringly tells him, but Lan Jingyi shakes his head.

He knows what he wants.

He loves Uncle Wuxian and Wangji, but Lan Jingyi knows himself. There will always be a part of him that will believe they only tolerate him for Lan Sizhui and that he can never be as good of a son as he is, even though that is not true.

And if Lan Jingyi is honest with himself, when someone asks him about his home, he always thinks of the room in Uncle Xichen’s and Cheng’s place. He doesn’t have a lot of his belongings there, he’s technically living with Lan Qiren, but that room feels like his in a way he can’t explain. His home is with Uncle Xichen and Cheng, and Lan Jingyi knows that every time Jiang Cheng calls him ‘kiddo’ something in him gets lighter and every time Lan Xichen expresses his affection with praise or a smile or an encouraging touch he gets a little bit happier.

And on a very pragmatic level, Lan Xichen is right. It would suck if he always had to explain that he’s not actually dating his brother.

So, really, it’s not a question for him.

“Would you really adopt me?” he asks Jiang Cheng.

“In a heartbeat,” he immediately says.

Lan Jingyi looks over his shoulder at Lan Xichen.

“Without hesitation,” he also says, and Lan Jingyi can’t help but to cry again.

“Aww, we’ve lost,” Wei Wuxian complains loudly, clearly knowing what Lan Jingyi’s decision will be.

“Didn’t lose,” Lan Wangji disagrees. “We’re uncles. We get to spoil him now.”

“Uhh, you’re right,” Wei Wuxian yells only to be shushed by Lan Qiren.

Lan Jingyi wetly laughs into Jiang Cheng’s shirt and wonders how he could ever doubt the love these people have for him.

“Welcome to the family then,” Jiang Cheng whispers into his ear and Lan Jingyi laughs again.

Maybe this week hasn’t been all bad.

(Lan Jingyi cries when they sign the papers and then again when he gets his official documents, naming him as Lan-Jiang Jingyi. No one says anything because his fathers are right there, crying with him.)

[lavendersoft]

My Soulmate’s Soulmate.

Part 5

Soulmate! AU-

Synopsis: Before you meet your soulmate your world is black and white, without color. When soulmates meet, their world glows with vibrancy. The reality, however, as harsh and uncommon as it is, is that you are not always your soulmate’s soulmate.

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung (poly!au)

Warnings: some angst.

Author’s Notes: there’s a lot of crack in this one.

--

They both noticed Jungkook as soon as he entered the building, his presence notably panicked.

He was dressed in his usual comfortable work attire. His hair looked ruffled and messy as if he’d been running his fingers through it, something he does when he’s stressed or nervous.

Jungkook all but ran to where they were seated when he spotted them. His eyes darting back and forth between the two.

“What happened Why are you..?” he asked cautiously.

You stood up to calm your partner as much as you could. Wrapping your arms around his torso gently and leaned to kiss him on the cheek.

You knew the news was going to break him. Somewhere deep down you think he may have already suspected it, but was choosing to disregard the signs. Then again, you hadn't the slightest idea when the same thing happened to you. The dreaded memory replays in your mind over and over, “I can’t see color, Y/n.” until tears start to swell in your eyes. You wouldn't wish this fate on anyone, especially not your own soulmate. Then a thought rushes over you. Glancing over to Taehyung you give him a teary, sympathetic smile. He was going through the same predicament. Still, he keeps a semi-stoic facade.

“I think you’d better sit down, Kookie.��

He did so immediately after giving you a wary glance. Taking the seat across from Tae who watched the couple intently, Jungkook was practically vibrating in his shoes with anxiety.

“Someone please tell me.”

You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before you gave a curt nod.

“Jungkook,” Tae started, “There’s been a huge misunderstanding. From all of us.”

Jungkook gave Taehyung a curious look.

“What do you mean?”

Rip off the bandaid, Y/n.

“Jungkook, you’re not Taehyung’s soulmate.”

The air went cold around you when your boyfriend’s eyes shot towards your direction. 

“I am.” The words felt unnatural to say. 

Jungkook’s eyes shot between the pair in front of him, his mouth trying to find the correct words.

“What do yo- How did you- what are you talking about?”

“I didn’t start seeing color until the night I met Y/n.” Tae stated quietly.

Jungkook’s face displayed a range of emotions, from confusion to skepticism to distress to realization. Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed as he leaned back in his seat. His hands reaching up to cover his face as he laughed bitterly.

“I’m such a fucking dumbass.”

The instinct to comfort your soulmate came over you like a tsunami. You prayed he didn’t push you away.

He didn’t. In fact, he pulled you into his lap and buried his head in your neck. His heartbeat was racing and you could tell how much this must hurt him. You reach up to smooth his unruly hair and bring him as much solace as you could.

“You’re not. We all made the same mistake. We didn’t read the signs well. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a common situation.” Tae added. You nodded your head in thanks.

“Exactly.”

After Jungkook’s breath had stabled and after a minute of Tae fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat, you figured you should get off Jungkook’s lap as not make Tae too uncomfortable. Tae, the gentleman he is, quickly offered you his seat while he went off to search for another chair to bring over.

Jungkook was in deep thought for a while. You figured you should give him some space while you continued to make small talk with Taehyung.

“So the cover art is coming along well?” You asked absent mindlessly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook’s head shoot up in alarm.

“It’s okay, Jungkook,” you murmur as you don't want to upset him more, “I know you’ve been seeing him. I’m not angry, I understand.” You explained. Jungkook’s eyes shift down in guilt as if he were a kicked puppy, avoiding eye contact with you.

Taehyung smiled and nodded, “Yeah, I think we’ve actually decided on a piece. But Jungkook insists that you’re not allowed to see it until debut.”

“What? That’s not fair!” You pouted and crossed your arms, trying to lift the heavy mood.

“Trust me, you love it.” Jungkook spoke, his voice soft.

After saying your goodbyes to Taehyung and promising to contact him again, you and your boyfriend went home. He was quiet most of the night until walking into the bathroom while you were putting on a much-needed face mask.

“We need to talk.”

“Hm. That doesn’t sound good.” You responded.

“No, it’s actually just a proposition.”

You lifted your eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Don't get mad, okay? It’s just an idea.” Ugh. You’ve heard that before and the aftermath is never good.

 He took a deep breath,

“What if we,” His tongue darted out to wet his lips in nervousness, “What if we tried a polyamorous relationship?”

You nearly dropped your bottle of toner in shock.

“What?!” The idea had actually already crossed your mind but you'd never tell him that. You figured he wouldn't want to but your soulmate is an unpredictable one.

“Please, just listen!” He took in a deep breath,

“This situation couldn't be any more perfect, for the circumstances at least. I love you so much, Y/n. If you aren’t my soulmate I’m glad that you’re my soulmate’s soulmate. It’s like a love triangle!”

You sigh, leaning a hand on the counter to stabilize yourself and your thoughts. 

“A love triangle isn’t a good thing, Kook.”

“Okay, then.. a love circle, Miss Technicality.”

You started to feel like such a pessimist next to your optimistic boyfriend.

“Jungkook, we’ve been in relationship for years. We just met Taehyung. We need to give it sometime before we go asking him to join a polyamorous relationship with people he just met two weeks ago.”

“So, then, you’ll consider it?”

“I don’t want to scare him off for your sake. But, yes, I’ll consider it. However, we have to do it the right way. Let’s start with one of us asking him on a date.”

“It should be you.”

You were a little dazed at his suggestion.

“Me?”

“It’s only fair. I’ve been on a few ‘dates’ with him already. I know him pretty well. It’s you who needs to get to know him. Not only that, but I’m sure he’ll be happy about it. With you being his soulmate and all. But!” He holds up a finger as if to scold you,

“No kissing! Not until he agrees to date us!”

You’re half tempted to bite his finger but instead you decide to pull him in for a hug.

“Seems a bit blackmail-ish but,”

For the first time in a long time, you have hope for the future of your relationship.

“Deal.”

—

The cell phone in your hand feels like a stone.

Five days have passed since you met Taehyung at the bookstore. Jungkook continued to meet Taehyung for the finishing of his cover art. He promised he’d keep it professional although you were a bit doubtful. That would be close to impossible at this point. 

I wonder what Tae thinks about all this. Is he uncomfortable meeting Jungkook after finding out that he’s Jungkook’s soulmate? Are they really keeping it as professional as Jungkook makes it seem? 

Is it really a good idea to make a commitment to a poly relationship with all of these suspicions?

Ah. You’re stalling yourself again. You’ve been dreading making the phone call that your boyfriend so eagerly awaits.

“It’s easy. Just call him and ask. That’s it. You’re his soulmate so he’ll be more than welcoming of the invitation.” Jungkook’s been trying to coerce you since he brought up the idea.

“I’ve never done it before,” You explain, “You’re the only real partner I’ve ever had and you made the first move, remember?”

He grins at the warm memory.

“You were so cute and bashful.”

“Obviously. I’d just met my soulmate. Anyway, focus.” You have such a hard time fighting the smile that threatens to spread across your face. Jungkook always seems to bring out the fondness in you. He definitely knew how to play that to his advantage. He gets everything we wants just by giving you that puppy dog pout.

“Ask him if he wants to go with you to get bulgogi. He loves that. Tell him you were craving it and you thought of him, he’ll get all flustered. Guaranteed.”

“Well, aren’t you the charmer. I knew you a flirt but damn.” You land a playful punch to his shoulder. You try to calm all your nerves and the voice in the back of your mind.

“Here goes everything, then.”

The phone rings only once.

“Hello?” His deep voices chimes through the speaker.

“Hey. It’s Y/n.”

“I know.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“You know?”

“Caller ID, Y/n. You think I wouldn't save my own soulmate’s number? Plus, I’ve kinda been expecting your call.”

You roll your eyes knowing Jungkook could see your face turn three different shade of red from embarrassment.

“YeaH-” your voice and your resolve cracks, “-ehem, yeah, I was just calling to um... ask if you wanted to like, uh, meet me tomorrow night for some bulgogi.” Your boyfriend silently coaches you as you continue, urging you on.

“It’s just that I’ve been craving you- I mean it! I’ve been craving it. And I thought of you.” 

And I want to die.

Jungkook hits the ground laughing. You know Tae could probably hear him. 

“Well if that's the case, how could I refuse?” Tae’s voice is smooth and confident. He’s just as flirty and aloof as Jungkook is. How the hell are you gonna survive two playboy boyfriends?

“Great. Meet me at six?”

“I’d prefer picking you up if you don't mind.” 

“Oh. S-sure. Yeah, that's fine. See you tomorrow?” You hate the way your voice trembles.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” With that he hangs up, leaving you a blushy, embarrassed mess. You look down to see Jungkook squirming with uncontained laughter. The next thing he knows he’s being chased with the slipper you’d been wearing.

“You asshole! It’s not funny! That was so embarrassing! Stop laughing, I swear to God, Jungkook!” 

“It’s not my fault you’re so fucking terrible at flirting! Like what the hell was that, Y/N!”

--

Taglist: @ourwhispersbecomeouranthems @fantasyjoon  @ally22042000 @ireadfanficsonthisleavemealone @embrace-themagic  @lexi-tries-art @ccmemoirs @just-call-me-trash-can @karlykim92 @omg-sol-s-dreamland

[luckyfirerabbit]

Jaune Doe: pt 7

(short and sweet, it’s how it came out)

It's been hills and valleys for him the last couple weeks. The nightmares come and go in waves, a few nights on, then off, then on again for a few more. His appetite is inconsistent but he doesn't appear to have an issue with it, though the staff is worried about his weight. But, on the positive side, they've got him off the IV completely and are managing his pain rather well with Ibuprofen. He's up and walking as expected. His concussion is healing as it should as well, but his memory is still spotty at best. Aside from his sleep disturbances his mood is stable, even pleasant, and he's able to tolerate what few visitors he receives with little issue.

Today, however, Jaune is noticeably concerned, lounging in his bed and staring at the ceiling with a sever knit to his brow. His transfer date is coming up and he doesn't know what to do. Pyrrha said she would figure it out, or at least help him do it, but she hasn't brought him anything yet, not even the copy of his file that she promised.

What's going to happen to him? Will they just toss him out? No, no...would they really?

"Knock, knock,"

Jaune blinks out of his troubled haze, reflexively smiling. "Hey, Pyrrha, I was just thinking about you."

"Oh yeah? Good things I hope." Oh my gods, why did I say that? She's starting to second guess herself already.

"You could say that." he lilts his head, noncommittal. "Everything okay? What's in the bag?"

"Well," she knows he's referring to the duffel bag she has in one hand. She approaches the bed and sets it down near the foot of it, asking for permission to sit on the edge before continuing. "I actually wanted to talk to you about your transfer."

"Oh, good. What did you find out?"

"I've got all the information on the hospital campuses available for you right here." she props her briefcase on her lap and opens it, passing him a folder that he had expected to be much thicker. "Most of them are nearby, and a few of them have single occupancy units so you could have some privacy if you wanted."

"That's great, thank you." he takes the papers, seemingly genuinely relieved. "And what about the copy of my file?"

"That's here too." she's still sifting through everything she keeps in the case, producing another pale colored file.

He shows his gratitude through a short lived but heartfelt smile, though the expression kinks with curiosity. "And the bag?"

Pyrrha snaps her case closed and takes a sharp, stabilizing breath at the same time. "I...bought you some clothes. I had to guess your size for the most part, but...yeah. There's some hard-soled slippers in there that should fit you, too, at least until you can tell me your shoe size."

"Pyrrha," he's stunned, "y-you didn't have to do that."

"I know, I wanted to." she can't look at him, focusing on her hands and the way her fingers drum at the edges of her briefcase. "I also wanted to ask you something."

"Besides my shoe size?" the little chuckle at the end sounds nervous.

"Yes," she laughs in turn. "I was wondering...I applied to be your sponsor. If you want...you can come and stay with me."

His brow creases, a mixture of concern and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. His hands fumble with the papers he's holding, eventually settling to let them sit atop his thighs when he draws his legs up. "I...you didn't...why would you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," his hand reaches back and cups his neck, rubbing out the anxiety he feels mounting in his chest. He lifts his eyes and meets her gaze briefly. "It's...shit," he pushes his hand through his hair, fingernails in his scalp and catching on a cut he forgot about. "I don't know how to say it without sounding like an asshole."

"Then just say it, it's okay." she assures him.

"What's your angle?" he blurts out, feeling the shame of the hidden accusation immediately.

Part of her thinks she gets it, it's the same part that pushes down the little hurt brought on by his suspicion. After everything he's been through -just the stuff she knows about- how was he supposed to trust her like that? It's a wonder he has any trust for her at all.

Eventually Pyrrha just smiles and waits until he looks at her again. "Like I said before, I just want to help."

He still holds a certain uneasy wariness in his face. "And if I say no?"

"Then that's your choice." she nods once. "I'd hope you'd accept the clothes, though, considering you don't really have anything," she laughs, an attempt to break the tension that she's certain fails, "but you're welcome to say no. I'll still be your advocate, I'll still work on your case and make sure you're taken care of. Nothing changes."

Jaune hears sirens in his head, warnings, some vicious and desperate thing screaming for him to retreat. It's a trap is all he can think, in spite of everything he's seen -he knows- to the contrary.

For a moment the two just look at each other, and Pyrrha eventually takes that as a sign. She eases to her feet, her brief case tucked under her arm.

"Take some time to think it over, and just let me know when you've made a decision, okay? Until then, if you need me, just have someone page me."

He nods. "...Thanks." he offers timidly.

"Of course."

---

Every so often Pyrrha will skip her evening trip to the gym in favor of dinner out with her coworkers, which usually consists of Blake or Billy or Sahv, or some combination of the three. Tonight it's Blake and Yang joining her at Magic Wok. The three of them manage to get a booth tucked away in a relatively quiet corner, the perfect spot to sit and talk without disturbing or being disturbed by others.

"Am I an asshole?"

Blake coughs as her food goes down the wrong pipe, causing Yang to reach across to pat her lover on the back as she gapes at Pyrrha from across the table.

"What on earth makes you say that?" Blake sputters once she's able.

Pyrrha shifts in her seat, uncomfortable under their joint scrutiny. "I mean...maybe asshole isn't the right word,"

"Damn straight it isn't." Yang insists. "That's the last word I'd ever use in regards to you." she looks to Blake. "You okay now, baby?"

"I'm fine." one last cough. "But seriously, why would you think that?"

"Well, like we talked about, I told Jaune I was willing to sponsor him." she prods the tangle of noodles on her plate with her chopsticks. "And...just like you said he might, he got defensive and kind of...shut down."

"So why would you think you're an asshole?"

"Because," Pyrrha slouches, putting her hands in her lap as if she can hide her discomfort. "I just...I hate when I upset people. Especially when I just want to do the right thing."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't take it personally, because you're doing that anyway -that's right, I've got your number, superhero," Blake's felid ears match the asymmetry of her eyebrows, "but I don't believe he got defensive simply because it's you. It's because things are changing for him again, what little stability he has is about to shift and he doesn't know what to do, if there's anything he can do. And that's probably coming from a long time of having no control over his own fate or well being. Then, of course, there's the more than likely possibility of general trust issues."

Yang takes a long draw from the straw in her drink, her brow furrowing as she swallows. "He's probably convinced this is just some elaborate scam, and the minute he agrees to go home with you, all hell's going to break loose."

And part of Pyrrha knows there's not much she can do to change that for him. Jaune would have to discover for himself if she was trustworthy, if what she was offering him was real or some cruel joke at his expense. She shudders at the idea of just how bad he might think things could be, a man who -while drugged out of his mind and mad with pain- still had the wherewithal to be terrified and fight back against those that were trying to save his life.

"If what he went through was anything like," Yang continues, pausing to put a crispy rangoon in her mouth and tuck it in her cheek. She'll gesture with her hand, knowing they both know what she means. "Gods only know the kind of head games he's had to navigate until now. But I agree with Blake, I don't think it's because of you."

"I know, I agree with you too, just,"

"Just you're a micro-manager and this is something you can't change." Blake explains knowingly. "But you've got a good enough head on your shoulders to let it run it's course."

"I certainly hope so." Pyrrha sips her drink. "And I don't want to influence his decision so I'm keeping our visits to a need-only basis."

One golden brow rises. "Want me to influence him for you?"

"Yang," Blake warns gently, half-heartedly.

"No, I'm serious. Listen," Yang shoves down another rangoon and swallows, leaning towards Pyrrha on one elbow. "He doesn't understand the kind of person you are, he probably thinks you're like some fucking unicorn -all mythological and sparkly and too good to be true. Let me talk to him, I mean, you've been meaning for me to anyway, right?"

"True." Blake nods.

"But he should make this choice on his own." Pyrrha reaffirms. "He deserves that."

"He also deserves the best chance at recovery and getting his life back together." Yang counters.

"Also true." Blake chimes, seeming more focused on her food than the conversation.

"And I think you can give him that chance, Pyrrha. Hell," she laughs, easing away, back into her own space in the booth. "If it weren't for you, I might not have met Blake, so you basically saved my life."

Pyrrha blushes and tries to hide her face, failing miserably. "I just got you the referral."

"Semantics." Yang waves her hand in dismissal. "So let me go to bat for you, just this once, and I promise I won't use my impeccable charm for evil ever again."

Blake laughs, almost choking on her food again. Once she's able to she quickly swallows.

"Come on; I kind of feel like you owe me after not letting me curb-stomp your ex."

"Yang," Pyrrha exhales hard, appalled more so at herself for the effort it takes not to laugh than at Yang for the comment. "He wasn't that bad,"

"Bullshit." Yang points a finger at her, sharp, decisive.

Blake clears her throat, takes a quick drink. "Being in denial doesn't change the truth of the matter, Pyrrha, it would be better if you just accept it."

"I've gotten better at it." she admits meekly. "Just...I don't think anyone deserves to be curb-stomped. Believe it or not, I'm not a huge fan of violence."

"Well I am," Yang's finger has changed to her thumb and points back at her, "and as far as I'm concerned, a man who hits his wife deserves a helluva lot worse."

Pyrrha sighs and smiles. "And while I appreciate how fiercely protective you both are of me, it isn't necessary."

"You heard her, down girl." Blake nudges Yang with an elbow.

Yang tucks close to Blake, diving face first into the crook of her neck. "Woof,"

"Oh my god," Pyrrha groans, "check please,"

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Running if You Call My Name || Blanche and Kaden

TIMING: After the mime bombing and APPARENTLY after Nora was shot whoops PARTIES: @harlowhaunted and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Blanche called a hunter to come pick her up from a haunted house

The second Blanche called him crying, Kaden was out the door. Well, to be honest, he had already been out the door walking Abel, but he turned around and marched right to his car with the dog at his heels all the same. He may have ran through a stop sign or two on his way to Misery Manor. Why the fuck she was there at that stupid haunt, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. He was burning rubber to go get her. And to get answers to what happened. He couldn’t make out what she said through the blubbering. To be fair, he wasn't convinced he could have followed it without her tears. It didn’t matter. She was hurt. She called. He drove. When he pulled up to the entrance of the haunted house, Abel hopped over to the passenger’s side window and barked for Blanche. She looked so sad and broken. Whoever did this was going to pay, he knew that much. He got out of the car and Abel followed behind him. “What happened?”

Blanche told the employee that helped her sorry ass back to the front entrance to the haunted to please leave her alone and that yes someone was coming to get her and no she wasn’t planning on filing a complaint on their website. She was so relieved and even a little surprised that Kaden agreed to come get her. He had been the first person she thought to call and he was mad at her. But still, he said he was coming. She was still sniffling when Kaden pulled up, hurriedly trying to wipe her eyes. But it was too late, all the stress, anxiety, and exhaustion had burst out of her and it apparently had no plans of stopping any time soon. Rebecca’s betrayal - that thing’s betrayal? - stung, and the embarrassment of being tricked hung over her. “Abel?” was the first thing she said when Kaden came up to her. Her eyes immediately started watering again and she shook her head. “It - Rebecca. She’s - “ She swallowed back a sob and got up, hissing when she put weight on her twisted ankle. “She’s possessed.” Blanche said. “And it tricked me! And -” Uh oh. Blanche hurriedly wiped her eyes again. “Can we - Can we just get in the car? Please. I just want to get out of here.”

Abel bounded over to Blanche and probably thought the salty tears all over her face were great because he immediately went to lick her. “Abel, come on, cut it out.” Kaden knew he wouldn’t listen but if Blanche wanted him away, she could easily push him off. “Would you fucking wait?” he said as she went to stand up on her very clearly swollen ankle. Putain, he wasn’t sure how she could be that fucking stubborn. He put his arm around her to help stabilize her. “Stop walking on that foot, you’ll make it worse.” He almost missed what she was saying, he was too busy trying to keep her from hurting herself even more as he led her to the car. “Possessed? Does she know you’re a medium?” Fuck, his mind started to race through what could have gone on that night that led to this and, she mentioned telekinesis earlier right? “Why were you even here?” Thankfully, for all of Abel’s failure as a hunting dog, he was loyal and overall good enough to follow his owner and one of his newer best friends to the car, waiting for Kaden to open the door to the car. And he hopped onto the passenger seat as soon as he could. “Abel, move!” The dog just looked at him, tongue out, smiling, sitting there.

She was actually happy to have the dog slobber all over her, if only because she got to pet him before Kaden went to help her to the car. Damn it she could walk herself! Or, well, actually, no she couldn’t. That stupid Misery Manor employee had half carried her back around here.  “Rebecca knows. That thing knows too,” Blanche said sniffed. “It was just supposed to be a haunted house - you know? For some quick and easy adrenaline pumping fun so I could stop having a - god. It probably just fed me a bunch of bullshit,” Blanche groaned, watching as Kaden opened the door, only for her seat to be taken by an adorable dog. Blanche stared, before she gave a watery laugh. She was still exhausted, but Abel had successfully beaten her rotten mood. “Abel, can I sit? Can I sit? Down boy!” Blanche cooed, making the hand gesture. Of course, Abel listened to her, and she shuffled into the seat herself, wincing, before looking up at Kaden as she reached down to pet him. She took a deep breath, just so she could get something useful before she started a new round of tears. “Rebeca’s an exorcist,” Blanche said. “And she’s - it took me in the house. The house gave me a panic attack -” she winced slightly, “I fell down.  She - it… was nasty.” Hearing the words pathetic child in her head made her scowl. “I figured it out. I should have figured it out sooner - I can sense them, I just -” Blanche swung her legs into the car, and patted her lap for Abel to join her. “I threw her into a wall. With my head. She got too close and I - I didn’t even mean too. And now I feel like used JELL-O.”

Every single new thing Kaden heard about this incident made him hate it more. “What happened to not getting into trouble?” he grumbled as he waited for her to take a seat next to the dog that was about half her size. A traitor dog that listened to everyone else before him. All he could do was rub his forehead and then run his hands through his hair, letting out a sigh. There was a lot to take in and he was just stressed. This could have been a lot worse. It sounded like it was about to get a lot worse. He shook his head before closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side. “Panic attack. Exorcist. Possession. More telekinesis. Putain.” He sighed and sat in the seat a moment before turning the keys in the ignition. “Used jell-o though? Really?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a trouble thing!” Blanche said, flatly. She wiped her eyes again, focusing on making sure Abel was getting the best kind of pets. Blanche was grateful Kaden had come to get her, even after their argument about Granny the other day. She looked over at Kaden, “Alright. I feel like I ran a marathon. Twice. Or I haven’t slept in three days. And my ankle hurts. And I feel like that sixth sense I have that lets me see dead people has been set fire. Is that better for you? Or can I go back to used jell-o?” Blanche said, slumping in her seat. After a moment, she closed her eyes, settling into the seat before she let out a low sigh. “Thank you. For coming to pick me up. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

He clenched his jaw listening to her. The fact that this kept happening, that people kept letting this happen to her under their lack of fucking supervision, he could feel his blood boiling. “You can be jell-o if you want.” Kaden kept an eye out for her in his peripheral vision as he drove. His knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. He didn’t really understand what exactly happened or who Rebecca was or what was fucking possessing her but he was ready to go find her or the ghost or whatever it fucking was and punch it. He was so sick of seeing people he cared about like this. Just sad. And hurt. Fucking hated it. “Of course I picked you up,” he said simply, eyes still fixed on the road in front of him. He wasn’t sure how to help or make it better but at least Abel was there. Shitty hunting dog; good comfort dog at least. “We’re going to urgent care, by the way.” He wasn’t posing this as a question. That was fucking happening.

“Oh thanks, I’ll try to be the red kind rather than the green,” Blanche muttered. The would-be sarcastic comment lacked fuel, and she was getting too tired to really argue now that she knew she was safe again. It was weird that she felt safe here, with the stupid hunter and his dog, but she was too exhausted to question it. She glanced over at him, tearing up again at his affirmation that he wouldn’t have just left her there. Shit. Don’t make it weird. Blanche sniffed slightly, once again using her sleeves to wipe her eyes, her cheeks raw from the repeated movement. But she let out a groan when he said urgent care. “Do we have too?” Blanche asked, looking at him. “Can’t you just take me home? I’ll ice it and elevate it, I promise and I’ll have my housemate or Nell take me tomorrow. Please?? I just want to go to bed.”

Just when Kaden thought he could go a full day without having to fucking wallow in worry, here she was. She barely sounded like herself. There was no bite or sarcasm behind her words. They were hollow and tired. Seeing her cry like this felt like a kick to the gut. A problem he couldn’t solve. “They’re all sad. So it doesn’t matter.” He sighed at the same time as Abel whose head was settled in her lap. Kaden knew damn well she should go see a doctor. But a quick look over to her and he couldn’t. She looked so exhausted and broken. He didn’t fucking trust her to actually se a doctor but putting her through all the waiting that came with medical care right now felt cruel. “You’d better fucking promise to go see a doctor. Someone who’s not Regan.” He changed direction and started driving towards the mcmurder mansion she lived in.

“Red is significantly less sad than green. Or yellow. Yellow is the worst.” Blanche mumbles, absentmindedly petting Abel on the head. She would have to see a doctor or get Nell’s mom to look at it, but she really could not handle a trip to the emergency room right now. Too many factors, let alone the wait times and the potential dealing with her father when she was like this… Not fucking worth it. “I promise to go see a doctor,” Blanche said, settling up against the car door, head leaning against the window. She wondered if it had been whatever magic she used to throw Rebecca against the wall that made her this tired or if it was the overall lack of sleep. Blanche drove Remmy and others insane about that… “And get 8 hours and all that…” She mumbled something else - something along the lines of Regan having cold doctor hands - before she was out cold, one hand comfortably resting on Abel’s head.

Kaden had no fucking clue what she was talking about anymore. He was pretty sure it didn’t matter, she was nodding off, no doubt about it. It’s fine, they were close to her home by now. He shook his head and pulled up to the driveway. She was mumbling something about getting out by herself and didn’t move. He sighed and stopped the car and went to get her out of the seat. He told Abel to stay in the car and, despite a couple of protesting whines, he listened for once. He had a feeling he’d be helping her inside no matter what but carrying her up the stairs past fucking snakes and spiders wasn’t really what he expected. Thankfully she was conked out enough not to protest, but awake enough to mumble where the hell her (master?) bedroom was. He’d save the questions on her living choices later. Her room looked normal enough and she was safe in her bed. One scribbled note with “Go to the fucking doctor,” later and he closed the door and left to go back to his apartment, maybe finish that walk he promised Abel.

[amwritingmeta]

1x09: The Wonderful Parental Figure that is Missouri Moseley

Let’s look at this episode briefly. Let’s glance at it. Let us take a gander, you might say. Without me outlining it for you because I’m assuming you’ve watched this episode and if you haven’t, do it, right now, watch it, then come back to this and let’s see if you see what I see. 

Here’s what I see:

Starting with her first scene, Missouri is both a liar and someone who will hit the boys with the truth: they see her lie to her previous costumer about his wife having an affair because, as Missouri tells the brothers “People don’t come here for the truth, they come here for good news.” What does this tell us? It tells us that she tells people exactly what they need to hear, not what they want to hear, and what they need to hear isn’t necessarily to be taken for truth.

So with that in the back of our heads, we plow on.

Missouri remembers both brothers, saying they’ve grown up handsome, adding “And you were one goofy looking kid” to Dean. I don’t know if it’s safe to assume, but I am going to safely assume, that when she delivered her compliment to them Dean’s thoughts went something along the lines of “Duh”, which is why she threw in that derogatory comment about him as a kid.

See, the way I read Missouri’s real role in this episode starts right here.

It starts here because she immediately takes on the guise of mentor and guide. Put more plainly: she’s acting like a mother figure.

And she is, without a doubt, teaching Dean Winchester to mind his manners.

Firstly, look at the above gif. Look at Dean’s face and consider what dismissive thoughts must have accompanied calling Missouri a “psychic”. It’s offensive, and we know it’s offensive thanks to Missouri’s reaction. She’s not overreacting, she’s putting Dean Winchester in his place and, in no uncertain terms, making it clear to him that he should think before he speaks.

Then, of course, we get this -->

“Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table and I’m gonna hit you with a spoon.”

Consider how soft that threat is. She’s a mind reader, this one. We know - SPOILER ALERT - that John is there, right now. We know she knows how toughened Dean is. This hitting him with a spoon thing is almost comical. It’s not a threat of violence, but of a lecture - like slapping someone’s fingers away when they try to get a finger full of whipped cream off that cake you just decorated. (no I don’t have a pie analogy) (enjoy the cake!)

It’s also interesting how Dean is defensive here. He’s not taking too easily to being lectured. Big fat surprise. He’s never liked being told what to do because he’s a control freak. Doesn’t mean he won’t fall in line and follow orders every single time, but in his mind beats against it, and this whole episode is such amazing exposition for the workings of Dean’s mind in relation to John as well, and a great setup for how the season is moving towards Dean breaking away from always putting John first and Sam second. 

(there’s good and bad in the situation changing, of course) (the codependency finding it’s true roots because Sam adopts more of Dean’s deep loyalty to family) (while Dean sees the value in rebelling and finally questioning his father’s choices) (also this whole thing reminds me so much of someone else’s storyline and core character traits that I’m just falling in love with the narrative all over again) (I do that every time I watch an episode) (damn it to hell)

Manners. ^^^

Dean is soft and smiling with Jenny (now, this is actually an echo of the first time the brothers knock on Jenny’s door, where Sam takes the lead and interrupts Dean, who is about to introduce them as feds and make the visit a professional bullshit visit, rather than a personal one: Sam reading the situation, the fact that Jenny is a mother, and opting for the truth, however veiled it may be) - so when Jenny now says it’s not a good time, Dean makes the mistake again of not reading the entire situation, too focused on what they need out of Jenny and acting unfeeling towards the fact that she’s said no. 

Missouri, with that slap to the back of his head, is saying that the ends don’t always justify the means.

Her calling him “not the sharpest tool in the shed” to me has more to do with his lack of manners and how to properly relate to Jenny’s mood than it has to do with him actually being, in any way, stupid. It’s another soft dig for Dean to shape up, take stock of the situation, think a step further. She wouldn’t say this if she didn’t know he has the ability to - she’s not telling the truth, here, she is telling Dean what he needs to hear to reconsider his perfunctory and habitual approach based on Need Entrance Now To Save You.

They gain entrance through telling the truth. Again.

And this is where Missouri’s already mentioned second role in this narrative takes hold: mentor.

She’s being dismissive for a reason. It’s not the kind of dismissive that is meant to gauge a hole in someone’s heart and leave them feeling like shit, it’s the kind that is supposed to motivate to do better. Sure, the Gordon Ramsay’s of the world have to take it on faith that the people who put themselves in the path of their foul-mouthed critique are willing to have a hole gauged into their hearts by the tough-love, but Missouri Moseley can read minds and let’s remember that we’ve already been told she knows exactly what Dean needs: being told he’s not doing something as well as he could be doing it, this is a motivator for Dean, not a hole-creator. 

Oh, he’ll curse you in his head (look at that look he gives her) but he’ll take stock and realise that the person delivering the criticism has valid reason. Compared to Missouri, most people are amateurs. 

The scene is intriguing as well, because Dean also steps up and shows where he is not an amateur: “One thing’s for damn sure - no one else is dying in this house ever again.” And Missouri knows he means it, knows there is every reason for why that claim is valid, and she respects it. 

Also, this is a turning point for Dean in this episode. He’s not been weak or scared or hesitant, but he did call his father because he didn’t know what to do, how to handle this thing that could be what killed Mary, killed his mother, the thing they’ve been hunting his whole life, and now he might have to face it alone, with his brother whom he’s sworn to protect, putting Sammy in a life-or-death situation, without John there to guide him. Overwhelming as fuck.

All of that, to my mind, is also the reason why Missouri isn’t molly coddling him. She’s read him before he ever walks into her parlour, right? She knows that Dean responds to tough love, that’s just how he’s wired: meaning if you challenge him, he’ll focus. He also called his dad, which Missouri knows. His dad who can’t be with them. Missouri takes on the parental guide role in John’s stead to offer a sense of comfort and stability.

And it works, guys.

After Dean steps up and says no one else is dying, we get this:

Dean working on making hex bags for protection, under the guidance of Missouri. She’s given the ingredients, but Dean knows how to make the hex bags - this is him again showing her that he’s not all amateur. He also gets that smile from her because he makes a softly sarcastic comment on how knocking holes in the plaster to put the bags inside the walls of the house will leave Jenny thrilled with their work. 

So he’s thinking about Jenny’s reaction to what they’re doing, rather than merely getting the job done. Progression from the smack on the head at the door, showing Missouri he is - all be it reluctantly - accepting her lessons and thinking a little farther and wider than before.

They meet Mary, who saves them. I’m not going into that here.

Then Jenny comes back to a trashed house and Sam promises they’ll pay for everything. That statement makes Dean pull this face -->

Yeah. He’s most likely thinking “The fuck he just say?” or something to that effect. Which is why, since he’s being callous again, Missouri says:

And he’s not happy about her ordering him about, but he complies. Of course. Especially after her telling him not to curse at her, because man, that is just so disrespectful, Dean. Tut tut. He grumbles about doing the clean up, but this is, all of it, a mother’s way of teaching her boy how to behave like a man.

And Dean needs it. 

Because Dean Winchester is a child.

But he goes from blatantly disrespectful to this -->

Supporting Missouri down the steps, because he’s spent enough time with her to not only learn some lessons in manners, but through them learning to truly respect her as well. 

In an episode focusing so brutally on the brothers’ past and the loss they’ve suffered, it’s only fitting that there’s a parental figure to take the reigns. What has me jumping up and down is the fact that Dabb and his writers delighters is literally tying back to this episode in 13x03. 

I mean, talk about picking up a dangling thread and making it work for the narrative as a whole, right? 

1x09 circles Mary’s death and the questions surrounding it like a great big bird on great big wings and what will 13x03 deal with? That’s right! Again, the narrative deals with the loss of Dean’s mother, but with the enormous difference that Dean will now be put in Sam’s shoes. We know he will be because they’ve already mirrored Sam/Jess/Sam/Eileen with Dean/Cas on numerous occasions. Dean will be grieving, he’ll be vulnerable and all grown up. He’s a man now. And I cannot wait to see how Missouri relates to him this time around.

Consider it: Missouri and Jody are both strong mother figures, mentors and guides for Dean - exactly how low will he be by 13x03 to need two such women to step into the place now vacated by Mary? Dean needs his mother, and I can think of another time when he was absolutely freaking out, thinking he’d lost Cas because he did not recognise the guy staring back at him, pulling out his phone -- and calling his mom.

This time Cas is truly gone. This time Dean needs some motherly advice and guidance because he just might be losing himself in that fact. (but of course this is speculation and we shall see!)

And I’m not saying Dean isn’t upset about losing Mary as well. But she’s not dead, no matter how much he’ll be thinking he is, he knows that there is hope. Because he’s held on to that type of hope before. Dean Winchester is not a quitter. “You keep grinding” remember? Saving Cas was the fuel for most of Dean’s actions and fighting spirit in S11, so one wonders why he might have lost, or be on the brink of losing his fighting spirit now. I suppose he might just need a swift kick in the butt because all he can focus on is his anger. 

(though from what we’ve seen I honestly doubt they’re taking him down the purely angry!Dean route) (grieving!Dean in stages feels more likely) (and I am so hoping these two women are key for him moving into acceptance and learning to live with his grief) (letting go is such a huge step forward for his character growth) (because he has to ease up on his need for control) 

Anyway, Missouri comes into Dean’s life to give him a few lessons, but do you know what the biggest lesson I can think of is? The lesson that he didn’t fully learn, but that he’s needed to learn throughout all the years since meeting her? You know, the one that will help him let go of the anger and be able to have just a little faith that things happen for a reason? I’m talking about the character trait that might afford him a moment’s respite in order to understand that all that happens is not his responsibility, because he cannot control every single thing.

Yeah, the lesson is patience.